The Aethelred Royal Academy was a bastion of pristine architecture and manicured grounds, a stark contrast to the scorched earth of Mount Hwangsan or the grimy alleys of his Murim youth. White marble columns soared towards a cerulean sky, supporting arches that led to grand halls. Fountains sculpted into mythical beasts spilled shimmering water into reflecting pools, and pathways of polished cobblestone wound through gardens bursting with exotic, colorful flora. Students, arrayed in uniforms of various house colors, bustled with an air of eager anticipation, their laughter and chatter a light counterpoint to the distant clang of a training sword or the faint hum of Mana.
Rudelion, clad in the dark Thaumiel uniform, felt a strange mix of unease and exhilaration. Every step echoed with the phantom memory of his qi-laced gait, replaced now by the subtle thrum of Mana and Blood Imprint within him. His blonde hair, catching the sunlight, felt like a beacon, and his heterochromatic eyes—royal purple and abyssal black—felt like open declarations. Yet, no one stared overtly. A few curious glances, a whisper here and there about "Young Master Rudelion's recovery," but no outright alarm. His supposed illness was a convenient shield.
He made his way towards the Grand Assembly Hall, following the flow of students. The air crackled with Mana, a palpable energy that was both foreign and intoxicating. It was different from qi—less raw and primal, more refined and intricate, like comparing a raging river to a precisely engineered canal system. He felt the nascent Demon God power within him, the vast wellspring of Mana tied to his unique Blood Imprint, stirring, eager to connect with the pervasive energy of the academy. He kept it rigorously suppressed, a tight rein on the instinct to unleash it.
His main objective: avoiding all death flags for himself only. This was not a hero's journey, nor a path of self-sacrifice. This was survival, pure and unadulterated. And to survive, he needed information. The academy was a prime hunting ground.
The Assembly Hall was cavernous, its high vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate magical runes that shimmered faintly. Hundreds of students were already seated on polished wooden benches, a sea of bright uniforms. Rudelion found a seat near the back, observing. His eyes, trained by a lifetime of assessing threats and opportunities, swept across the faces. He recognized archetypes from GoldenFrisk2: the earnest protagonist (or multiple potential ones, depending on player choice), the haughty rival, the shy healer, the boisterous warrior. Each one, a potential threat, or a tool to be leveraged. He felt a rare surge of pure, unadulterated happiness. This was a game, and he had the cheat codes.
The headmaster, a venerable elf with a long, white beard and eyes that twinkled with ancient wisdom, took the stage. His voice, amplified by a subtle Mana-infused spell, filled the hall. "Welcome, new students, to Aethelred Royal Academy! You stand on the precipice of greatness, destined to shape the future of Aerthos. Here, you will hone your Mana, master your Blood Imprints, and forge the bonds that will protect our realm from the encroaching shadows!"
Mana… Blood Imprint… encroaching shadows. Rudelion listened intently, absorbing every word. This was the foundational lore, the basic system mechanics. His theoretical knowledge from GoldenFrisk2's lore sections was now being brought to life. He felt the faint shimmer of Mana within his own core, a growing awareness of its potential. His human body, now infused with the essence of the Demon God, was a natural conduit for immense Mana, and his unique Thaumiel Blood Imprint was intertwined with it, a powerful, dark resonance. This was his new power, entirely replacing his lost qi.
"Your studies will encompass the Arcana Arts, the history of Aerthos, strategic combat, and diplomatic relations," the headmaster continued. "But above all, you will learn the true meaning of courage, sacrifice, and the enduring power of friendship!"
Rudelion rolled his eyes internally at the last part, but his outward expression remained a mask of polite attentiveness. Friendship. The very concept was a weakness, a vulnerability he had long since discarded. Yet, in this world, in this narrative, it seemed to be a core mechanic. Perhaps he could exploit it. He could feign camaraderie, build superficial bonds to gain information or deflect suspicion, without ever investing truly. His goal was personal survival and redemption, not forming a 'party' of pixelated waifus.
