Zayne Cain stood in front of a wrought-iron gate carved with the emblem of an open book and a flame named Serynth Academy of Practical Arts and Combat.
Students flooded in around him, most clad in dark blue uniforms with silver trim, some with magical tomes strapped to their hips, others with swords or staffs. He felt immediately out of place, a street-worn black cloak draped over a secondhand academy coat that still smelled like old parchment and dust.
He sighed, adjusting the collar and muttering, "First I kill a noble, now I'm stuck in a glorified prep school."
[New Environment Detected: Serynth Academy Grounds]
[Daily Challenge Unlocked: Blend in or Stand Out?]
Reward: +5 Upgrade Points (Optional)
Zayne dismissed the prompt. He wasn't here to "blend in." This was just another obstacle. If this world wanted to keep throwing new rules at him, fine but he'd keep playing his way.
The main building rose like a cathedral of knowledge, its spires glinting with runes, windows alive with arcane light. Students gathered in the main courtyard where a tall man in a sharp coat stood atop a platform. His beard was trimmed, his voice magically amplified.
"I am Headmaster Lurion Valentine . Welcome to Serynth Academy, where your talents will be tested, refined, and measured. You are not children here as you are full of potential. Only the strong graduate and only the exceptional are remembered."
Zayne rolled his eyes. He already felt the judging stares as students from noble families whispered when they saw his worn boots, his patched bag. He caught one silver-haired brat mutter, "Peasant boy," before laughing with his friends.
He didn't say a word.
But he remembered the face.
After the orientation, they were divided into class types. Swordsmen, Elementalists, Beast Tamers, Alchemists, Spirit Mages. Zayne was pulled aside into a smaller group marked "Combat Class: Rogue."
Only three others stood with him, and they all looked… dangerous.
One had twin scars down his neck and arms wrapped in cloth.
Another wore tight leather gear and flicked a knife between her fingers, bored.
The third stood still, cloaked, and said nothing but his eyes were sharp, constantly scanning.
A woman in a black instructor's uniform stepped forward. She wore a curved blade on her back and no nonsense in her tone.
"I am Instructor Kaelith, and you are here because your skills are considered unstable. You're assassins, shadowblades, nightwalkers or whatever term your guilds or sponsors want to use."
Zayne raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to say we're walking liabilities and start quoting Guild policy?"
Kaelith smirked. "No, I train liabilities until they're weapons the world fears."
He liked her already.
They began with a sparring assessment. Zayne was matched against a wiry, fast-talking boy named Rett, who swung twin daggers with flashy spins.
Rett grinned. "F-Rank, huh? You sure you're not just the janitor?"
Zayne didn't answer. When the bell rang, he moved like a whisper and floored the boy in five seconds.
No wasted motion as one shadow step with a sweep to the legs and dagger to throat. Done.
Even Kaelith blinked.
"Well then," she muttered. "Looks like we've got a real one."
Later that day, Zayne sat on the edge of the academy's outer wall, looking down over the city. His legs dangled in the wind. He pulled out his system and checked his progress.
[Daily Challenge Complete: Stand Out]
+5 Upgrade Points
He placed them all into Agility, bringing it up to 40.
[Status Update - Assassin: Level 1]
Strength: 25 Vitality: 25 Endurance: 40 Intelligence: 20 Agility: 40
He was getting faster, stronger, and sharper.
Now he had eyes on him. Not just students or teachers, even noble's sons and daughters with family names and connections. People who wouldn't hesitate to dig into his background.
If word ever got out that an F-Rank peasant was behind Soren Von Virel's mysterious death?
He'd be next.
A shadow fell over him. He turned as Selene Graves stood there, arms crossed.
"I figured you'd be here," she said. "The instructor said you made someone cry during sparring."
Zayne smirked. "He shouldn't have called me a janitor."
She sat beside him, watching the city with quiet eyes.
"You know," she said, "people like us? We don't get much of a safety net. Not in the guilds, not in the schools, no one's coming to catch us if we fall."
Zayne nodded. "So we don't fall."
Selene glanced at him. "You're planning something, aren't you?"
He didn't answer directly.
"I'm planning everything," he said softly.