"A-Ack... you... you asshole..." A cold blade cut William Wade's throat.
He should have known it was coming after spending his whole life training soldiers, reading body language, and predicting enemy movements, but he didn't see the betrayal until it was too late.
His best student stood in front of him with tears streaming down his face and a knife shaking in his hand, whispering apologies that William would never accept. "I'm sorry, Master Wade."
"Everything was supposed to be mine, like he said, starting with my family, my future... I couldn't say no."
The irony was a sharper pain than the blade itself. William had personally shaped him, transforming a timid soul into a warrior whose name struck fear into the hearts of men across three kingdoms. The boy was now employing every lesson William had imparted, but for a far different purpose.
The darkness consumed him instantly, before he could even utter a curse against the traitor, just a simple "Fuckin' hell..."
"Does everything have to end like this...?"
"I'm going to hell, am I...?"
"After everything I went through, I don't deserve a peaceful afterlife other than hell itself."
---
He thought there was nothing after death because he didn't see any afterlife, but then something hit him inside his mind that made him blink awake, his gaze fixed on an unfamiliar ceiling. "What... the fuck...?"
He sees stone arches looming above, their surfaces etched with elaborate designs that pulse with a subtle, almost magical light. The mattress was a cloud, a far cry from the firm cot he'd known for years.
His body felt different, somehow lighter and even younger. "This ain't no hell..."
He propped himself up, the movement deliberate, and stared at his palms. They had no scars or calluses from years of combat training, so they felt smooth.
His arms appeared frail, lacking strength. He felt a wave of panic wash over him, and he staggered toward the mirror that hung on the wall.
The reflection in the mirror was a stranger. "What the hell...!? Who the fuck is that?!"
"That ain't me because I didn't look this handsome and young!" William's panic only grew as he caught sight of his increasingly handsome reflection.
It had belonged to a younger person, perhaps in their mid-twenties. He had messy brown hair, and his green eyes were weary.
The jawline was softer, and William didn't feel an itch because there wasn't a single facial hair, and even the shoulders were narrower. The body appeared as if it had never even grasped a sword correctly.
"What the hell is this?" William's words were a mutter, his voice sounding odd, almost as if it had been pitched up.
Before he could even begin to make sense of it all, foreign memories surged into his consciousness, making him scream in pain while the memory of images, feelings, and facts he'd never encountered. "Arrrggghhhhhh...!!!"
This William Wade was not the same as the one whose name was on the gravestone. Once a promising instructor at the Astraea Combat Academy, a school of some repute, he had fallen from grace. A man, constantly belittled, overlooked, and generally treated with disdain by those in his life.
William Wade, the original, had succumbed to alcohol poisoning three days prior. He'd drowned himself in drink, a final act of self-destruction after yet another public shaming. And now, a different presence resided within him.
William's fingers curled around the sink's edge, a lifeline as the flood of unfamiliar recollections receded as he knew that the world wasn't his because he got the memory about magic thriving in this place, alongside creatures that prowled outside the city's boundaries. Young nobles were schooled in the arts of combat and sorcery at the academies.
The powerful held sway, their authority unchallenged, while the vulnerable were ground down. What of the person who once inhabited this form? He'd always been the most vulnerable.
A Zero-Class Instructor. This position is the most junior role available at Astraea Combat Academy.
His position was so weak that students could openly insult him without fear of punishment. His pay barely covered a daily meal, and he lived in a basement room adjacent to the storage area. His standing was so tarnished that parents voiced their discontent whenever their children were placed in his classes.
"What a fucking perfect start for a reincarnation, even though I would rather rot in hell than be reborn as a loser," William muttered, his voice laced with a bitterness he couldn't quite hide, as he raked a hand through his hair, which felt strange to him.
After weathering a betrayal, he found himself facing an even grimmer reality upon waking. "Well, at least it's an improvement over the alternative."
He needed to know where he stood and what choices were available. Before he could even begin to strategize, a sudden, forceful knock resounded from the door.
"Wade! Open up!" The voice outside demanded, its tone sharp.
William paused, then crossed the room and opened the door. A middle-aged man occupied the hallway.
He sported a bushy beard, and his face was a mask of disdain. His dark blue uniform as an academy instructor was distinguished by silver trim, a clear indication of his superior rank compared to William's.
"Instructor Gareth," William said, the name a careful retrieval from his borrowed memories.
"Spare me the pleasantries," Gareth said, his voice dripping with disdain as he sized William up, his gaze a thorough inspection. "I heard you finally fucking got your act together."
"The headmaster has called for all instructors to be present at the assembly for the new semester, which begins in one hour. Don't make a fool of yourself, okay?"
"Understood," William said, his voice steady.
Gareth made a noise that could only be described as a snort. "Frankly, I'm at a loss as to why they haven't let you go."
"Zero-class garbage like you shouldn't even be allowed near students. I suppose the academy needs someone to tidy up the training grounds, after all."
He spun on his heel and strode off, the sound of his boots resonating against the cold stone walls of the corridor. "What a fucking dick. He's got a tough-guy act, but it's all just for show."
William shut the door, letting out a long breath. In a previous life, he'd have flattened that guy for the way he talked. But this wasn't his domain any longer, and this frail form couldn't muster the power to make good on any of his bluster.
