The rain in Aethelgard did not fall; it commanded. It hammered against the cracked stone tiles of the E-7 training courtyard, a desolate square of mud hidden behind the majestic spires of the Exalted Academy of Valerius.
Leon Lancaster's breath came in ragged, white plumes. His muscles screamed. Every fiber of his being begged him to drop the heavy oaken practice sword, but the blue screen hovering in the corner of his vision was a relentless taskmaster.
[Current Progress: 842 / 1,000 Swings]
[Time Remaining: 00:52:14]
Swing. His shoulders burned. The "Noble's Grace" passive was a cruel joke—he looked like a god of war bathed in moonlight, his blonde hair plastered to his forehead in a way that would make poets weep, yet his arms felt like lead.
Swing.
He remembered the sneer of the proctor. "Aura Capacity: Null." In Oakhaven, a man without Aura was like a bird without wings. You could hop around on the ground, but you would never touch the sky. The Three Great Houses—Valerine, Thorne, and Solari—were the sky. Leon was the dirt.
Swing.
[998...]
[999...]
[1,000.]
[Training Quest: Complete!]
[Rewards Granted: +1 Strength, +1 Agility]
[Skill Acquired: Basic Sword Mastery (Level 1)]
A sudden surge of heat erupted in Leon's chest, flowing outward to his limbs. The ache in his muscles didn't vanish, but it transformed. It became a dull, manageable thrum. His grip on the wooden hilt tightened, and suddenly, the weight felt… right. He knew, instinctively, the exact angle to hold his wrist to maximize the force of a descent.
[System Notification: Level Up!]
[You have reached Level 2.]
[Unallocated Stat Points: 5 -> 10]
Leon wiped the rain from his eyes. "System," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Open Status."
The silent interface shimmered.
[Status Window]
Name: Leon Lancaster
Level: 2
Strength: 9 (+1)
Agility: 11 (+1)
Stamina: 7
Intelligence: 12
Unallocated Stat Points: 10
He looked at the points. He was weak—pathologically weak compared to the monsters in Class A who were already manifesting Bronze Aura. If he wanted to survive the first week, he needed to be faster and stronger than the eye could follow.
"Allocate 5 points to Strength and 5 points to Agility," he commanded mentally.
The reaction was violent. Leon collapsed to his knees as his tendons tightened like violin strings and his muscle fibers knit themselves denser. He felt his height stay the same, but his frame became lean, packed with explosive potential.
[Strength: 14]
[Agility: 16]
The Morning of the Damned
The next morning, the sun rose over Aethelgard, casting long shadows across the Academy. Class E-7 was located in the "Basement Sector," a place where the air smelled of damp earth and old failures.
Leon walked through the hallways of the main academy to reach his class. The contrast was jarring. High-born students wore silk-lined capes, their family crests—the Iron Shield of Valerine or the Golden Sun of Solari—embroidered in thread-of-gold.
"Look, it's the 'Golden Failure,'" a voice drawled.
Leon stopped. Blocking the path was a tall youth with hair as black as a raven's wing and eyes that held a natural, predatory arrogance. He wore the blue and silver trim of House Thorne.
Caspian Thorne. The second son of the Shadow Stitchers.
"I heard the Resonance Stone didn't even flicker for you," Caspian said, stepping into Leon's personal space. He smelled of expensive cologne and alchemical reagents. "You have the face of a Duke, commoner, but the soul of a peasant. You're polluting the hallway. Move."
Leon didn't flinch. He looked Caspian directly in the eyes. Thanks to his [Noble's Grace] passive, Leon's calm expression looked like the ultimate form of aristocratic disdain.
"The hallway is wide enough for both of us, Lord Thorne," Leon said calmly. "Unless your House's footwork is so poor you can't walk a straight line?"
The surrounding students gasped. A commoner—a Null—had just insulted a Thorne.
Caspian's eyes flashed violet. A faint, misty aura began to swirl around his hand. "You have a tongue. Let's see if you have the reflexes to keep it."
Before Caspian could strike, a heavy footfall echoed down the hall.
"Stand down, Thorne!"
A massive girl with a claymore strapped to her back approached. She bore the crest of House Valerine. Elena Valerine, the daughter of the Iron Aegis.