The orientation concluded with instructions for class assignments and dormitories. Rudelion found his schedule: Arcana Theory, Combat Application, Aerthos History, and—to his utter disdain—'Social Etiquette and Interpersonal Dynamics.' The last one made his stomach churn. He, Cheon Hajin, forced to attend tea parties and learn how to make 'polite conversation.' The sheer indignity was almost unbearable. But it was a part of the game, a necessary evil to avoid 'Overtly Disruptive Behavior' and 'Immediate Death Flag Trigger.'
He located his dormitory, a spacious room shared with two other students. One was a broad-shouldered young man with a perpetually stern expression and a sword strapped to his back—the archetypal 'stoic warrior' character. The other was a lean, scholarly boy with thick spectacles, already hunched over a tome—the 'quiet mage' type. Both were generic background characters, unlikely to pose a threat, but also unlikely to be particularly useful. He greeted them with a nod and a polite, measured word, noting their reactions. They seemed wary of him, perhaps due to his reputation as the "sickly Young Master Rudelion" or his striking appearance. Good. A little distance was healthy.
Once alone in his designated space, he pulled up the System interface. The tabs reappeared:
[PROFILE]
[SKILLS]
[QUESTS]
[GACHA]
[SETTINGS]
He moved directly to the [QUESTS] tab.
[MAIN QUEST: DEFY FATE]Status: ActiveObjective: Prevent your predetermined defeat by the 'Protagonist' of this world. Secure personal 'True Freedom' from the narrative.Reward: Unknown (Likely Existential Autonomy)Failure Condition: Death / Narrative Lock-In as Antagonist
[Sub-Quest: Immediate Integration]Status: ActiveObjective: Successfully attend the Aethelred Royal Academy Orientation Ceremony without raising undue suspicion.Reward: Initial Academy Information, 1x Gacha Ticket (Common)Failure Condition: Overtly Disruptive Behavior / Exposure of 'Forbidden Authority' / Immediate Death Flag Trigger
A new prompt flickered.
[Sub-Quest: Immediate Integration - COMPLETE!]Congratulations, Host! You have successfully attended the orientation ceremony.Reward Delivered: Initial Academy Information, 1x Gacha Ticket (Common)
A small burst of light flared within the interface, and he felt a subtle, almost imperceptible surge of something. A single Gacha Ticket icon shimmered in his inventory within the System. Redemption, starting with a simple task. He felt a genuine sense of accomplishment, small as it was. This was a new beginning, a path to not just survival, but thriving.
He then tapped the [GACHA] tab, his heart thrumming with anticipation. This was the core of his new power acquisition, exclusively for himself. The screen transformed, displaying a single prominent button labeled [PULL]. Below it, a counter: Gacha Tickets: 1.
He pressed [PULL].
A vibrant array of colors swirled across the screen, a kaleidoscope of Mana converging. The digital effects were surprisingly captivating, reminiscent of the best gacha animations Maximilian had ever seen. The tension was real, even if the stakes were just his own stats.
A single card materialized, slowly turning to reveal its contents.
[SKILL ACQUIRED: Mana Sensing (Passive, Common)]Description: Allows the user to perceive the presence, flow, and density of Mana within their immediate environment. Provides basic understanding of Mana signatures.Rarity: Common
Rudelion felt a faint, pleasant warmth spread through his mind, and suddenly, the subtle hum of Mana around him intensified, becoming clearer, more distinct. He could discern the faint magical aura of the enchanted lamps, the slightly denser Mana around a nearby Mana-sensitive plant, and the varied Mana signatures of the students walking by. It was like gaining a new sense. A common skill, but incredibly useful for navigation and assessment in this Mana-centric world. He smiled. This was a good start. Practical. Useful for avoiding trouble.
He now had no Gacha Tickets. He would need more. How to acquire them? He checked the [SETTINGS] tab, searching for 'Gacha Ticket acquisition' or similar. It was sparse. No clear path. It seemed the primary way was through quests. This meant he had to actively engage with the System's objectives to gain power. A fair trade.
