The walk through the Triangle felt longer than it should've been.
Dhara, Riven, and I followed Instructor Oscar down a wide corridor lined with glass panels, each one showing glimpses of training rooms, gyms, sparring arenas, or classrooms filled with nervous students.
"You three are the last batch of the year," Oscar said cheerfully, as if he wasn't guiding us straight into hell. "You're a bit behind, so pay attention."
Behind.
That word carried a lot of weight here.
The Triangle wasn't a school—it was a hierarchy. A machine that chewed the weak and sharpened the strong. And we'd entered a month later than everyone else.
That meant everyone else had a head start.
More training.
More experience.
More status.
Oscar continued walking, gesturing to various rooms:
"Training arena on the left. Combat simulation chambers to the right. Library down that hall. Dormitories in the north wing. Recuperation chambers in the east wing…"
Dhara barely reacted.
Riven nodded along.
I soaked in every detail, trying to anchor myself to anything that made sense.
Eventually, Oscar stopped in front of a white door with gold writing:
1A
My classroom.
The classroom of the strongest rookies in the academy.
Oscar smiled kindly. "Your homeroom teacher already knows you're coming. Try not to cause trouble."
Then he left.
Dhara didn't hesitate—she opened the door and walked right in.
Riven followed casually.
I took one steady breath and entered.
Instantly, dozens of eyes turned toward me.
Whispers rippled.
Not because of my face.
Not because I was new.
But because my uniform badge was broadcasting endlessly:
Dreyden — 165,983 pts
Class A1.
Nearly Class S.
An elite score.
And they were all comparing me to their own.
My pulse quickened.
Then my gaze swept across the room, landing on the most important figures of this world.
Lucas Væresberg.
Black hair, red right eye, calm posture, and an aura that didn't belong to a normal human.
His score:
228,943 pts
Strongest student in Class A1.
A few seats ahead of him—
Raisel Silvius.
White hair, purple eyes, the heir to the Silvius family.
202,223 pts
One of the future heroines.
Wind Manipulation level 10.
And in the back—
Jayden Black.
Beautiful. Quiet. Terrifying.
One of the future villains.
It hit me hard, seeing them all in one place.
This wasn't fiction anymore.
These weren't characters.
These were people who could kill me.
The teacher—Mr. Lean—set down his tablet and adjusted his glasses. He had a strict face, but calm eyes.
Then he pointed to three students near the middle row.
"You, you, and you."
The three stood uncertainly.
Lean sighed.
"First, I apologize. But you are expelled from Class 1A."
Shock spread across the room.
"W-what!?"
"Mr. Lean, please—!"
"I trained so hard—"
His expression hardened.
"Fair? You want talk about fair?"
The room went dead silent.
Lean pointed at the digital screens on the expelled students' uniforms:
145,617 pts
149,023 pts
152,433 pts
And then he pointed at ours—
Dhara.
Riven.
Dreyden.
All over 160k.
One of us over 220k.
"You had thirty days to enjoy the Triangle's resources. Thirty days to train. Thirty days to improve. And yet your scores remain below those of students who only arrived today."
He closed his tablet with a snap.
"You were warned that recruitment season wasn't over. Only blame yourselves."
Tears gathered in one student's eyes. Another clenched his fists. The third looked like he might vomit.
Lean pointed to the door.
"Go. Now. Before I demote you to Class B."
They ran out.
The classroom stayed completely silent.
Lean cleaned his glasses and said calmly:
"A reminder to the rest of you: slacking off means losing your place. Anyone who falls behind will be demoted. No exceptions."
His eyes flicked briefly to me.
Then class began.
As Lean lectured, I took the chance to study the main characters carefully.
Lucas, the protagonist—
A boy with a tragic past, no system, yet wielding mana instead of magic energy.
One of the only humans able to do so.
He was already so far ahead.
Raisel—
Cold, proud, but smart.
Expected to become her family's next matriarch.
Jayden—
Quiet but dangerous.
His ascent to villainy started silently.
Everything here was real now.
And that was the scariest part.
After class, students scattered to explore the academy or head to their dorms.
But I had only one goal.
Find the protagonist's magic control manual.
Magic control was the fastest way to grow stronger—
and Lucas had thrown away a unique one that could increase 5 points per circulation.
Nobody in the Triangle could buy that kind of power.
It took me four hours to find the spot described in the novel.
A corner behind the academy.
Hidden.
Abandoned.
Forgotten.
Except someone was already there.
A boy wearing a gold-trimmed uniform—the same class as me—held the manual in his hand, flipping through the pages.
My heart sank.
I recognized him immediately.
Another reader-created character.
"…damn it."
Not chosen.
Not rejected.
But he existed anyway.
Just like Octave.
Just like me.
This world was spawning characters on its own.
And if he used that manual before I did, he'd get ahead of me instantly.
"That's mine," I muttered under my breath.
I activated Fire Fists, compressing the flames just like Octave did.
Then I struck.
BAM!
The boy flew backward, dropping the book.
"What the hell!?" he yelled.
I rushed forward, grabbed the manual, and hid it behind my back.
He staggered up, stared at my uniform badge, and froze.
"You're Class A too? What's your problem!?"
He stepped forward, anger rising.
But then—
He copied my stance.
Magic flared in his hands.
Fire burst into existence.
My stomach dropped.
Not the same skill.
Not the same flow.
Something else.
He mimicked everything I did—
the movements,
the energy circulation,
the execution.
He didn't copy the ability.
He copied the technique.
He attacked.
BANG!
Flames collided, sending sparks everywhere.
"What the—why are you using my moves!?"
He gritted his teeth. "I copy attacks! Are you stupid!?"
No.
Not "copy attacks."
He copied action and reaction.
Exactly like in the novel.
I threw the book aside and grabbed his hair mid-counter. He yelped.
"Tell me your skill," I demanded.
"You already know!" he spat.
"No," I said coldly. "I know it's NOT what you think it is."
He froze.
Not because of fear—
but because he realized I understood his ability better than he did.
His fire fizzled out.
"Whatever! Just let me go!"
I released him.
He backed away, clutching his scalp, glaring at me.
He wasn't from Earth.
He didn't react when I said the title of the Webnovel.
He had no idea why I attacked him.
And that meant one thing:
He wasn't a transmigrator.
He was just a character.
He stormed off angrily.
I watched him go—and a notification flashed in my vision.
[Congratulations! You acquired the skill book 'Action and Reaction {0}']
I exhaled slowly.
"This world really is evolving on its own…"
I picked up the magic control manual.
And now I had something no one else did—
A way to grow stronger faster than anyone here.
I needed that advantage.
Because the rules of this world were changing.
And I had no idea who or what was coming next.