"Save your Aura for the dueling pits," Elena grunted, her voice like grinding stones. She looked at Leon, her gaze lingering on his face for a second too long before she cleared her throat. "And you... Lancaster, was it? Get to your class. E-7 starts their orientation in five minutes. If you're late, the instructor will have your head."
Caspian hissed, retracting his aura. "This isn't over, Golden Husk. I'll see you at the Inter-Class Contest. Try not to get expelled before then."
The Worst Class in Valerius
Class E-7 was a room full of broken spirits. There were thirty students, all of them commoners or disgraced nobles with low Aura capacities. The desks were scarred, and the practice dummies were rotting.
The instructor, Captain Grog, was a man who looked like he had been chewed up by an orc and spat out. He had a wooden leg and a glass eye that wandered aimlessly.
"Listen up, maggots!" Grog barked, slamming a rusted mace onto his desk. "The Academy calls you 'The Trash Bin.' I call you 'The Fertilizer.' Because either you're going to grow into something, or you're just here to be stepped on."
He paced the front of the room. "The Oakhaven Grand Contest is in six months. Normally, Class E doesn't even participate. But this year, the King has decreed that every student must compete. That means you lot will be facing the likes of Caspian Thorne and Elena Valerine."
Groans echoed through the room. It was a death sentence.
"Shut up!" Grog roared. "Today, we start with the basics. Pairing up. Sparring. Lancaster! Since you think you're so pretty, get up here."
Leon stood, his movements fluid. He picked up a blunt training sword from the rack.
[Normal Quest Generated: Prove Your Worth]
Objective: Defeat your first opponent in a spar.
Reward: +2 Unallocated Stat Points, [Passive Skill: Cold Heart].
Failure: None.
His opponent was a burly boy named Jax, who had a faint Grey Aura—an Iron Grade. Jax smirked, his hands glowing with a dim light. "Sorry about this, pretty boy. I need the points."
Jax lunged. To the rest of the class, he was fast. To Leon, whose Agility was now nearly double that of a normal human, Jax moved like he was underwater.
He's open, Leon thought. It wasn't just a thought—it was the [Basic Sword Mastery] speaking to his nerves.
Leon didn't use Aura. He didn't have any. He simply stepped two inches to the left, letting Jax's blade whistle past his ear. Then, with a motion so crisp it looked like a flickering flame, he brought the hilt of his sword upward.
CRACK.
The hilt slammed into Jax's chin. The burly boy's eyes rolled back as his Grey Aura flickered and died. He hit the floor with a heavy thud.
The room went silent. Captain Grog's wandering glass eye actually focused on Leon for the first time.
"No Aura..." Grog whispered. "Just... pure mechanics?"
[Quest Complete!]
[Rewards Granted: +2 Unallocated Stat Points]
[Passive Skill Acquired: Cold Heart (Rank D)]
[Cold Heart]: Your emotions are suppressed during combat, increasing your perception of enemy movements by 10%.
Leon lowered his sword. He didn't smile. He didn't gloat. He looked at the screen only he could see.
The path was long. The Three Houses were giants. But the System was a ladder, and Leon Lancaster had just taken the first step.
"Next," Leon said, his blue eyes cold and unyielding.
To understand the mountain Leon had to climb, one had to understand the weight of the crown. In Oakhaven, nobility was tied directly to the quality of one's bloodline and the "Purity" of their Aura.
The Royal Family (House Oakhaven): The "Veridian Flame." They held the only known Obsidian Grade cores in the history of the south.
The Duke Houses (The Three Pillars): Valerine, Thorne, and Solari. They controlled the military, the intelligence, and the magical research of the kingdom.
The Margraves: The border lords who fought the beasts.
The Counts and Barons: The administrative heart of the land.
The Commoners: 90% of the population. To them, magic was a myth and a sword was a tool for farming, not fate.
[System Message: New Main Quest Available]
The Path of the Sovereign: Reach Level 10 before the mid-term examinations.
Reward: [Relic Evolution - Phase 1].
Leon gripped the wooden sword until his knuckles turned white. He would not just be a swordsman. He would be the end of the old world.