It was 3:00 a.m.
Mark's family lay fast asleep in their lavish new rooms, wrapped in silk sheets and dreams of a better life.
Mark, on the other hand, was already being dragged from his bed.
A loud knock slammed against the door, followed by a gruff voice. "Get up. Training grounds. Now."
He opened his eyes groggily, the fatigue from going to sleep late yesterday betraying him.
Mark groaned as he got up. "Can't these people give me a break? I just want to take a nap…" he muttered, throwing on his uniform and following the guard down the torch-lit halls.
The two arrived at the training grounds a massive, dome-like room infused with floating mana crystals and enchanted runes carved into the floor. Rows of inactive golems stood like statues along the walls.
At the center stood a tall woman with long white hair and gleaming light armor made from blackened dragonsteel a metal said to withstand even a full-force dragon blast.
The guard nodded once, then turned to leave.
Before the door shut, Mark heard him murmur under his breath, "May God rest your soul."
Wait, what? Mark blinked, not hearing him clearly.
Before the thought could settle, a blur of motion rushed toward him.
CRACK!
A boot slammed into Mark's chest, launching him across the room. He smashed into the far wall with a painful crunch and dropped to the floor, gasping for air and spitting up blood.
But before he could even feel the pain fully, golden runes on the wall glowed and a surge of warm energy washed over his body, healing him instantly.
"W-What the hell?" he whispered, barely processing what just happened.
Then BOOM! a punch landed just inches from his face, cracking the wall beside his head.
The woman stood over him, arms crossed.
"The name's Marrybell Rosemary," she said coldly. "Marry for short. In this room, I'm queen. You don't breathe unless I say so. You don't eat, sleep, or even think without my command. Got it?"
Mark nodded quickly, still dazed. Her presence alone was overwhelming like standing too close to a wild predator.
She smiled darkly. "Good. Now get up, dragon boy. You've got a long way to go. And don't go running to that old priest like some little bitch. He knows exactly how I train."
Oh god, she's insane, Mark thought, slowly pushing himself to his feet. How long do I have to survive this?
Thus began his nightmare.
Push-ups. Squats. Balance drills. Running laps around the chamber while dragging weights. All while listening to Marry lecture him on magic theory, her boot pressing down on his back during every push-up.
"You want to cast a fireball?" she barked. "Understand this mana output controls power. Focus controls shape. Control the damn shape, or you blow off your own hand."
Despite the brutal pace, Mark absorbed every word. Eight hours of relentless physical torture, broken only by magic theory, and then more pain.
Thankfully, the room's enchantments kept him alive constantly healing his broken bones, torn muscles, and bruised body. The pain returned each time, but it kept his body growing at an accelerated rate.
By the end of the session, he was drenched in sweat, muscles twitching from exhaustion.
Yet his mind stayed sharp.
He understood magic more than most of the scholars in this world, thanks to the education he received in his past life. Physics, energy theory, elemental reactions it all clicked.
Mana was power. Focus was control. Intention was direction.
Simple.
His father in the previous world might've been a deadbeat, but at least the man had enrolled him in school. Probably just to avoid child services, but it still paid off now.
Marry slapped him across the back, jolting him out of thought. "Not bad for a brat. You didn't cry or pass out."
Mark grunted. "Yay me."
She chuckled darkly. "You'll cry tomorrow. I'm only getting started."
Day in, day out—Mark trained.
From sunrise to sundown, and even deep into the night, his body was pushed past its limits. The manor's training grounds became his second home, the blisters on his palms permanent, and the stench of sweat never quite left his body.
He would continue training at the manor until the Knight's Academy opened enrollment. Even with the head priest's support, he still needed to pass the entrance exam on his own merit.
His family grew worried.
His mother objected more than once. "He's just a child! He needs rest, food, proper care "
But Mark always reassured her. "I'm fine, really. Just a bit tired," he would say with a smile, even when his legs shook and his muscles ached. It wasn't just about protecting himself it was about keeping his family in the good graces of the priest.
Because the priest might've needed him... but that didn't mean he cared about them.
Mark could see it clearly: the way the maids wrinkled their noses when serving his parents, how they whispered behind their backs. In their eyes, his family were still commoners dirt beneath noble boots.
The only thing shielding them from scorn was Mark's power… and his willingness to bleed for it.
But not everyone in the mansion treated him like filth.
One of the younger maids a girl with soft green eyes and calloused hands often brought him food and drink during breaks. She was the daughter of a minor noble who had sold her to the temple to repay his debts.
Despite her status, she never looked down on him. In fact, she cheered for him every morning and smiled when his training ended.
Her name was Lira.
