The entrance ceremony vanished in the blink of an eye.
Of course, the legendary Caldwell Imperial Academy only admitted the best of the best.
Geniuses from every corner of the empire, royal heirs flaunting their bloodlines, barbarian prodigies from beyond the mountains, even a thief notorious in their hometown—all packed into one chaotic institution. Talent mattered more than anything, but since it was "Imperial," being a noble—or at least recommended by one—was still mandatory.
And naturally, a school like this never had a quiet moment.
Right after the entrance ceremony came the practical evaluation.
"Now that the ceremony is complete, we will proceed with the assessment—"
"The evaluation includes practical exercises, such as one-on-one sparring—"
Even if it was technically an educational institution, the academy knew how to throw students into chaos immediately.
I watched the assistant try—futilely—to line everyone up and let my mind wander. The scene was loud, hectic, and completely overwhelming. And yet, my chest felt heavier than ever.
"…Why am I already this tired?" I muttered under my breath.
I should have expected trouble. But meeting the Student Council President so soon after awakening my gift? That was chaos incarnate.
Wherever she was, calamity followed—and now, by some cruel twist, I was right in the middle of it.
Goodbye, peaceful life as a lowly extra.
Hello, merciless in-game scenarios.
And here I am, Adrian Merrick, all stats pitiful, special gift barely awakened, and already staring down disaster.
"Alright, students. Divide into groups and conduct one-on-one sparring!"
The assistant's voice barely registered as I stayed trapped in my thoughts.
But no. Giving up isn't an option. My life—my survival—depends on it.
'Step one: survive the evaluation without dying.'
Let's get this over with.
< Gift-related Character Notification >
▼ Lirielle
[ Trust Level 1 ]
[ D-2 until related events occur ]
"Related events," huh? Right. That probably means blood, chaos, and me almost dying. Lovely.
Well, step one: level up as fast as humanly possible in the next forty-eight hours. Easy, right? Totally manageable. Not terrifying at all.
"…Why am I always the unlucky extra?"
Fantasy extras always get deadlines that feel like a guillotine countdown. Forty-eight hours to survive and improve stats? Classic trap.
'…Deep breath, Adrian. Don't die before the fun even starts.'
I muttered to myself, resigned. The plan: survive, grind, and pray no one tries to assassinate me in the next two days.
"Hey! You! Student!"
Ah, perfect timing. Reality decided to slap me.
The assistant's shout hit my eardrums like a hammer. "Where have you been daydreaming?! I've called you more than once!"
Everyone's eyes on me now. A mix of pity, amusement, and "wow, he's definitely going to die first" vibes. Lovely.
"And by the way," the assistant continued, voice sharp enough to cut metal, "everyone else has picked their sparring partners. Yours… has been assigned automatically."
Ah, yes. The unchosen ones—the people nobody wants to fight. Guess who's first in line for death by awkward sparring?
I slowly turned to look at my "opponent."
Fantastic. If this is what surviving the academy looks like… I might as well start writing my last will now.
"…Why do I even exist?"
Oh, right. Survival. Level up. Don't get killed. Simple, really.
She stood there, a striking mix of golden hair streaked with crimson, wearing worn-out sports gear that looked like it had survived a dozen monster hunts. A plain longsword hung lazily at her side, yet somehow… she radiated an aura that made my chest tighten.
It wasn't just presence. It was charisma on steroids. Like facing her could erase my existence just by accident.
I squinted at the name tag pinned to her chest: [Elize Kingsley].
Oh no. I knew her.
No, of course I knew her. How could anyone not know someone on par with a legendary figure like Lirielle?
"…Um, hello?" I squeaked, my voice caught somewhere between awe and sheer panic.
The girl—already notorious in the hero-ranking circles of Hero Ascendant—smiled at me, perfectly calm, completely oblivious to the fact that I was mentally preparing my eulogy.
Wait, what am I thinking?
Yes, she might not look scary now, but this same girl would later level mountains with a single strike, slicing through sword or magic alike. Even now, she was a prodigy in motion: knights' missions, dungeon clears, monster hunts—she was basically a one-person army.
And here I am… Adrian Merrick, all-stat F, staring at a walking apocalypse in sneakers.
Of course, the freshmen instinctively avoided her. Every single talented student knew the score: this girl doesn't lose, and she certainly doesn't care about you.
My brain did a quick calculation: me vs. Elize = catastrophic failure in three… two… one…
But then… I paused.
I considered my special gifts, my current stats (all F), the villainous favor system that's apparently now my life, and my immediate survival goal.
And after a brief internal pep talk that probably sounded ridiculous out loud, I decided:
"…Hello."
I extended my hand, my awkward smile threatening to betray my panic.
And maybe, just maybe… this wasn't a crisis. This could be an opportunity.
After all… if I survive this encounter, anything else might be easy.
Jean was Caldwell Academy's Student Council Secretary and had been Lirielle's trusted confidant for over ten years.
That also meant she was the most furious when Lirielle ran late for any important appointment.
"That woman has completely lost it…!"
Jean clenched her fists, her eyes darting to the ornate clock on the wall, watching every second feed her frustration.
Shouldn't the Student Council President be the first to arrive, at least ten minutes early?
"Se, senior! Count Virell has just arrived…!"
"And Marquis Thalor is here…!"
Each announcement only added fuel to Beatrix's simmering anger.
