The next few days after the tests were basically just lectures—skills, Star Stream, and the Tower's basic structure. Nothing fancy. Still, whispers about my ridiculous Willpower score hadn't died down. Apparently, I was now a "mental monster". Go figure.
But the spotlight had long shifted to the top ten, Avael included. She deserved it. I was content hiding in the shadows, as usual.
Then came class selection.
Most cadets made a beeline for combat-related subjects. Swordplay, Elemental Arts, Star Stream Manipulation—you know, the flashy stuff. But me? I had other interesting ideas.
I picked:
Survival Studies
History of the Tower
Library Duty
All subjects with nearly zero attendance.
Now, most people would ask—why the hell would you choose that?
Simple. Combat helps you fight.
But what actually keeps you alive is:
Adaptability.
Skill.
And knowledge.
The door to Survival Studies loomed over me. It was old—majestic in a forgotten kind of way. Worn wood. Metal handle shaped like a fang.
I pushed it open.
Surprise, surprise! No one else showed up.
I stepped in. The room smelled of leather and dust. Maps were pinned across the walls. Strange bones dangled from cords. An old man with wild, bushy hair spun around from the blackboard, his lab coat half-buttoned.
He blinked. "Uhm… young man, I think you came to the wrong class. Combat's down the East win—"
"Sorry to disappoint, pops, but I came to the right class."
"W-What?" His eyes widened. Shocked. Maybe… even a little happy?
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. After all… knowledge saves a man."
A moment of silence.
Then the old man gave a deep, hearty laugh. "Yes! Yes, you're correct! Hah! Young people these days always go for the flashy stuff… So I guess I was taken aback."
I smirked. "Well then, I look forward to your teaching, sir."
Once class started, I realized something.
This class was damn interesting.
Enemy weaknesses, survival in the Ashfall Deserts, terrain theory, ancient monster behavior, even history sprinkled in like seasoning. It was like a chef's special of useful knowledge.
By the time I looked at the clock, an hour and a half had passed.
The bell rang.
"Well then," the professor said. "I hope to see you again, young man."
"Sure," I said, standing. Next up—Tower History.
Class passed in a blink. Another rush of information—laws of the Tower, major collapses, ancient factions, and the whispers of the Primordial Architect. All of it felt like puzzle pieces I'd need later.
By the time the sun painted the sky a warm orange, I was walking down the hallway, hands in my pockets, oddly fulfilled.
Dennis and Avael were probably still stuck with Professor Chelsea...
---
Somewhere else…
Dennis sneezed violently. "Guh—who's talking about me?"
"Focus, Cadet!" Chelsea barked, voice like a whipcrack.
A spark flew past his face.
Avael stepped in—fast, low to the ground.
Dennis dodged back, just in time.
In terms of combat? He was decent.
But the kid in front of him?
Another level entirely.
A sweeping kick came low—he jumped. She twisted mid-motion, leg snapping upward—
Straight into Dennis's family jewels.
"UGHH!! That's... unfair…" he whimpered, falling like a cut string puppet.
"Match over. Cadet Avael wins," Chelsea announced, without even a flicker of emotion.
Avael looked down at the crumpled mess of a boy on the mat.
Still unmoving.
"Someone pick up the roadkill," Chelsea said flatly.
Avael sighed.
---
Meanwhile, back in the library...
I was sorting books in the dim evening light. No one had come in all day. That was the plan—I specifically picked this post because it seemed like no one would ever show up.
I was wrong.
There was one other person.
A girl.
Expressionless.
Golden eyes. Snow-pale hair. Skin like porcelain.
She looked more like a painting than a person.
'Crap… Why is there another person here? This was supposed to be my hiding spot.'
I glanced over.
She stared back.
I looked away instantly.
'Calm down, man! What's gotten into you? You're a man! A MAN! Act like one!'
…Yeah. Zero experience with girls. Thanks for asking.
Sweat gathered on my neck. The silence stretched. Still just the two of us.
I abruptly got up and headed for the nearest shelf. Pretended to read the titles. Any excuse to turn my back.
Then—
"Why do you hide your strength?"
I froze. "What?"
"I asked, why do you hide your strength?"
"Whoa, whoa—hold up. What makes you think I'm hiding anything?"
"…It's a feeling."
'Sharp intuition… Damn it.'
[Time to engage: Maximum Grade A Grade-A Bullshittery.]
I turned to face her with my most innocent, most Aviel smile.
"Oh, that? Nah, I'm just average. You've probably just been breathing too much library air. Gets to your head."
She didn't blink.
Didn't say another word.
Just turned back to her own shelf.