"Juliet!"
The warm sunlight blanketed the academy grounds, but it didn’t reach . Not really. I walked toward the boy I once called friend, smiling like the past didn’t matter.
But it did.
"Sorry, I was lost in thought and didn’t hear you!"
"...Huh?"
"It’s been a while! How’ve you been?"
I threw an arm around his shoulder. He stiffened. I forced the smile wider.
"...Hey."
"Sorry to ask right off the bat, but... could you lend a million gold?"
There. No point dancing around it.
"...What are you saying?"
"You’re rich, right? A million’s pocket change to your family."
Juliet’s expression contorted with disbelief and fury.
"You crazy bastard!"
His fist flew. Fast, laced with mana.
I didn’t flinch.
That punch reminded of who I used to be — the kid who got hit and just took it. Not anymore.
I caught his punch, twisted his wrist gently — but firmly. A little pain. Enough to make a point.
"Aghh!"
He shouted. The magic kept the bones intact, but it still hurt.
"You...!"
He yanked back, drawing his rapier. Divine energy blood from his stigma. Stronger than Felix. Sharper, more focused.
But too angry.
Too human.
"Get lost."
Berald Martial Arts. Sword Breaking.
I sidestepped, raised my hand, and brought it down on the flat of the blade. Condensed mana made my hand like steel.
-Clang!-
The sword snapped in two.
"...Huh?"
Juliet stared at his broken weapon like he couldn’t believe it. I kicked his legs out. He crumpled, howling, both hands cradling his groin.
"AAARRGH!!"
A chorus of gasps followed. Girls nearby shrieked and ran over.
"Juliet-senpai!"
"What are you doing to our senior?!"
I turned slowly. They flinched when they saw my face.
"Just having a talk with my friend. Mind giving us space?"
"You’re no friend of Juliet!"
"We’re calling a professor!"
I sighed. Tired. Not at them. At the world.
"You’re not listening."
I let my killing intent seep into the air. Not much. Just a thread of it. A reminder of who I had been. Who I am now.
"Get lost."
Their bravado shattered like glass.
Pale faces. Trembling legs. One girl wet herself. I watched in stunned silence.
’...That was barely anything.’
They were so soft.
’Are these really supposed to be hero cadets?’
But then again, they hadn’t lived through blood and fire like I had. They hadn’t buried friends. Or burned to death trying to hold onto sothing they couldn’t reach.
They ran, crying.
I released the pressure and turned back to Juliet, who was moaning on the ground.
"Now... where were we?"
"Y-You want to borrow money?"
"Yeah."
"H-How much?"
"A million."
"You were serious about that?!"
Juliet’s voice cracked. The sa voice that used to laugh when others knocked to the ground.
I smiled. It didn’t reach my eyes.
He backed away. I raised a fist slightly. He flinched like a beaten dog.
"I-I’m sorry! Please don’t hit again!"
I lowered my hand.
"I’m not hitting you. I’m asking you. As a friend."
He looked pitiful, eyes lowered, pride already crushed.
"...Even I don’t have that kind of money."
I nodded. "Figured. But your father might."
"You want to ask my dad for that?!"
"Yeah."
"Have you lost your mind?!"
I didn’t respond. Just looked at him.
He looked away first.
’Juliet Kang.’
He wasn’t even one of the worst. Most of his bullying had been to show off in front of junior cadets. Nothing personal. Just at the bottom of the food chain.
But he stuck in my mind. Not for what he did, but what he hid.
In six months, the whole academy would know about Juliet’s... secret.
A hobby that shattered his perfect image.
"Juliet. Let see your Hero Watch."
"...What?"
Color drained from his face. He instinctively covered the device on his wrist.
"Why the panic?"
"N-No reason!"
"Then show ."
"I—uh—what? No!"
He turned to run.
Bad move.
I swept his legs and snatched the watch from his wrist as he hit the ground with a thud.
"Give it back!"
"Hold on."
I channeled mana into it. The lock glowed.
’Of course. A personal lock keyed to his magic.’
I mimicked it.
-Diling-
The lock opened. Hologram nus appeared. I searched.
