Magic is talent—pure and simple.
Or, to be precise, a person’s magical power is determined the mont they’re born.
And most of the ti, that talent is inherited. If your parents possess extraordinary magic, odds are you’ll be born gifted as well. That’s just how the world works—unfair, rigid, and absolute.
But every so often, exceptions appear. Mutations. People born with imnse magical power despite coming from ordinary families.
The protagonist of this world was one of them.
Which ans, of course, the reverse is also true.
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[Magic Evaluation Results]
Louis Vermore – Magic Rank: D
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"...I’m screwed."
I stared at the evaluation sheet in disbelief, the bold letter D glaring back at like an insult.
After the sester officially began, the Academy held its magic rank evaluation. Every student had to undergo it—it asured one’s innate magical potential, sothing supposedly fixed from birth.
And mine... was a miserable D.
Considering that the average rank among academy students hovered around C, this result ant I had below-average magical power.
I let out a long sigh and slumped back in my seat.
So this was it. The truth Louis must have known all along.
It finally made sense why he gave up on magic—and even why he abandoned the sword at one point. Maybe he’d realized there was no real path forward. After all, what could soone with such a weak magic rank hope to achieve?
This world ran on ranks and circles—hard, cold hierarchies.
Mages were classified by the number of magic circles beneath their hearts, each representing their control and capacity for mana. Swordsn, anwhile, were ranked by their mastery of sword energy: first Sword User, then Sword Expert, and finally Sword Master.
Those who reached Sword Expert were already powerful enough to earn the title of Imperial Knight.
But looking down at the paper in my hand, I couldn’t help but wonder...
With a magic rank like this, could I even dream of reaching that level?
The corner of my mouth twisted in a faint, bitter smile.
"Guess this is what they an by being born unlucky."
So that’s why he gave up.
Louis—before I ended up in his body—had every reason to feel frustrated.
All his siblings had their talents recognized by the Empire.
Each one worked in the imperial palace, carrying the family’s pride on their shoulders. And then there was Louis, the youngest, born with below-average magical power. In a family that valued excellence above all, that was practically a curse.
No wonder he’d wanted to quit everything.
"What’s wrong?"
Elena’s voice pulled back to reality. She was sitting beside , her curious eyes peering over her notebook.
"Nothing," I replied quickly, forcing a small smile. "It’s nothing."
She tilted her head slightly but didn’t press further.
I looked down at the paper in my hand—my magical power evaluation sheet. A sigh escaped before I crumpled it into a ball and shoved it into my pocket.
If I wanted to change anything, I needed a way to boost my magic soon. There had to be sothing—an opportunity hidden sowhere in this world—that could help overco this limitation.
While my mind wandered through all the possibilities, Professor Dominic’s firm voice rang across the classroom.
"Alright, everyone. As I ntioned before, today we’ll be holding a joint class with Class E. Change into your gym uniforms and gather at the gymnasium."
A murmur rippled through the room.
Ah, right. Today was that day.
The joint class with Class E—where the story’s protagonist, Edmund, was.
I could already imagine how this would go.
"Why do we have to take classes with commoners?" one noble student grumbled behind , his tone dripping with disdain.
"Exactly," another chid in. "It lowers our standards."
The complaints spread like wildfire, echoing through the room.
I leaned back in my chair, expression unreadable. Their arrogance was irritating—but expected. Nobles always looked down on commoners, especially in the early parts of the story.
Still, I couldn’t help but smirk faintly.
They had no idea what was coming.
Because soon enough, those "lowly commoners" from Class E were going to show them just how aningless bloodlines could be.
And right at the center of that clash would be Edmund—the protagonist who’d change everything.
"...This should be interesting," I muttered under my breath, standing up from my seat.
Elena glanced my way, blinking. "Hm? Did you say sothing?"
"Nothing important," I said with a small grin.
As soon as Professor Dominic left the classroom, the murmurs erupted like a flood breaking through a dam.
Complaints filled the air, sharp and unfiltered.
No one seed pleased about sharing a classroom with commoners.
Despite the Academy’s noble mission—to erase the gap between classes and cultivate equality—the irony was bitter.
The system itself still enforced separation. Nobles with nobles, commoners with commoners. A division that stood as a monunt to hypocrisy.
Of course, the nobles had made sure of it. They had protested furiously when the Academy was first founded, demanding that their "dignity" be preserved.
The result? This farce of a system.
From a modern perspective, it was laughable. A group of self-important teenagers pretending to be superior because of their family nas.
And judging by Elena’s expression, she thought so too.
Her brows were furrowed in visible frustration as she glanced at the other nobles whispering among themselves, their words dripping with contempt.
"Let’s go," I said before she could speak her mind.
She looked at , still frowning. "Mm. Okay."
If I hadn’t stepped in, she might have started an argunt right then and there. And as tempting as it was to watch that play out, there was no need to stir up trouble—at least not yet.
They’d change their tune eventually. All of them would.
Their pride and arrogance were temporary—an illusion that would crumble soon enough.
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