Asterwyn looked nothing like the village.
The village had been quiet—small paths, warm voices, life lived in routine fear.
Asterwyn was loud.
Even from the outer roads, Cael could see it: high stone walls that stretched like a border between ordinary lives and the world that decided winners. Flags fluttered along the battlements, bright and proud. Guards stood at the gates with polished armor and eyes that didn't soften for anyone.
Merchants lined the roads leading in, carts piled high with goods, students walking in groups, laughing too loudly as if laughter alone could make them feel safe.
The academy tower rose in the distance like a blade stabbed into the sky.
Too tall.
Too clean.
Too important.
Cael sat in the cart's back corner, his injured body stiff from the ride. He watched the city approach with a strange mix of familiarity and disbelief.
He had seen this place in the game so many times that he could've drawn it from memory.
But now it smelled real.
Dust. Metal. Bread. Perfume. Animals.
People moved with purpose, and the air itself felt like it carried ambition.
The cart slowed near one of the smaller entry roads—close enough for Cael to make out the academy's crest carved into stone at the far end of the boulevard.
Serel pulled the reins and hopped down first.
Cael followed more carefully, stepping onto the ground with a wince he tried to hide. His shoulder still throbbed whenever he moved too fast.
Serel turned toward him with her arms loosely crossed, scanning him like she was trying to decide whether he would survive the next hour.
"You're here," she said, like that was the end of her responsibility.
Cael nodded once. "Yeah."
She made a small sound in her throat—half sigh, half amusement.
"You really are strange," she muttered. "Most people would've died in that forest. Or cried after."
Cael didn't answer.
Because she wasn't wrong.
But he didn't have space inside him for crying. Not anymore.
He watched her for a second, then said, quietly, "Thanks. For the ride."
Serel looked away, like the words had embarrassed her.
"Don't mention it." She lifted one hand and waved lazily, as if dismissing the whole event. "Try not to collapse again. If you do, at least do it somewhere less dramatic."
Cael's lips twitched faintly.
Serel paused like she was about to say more—something curious, maybe even personal.
Then she didn't.
Instead, she took a few steps backward, eyes lingering on him one last time.
Not affection.
Not trust.
Just curiosity.
The look of someone who had found a puzzle on the roadside and wasn't sure whether to pick it up.
Then she turned, disappearing into the crowd with practiced ease, her pale hair blending into the sunlight like a vanishing shadow.
Cael stood there for a moment longer than he should have.
He didn't chase her.
He didn't call her name.
He just watched until he couldn't see her anymore.
Then he exhaled and turned away.
Because curiosity didn't keep you alive.
Power did.
He walked through the outer streets of Asterwyn slowly, taking in the size of the city. It wasn't just large—it was layered. Outer markets, student districts, guard posts, training grounds. Every corner screamed one thing:
Competition.
In the game, this city was the place where people's routes began.
In reality, it felt like the place where they could end just as easily.
Cael found a cheap inn near the student district—a place with thin walls and tired staff who didn't ask questions as long as coin was paid.
He rented a small room.
One bed.
One table.
A cracked washbasin.
It was enough.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Cael dropped the small pouch Serel had given him onto the table. The coins clinked. He stared at them for a moment, then shook his head.
That was luck too.
Luck that he'd met her.
Luck that she hadn't asked too many questions.
Luck that she hadn't noticed the seed.
Luck that she hadn't seen the System.
Luck.
He hated relying on luck.
He sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at his bandaged hands.
Then, with slow care, he reached beneath his tunic and pulled out the Seed of Irregular Growth.
It rested in his palm, small and dark, almost unimpressive.
But Cael could feel it now.
Not like heat.
Like presence.
Like something alive had chosen to take root inside him.
The System flickered faintly.
[Seed Bonding Progress: 24%]
[Passive Effect Active: Irregular Growth]
[Note: Growth increases when User survives lethal encounters.]
Cael stared at the words until his eyes began to ache.
Then he dismissed it.
No more staring.
No more imagining.
Time to move.
He stood up.
His shoulder protested. His ribs complained. His whole body felt like it was still half inside the grove.
He ignored it.
He changed into whatever clothes were clean enough, tied his shoes tightly, and walked back out into the city.
It wasn't hard to find a training field.
In Asterwyn, you could hear the sound of it.
Steel clashing. Wooden poles striking targets. The dull thud of fists on sandbags. Shouts of instructors and students trying to prove their worth.
Cael found a corner where no one was looking too closely and began with the simplest thing.
Running.
Not fast.
Not heroic.
Just running until his lungs felt like they were ripping.
His stamina drained quickly, his weak constitution dragging him down like chains. Sweat ran down his neck. His breath turned ragged. He nearly stumbled twice.
He wanted to stop.
He wanted to sit down and tell himself he'd done enough for a first day.
But then he saw it in his mind—bandits laughing, the guardian's antlers inches from his face, the System's cold numbers.
HP 7/43.
And he remembered what it felt like to lie in the dirt and realize no one was coming to save him.
So he kept going.
When running became impossible, he switched to bodyweight drills.
Push-ups.
His arms shook after five.
He forced ten.
Then fifteen.
His muscles screamed, and his shoulder made a sharp warning pain that almost dropped him to the ground.
He paused only long enough to breathe.
Then continued.
He didn't train like a talented student.
He trained like someone trying to outrun death.
Hours passed.
The sun moved.
The field emptied slowly as other students went to eat, rest, laugh with friends.
Cael stayed.
Because rest was expensive.
Only the strong could afford it.
By the time he finally walked back to the inn, his legs were barely working. He climbed the stairs like an old man, each step a small battle.
Inside his room, he collapsed onto the bed without taking his shoes off.
His body trembled.
His mind stayed awake.
He stared at the cracked ceiling and tried to calculate again.
Six days.
That was all he had.
Six days to force a weak body into something that could survive S-Class.
Six days to turn Cael Thornwood into someone the academy couldn't erase.
Outside, Asterwyn continued living.
Students laughed.
Merchants shouted.
The city glowed with ambition.
And somewhere within it, the best of the continent were arriving, carrying bloodlines, talent, relics, and destinies.
Cael closed his eyes.
His chest rose slowly.
Then he whispered into the darkness, not as a promise to the world… but to himself.
"Just endure."
His fingers curled faintly, as if they remembered holding a seed like a lifeline.
"Six days."
The System flickered once more, soft and unreadable.
[Training Condition Recorded.]
[Quest Updated: Enter S-Class in 6 Days.]
Cael didn't smile.
But for the first time, he didn't feel completely helpless either.
Because now he had something El never had on Earth—
A goal.
And a path to reach it.
Even if it broke him on the way.