Her words and his parents' concern were the only things keeping him sane through the hellish days.
By the end of week two, Mark could conjure raw elemental energy with ease.
By week three, he learned how to shape and fire those elements with controlled precision.
By week four, he had mastered all the basic elements: fire, water, wind, earth, and lightning.
And in secret far from the eyes of his instructor he began experimenting with space magic.
Applying the knowledge of astrophysics from his past life, Mark realized something astonishing: if he could bend space in on itself, he could create portals.
And he did.
He opened a shimmering tear in the fabric of space and stepped through it only a foot away but the implications were massive.
After researching space magic in the temple's archives, he found out that portal creation was considered a forbidden-level spell, only known by a handful of elite magicians. He kept the discovery to himself.
But that wasn't all.
He began creating spells with destructive capabilities rivaling nuclear warheads though he always tweaked them to require less mana. Efficiency became his obsession.
In the short windows of time he had between training and eating, he devoured books on magic theory. His understanding of physics and biology courtesy of his old world's modern education gave him an edge that no one in this world could match.
By the end of his first month of training, Mark wasn't just learning.
He was evolving.
But while his magical progress skyrocketed, his physical combat was... less impressive.
He wasn't terrible. But not great, either. Slightly below average.
And that infuriated Rosemary.
Her response was to double his physical training.
"If your swordplay's going to be trash," she said, glaring at him while he collapsed from exhaustion, "then I'll make your body strong enough to punch a dragon in the face."
Whether she cared about him or not was unclear but one thing was certain.
She saw potential in him.
He was learning at a terrifying rate. His magic was unlike anything she'd ever seen. So she made a decision.
Mark wouldn't just be a tool.
He would become her masterpiece.
A warrior so powerful the King himself would reward her. Perhaps a medal. Perhaps even a promotion.
Whatever her reasons, she trained him with a viciousness that even the other knights flinched at.
But Mark endured it all.
Because in the end, if he wanted power… this was the price.
Days passed, and Mark's inhumane training finally came to an end.
It was the day of the Knight Academy entrance exam.
Mark stood at the gates of the grand campus, his body sore but his heart steady. He had been escorted by the head priest, Rosemary, and Lira whom he requested specifically for emotional support.
He didn't ask his parents to come.
Part of it was to spare them from worry. But deep down, he had a feeling based on every novel, anime, and RPG he'd ever consumed that this exam wouldn't be a written test or a simple evaluation. There was going to be a duel. A fight. Something dangerous.
He didn't want them to see him bleed again.
The group that came with him took their seats in the elevated viewing platform, a luxurious area reserved for noble sponsors, instructors, and VIP observers.
Mark took a deep breath and walked toward the main hall, where the rest of the applicants were already gathered.
The hall buzzed with noise.
Dozens of teenagers some in flashy robes, others in forged armor chattered away. Some shared rumors and gossip. Others tried to flatter the children of nobles or curry favor with knight officers.
Mark kept to himself.
His silver eyes scanned the crowd. Most of them had confidence… but it felt hollow. Their posture lacked the tension of real combat training. He could tell most of them hadn't been pushed the way Rosemary had pushed him.
And then
The lights dimmed.
A thick pressure filled the room, making the weaker students buckle at the knees.
A black, star shaped void opened on the stage like an eye slowly blinking awake. From within it stepped a tall, imposing man dressed in deep violet robes. His eyes glowed faintly, and the mere presence of his mana caused the chandeliers to flicker.
The headmaster had arrived.
"Silence," he spoke. But his voice was not loud.
Still, the room fell dead quiet as if someone had stolen the very sound from the air.
The ground shook gently beneath their feet, not from stomping or magic… but from the sheer density of his mana.
Mark's eyes narrowed.
> "So that's what high-level nobility feels like," he thought. "Feels like Master Rose… but without the bloodlust."
He could feel the difference between this man and Rosemary. The headmaster's power was vast, elegant, and refined. Rosemary's was raw, violent like a blade screaming for blood.
And then there was the portal he had arrived through…
"A spatial gate in the shape of a star? Inefficient. Looks cool though," Mark muttered internally. "Must've drained a ridiculous amount of mana. Typical noble, showing off."
Despite the theatrics, Mark couldn't deny it: the man was powerful.
The headmaster gazed across the sea of students, eyes scanning them as if weighing their very souls.
"Welcome, applicants," he finally said. "Today, we determine your worth. Not by bloodline. Not by wealth. But by strength."
Murmurs rippled through the hall.
"I knew it," Mark thought. "There's gonna be a fight."
His fists clenched at his side, but not from fear.
From excitement.
After everything he'd endured… now was his chance to prove himself.
To everyone.