His gaze swept the small, cluttered space. The space was cramped, just enough to squeeze in a bed, a desk, and a modest wardrobe.
It felt cold and unwelcoming, as the walls were made of bare stone. The original William Wade's existence was a sorry affair, plain and simple.
William Wade, the renowned combat instructor, wasn't destined to languish in obscurity. "Alright... If this is a prank, then count me in."
He pulled on the standard instructor's uniform, the one that always hung in the wardrobe, and then headed out into the corridor. "Let's see what kind of new life awaits me."
...
The academy sprawled, a collection of imposing stone structures linked by sheltered paths and expansive, sunlit courtyards. The students, clad in their pricey uniforms, brushed by him, oblivious, their voices a cheerful murmur of conversation and laughter. When a few of the instructors looked at William, their expressions turned cold.
He was a ghost in this place. More than unseen, like he was the kind of person you steered clear of.
William moved through the crowd, heading for the main assembly hall, keeping pace with the instructors and staff. The edifice was impressive, its lofty ceilings held aloft by marble columns.
There were enchanted torches flickering, casting a warm glow without a hint of smoke. The seats were arranged in neat rows, all pointing toward a slightly elevated stage. It was there that the headmaster and the senior instructors would soon take their places.
William settled into a seat at the back, deliberately distancing himself from the other instructors, who were already forming their usual clusters. He settled in, his gaze sweeping the surroundings, taking in every detail with the keen perception of a man accustomed to evaluating both dangers and possibilities.
The assembly kicked off with the headmaster's address. He was an old man with a long white beard, a testament to the years, and he spoke of tradition, striving for the best, and of the academy's storied past.
William hardly paid attention because his attention was drawn to the instructors, observing their physical cues, the dynamics between them, and the pecking order that seemed to govern their interactions. The headmaster's voice cut through the chatter, and the class assignments for the upcoming semester were revealed.
"And finally," the old man said, pushing his glasses up his nose, "William Wade, the Zero-Class support instructor, will be available to help with basic training when necessary."
A smattering of laughter rippled through the room. William's lack of reaction stemmed from a history of encountering far more egregious disrespect.
...
The meeting concluded, and the instructors started to leave. William rose and began his walk toward the door, but then something unusual occurred.
A voice, clear and mechanical, resonated within his mind, impossible to dismiss.
"Harem Training System: Online."
William halted, caught in the act. He scanned the room, but everyone else appeared oblivious.
"What the fuck was that...?"
The voice went on, "Hello, User."
"Congratulations, you've been chosen to host the Harem Training System."
"The goal is straightforward: nurture the abilities of promising young women."
"As they grow more powerful, so do you."
"The bonds that are formed will accelerate growth. Teaching, not fighting, is the way to gain influence."
A screen, faint and shimmering, materialized in his field of vision, its presence known only to him. The text moved quickly across the screen.
[Current Level: 0]
[Current Stats: Locked]
[Mission: Teach a girl with potential.]
[Unlocking basic stats and system functions is the reward.]
William gaped at the screen, which hung in the air before him, utterly astonished. "A system? It felt like a scene from a fantasy story."
"The world was becoming increasingly bizarre, moment by moment."
"That's when you know that you're reincarnated alright..."
"...well, at least I got something other than this miserable life."
The screen flickered out before he could make sense of it all, and suddenly, he was outside the assembly hall. The training grounds, a distant sight, were etched with the elongated shadows of the late afternoon sun.
He needed to process this, to grasp the system's significance and its inner workings. Above all else, he needed a protégé.
William began his walk toward the training grounds, his instincts leading the way. Anyone still at it this late? Probably the real deal, the ones who didn't just settle for the usual.
The training grounds were largely deserted, save for a flicker of activity in the far corner. "Got it."
The girl was by herself, facing away from him, near a line of training dummies. Her academy uniform, the usual garb, was in tatters, smeared with grime. Her long, wavy black hair fell past her shoulders, and she held a standard-issue training sword in her hands.
The blade whistled through the air, again and again, as it met the stone pillar. Each strike sent a shower of sparks dancing into the air. She moved with an urgency that belied her carefulness, as if she were attempting to chisel through a barrier that simply wouldn't yield.
William remained still, observing her as she spoke, her breaths becoming more labored as blood oozed from her hands, the blisters having burst, yet she pressed on. With a more forceful swing, she struck the stone pillar again, and a hairline fracture appeared.
She crumpled, hitting the ground hard, the sword slipping from her fingers, slick with crimson. William moved ahead, the gravel shifting beneath his boots.
The girl's gaze shot up, her crimson eyes meeting his with a blend of shock and anger. Even in her battered state, with blood seeping from her wounds, she still radiated the aura of a hunter.
"Who are you?" she rasped, the words barely audible.
William halted a short distance from her, his expression steady as he looked her in the eye. "Someone who knows talent when he sees it."
"And someone who can show you how to shatter more than just rock," he murmured.
The girl fixed him with a look, her expression a mask of doubt. Yet, beneath the surface of that skepticism, William discerned something else entirely, and that is a desperate yearning for progress. Those eyes, they belonged to a woman who never surrendered, even when the world seemed determined to keep her down.
"Potential target identified: Lia Valestria, Rank C." The voice, a familiar presence, resonated in his thoughts once more, affirming what William had already surmised.
He needed this girl so much. And she needed him too, even if she didn't know it.