Found them.
Dozens of photos — Juliet in dresses, wigs, full makeup. Flirty poses. Frilly outfits.
Even I wasn’t prepared.
"...Gods."
It wasn’t the cross-dressing that shocked . It was the painstaking effort. The vanity. The obsessive detail.
I downloaded them to my own Hero Watch.
"Now. That loan."
"You... how... What are you going to do?!"
"Answer."
He said nothing.
Just... cried.
"...I’ll ask my dad."
"You have a week."
He nodded slowly, tears rolling down his cheeks. Part of wanted to feel bad.
But I rembered being on the floor, watching them laugh.
"Relax," I said. "I’m borrowing, not taking. I’ll pay it back."
"Can’t you trust a friend?"
He cried harder.
I watched him, empty.
’One step closer.’
I hadn’t expected the money problem to be solved today.
My stomach growled.
’Cafeteria’s probably closed.’
I nudged Juliet with my foot.
"Hey."
"...Yeah?"
"Here’s 500 shillings. Go get two breads and a large milk."
"That’s... not enough."
"So?"
"You want to cover the rest?"
"No," I said. "Leave five gold as change."
"..."
After that strange reunion with Juliet—if you could even call it that—I used the remainder of my suspension to quietly fortify myself.
Swish.
The instant I awoke, I reached for the sword beside my bed and drew it in one fluid motion, slicing cleanly through my own neck.
Death had beco routine.
The searing agony returned imdiately, the primordial fire igniting in my chest like a molten brand.
It hurt. Gods, it always hurt.
Even though the fire would naturally increase my magic over ti, ditation made the process more efficient—more controlled. If I could focus, endure, and visualize clearly, I could draw more out of it.
’Five minutes. That’s the window.’
The pain only lasted that long. Within that ti, I had to plunge into the fire and pull sothing back.
Sss. Huu.
I drew long, focused breaths. The technique didn’t just regulate my body—it anchored my mind in place.
In my thoughts, the fire surged.
A sea of fla, boundless and ravenous, crackled within the void of my soul.
I stepped forward.
Each ti I ca here—this ntal crucible—I stood before that world-consuming blaze, knowing what ca next. The fear never vanished. I simply walked forward despite it.
The fla lashed out. My soul howled.
But I reached out anyway.
Pain tore through my every nerve, my every thought.
This was agony no ordinary person could endure—no sane person would even attempt.
But I had died more tis than I could count. I had suffered worse. I knew worse.
’Move.’
I demanded the fire to yield, to let shape it. To let claim it.
But the Primordial Fla didn’t respond to force. It never had.
Instead, it flicked a single ember into my palm—tiny, insignificant compared to the blaze I’d faced.
I stared at the ember. The size of a candle’s fla. Barely anything.
And yet, I felt gratitude.
Because this ant I had succeeded. Just a little more than last ti. I was getting stronger.
I pressed the ember to my chest.
Huu...
With a deep breath, I returned to my body. The branding pain faded, replaced by warmth and a heavy exhaustion.
Ash scattered across the bedsheets. Remnants of the body that had just burned, revived by the fire’s gift.
"Oh." I flexed my fingers and smiled faintly. "That was a good pull."
The ember’s gift wasn’t just magic—it was proof of control, of progress. I wasn’t rely surviving anymore. I was growing.
’This is what Yuren ant about ntal image and breathing...’
I’d once scoffed at those words. Back then, no matter how I breathed, visualized, or ditated, nothing changed. My body had been too broken.
Now, it was different.
Now, I could feel the difference. Each session yielded more. Four tis a day. That was the limit.
I exhaled and looked down at the sword still in my hand.
’Still... I need a better thod.’
Decapitation was efficient. Quick. But ssy. Ashes coated the sheets. My head usually rolled off sowhere inconvenient—though it vanished with regeneration, it always made feel oddly detached.
’I need sothing cleaner.’
But I didn’t have ti for that kind of innovation right now.
"Let’s wash up."
Today was Monday. The first day I’d be attending class since my suspension.
Early Morning. Reynald Hero Academy.
