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The morning alarm ripped me from sleep like a bucket of ice water.
I jolted upright, heart hammering, disoriented for three precious seconds before memory caught up. Right. Not my apartment in Seoul. Not my life. Lucian Ashcroft's dorm room at Azure Sky Academy. A world with magic and monsters and dimensional gates.
My new reality.
I silenced the alarm—an actual mechanical clock on the nightstand, not a phone—and swung my legs out of bed. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest. Yesterday's training session with Spatial Blink had left me feeling like I'd been put through a meat grinder. My shoulders ached. My calves were tight as steel cables. Even my fingers felt sore.
**[Status Check: Physical fatigue detected. Mana reserves: 87% recovered. Muscle strain: Moderate. Recommendation: Light stretching before combat activity.]**
The System's text materialized in my vision, clinical and unhelpful.
"Thanks," I muttered. "Real insightful."
**[Sarcasm noted but irrelevant to optimization.]**
I dragged myself to the small bathroom attached to the room—thank god for private facilities—and splashed cold water on my face. The mirror showed Lucian's face staring back: sharp features, storm-gray eyes with dark circles underneath, hair sticking up at odd angles. I looked like I'd lost a fight with a pillow.
Handsome, sure. But exhausted.
After a quick shower that did more to wake me up than anything else, I pulled on the academy uniform. Dark blue blazer, white dress shirt, black slacks, silver tie. The Azure Sky crest—a stylized gate surrounded by wings—was embroidered on the breast pocket in silver thread. Everything fit perfectly, tailored to Lucian's lean frame.
I studied myself in the mirror one more time. The uniform made me look... official. Like I belonged here.
Even if I absolutely didn't.
**[Objective Reminder: Attend morning classes. Gather intelligence on academy hierarchy and upcoming practical exam. Continue skill training during breaks. Priority: Avoid drawing attention until combat capability improves.]**
"Right," I said, adjusting the tie. "Keep my head down. Don't die. Simple."
**[Survival probability increases with caution.]**
The dormitory halls were already bustling when I stepped out. Students moved in clusters, chatting and laughing, their voices echoing off stone walls that somehow felt both ancient and modern. Most wore the same uniform as me, though some had modifications—colored ribbons denoting rank, medals for achievements, weapon holsters strapped to thighs or backs.
I caught fragments of conversation as I walked:
"—heard Magnus soloed a C-Rank dungeon last weekend—"
"—Seraphine's ice constructs are getting ridiculous. She froze an entire training ground in thirty seconds—"
"—if I don't pass the practical, my father's going to disown me—"
Names I didn't recognize. Achievements I couldn't match. The weight of mediocrity settled on my shoulders like a lead blanket.
Azure Sky Academy wasn't just elite. It was a pressure cooker designed to separate the exceptional from the merely competent. And Lucian—me now—had been firmly in the "merely competent" category.
The cafeteria was a massive hall with vaulted ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the training grounds. Long tables stretched in neat rows, already half-filled with students grabbing breakfast before first period. The smell of food hit me like a physical force: fresh bread, grilled meat, something sweet and fruity.
My stomach growled. I'd forgotten to eat last night.
I grabbed a tray and loaded it with basics—toast, scrambled eggs, some kind of sausage, a cup of black coffee—and found an empty spot near the back. Eating alone wasn't unusual for Lucian, apparently. The System had said he had minimal social connections, and watching the other students cluster in tight-knit groups confirmed it.
No one looked my way. No one waved me over.
I was invisible.
Good. That made things easier.
I was halfway through my eggs when someone dropped into the seat across from me.
"Morning, Ashcroft."
I looked up. The guy was tall, broad-shouldered, with short blond hair and a face that screamed 'noble pedigree.' His uniform was immaculate, the blazer adorned with three silver pins on the collar—achievement markers of some kind. His eyes were sharp blue, the kind that missed nothing.
**[Magnus Ironcrest - Year 3. Lightning affinity. B-Rank (Early-Stage). Reputation: Prodigy. Son of Duke Ironcrest. Known for solo dungeon clears and exceptional combat ability. Relationship Status: Acquaintance (saved your life during failed raid).]**
Magnus. The guy who'd pulled me—Lucian—out of the dungeon.
"Magnus," I said carefully. "Morning."
He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned back, crossing his arms. "You look like shit."
"Thanks. I feel like shit."
"Good. You should." His tone wasn't cruel, just matter-of-fact. "You almost died three days ago because you overestimated your abilities and underestimated a D-Rank Razor Hound. If I hadn't been there, you'd be monster chow right now."
I set down my fork. "I know. I'm... grateful. You didn't have to—"
"Save you?" Magnus interrupted. "No, I didn't. But I did anyway, because watching a first-year get mauled isn't something I'm interested in seeing." He paused, his gaze hardening. "But here's the thing, Ashcroft. Gratitude doesn't mean much if you're just going to throw your life away again."
