The legend of Zander Blaze's catastrophic, potion-induced sprint through the academy corridors became the stuff of instant legend. It was dubbed the "Crimson Comet," and the story was told with hushed laughter and fearful glances toward the academy's basement. Kael's name became synonymous with a new kind of threat—not one of overt power, but of terrifying, unpredictable subtlety. He had established a reputation without throwing a single punch, a feat that confused the power-obsessed student body to no end.
In the days that followed, Class 1-F became a different place. The air of dejection was replaced by a quiet curiosity, all of it centered on Kael. Students would watch him, trying to discern the secret behind his placid confidence. He continued to excel in his "miscellaneous studies" with unnerving ease. In [Rune Scribing], while others struggled to carve a simple [Fire] rune that wouldn't explode, Kael drew a [Kinetic Absorption] rune so perfect it passively drained the ambient energy in the room, making the air feel heavy and still. He didn't follow the schematics; he simply wrote the rune's "code" directly onto the stone tablet with his will.
But no one was more affected than Professor Elara.
Her life had been one of quiet, academic frustration. Her [Item Identification] skill gave her a deep appreciation for the beauty of magical artifacts, but she lacked the power to create them. She was a critic in a world of artists. But Kael... Kael was different. He didn't just follow the art; he wrote the rules.
She started seeking him out after class, under the guise of academic mentorship.
"Mr. Virein," she began one afternoon, pushing her glasses up her nose, her hands nervously clutching a textbook. "I have been reviewing the ancient texts on 'Perfect Alchemy.' They speak of a state of 'Ideal Symbiosis' between ingredients, a theoretical state that your potion achieved. How did you perceive it? Was it an intuitive flash? A scent? A feeling in your mana?"
Kael looked at her. Her code was simple, her status alight with [Academic Fervor] and [Overwhelming Curiosity]. She wasn't seeking to expose him or use him. She was genuinely, purely desperate to understand.
He decided to give her a glimpse.
"It wasn't a feeling, Professor," he said, picking up a flawed [Fire] rune a student had discarded. "It was more like reading a sentence with a grammatical error."
He held the stone tablet. He focused on its flawed code. PROPERTY: [Ignition (Unstable)].
"The intent is to create fire," he explained, "but the structure is inefficient. The energy pathways are... clunky. They conflict."
He let his will flow into the rune. He didn't add power; he just rearranged the existing structure, correcting the "syntax."
PROPERTY: [Ignition (Stable, High-Efficiency)]
The dull red of the rune sharpened into a bright, steady crimson. A gentle, perfectly controlled warmth began to radiate from it.
Elara stared, her breath catching. She reached out and touched the stone. It was warm, perfectly stable. "You... you edited it. You edited the enchantment after it was carved." Her mind, trained to see items as static, finished products, was reeling. "That requires a skill on the level of [Artifact Reconstruction] or [World Weaving], skills of SSS-Rank legends! But you... you have no skill..."
"Think of it less as a skill, and more as a different perspective," Kael said, handing her the perfected rune.
Elara clutched the rune to her chest as if it were the holiest of relics. Her eyes, usually clouded with academic anxiety, were now shining with a brilliant, feverish light. This was it. The answer to every question she'd ever had about the nature of magic and creation. It wasn't about power or incantations; it was about understanding the underlying language. And Kael was the only native speaker.
"Mr. Virein... Kael," she said, her voice dropping to an intense whisper. "What you possess is not a lack of a skill. It's something that transcends the entire System. It's the key to understanding everything. I... I must study this. I must document it. Please, allow me to be your assistant. Your personal researcher! I will handle all your coursework, manage your affairs, anything you need! In return, just... let me watch. Let me learn."
She bowed deeply, her forehead nearly touching her desk. It was a plea of absolute academic devotion.
Kael saw her status update.
STATUS: [Unwavering Loyalty (Academic)], [Hero Worship]
He now had a Baron who saw him as a weapon, an Ice Duchess who saw him as an unsolvable mystery, and now, a Scholar who saw him as a living god of knowledge. It was... convenient.
"I accept, Professor Elara," he said. "Your discretion would be appreciated."
"Of course! Absolutely! I will be as silent as the grave!" she squeaked, straightening up, her face flushed with more joy than she had ever shown in her life. She was now, officially, the first person to willingly join Kael's inner circle, not out of fear or intimidation, but out of pure, unadulterated intellectual awe.
The next major event at the academy was the annual Freshman Combat Tournament. It was a chance for students to showcase their power, settle rivalries, and catch the eye of scouts from knightly orders and adventurer guilds.
Participation was mandatory.
