The Continental Union was born from fear.
All nations of the Great Continent had once agreed to bind themselves under a single banner, not to rule—but to restrain. Its purpose was peace, or at least the illusion of it. War between member nations was forbidden unless reason enough could justify bloodshed before the entire Union.
The Union's headquarters stood in a border city, pressed between the Holy Empire and the Great Empire, a deliberate choice meant to remind the world that even the strongest powers were not above consequence.
From afar, the Union appeared invincible—an authority upheld by countless banners and signatures. But in truth, its strength was limited. Its knightly order was formed from nobles and champions sent by each nation, warriors driven by honor and ambition alike. Even united, they could not rival the Holy Empire or the Great Empire in raw might.
So the Union ruled not by force—
—but by pressure.
Every nation bound by its laws was forbidden from waging war without cause. Any kingdom that defied this order would be met not by one enemy, but by many. Trade would collapse. Alliances would shatter. Wealth would vanish. For smaller nations, such punishment meant extinction.
That was why even now, even with old grudges burning beneath the surface, the continent remained… still.
A week had passed since Rome had sworn himself as Rick's knight.
The two stood side by side in the Swordsman Class, seated on the cold stone floor as the instructor paced before them.
"Flow your mana through your body," the instructor said. "Let it circulate until exhaustion."
Mana circulation was not merely training for combat. It strengthened the body, expanded one's mana pool, and was the foundation for reaching External Art—the ability to project mana beyond one's flesh.
As the lesson continued, the difference between students became clear.
Rick struggled more than most.
His mana pool was small, path dangerously narrow. No matter how carefully he tried to circulate it, his reserves emptied faster than others'. Sweat gathered at his brow as strain tightened his chest.
The instructor noticed.
Rick had talent, discipline, and instinct—but mana was cruelly unfair. The path to higher levels would be far steeper for him.
Rome, on the other hand—
—was terrifying.
His mana flowed effortlessly, smoothly, as if his body had been designed for it. While others collapsed from fatigue, Rome continued, calm and focused. Day after day, he pushed closer to External Art, faster than anyone in the class.
A genius.
Rick, however, was different.
He was nowhere near Rome's level—yet it was not enough to break him.
Jealousy did creep into his heart. He was honest enough to admit it. Watching Rome advance so effortlessly hurt more than any wound. But jealousy did not consume him. It hardened into something else.
Determination.
Again and again, Rick practiced. When his mana ran dry, he rested only long enough to stand again. When his body screamed, he ignored it. And just like that, another week slipped by, unnoticed.
Then—
Something happened.
Rome reached External Art.
The moment it occurred, the air in the training hall changed. Mana flowed beyond his body, visible, controlled, terrifyingly refined. Whispers spread through the class like wildfire. Rome became the center of everything.
Rick stood frozen.
He knew Rome was talented—he had learned that on the day Rome became his knight, when they had exchanged their pasts in quiet honesty. Rick knew Rome was a genius.
But this—
This was beyond expectation.
At first came jealousy. Then envy. Then a sharp, desperate fear that he would be left behind.
And finally—
Resolve.
If Rome was a monster, then Rick would become something that could stand beside one.
From that day on, Rick trained as if possessed. He pushed his mana circulation past safe limits. He ignored pain, exhaustion, and reason. Three days passed in a blur of sweat, failure, and stubborn refusal to stop.
Then one day at Lunch.
Rick sat with his roommate, eating quietly. His right hand was wrapped in bandages—fresh injuries from reckless practice.
Krai noticed immediately.
"Hey… are you sure you're not pushing yourself too hard?" Krai asked, worry heavy in his voice. "Just look at your hand."
Rick smiled faintly. "It's fine. Really. I'm not doing anything reckless."
"You know that my mana path are not normal."
Rick paused.
"That's why I have to push myself," he replied softly. "I have too many promises to keep. I don't want to be a lord who hides behind his knight."
He laughed quietly. "I want to be someone worthy of standing beside him."
Krai shook his head, half-amused, half-concerned. "You really are something else. But i still can't believe Rome became your knight."
Rome's voice cut in, calm but firm. "Got a problem with that?"
Krai sighing. "Come on ! I'm just surprised, that's all."
"Well," he said after a moment, "you'd better be ready. Today's the day the individual rankings are announced."
Rick stiffened.
"Oh—right. I almost forgot."
"When will it be displayed?" Rick asked.
"By evening," Kyai replied.
Rick leaned back slightly, staring at his bandaged hand.
Evening.
