Ronan tightened the knot on his dark blue tie, letting it hang slightly loose around his neck. A clean white shirt, black slacks, and the faintest scowl on his face completed the look. After checking himself in the cracked mirror, he grabbed his bag and stepped out of the old apartnt that had been his ho for the past few years.
Down in the parking lot, he wheeled out his bicycle. Nothing flashy—just an old, second-hand bike that got him where he needed to be. With a light push, he mounted it and began pedaling, the early morning wind brushing softly across his face.
Then, sothing happened—
[New Skill Acquired!]
[Skill: Beginner Cyclist]
[Description: Increased balance and efficiency while riding a bike. Slightly improved speed and reduced stamina consumption]
Ronan let out a quiet chuckle. So that was how it worked.
Now he understood—if he did sothing with enough intensity, the system would acknowledge it and grant a skill accordingly.
"Interesting," he muttered under his breath.
He picked up speed, feeling the difference almost instantly. The pedals moved more smoothly, and his control sharpened ever so slightly. If this was just the beginner level, he couldn't help but wonder—what would the advanced tier feel like?
The school building soon ca into view.
But sothing about this morning was... off.
A large crowd had gathered near the gates, spilling out toward the sidewalk and across the front yard. Right in front of the old, long-abandoned building beside the main campus. Students, teachers, police officers—even a couple of ambulances. So people were crying. Others just stood frozen, staring.
Ronan rolled his bike to a stop by the side of the road.
That building—that was where he'd killed Liam, Ryan, and Jake the night before.
He watched the scene quietly, expression unreadable. But deep inside, sothing stirred—not fear of being caught, not guilt... but satisfaction.
His eyes swept the crowd.
Several adults stood near the front, trembling and sobbing. Two of them collapsed in grief, their cries sharp and broken. Police and faculty tried to console them, but nothing helped.
Parents.
Ronan could tell instantly.
The families of Liam, Ryan, and Jake.
If only they knew.
If only they knew what their precious children had done to him.
What they were.
And if only they realized that the person responsible for their deaths stood just a few feet away, silently watching.
A faint smile crept onto Ronan's face.
Then, a hand tapped his shoulder.
He turned.
A young man stood beside him, about the sa age, maybe a little shorter. ssy black hair, sharp eyes dulled by exhaustion, dark circles under both.
Elliot Graves.
One of the few people Ronan could loosely call a 'friend'.
"Morning," Elliot said softly.
Ronan raised an eyebrow. "What's with the crowd?"
Elliot stared at him for a mont, then leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Three people are dead."
Ronan kept his composure. "Who?"
"Liam, Ryan, and Jake," Elliot said, his tone dark. "They found the bodies in the old building this morning."
Ronan turned his gaze toward the ambulances, now loading up the black bags.
"Sounds like divine justice," he muttered. "How'd they die?"
Elliot lowered his voice even further. "It was brutal. The cops haven't said much yet, but... their bodies were unrecognizable. Like, full-on mutilated. Whoever did it—definitely a psycho."
Ronan nodded slowly, his face blank. But inside? He was smiling.
If only Elliot knew.
If only he realized the so-called 'psycho' was standing right next to him.
Elliot glanced around before speaking again, this ti with a crooked smile. "Still... I kinda think the guy did the world a favor. Especially for you, man."
Ronan stayed silent.
Elliot sighed. "They were trash, all three of them. I'm sorry I didn't speak up more. I should've had your back."
"You don't owe anything," Ronan said simply. "It's over now."
Not long after, one of the teachers showed up and began dispersing the crowd, urging students to gather in the schoolyard. A short morial was held—just words, really. Condolences. Warnings. Promises of tighter security and police cooperation.
Ronan listened with a cold, disinterested expression.
They should've been careful a long ti ago.
---
Classes resud like nothing had happened.
At least, for everyone else.
Ronan sat at his desk, opened his book, and began to read—calm, thodical, detached.
Then—
[New Skill Acquired!]
[Skill: Speed Reading]
[Description: Increases reading speed and enhances information retention]
Another smile tugged at his lips.
This day kept getting more and more interesting.
---
By noon, classes ended.
The halls buzzed with leftover tension as students filed out—so still murmuring about the murders, others desperately trying to pretend things were normal again.
Ronan returned to his apartnt, slipped out of his uniform, and changed into a black T-shirt, a worn gray jacket, and loose cargo pants.
In the kitchen, he made a quick al—nothing fancy. Afterward, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant, his thoughts focused.
"I need to get stronger," he said to himself.
Right now, his physical abilities were still average at best. That wouldn't be enough for what was coming. Not in this world.
He had Starfla now—his supernatural ability.
But it wasn't enough.
Not yet.
The fastest way to improve was through direct combat. And the best hunting ground nearby?
The forest.
Wild beasts road there—creatures warped by mana. Dangerous, yes. But also ideal training.
Ronan grabbed his bag, stuffed a change of clothes inside, and stepped out.
By the roadside, he waited.
A mont later, a car pulled up—a standard rideshare, the app confirming his na.
The driver rolled down the window. "You're Ronan?"
Ronan nodded. "That's ."
"Then hop in."
Ronan reached for the door—then paused.
He looked at the driver and smiled.
"Actually," he said softly, "let drive."
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