The announcement sent a ripple through the academy. The students of the Aegis and Arcanum divisions buzzed with excitement. The Scrivener students groaned in resignation. And all of them wondered the same thing: what would Kael Virein do?
The news reached the 1-F classroom, and all eyes turned to Kael.
"A combat tournament?" one lanky student with a [Lesser Mending] skill muttered. "We're going to get slaughtered."
Kael, however, was looking at the tournament's rulebook, which Elara had procured for him almost instantly. He wasn't reading the rules on combat or forbidden spells. He was reading the fine print.
He stopped at one section: Equipment Regulations.
Section 4, Paragraph 2: All participants must use academy-issued training equipment. Personal weapons and artifacts are strictly forbidden to ensure a fair and level playing field.
A slow smile spread across his face.
On the day of the preliminary rounds, the entire freshman class gathered at the grand arena. The stands were packed. Valerius and Zander were preening, soaking in the cheers. Lyra stood apart, a pillar of calm, icy focus.
When the students of 1-F were called, they shuffled into the arena like sheep to the slaughter, Kael among them.
"Look, it's the failure class!" someone shouted from the stands. "This will be over quick!"
The instructor for the preliminaries, a gruff, battle-scarred Aegis Division professor, barked out the orders. "Your opponent is a standard-issue Clay Golem! It is enchanted with D-Rank durability and strength. Your goal is to incapacitate it or survive for five minutes. Pick up your training weapon and begin!"
A rack of identical, blunt, academy-issue iron swords was rolled out. They were heavy, poorly balanced, and utterly mundane.
As the other students reluctantly picked up their weapons, Kael walked over to the rack. He placed his hand on the hilt of one of the swords.
The professor sneered. "Don't bother looking for a better one, boy. They're all equally useless. It's a test of pure skill, which you don't have."
"Oh, I'm not looking for a better one," Kael said softly. "I'm making one."
He focused his will. He didn't need to see the code anymore; he could feel it. He pictured the sword in his hand not as it was, but as it could be.
He found its core material property: [Iron, Common]. He rewrote it to [Starmetal, Mythical].
He saw its sharpness value, [Edgeless]. He rewrote it to [Conceptually Sharp].
He added new properties. [Kinetic-Reversal Matrix], [Impact-Energy Amplifier], [Weightless], and for good measure, [Aura of Blinding-Righteousness].
The sword in his hand did not change its appearance. It remained a dull, blunt iron training sword. But anyone with a shred of mana sense who was paying attention—namely Lyra and Elara in the stands—felt a sudden, terrifying shift. It was like watching a kitten suddenly gain the spiritual weight of a god.
It was Kael's turn. He stepped into the arena. The heavy gates on the other side opened, and a ten-foot-tall Clay Golem lumbered out. It was a featureless humanoid shape, its fists as large as boulders.
The golem charged, its heavy footfalls shaking the ground. It swung a massive clay fist in a downward arc, a blow that could shatter bone.
Kael didn't dodge. He didn't brace himself. He simply lifted his "training sword" and tapped it gently against the golem's incoming fist.
The moment the sword made contact, several things happened at once.
The [Kinetic-Reversal Matrix] activated, absorbing the entirety of the golem's powerful charge and reversing it. The [Impact-Energy Amplifier] multiplied that reversed energy by a factor of one hundred. The [Conceptually Sharp] property ignored the golem's D-Rank durability entirely, treating it as if it didn't exist. And the [Aura of Blinding-Righteousness] flared to life.
A sun-like brilliance erupted from the point of impact. The entire arena was washed out in a flash of holy, golden light so intense that everyone had to shield their eyes.
When their vision returned, they saw a sight that defied all logic.
Kael stood untouched, holding the dull training sword without a scratch on it.
The golem's massive arm was gone. Not shattered, not broken, but gone. Erased from existence. And from the point of impact on its shoulder, a spiderweb of pure, destructive energy was spreading. In the space of a second, the entire ten-foot, D-Rank Clay Golem disintegrated into a cloud of fine dust, which then sublimated into nothingness.
Silence.
Absolute, profound, soul-shaking silence.
The gruff professor's jaw was on the floor. Valerius, who had been laughing a moment before, looked like he'd seen a ghost. Zander choked on his own breath.
In the stands, Elara was gripping her seat, her knuckles white, muttering "He rewrote a standard-issue item... on the fly... in violation of academy regulations... he's a genius..."
Lyra stood frozen, her icy composure finally gone, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated shock. She understood now. Kael didn't need a personal weapon.
He could turn any weapon into a god-killing artifact with a touch.
Kael lowered the sword, the blinding aura fading. He looked at the spot where the golem had been, then at the stunned professor.
"It broke," he said, with perfect feigned innocence. "These training golems are very poorly made."