The corridors buzzed with life. Cadets, clad in training gear, moved in groups toward their morning lectures.
"Hey, it’s Dale Han."
"Seriously, that Dale?"
"They say he fought Juliet and won."
"I thought he was ranked dead last?"
"That’s what makes it crazy. Dude went from trash to terrifying overnight."
I kept walking, ignoring the whispers. They weren’t malicious—just fascinated. Suspicious. Curious.
’I didn’t want to beco a school legend overnight.’
But I understood. If I were in their shoes, I’d be curious too.
Still, that didn’t an I’d crawl back into obscurity.
I used to follow in others’ footsteps, dragging behind... barely able to keep up.
Not this ti.
Click.
I opened the door to the Practical Combat Training lecture room.
Silence.
Dozens of eyes turned to at once.
So held fear. Others, fascination. A few, disdain.
"Haa..."
I sighed softly. This kind of atmosphere would follow for a while. No helping it.
My gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to the window seats.
There she was.
Iris.
Her violet eyes studied , curious yet cool.
Next to her sat Camilla, arms crossed, lips drawn in a tight scowl.
’Yeah... I owe her an apology.’
But not now. If I spoke to her in front of everyone, it would only cause another scene.
"Ugh."
I took my seat.
Slowly, the room began to murmur again. Quiet voices picked up like a rising tide.
"Alright, rookies. Cut the chatter."
The classroom door opened, and Professor Lucas stepped in with his usual booming presence.
"If you fall asleep during my class again, Han, I’ll toss you out myself."
"Yes, sir."
He grunted, nodding.
I bowed my head slightly. He didn’t push the issue. Despite the rumors that I’d knocked him down last ti, he was still treating with a baseline of respect.
Lucas was the kind of man who valued action over gossip. One of the few professors I truly respected.
’He’s one of the reasons I even graduated in the previous tiline.’
"Let’s start roll call."
He walked between rows of seats as he read nas aloud.
Then—
"Dale Han."
"Here."
Swoosh.
He handed sothing as he passed—a small, folded note.
’What the...?’
I opened it quietly under the desk.
[Rember this! The only reason you got was because I was caught off guard! If I had been serious, a rookie like you wouldn’t even be worth a punch!]
"...He’s holding a grudge?"
I looked up. Lucas avoided my eyes, coughing into his fist.
I stifled a laugh.
At least he was self-aware.
’Petty old man.’
I slipped the note into my chest pocket.
"Now then." Lucas returned to the front. "What’s the na of this class?"
"Practical Combat Training, sir."
"Correct. The purpose of this class is to prepare you for real combat against monsters and demons."
He turned toward one cadet.
"Albert. What’s the most important thing in battle?"
Albert stood stiffly. "C-Courage, sir!"
"Wrong. That’s for lunchboxes."
"...Lunchboxes?"
"I heard that from Professor Bianca. Hilarious, right?"
"Ah... ha...ha..."
Lucas placed a massive hand on Albert’s shoulder.
"Laugh."
"Ahahaha!! Hilarious! A lunchbox, right? Classic!"
"Good. Now then."
He returned to the podium, his expression serious again.
"Experience. That’s what matters in combat. Not courage. Experience dulls fear. Teaches instincts. And you don’t get that in a classroom."
Thud.
He tapped the podium.
"Get outside. We’re doing this in the field."
Groans followed. So excited, others anxious.
"You’ll form parties of three. You have 15 minutes. Pick your teams."
The room instantly burst into motion.
Students rushed to form groups. Laughter and anxiety mingled in the air.
’Party work, huh...’
I exhaled.
This part always sucked.
No one wanted to partner with the weirdo. The quiet kid. The last-ranked reject.
And now? I was a suspicious anomaly. Feared and ostracized.
I scanned the room.
No one t my gaze.
I was already preparing myself to be left out when—
"Dale."
A gentle voice from behind.
"Would you like to team up with us?"
I turned.
There she stood.
The Saintess.
Smiling at like nothing was wrong.
Like I wasn’t a monster or a mystery.
Like I was just... .
Reviews
All reviews (0)