Astraea Combat Academy Entrance Day
The line outside the gates stretched farther than Yorio could see.
Thousands of applicants stood shoulder to shoulder beneath the towering white walls of Astraea Combat Academy, the most prestigious combat institution on the continent of Avalon. Marble pillars rose like spears into the sky, engraved with ancient runes that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Above the gate hung the academy's crest, a silver wing wrapped around a sword.
To most students, it was a symbol of glory.
To Yorio, it looked like trouble.
He stared at the exam slip in his hand for a long time.
The paper trembled slightly.
Not because of nerves.
Because he hadn't eaten much.
"…I could still go home." he muttered.
No one heard him. The surrounding students were too busy bragging, laughing, or boasting about their abilities.
"I heard only one in twenty pass the written exam."
"My father hired three private tutors for me."
"I already mastered intermediate mana control."
Yorio slowly lowered his head.
"…Yeah. Definitely not my crowd."
He tugged his sleeve down, hiding the faint scars along his wrist, old injuries from years of hard living as an orphan. His uniform wasn't new like everyone else's. It was carefully mended, the stitches neat but obvious.
Because it had been repaired many times.
He shifted his weight, feeling the worn soles of his shoes press against the stone road.
Then, quietly, he sighed.
"Seriously… why did it have to be this academy?"
Before He Was Yorio
Once, he had been someone else.
Kenzie Anderson.
Age 29.
A theoretical physics professor.
Child prodigy.
Published researcher.
Someone who understood equations better than people.
He had lived a quiet life surrounded by books, chalkboards, and half-empty coffee cups. Social gatherings exhausted him. Teaching was manageable only because it involved explaining ideas rather than emotions.
His colleagues called him brilliant.
Students called him terrifying.
Not because he was harsh.
Because he always looked expressionless.
Even when praising someone, his face barely moved.
Even when surprised, he only blinked.
Even when happy…
…no one could tell.
One rainy evening, while walking home from campus, he had seen a small cat stranded in the middle of the road.
Headlights.
A speeding truck.
No time to think.
Kenzie moved.
Not because he was heroic.
Not because he loved animals particularly.
Just because letting it die felt… wrong.
He grabbed the cat and pushed it away.
Then everything went white.
Impact.
Sound vanished.
Pain exploded.
Then darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, he was lying in a vast empty space.
No sky.
No ground.
Just endless white.
The cat sat in front of him.
Perfectly unharmed.
Calmly licking its paw.
Kenzie stared at it.
"…Did I die?"
The cat looked up.
And spoke.
"Yes."
Kenzie blinked once.
"…I see."
No screaming.
No panic.
No denial.
Just quiet acceptance.
The cat tilted its head.
"You're unusually calm."
"I suspected as much."
"You sacrificed yourself to save me."
"I reacted instinctively."
"You don't even like cats."
"I don't dislike them either."
Silence.
Then the cat's body shimmered.
Light folded in on itself, reshaping reality. When it faded, the small animal was gone — replaced by a figure made of soft, glowing radiance. Its form shifted constantly, never settling into a fixed shape.
Kenzie stared.
"…Are you a god?"
"Yes."
"…Of cats?"
"Of this world."
"…I see."
The god seemed… amused.
"You saved me, so I will grant you a new life."
Kenzie considered this carefully.
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
"…I see."
A pause.
"Where will I be reborn?"
"In Avalon."
Kenzie's expression didn't change.
But internally
Recognition struck like lightning.
Avalon.
That name wasn't unfamiliar.
It was the setting of a fantasy web novel he had read years ago during a sleepless research binge.
A classic hero story.
Magic.
Demons.
Academies.
World-ending battles.
"…Avalon as in the novel?" he asked.
"Yes."
"…Is the protagonist named Cedric?"
"Yes."
"…Does he enroll at Astraea Combat Academy, becomes top of the first years, gathers companions, and eventually fights the Demon God?"
"Yes."
Kenzie closed his eyes briefly.
"…That story isn't finished."
"Correct."
"…So the world's fate is unresolved."
"Correct."
"…And you're sending me there."
"Yes."
Silence.
Then he spoke with complete sincerity:
"I would prefer not to."
The god laughed softly.
"That is not an option."
"Then at least allow me a peaceful life."
"That depends on you."
Light surged.
His consciousness dissolved.
And the world reset.
Back to the Present — Age 14
Yorio exhaled slowly.
Fourteen years in this new life had passed.
Fourteen years of growing up in an orphanage on the outskirts of the capital.
Fourteen years of trying very hard not to stand out.
He had been born weak.
Not "secretly powerful."
Not "late bloomer."
Just weak.
Poor mana capacity.
Fragile body.
Slow reflexes.
Perfect for a background character.
Perfect for survival.
Until the orphanage director handed him the academy entrance form.
