The morning sky glowed gray and sharp, promising thunder. Flags bearing Ardentvale's insignia rippled across the courtyard as students gathered before the training grounds. At the center stood a polished obsidian ring surrounded by elemental pillars, each etched with glowing runes.Lucien adjusted his gloves, suppressing the thrill that came with standing here. The First-Year Assessment Trials were about to begin—a mandatory combat test defining every student's magical rank for the year. In the novel's lore, this event marked the protagonist Aiden Vellor's first step toward glory—and Lucien's humiliating elimination.But that script isn't binding anymore, he reminded himself.Overhead, storm clouds swirled, a reflection of his growing unease. His system screen flickered faintly.Objective: Survive Assessment Trial.
Bonus: Secure rank beyond Recruit to prevent expulsion.A low whistle cut through the air. "There he is—the fake noble who stole the spotlight last week."Lucien turned. The voice belonged to Ronan Vale, son of a decorated battle mage and Lucien's assigned sparring opponent. Bronze hair, confident posture, and a smirk polished by privilege—he was every inch the golden heir archetype."Still practicing those parlor tricks?" Ronan taunted. "Luck won't save you twice."Lucien met his gaze calmly. "Maybe not. But your arrogance might save me instead."The nearby students chuckled, murmuring at the audacity. Even Celeste Drayen, leaning against one of the runic pillars, raised an eyebrow at his composure.Then he heard Professor Alaric's voice resonate through the arena. "Pair one: Ronan Vale versus Lucien Arden. Begin."The Trial of ResonanceThe moment the barrier sealed, Lucien shifted his stance. Magic pressure thickened, nearly tangible.Ronan raised his spear, its tip pulsing with crimson light. "Let's end this quickly."Flames bloomed around him—a molten vortex of fire magic. His affinity, Blazing Core, was known for brute force destruction.Lucien focused inward. The stolen Spark Surge thrummed faintly beneath his skin, but not enough. One reckless strike and he'd be incinerated.Think. Analyze the gaps like a reader studying the script. He crouched low, eyes flicking between the runes carved into the arena floor.Then—an opening. Each pillar amplified magic resonance when struck directly. A smart duelist avoided them. Which meant that exploiting one might destabilize the amplification itself.Ronan lunged, fire trailing in his wake. Lucien sidestepped and struck—not at Ronan, but the nearest rune pillar. Lightning sparked across his fingertips as he whispered, "Plunder Fate—redirect."The pillar pulsed violently, absorbing the incoming flames before discharging them skyward like a beacon. Energy cascaded down in shimmering arcs. Gasps rang across the spectator stands.Lucien exhaled raggedly as smoke filled his lungs. He'd diverted the attack—but the system didn't stop there.Fate Deviated. Temporary Skill: Flame Conversion (Tier E) acquired.With burning energy swirling at his fingertips, Lucien raised his hand and shaped a counterstrike—flames entwined with lightning, writhing like serpents. He launched it forward before his courage faltered.The impact exploded with a crack of thunder.When the smoke cleared, Ronan lay stunned, his weapon shattered.The hall erupted in scattered applause and disbelief.Professor Alaric's eyes gleamed faintly. "Unexpected… but effective. Trial complete."Lucien bowed slightly, masking his trembling. The heat from Flame Conversion scalded through his veins; it wasn't harmony—it was conflict, raw and unstable.The system chimed quietly.
Warning: Fate resistance increasing. Success rate of future plunders reduced by 3%.He ignored it. For now, victory tasted too sweet to question.Whispers of a Changing ScriptAfter the crowd dispersed, Lucien lingered by the observation balcony. Rain began to drizzle again, hissing against the stone.Celeste appeared beside him without sound. "You broke one of the arena runes.""I redirected an attack," he corrected."You toyed with a system built by archmages who understood fate long before you stole your first spark." Her tone softened slightly. "Keep bending the story, and it might snap."He searched her expression for malice and found none—only curiosity laced with dread. "Then I'll make sure it bends toward me.""Your confidence will either save or erase you," she said quietly, turning away. "And something tells me both outcomes are closer than you realize."Her words lingered as he walked back to the dorms.For the first time, Lucien noticed faint golden filaments threading through the air—connecting students, teachers, even the clouds. Each shimmer represented a fragment of destiny's architecture. And somewhere above, one thread pulsed brighter than all the rest.He touched the mark glowing faintly on his palm.
Plunder Fate wasn't just a skill—it was a knife in the gears of creation itself.He wondered if the "system" observing him was really helping—or rewriting him piece by piece.The Hidden CouncilThat night, while the rest of Ardentvale slept, a clandestine council convened within the Obsidian Spire's highest chamber. Shadows flickered around the crystal table, reflecting distorted images of the academy grounds."He awakened the forbidden sequence," said one robed figure. "A Plunderer hasn't emerged in centuries."Another voice responded coldly, "Then fate itself is unraveling again."At the center of the table, a scrying orb displayed Lucien walking beneath the rain, unaware of the eyes that judged him.The headmaster leaned back, murmuring, "Prepare the Divine Trial. If he refuses the will of fate, let fate test his resolve."The Final LineBack in his room, Lucien stared at the lightning outside. The victory he won came at a cost—his mana pathways screamed with exhaustion, his limbs shaking uncontrollably.The system flickered one last time before fading.
New Objective: Endure the Divine Trial.
Time Remaining: Seven Days.Lucien's eyes hardened. "Then let's see how far a third-rate extra can go before the script rips apart."And somewhere in the storm, fate itself seemed to whisper back—amused, almost approving.