"I won't," I said, and meant it.
"You better not." Magnus stood, picking up his tray. "The practical exam is in two days. If you fail, you're getting bumped down to remedial classes. After that?" He shrugged. "You'll be lucky to graduate with a Hunter's license at all. So whatever you've been doing to scrape by until now, it won't cut it anymore."
He walked away before I could respond, leaving me with a knot in my stomach and a half-eaten breakfast.
Two days until the practical exam.
I was so screwed.
---
First period was Astral Theory with Professor Edrik, an older man with a gray beard and eyes that seemed to look straight through you. The classroom was stadium-style seating, about forty students total, all second-years like me.
I slipped into a seat near the back—old habits from my life as Jin Haru—and pulled out a notebook. Lucian's handwriting was neat, meticulous, filled with diagrams and notes on core mechanics and mana flow theory. The guy had been studious, at least.
"Settle down," Professor Edrik said, his voice cutting through the chatter like a knife. Instant silence. "Today we're reviewing Core Saturation Mechanics in preparation for your practical evaluations. For those of you still struggling with the basics"—his gaze swept the room and landed on me for half a second—"this will be your last chance to ask questions before I judge your competence in live combat."
Great. No pressure.
He launched into a lecture on how Astral Cores absorbed ambient mana, the importance of cycling techniques to prevent stagnation, and the dangers of forced breakthroughs. Most of it I already knew—Lucian's memories provided context—but hearing it explained in detail helped solidify the mechanics.
Halfway through the lecture, the System chimed in:
**[Knowledge Absorption: Astral Theory +3%. Current proficiency: 41%.]**
**[Tip: Higher theoretical understanding improves skill execution. Recommend continued study to optimize combat performance.]**
I made mental notes as Professor Edrik moved on to combat applications, specifically how to maximize power output during short bursts—relevant for skills like Spatial Blink that required precision timing.
When class ended, I lingered to ask a question.
"Professor Edrik?"
He looked up from organizing his notes. "Ashcroft. I'm surprised you're vertical after that stunt in the D-Rank zone."
Word traveled fast, apparently.
"I'm... working on not repeating that mistake," I said. "I had a question about mana efficiency. If I'm using a short-range teleportation skill, what's the optimal cycling method to reduce cooldown?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Spatial magic? Ambitious for someone at your level." He paused, then pulled out a piece of chalk and sketched a diagram on the board. "The issue with spatial skills is anchor stability. You need to pre-load the destination coordinates into your Core before executing the jump. Most novices waste mana recalculating mid-cast. Try visualizing the endpoint during your mana cycle, three seconds before activation. It'll shave off about twenty percent of your cooldown."
I blinked. "That's... really helpful. Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just don't die in the practical." He waved me off. "Next."
I left the classroom with something valuable: actionable advice that the System immediately cataloged.
**[New Technique Acquired: Pre-Anchor Visualization. Integration with [Spatial Blink] will improve efficiency. Estimated cooldown reduction: 18-22%. Recommend immediate practice.]**
Two more classes followed—Combat Applications with Professor Mira, a no-nonsense woman who made us run combat drills until half the class was wheezing, and Gate Studies with Professor Halric, who droned on about dungeon ecosystems and monster behavior patterns.
By lunch, I was exhausted.
I grabbed another tray and found a quiet corner of the cafeteria, away from the main crowds. The noise was overwhelming—hundreds of students talking, laughing, arguing. I kept my head down and focused on eating.
"Is this seat taken?"
I looked up.
The girl standing beside my table made my brain stutter.
She was... stunning. Not in the obvious, flashy way, but in a way that demanded attention without trying. Long platinum-blonde hair fell in a neat braid over one shoulder. Her eyes were ice-blue, cold and calculating, framed by delicate features that belonged on a sculpture. She wore the academy uniform like it was couture, every line perfect, a single silver pin on her collar marking some achievement I didn't recognize.
But it wasn't her looks that made me freeze.
It was the aura.
Even without the System's help, I could feel it—an oppressive, bone-deep pressure that radiated from her like heat from a forge. Power. Control. This was someone who could kill me without breaking a sweat.
**[Seraphine Aldric - Year 2. Ice affinity. C-Rank (Mid-Stage). Daughter of Marquess Aldric. Top-ranked student in combat evaluations. Reputation: Ruthless, brilliant, untouchable. Relationship Status: None (has never interacted with Lucian).]**
Seraphine Aldric. One of the main heroines from the skill bible.
And she was talking to me.
"Uh," I said eloquently. "No. It's not taken."