"You're the oldest, Yorio," she had said gently. "The younger ones look up to you."
Behind her, a dozen children watched him with shining eyes.
"Big brother Yorio will become a knight someday!"
"You'll protect us, right?"
"You're the smartest!"
He wasn't.
But correcting them would have crushed their hopes.
So he accepted the form.
Even now, he could remember the smallest girl tugging his sleeve.
"Come back famous, okay?"
He had patted her head awkwardly.
"…I'll come back alive."
The Academy Gates
A bell rang.
The massive gates began to open.
Mana surged through the engraved runes, causing the air itself to hum.
An instructor's amplified voice echoed:
"Entrance examinees, proceed inside!"
The crowd surged forward.
Yorio moved with them reluctantly, like someone being carried by a current rather than walking by choice.
The academy courtyard was enormous a small city unto itself. Training fields stretched in every direction. Towers pierced the sky. Students in elite uniforms walked confidently, radiating power.
He immediately felt out of place.
"…Too flashy."
He glanced around nervously.
Important characters could be anywhere.
After all, this was the academy where the protagonist would soon enroll.
Cedric.
The future hero.
The narrative center of the world.
Yorio had no desire to get involved with him whatsoever.
"I just need to pass quietly," he whispered. "Graduate quietly. Get a stable job. Support the orphanage. Avoid flags. Avoid events. Avoid death."
A simple plan.
Very reasonable.
Reality, however, rarely cooperated.
Written Examination Hall
Rows of desks filled a vast chamber.
Thousands of students took their seats.
Yorio sat near the back corner optimal background position.
He unfolded the test paper.
Advanced magical theory.
Basic combat strategy.
Historical analysis of demon wars.
His eyes scanned the questions.
"…This is undergraduate level," he murmured.
Old habits surfaced automatically.
Despite trying to live as an ordinary person, his mind was still that of a genius researcher.
He solved the questions quickly.
Then stopped.
If he submitted too early, he might attract attention.
If he scored too high, he might be labeled a prodigy.
That was dangerous.
Prodigies get recruited.
Recruited students go on missions.
Missions involve death.
So he deliberately added a few small mistakes.
Not enough to fail.
Not enough to excel.
Perfect mediocrity.
He waited until the final minutes to submit.
..
..
Practical Examination Grounds
This was the real hurdle.
Written tests didn't kill people.
Combat trials did.
Applicants demonstrated physical ability, mana control, and basic fighting skill against training constructs or sparring partners.
Yorio watched several matches nervously.
Explosions.
Sword clashes.
Wind blades slicing stone.
"…Yeah, I'm going to die," he concluded calmly.
His number was called.
"Applicant 8472 — Yorio."
He stepped forward.
Across from him stood a training automaton a humanoid construct made of reinforced alloy, glowing with mana circuits.
Difficulty rating: Beginner.
Good.
Beginner meant survivable.
"Begin!"
The automaton lunged.
Fast.
Too fast.
Yorio panicked and stumbled backward.
His foot caught on the uneven ground.
He fell.
Hard.
The automaton's attack missed by centimeters as it passed overhead.
It crashed into the stone wall behind him, embedding its arm deep into the structure.
Sparks flew.
Systems malfunctioned.
It went still.
Defeated.
Yorio lay on the ground, stunned.
"…Huh."
An examiner stared.
"…Victory. Applicant Yorio passes."
Murmurs spread.
"That dodge…"
"Perfect timing."
"He baited the automaton into overextending."
"Insane reaction speed."
Yorio slowly sat up, confused.
"…I tripped."
No one believed him.
After the Test
He left the arena quietly, hoping to disappear into the crowd.
Instead, he noticed several students watching him with wary expressions.
Whispers followed.
"That's the guy who beat the automaton instantly."
"He didn't even draw a weapon…"
"Did you see his face?"
"He didn't look surprised at all."
Of course he didn't.
He rarely looked surprised.
Yorio walked faster.
"…This is bad."
Very bad.
This was exactly how misunderstandings started.
He clutched his acceptance slip tighter.
"…Just background," he reminded himself. "Stay background."
Above him, the academy's towering spires gleamed in the sunlight beautiful, imposing, and filled with future chaos.
Somewhere inside those walls, the future hero would soon arrive.
The story would begin.
Wars would come.
Demons would rise.
And Yorio wanted absolutely nothing to do with any of it.
He just wanted to survive.
Support the children waiting for him.
Live quietly.
Graduate unnoticed.
He looked back once at the academy gates.
Then forward again.
"…I can do this."
A pause.
"…Probably."
And with that small, uncertain step, Yorio former genius professor, accidental savior of a god, unwilling participant in a hero's story walked into Astraea Combat Academy.
Completely unaware…
…that his quiet life was already doomed.
To be continue