"In that case," Rick asked, "will we receive the badges today—or tomorrow?"
"I don't know," Krai replied with a shrug. "But one thing's certain—after today, students are going to start sparring nonstop. Everyone will be trying to earn points and climb the rankings."
Rick nodded, absorbing the weight of it.
"By the way," Leze added casually, "how exactly does this system work?"
Krai answered while sipping his soup. "First, you receive a badge displaying your current position on the ranking board, based on points."
Rick leaned in, interested.
"Points are mainly earned through instructors," Rome continued. "Each teacher has their own evaluation system. But there's another way—sparring."
Leze looked up
"You challenge someone in the sparring hall," Krai explained. "If you win, the teachers record it. Wins and losses are calculated regularly, and the leaderboard updates each month."
"And once you gather enough points," Rome said, catching on, "you can apply for a higher class."
"Exactly," Krai replied.
After finishing their meals, everyone headed toward there classes.
Rick and Rome reaxhed the training ground.
The swordsman class was held there every day, but there was still time before it began. Rick and Rome sat beneath a tree, the afternoon sky clear and calm above them.
"You know you don't have to push yourself like this," Rome said quietly, his gaze fixed on Rick's bandaged hand.
Rick didn't look at him. "Didn't I tell you? I have to get stronger."
Rome frowned. "You're already doing enough."
Rick exhaled. "Maybe. But not enough for what's coming."
The words hung between them.
The breeze stirred the leaves. For a moment, neither spoke.
"Rome," Rick said at last, cutting off what he sensed was coming, "it's fine. Really."
Rome sighed, frustrated—but said nothing more.
They sat in silence until the instructor arrived.
Training began with mana circulation. Students took their positions, focusing inward. Rick was just about to start when—
"Rick."
The instructor's voice was sharp.
"Yes, sir?"
"Come with me."
Rick froze.
"For everyone else," the instructor added, pointing toward the class, "you know what to do. Begin training."
Rick followed the instructor into the garden at the front of the main building.
The place was quiet, almost untouched by the noise of training. The instructor sat down on a wooden bench and stared up at the sky. Rick remained standing, unsure why he had been brought here.
Silence stretched.
"Your hand," the instructor said at last, breaking it. "How is it?"
Rick blinked, startled by the question. "It's… fine."
The instructor nodded slowly. "I heard Rome became your knight."
Rick lowered his gaze.
"You heard from them, didn't you?" Rick with a smile. "The other students. Making fun of you."
Instructor. "Yeah."
Rick smiled weakly. "At least try to cheer me up."
"A teacher's job," the instructor said, "is not to sell fantasy. It is to make students strong enough to survive reality."
He stood and placed a hand on Rick's head, rough but not unkind.
Then—silence returned.
After a moment, Rick spoke. "Sir… why did you call me here?"
The instructor didn't answer immediately.
"Rick," he said instead, "what do you think about life?"
The question struck harder than any reprimand.
Rick shocked since he didn't imagine haering that question again.
Rick hesitated. "Do you mean why we live?"
"That's right," the instructor replied. "Why do you think we live?"
Rick searched for words. "Some live for family. Some for happiness. Others for power… or travel."
The instructor nodded.
"But in the end," instructor said quietly, "everyone wants the same thing."
Rick listened.
"A life that doesn't feel wasted."
The instructor leaned closer.
"I know you're jealous of Rome," he said calmly. "That you want to be stronger. Everyone does."
Rick stiffened.
"But listen carefully," the instructor continued. "It's okay to slow down sometimes. It's okay if you're not improving every single day."
Rick opened his mouth—but no words came.
"It's okay," the instructor said firmly, "to live without hurting yourself just to keep up."
Rick's hands trembled.
"You don't have to destroy your body to prove your worth," the instructor said, eyes narrowing slightly. "Look at yourself."
Rick followed his gaze.
His fingers were shaking.
Only then did Rick realize—
He had been trembling the entire time.
Rick forced a small smile. "I knew it," he said lightly. "You're a psychologist too, aren't you?"
The instructor paused—then laughed softly. "And how did you figure that out?"
Rick shrugged. "Because of speech."
The instructor smiled, genuinely this time. "Well then," he said, "how do you think my speech was?"
"Brilliant." Rick replied without hesitation.
And just like that, the weight between them shattered. Both of them burst into quiet laughter, the kind that comes only after tension finally releases.
After a moment, the instructor reached into his pocket and pressed a small silver coin into Rick's hand.
"Go," he said. "Get yourself something from the cafeteria. And bring some snacks back for me too."
