Beep beep beep.
The insistent sound tugs me from the depths of sleep. I groggily locate the source—my academy watch—and silence the alarm with a clumsy swipe. "What time is it?" I mumble, blinking against the dim light filtering through the curtains.
"It is currently 7:46 a.m.," Odin's voice chimes in my mind, a blend of calm and mild amusement.
Class is at eight. I'm already late. My system jolts to life, adrenaline replacing the remnants of sleep. Clothes strewn across the room meet my frantic search as I scramble to get ready.
"Odin," I grumble, pulling on a pair of black jeans. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"I attempted multiple times," Odin replies, patience embedded in the metallic resonance. "You insisted on 'five more minutes' each time."
"..."
I pause halfway through tugging on my black shirt I got from the heroic-corps,
"Never mind, then."
My mind races as I grab the academy jacket—a universal grey for all cadets—and pull it over my head. The manual's guidelines echo in my thoughts: combat-ready attire is crucial. Still, no time to fuss over messy white hair. The mirror reflects bedraggled locks against a pale complexion, but there's nothing for it now.
Stepping out, urgency propels me through winding corridors and unfamiliar architecture surface. The whole place is like a labyrinth, almost feels like I'm at hogwarts.
A familiar figure appears ahead, mundane but reassuring. "Ah, Cael, right?" James greets with cheerful formality, his green eyes capturing mine.
"Yeah." Relief punctuates my breath. "I'm kind of... lost."
James chuckles, nodding confidently. "Follow me."
Gladly, I trail behind his brisk pace. The academy's massive layout mocks my sense of direction, but James weaves through it like an expert navigator.
At last, we arrive at a door marked with the heading: Class 1-A. My pulse quickens as I hear James offer a casual encouragement. "Good luck in there."
The door looms ahead—a portal into the unknown. I swallow hard, adjusting my jacket, then hear my name called through the partially closed threshold.
Cael Ardentis.
Taking a steadying breath, I push the door open. "Here. Sorry I'm late, I got a little lost." My attempt at politeness lands awkwardly, met with a sea of curious eyes behind a stark podium.
Professor Vale's gaze locks onto me with laser precision. The weight of her scrutiny could crush steel, and I instantly recognize the type—the hard-ass teacher who doesn't tolerate nonsense. Great. Just my luck.
"You must be the new transfer student," she states, her voice crisp and authoritative. "I suggest you not make tardiness a habit."
A warning, not a suggestion. The chill racing down my spine confirms what my instincts already know—I've landed squarely on her bad side before I've even begun.
"No problem," I reply, aiming for casual respect but somehow making it worse. The slight narrowing of her violet eyes tells me I've miscalculated.
"Please find your seat Mr.Ardentis," Professor Vale says, turning back to the class with finality.
I scan the room quickly, locating an empty chair near a window. The walk feels endless as every pair of eyes tracks my movement. My face burns under their collective gaze—is there something on my face? Some smudge or broccoli in my teeth? I haven't even had my break fast yet
As I settle into the chair, the cool metal a welcome distraction from my embarrassment, I take the opportunity to survey my classmates. So these are supposed to be the future heroes of the world?
"Odin," I think internally, careful to keep my expression neutral. "Are you able to scan their power levels?"
"Yes," comes the immediate metallic response in my mind. "Anyone within your range of sight I can scan, thanks to your spatial sense. I can use it to analyze the aura signatures around them to approximate their magic power levels—or rank, as they call it here."
"Do it," I instruct silently. "Let's see what we're dealing with."
"Scanning," Odin's voice hums in my mind.
A translucent data appears in my vision, overlaying each student with a faint aura signature. Most glow with a dull amber—D-Rank awakeners, talented enough to make it here but nothing exceptional. I scan methodically, row by row, until my gaze lands on a cluster of five students seated near the front.
Their signatures burn differently. Brighter.
"Interesting," I mutter under my breath.
"The five cadets in the front row all register at high C-Rank," Odin confirms.
I lean forward slightly, studying them with renewed interest. Among them sits the ice user from yesterday—the Everenn girl who demolished her opponent in the arena. Her light blue hair falls in a loose ponytail, and even from behind I can sense her rigid posture. C-Rank, but pushing the ceiling of that classification. Peak C-Rank, possibly brushing against B.
Next to her, a guy with dark hair leans back casually in his chair. C-Rank as well but his energy signature seems different from showing a darker aura signature.
A girl with striking orange-brown hair taps her pencil rhythmically against her notebook, radiating an impatient energy that matches her aura—powerful but volatile. Another C-Rank, though her signature pulses with unusual intensity.
Then there's a glasses-wearing girl leaning forward, taking meticulous notes with complete focus. Elemental signatures swirl around her in a complex pattern I've never seen before. C-Rank, but with unusual complexity to her energy flow.
But it's the girl in the middle that catches my attention.
"That one," I think to Odin. "The blonde with the yellow tactical jacket."
"B-Rank," Odin confirms. "Her mana signature is exceptionally refined.
I stare at her back, taking in the confident slope of her shoulders and the sharp yellow of her jacket. B-Rank. The same rank as that masked cultist who slaughtered everyone at Ashwood Haven.
And here sits someone with that same level of power, casually taking notes like this is just another day.
The realization hits like a punch to the gut—I'm surrounded by monsters disguised as students.
"You have significant growth potential," Odin offers, perhaps sensing my unease. "Your current attributes exceed D-Rank baseline, and with your Warlock's Legacy, your ceiling is—"
"Higher, I know," I interrupt silently. "But right now, I'd be crushed by any of them."
I feel the prickling sensation of being watched. Glancing up from my internal conversation with Odin, I catch the blonde girl—the B-Rank monster—staring directly at me over her shoulder. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, bore into mine with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. Not hostile exactly, but... evaluating. Like I'm a specimen under glass.
What's her deal? I offer a casual smile and small wave, attempting to defuse whatever silent judgment she's passing.
Big mistake.
Her eyes narrow slightly, lips pressing into a thin line before she scoffs—actually scoffs—and turns back around with a dismissive flick of her ponytail. The yellow of her tactical jacket seems suddenly brighter, more aggressive against the muted tones of the classroom.
I freeze, hand still awkwardly half-raised. Well, that went well. So much for making allies. I slowly lower my hand, feeling heat creep up my neck. First day and I've already managed to offend what appears to be one of the most powerful students in class.
Whatever.
Let them overlook me. Actually, that works better for my plans anyway. While they're busy looking down their noses at the sponsored nobody from the slums, I'll be grinding in the shadows. By the time any of them notice, I'll already be leagues ahead.
The thought sparks something warm in my chest—anticipation mixed with that familiar competitive edge from my past life. All those hours watching protagonists rise from nothing, and now I'm living it. Except this time, there's no plot armor. Just me, my system, and a legacy from the most powerful warlock in history.
A grin starts creeping across my face before I can stop it.
"Mr. Ardentis."
Professor Vale's sharp voice cuts through my thoughts like a whip. "Is something amusing that you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"
The grin freezes on my face. Several students crane their necks to look at me, including Miss B-Rank herself, who shoots me a look that clearly says 'idiot.'
"No, ma'am," I manage, forcing my expression neutral. "Just... eager to learn."
Her violet eyes narrow behind those glasses, clearly unconvinced. "Then I suggest you focus that eagerness on the material rather than whatever daydream was occupying your mind."
"Yes, ma'am."
Fantastic. First day, and I've already made an impression, just not the one I wanted.
To be continued….