She sat down across from me without waiting for permission, setting her tray—barely touched, just a salad and water—on the table. Her gaze locked onto mine, unblinking.
"You're Lucian Ashcroft."
It wasn't a question.
"That's me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"You nearly died in a D-Rank dungeon three days ago. Magnus Ironcrest pulled you out." Her tone was flat, clinical. "Why?"
I blinked. "Why what?"
"Why did you enter a dungeon you weren't prepared for?"
The bluntness caught me off-guard. Most people would dance around the topic, offer condolences, maybe some hollow advice. Seraphine just went straight for the throat.
I set down my fork. "Bad judgment. Overconfidence. Take your pick."
"Those are symptoms, not causes." She tilted her head slightly, studying me like I was a puzzle she couldn't quite solve. "You're not stupid, Ashcroft. Your theoretical scores are above average. Your written reports are competent. And yet you consistently underperform in practical evaluations. Why?"
Because the original Lucian didn't have a System to optimize his skills. Because he was mediocre and knew it, but kept pushing anyway out of desperation or stubbornness or both.
But I couldn't say that.
"I'm working on it," I said instead.
"Working on it." She repeated the words like they were a foreign language. "The practical exam is in two days. If you fail, you'll be relegated to remedial training. Do you understand what that means?"
"It means I don't graduate on time. Maybe not at all."
"It means you become irrelevant." Her voice didn't rise, but the weight behind it hit like a hammer. "Azure Sky doesn't tolerate mediocrity. If you can't keep up, you get left behind. And once you're behind, you never catch up."
I met her gaze, refusing to look away. "Then I won't fail."
Seraphine stared at me for a long moment. Then, to my surprise, the corner of her mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close.
"Confidence. Good. You'll need it." She stood, picking up her tray. "One more thing, Ashcroft."
"Yeah?"
"Your Spatial Blink. I've seen you use it in training. Your form is atrocious, your timing is off, and you're wasting at least thirty percent of your mana per cast." She turned to leave, then paused. "Fix it. Or you won't last ten seconds in the practical."
And then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd like a ghost.
I sat there, staring at the empty seat across from me, my mind racing.
Seraphine Aldric had just talked to me. Critiqued my skills. Told me to get better.
The System chimed:
**[New Interaction Logged: Seraphine Aldric. Relationship Status Updated: Noticed (Neutral). Warning: Subject is highly perceptive. Continued mediocrity will result in dismissal.]**
Great. No pressure.
---
The rest of the day was a blur of classes, note-taking, and trying not to collapse from exhaustion. By the time evening rolled around, I was back in my room, staring at the open space in the center of the floor.
Training time.
**[Current Status: Spatial Blink - Novice 23%. Objective: Reach Intermediate (41%) before practical exam. Time Remaining: 48 hours. Estimated attempts required: 280-320.]**
I did the math. That was roughly 140-160 attempts per day. If each attempt took about thirty seconds including recovery time, I'd be training for... four to five hours a day. On top of classes.
"This is going to suck," I muttered.
**[Affirmative. However, failure to improve will result in practical exam failure, which carries long-term consequences for survival.]**
"Thanks for the pep talk."
I rolled my shoulders, centered myself, and focused on the mana in my chest. The Astral Core pulsed faintly, a second heartbeat. I reached for it, channeling energy through the pathways Lucian's muscle memory provided.
But this time, I tried something different.
Professor Edrik's advice: pre-load the destination coordinates. Visualize the endpoint before casting.
I closed my eyes and pictured a spot three meters to my left, near the window. Held the image in my mind. Felt the space, the distance, the exact location.
Then I opened my eyes and whispered, "Spatial Blink."
The world lurched.
I stumbled as reality folded, but the landing was cleaner this time. No collision with furniture. No overwhelming nausea. Just a slight disorientation that faded in seconds.
**[Spatial Blink executed. Distance: 3.1 meters. Mana efficiency: 79% (+11%). Form: Improved. Side effects: Minimal.]**
**[Pre-Anchor Visualization technique successfully integrated. Cooldown reduced by estimated 19%.]**
I grinned. "Holy shit. It worked."
**[Technique refinement yields measurable results. Continue practice to solidify gains.]**
So I did.
Again.
"Spatial Blink."
Again.
"Spatial Blink."
Again.
"Spatial Blink."
By the time midnight rolled around, my mana reserves were scraping empty and my legs felt like overcooked noodles. But when I checked the System screen, the results spoke for themselves:
**[Spatial Blink] - Novice 38% (+15%)**
Fifteen percent progress in one day. At this rate, I'd hit Intermediate before the practical.
I collapsed onto the bed, every muscle screaming, but a small, stubborn smile on my face.
Seraphine was right. My form had been atrocious. My timing had been garbage.
But I was getting better.
And in two days, I'd prove it.
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