Rick blinked. "But… class—"
"I know," the instructor interrupted, waving him off. "Don't worry so much. Just go."
Rick nodded, though disappointment flickered across his face. As he turned to leave, the instructor's voice stopped him.
"Rick."
He turned back.
"Life," the instructor said gently, "is very beautiful—if you allow yourself to see it. Try to enjoy it, even just a little."
Rick smiled again. This time, it reached his eyes. "I will."
And with that, their conversation ended.
For the rest of the day, Rick couldn't stop thinking about those words.
Even when training resumed, even as students pushed their mana circulation to exhaustion, his thoughts kept drifting back to the garden bench, to the quiet honesty of that moment.
As evening fell, Rick went to notice board beside counter in main building where many students were gathered in order to see there ranking. After a while of struggle Rick saw hi ranking, 94th ranking out of one hundred and fifty student.
After seeing his ranking Rick went to counter.
" Hello my name is Rick. Can you give me the badge for individual ranking."
Hearing that the person at counter checked the name and gave Rick his badge showing the number 94 .
After getting his badge Rick went to the training grounds—but instead of practicing, he sat down beneath a tree with his sword resting beside him.
The city glowed in the distance as the sun dipped below the horizon.
He had seen this view countless times before.
Yet tonight, it felt different.
There was no pressure in his chest. No fear of falling behind. No desperation clawing at his thoughts.
Just silence.
Just calm.
Rick remained there until night swallowed the sky, mesmerized by a beauty he had overlooked every day until now.
Only then did he return to his room.
The door creaked open.
Rome was already there.
"You're early," Rome said, surprised. "Everything alright?"
Rick froze.
Only then did he realize—
How much he had made everyone worry.
"…Yeah," Rick replied after a pause. "I'm okay."
" I came early because I hoped we could eat dinner together."Rick added.
Hearing that from Rick everyone nodded "of course!" and ate the dinner together.
Three days passed after Rick's conversation with the instructor.
During those days, Rick did only light exercises. He allowed his body to heal, spending most of his time resting, reading, and quietly experiencing the academy as he never had before.
It was during lunch on the third day that everything changed.
Rick had finished eating and was walking along the back side of the academy grounds when he heard crying.
He slowed.
Then stopped.
The sound came from behind a cluster of trees near the old stone benches. Rick approached carefully—and there, sitting on the cold ground, were two girls from his class.
One of them was shaking.
"What's wrong?" the other asked desperately. "What happened, Lina?"
Lina's voice broke. "Why… why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this?"
Tears streamed down her face unchecked.
"Please," the other girl said, holding her shoulders. "Just tell me what happened."
"Vein…" Lina choked. "He told me to come to his room today."
The words hung in the air like poison.
"What should I do?" Lina whispered. "Rin, what should I do?"
Rin's fists clenched. "That bastard. We should report this to a teacher."
"No!" Lina cried, shaking her head violently. "I can't. He knows where my family lives. If I anger him, he'll ruin them. He said so."
Rin's voice wavered. "Then… then let's ask someone for help."
Lina laughed weakly through her sobs. "Do you really think anyone will help us? Did you forget what happened to senior who helped us last time?"
Silence fell.
Rin swallowed hard. "What if… what if someone helps anyway?"
Lina hugged her knees. "I don't think anyone will."
She stared at the ground, her voice hollow. "Hey Rin, what if…what if i commit suicide then my family will be safe. And I can die in piece instead of being violated by them."
Rin froze.
"Don't say that," she whispered, panic flooding her voice. "Lina—don't think like that. Please."
Rin wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly as Lina cried into her shoulder.
"It'll be okay," Rin repeated again and again, though her own hands trembled. "We'll find a way."
Rick stood frozen behind the trees.
He had heard everything.
Every word.
Rick stood there for a long moment.
His body trembled—not from fear, not from pain—but from fury.
His breath grew slow and heavy, each inhale burning his lungs. His vision narrowed, the world dimming at its edges as something dark stirred inside him. His eyes felt hot, sharp, filled with a killing intent he had buried deep and sworn never to touch again.
A memory rose.
A faint one.
A memory he could never forget.
A time when he had been weak. When power had stood before him, laughing. When he had sworn—through blood, through tears—that he would never again be someone who could do nothing.
That memory had always driven him forward.
And now… it returned.
Stronger.
He clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms. Mana stirred violently within him, surging like a storm pressing against fragile walls. The ground beneath his feet seemed to hum in response, leaves trembling as if sensing his wrath.
And now something unexpected was about to happen.