He then moved to the [SKILLS] tab. Mana Sensing (Passive, Common) was listed there. He tapped on it.
[Mana Sensing (Passive, Common)]Level: 1/5Experience: 0/100Upgrade Cost: 100 Mana Core Fragments OR 1x Gacha Ticket (Common)
Mana Core Fragments. Another new currency. He'd have to figure out how to get those. Probably from defeating Mana beasts or dismantling magical artifacts. This was more familiar territory. A grind. He could do a grind. He excelled at grinding.
His glance fell to his own hands. The purple and black eyes seemed to gleam with a new understanding of the world's energies. He extended his palm, focusing. He tried to draw Mana, not in the destructive way of his Demonic Arts, but as a pure, elemental force. It felt alien, like trying to breathe water. But with the newly acquired Mana Sensing, he could feel the Mana responding, a faint, wispy current flowing towards his hand. No visible effect, no crackling energy, but the connection was undeniably there. It was rudimentary, pathetic compared to the explosive force of his qi, but it was a beginning. A clean beginning, untainted by the bloody path he'd walked before. This was redemption.
He needed to understand the limits of his new power, the true nature of the Demon God's essence he was a vessel for, and how it intertwined with Mana and Blood Imprint. The game lore described Rudelion's powers as primarily focused on 'Void' and 'Abyssal' elements, manipulating shadows, curses, and spatial distortion. He felt a faint resonance with those concepts within his core, a deep, cold well that he knew was the Demon God's influence. But now, it wasn't a corrupting force; it was a vast, raw Mana source for him to control. The System was empowering him, giving him the tools to manipulate this immense power for his own ends.
His thoughts turned to the narrative. GoldenFrisk2's protagonist. He needed to identify them. There were usually telltale signs: a certain naive earnestness, an uncanny ability to attract powerful allies (or heroines), and often, a distinct visual design. He would keep an eye out. Avoiding his predetermined defeat meant identifying the threat early and either neutralizing it subtly, or, more preferably, guiding the protagonist away from the 'Demon God awakening' route entirely. He wasn't interested in being a final boss. He just wanted to live. Peacefully, if possible. Powerfully, definitively.
He considered the social interactions required by the academy. While he despised the forced pleasantries, he acknowledged their necessity. He would use them. Information gathering. Creating a non-threatening persona. Building a network, however superficial, that could serve his goals. He was Rudelion Von Thaumiel, the sickly noble now miraculously recovering. He would play the part to perfection. His poker face, honed by decades of Murim politics, was impeccable. His charm, a cruel weapon of manipulation in his past, would be repurposed for polite society.
He moved to the small desk in his dorm room, picking up a welcome packet. It detailed the academy's various clubs, its sprawling library, and the schedule for the coming week. 'Mana Cultivation Classes,' 'Practical Arcana Application,' 'Aerthos History: Era of the Elder Gods.' Each one a potential source of knowledge about this world's power system, its vulnerabilities, and its secrets. He felt a flicker of excitement. This was a new chessboard, and he was eager to learn its rules.
His gaze fell upon a small, intricate symbol embossed on the uniform's sleeve – the Thaumiel family crest, a stylized lion with an otherworldly aura. This wasn't just a mundane symbol; he could feel a faint Mana signature emanating from it, a unique pattern. This was part of his Blood Imprint. The bloodline magic of this world. He extended his Mana-sensing awareness to it. The crest wasn't just decorative; it was a conduit, a focal point for the Thaumiel family's inherent magical abilities. He could potentially unlock powerful abilities through his Blood Imprint, abilities entirely separate from the gacha system, but still tied to his new identity. The Demon God's essence likely supercharged this Blood Imprint, making him potentially one of the most powerful members of his lineage.
This was a complex world, far more nuanced than a simple transmigration back to the Murim. But he had a System designed for his survival, and a clearer path to redemption. He would embrace this. He would not just avoid death; he would shape his own destiny in this strange, vibrant world of Mana and Blood Imprint. The scent of jasmine, once cloying, now felt like a fresh breeze. He was ready.