Caldwell's entrance ceremony wasn't merely a school event—it was a gathering of the Empire's most influential figures, a stage for building alliances and showing off prestige.
And Lirielle, the President, couldn't even manage basic punctuality.
Jean exhaled sharply, attempting to calm herself, when the doors to the Student Council room finally swung open.
There stood Lirielle, her white blouse streaked with dust and the edges of her uniform slightly torn, hair disheveled but eyes as sharp as ever.
"…"
Silence fell instantly across the room. Even Jean froze mid-step.
Lirielle dropped her rapier onto the polished desk with a soft clang, letting out a long, measured sigh.
A junior council member finally blurted, "Uh… is it normal for her to look like that?"
Lirielle's piercing pink eyes swept the room, unamused. "Are you staring at me, or counting the cracks in the floor?"
The tension thickened, leaving everyone, including Jean, in stunned silence.
Jean pressed her fingers to her throbbing temple and exhaled sharply.
"I have a thousand questions, but I'll condense it into one. Tell me—what exactly were you doing?"
"Just… some cleaning up," Lirielle replied casually, as if wiping up a spilled cup of tea.
After ten years together, Jean instantly recognized that answer for what it was: a euphemism that should never be spoken aloud. She couldn't help but think the precision with which Lirielle covered her tracks deserved begrudging respect.
"…I'll apologize on your behalf, but the President and I will handle this from here. Everyone else should leave."
With a bright smile that could blind the sun, jean politely guided the remaining students out. The moment the room emptied, however, her expression darkened into something lethal.
"What did you do this time?" she demanded, voice dropping an octave.
"Nothing. Didn't I just say it was clean-up?" Lirielle's tone remained calm, almost teasing.
"If no one's dead, I might believe you…" Jean muttered.
"They're not… well, maybe a dozen or so?" Lirielle added casually.
Jean's jaw tightened as she took a few deep breaths, struggling to maintain composure. Her voice trembled slightly as she addressed Lirielle, whose face remained perfectly unreadable.
"For what reason are you… killing people now?"
"You make it sound like I'm some whimsical lunatic," Lirielle replied, effortlessly wiping the blood from her sword with a piece of cloth, as if dusting off a table.
"They were assassins targeting me. They tried to sabotage the train on the way here, disguised as an accident. I simply… intervened."
Her explanation was delivered with the same casual certainty as if she were describing the weather.
"You could have just left it to the Academy's security!" jean said, exasperation dripping from every word.
"Isn't that a bit tedious?" Lirielle replied coolly, tilting her head as though jean were overreacting to a minor inconvenience.
"With someone backing them, there's no way this would resolve legally. It'll just become a bigger nuisance later, so I cut it off at the root," Lirielle said, her tone calm, almost casual.
"…"
Jean's hands clenched, sweat dampening her palms.
Putting aside how Lirielle had tracked down the masterminds behind this in less than a day, these weren't just random street thugs—they were top-tier professionals. Anyone capable of evading the law wouldn't waste money on amateurs.
And yet, Lirielle had eliminated all twelve of them by herself.
Jean's mind struggled to reconcile the casual way she described it. It was like… murder was just another mundane task, as long as the targets were labeled "enemies."
It was as if the dormant darkness within Lirielle awakened the moment an opportunity presented itself.
"Or did you expect me to be 'just and merciful'? That I'd spare them graciously despite having my life threatened?" Lirielle added, eyes sharp with disdain.
Jean felt her throat go dry. She knew that look—this was Lirielle's infamous Royal Ire, a force no one dared challenge.
"Well… that settles it. You won't be forced to act otherwise," Jean muttered, relief washing over her as Lirielle finally polished her sword and looked away.
Freed from the crushing weight of that gaze, Jean exhaled and wiped the sweat from her forehead. But she couldn't linger on relief for long—there was more pressing business at hand.
"Lirielle," Jean called.
"Ehm?" Lirielle replied, clearly unbothered.
"Everything's fine and all, but you'll be late if you don't change and get ready. Shouldn't you hurry before the sparring starts… or you might die from tardiness?"
Jean's voice carried a boldness that could only come from sheer necessity—addressing someone who had just eliminated a dozen professional assassins was no small feat.
Lirielle let out a long, exaggerated sigh, part annoyance, part amusement.
"…Fine, fine. I get it. I suppose if I have to face those snakes, I might as well have some fun."
"You won't need to worry about that," Jean replied, already calculating the next move in her head.
"If you leave now, you'll catch a freshman famed as a prodigy. Elize Kingsley versus… Adri… Edria… what was his name again?"
"Adrian Merrick," Lirielle answered without hesitation.
Jean's eyes widened in surprise.
"Yes, that's him. How do you remember? That guy's nothing special."
Lirielle smirked faintly, a hint of curiosity in her gaze.
"He's… odd," she said simply.
"Odd?" Jean asked, unsure if she heard correctly.
"Yes. Odd," Lirielle repeated, as if that explained everything.
Otherwise, there was no way she'd say something like that right from the start.
As if fully aware of the shadows within her, Lirielle rose from her seat, a faint, almost teasing smile playing on her lips.
"Let's move. We'll be late if we don't hurry," she said.
"…Your attitude feels different… almost… expectant?" Jean asked cautiously.
"The boy's interesting, that's all," Lirielle replied with a soft chuckle.
She ran her fingers along the hilt of her sword, eyes glinting with amusement.
"Now, let's see what you've got in this sparring."