Arlen stepped out of the bath only when he was certain no one else remained.
The steam still hung in the air—thick, warm—but that strange sensation wouldn't leave. It wasn't fear. It wasn't a sense of danger. It was something subtler... as if he were being watched from a place that had no eyes.
He stopped in the hallway, taking a deep breath.
What was that...?
Is there something wrong with me?
Is it because I have nothing special?
He knew he wouldn't get answers.
He returned to his room and collapsed onto the bed. His body was exhausted, heavy from the endless day, and his mind no longer had the strength to keep spinning in circles.
Sleep came quickly, without a fight.
That night, he didn't dream. No light. No Yui. No broken promises.
Only darkness. And rest.
The bells woke him.
A deep, slow resonance that vibrated through the walls and the very air. Arlen opened his eyes, and for a second, he didn't remember where he was.
Then it all rushed back.
The Academy. The Kingdom. The other world.
He sat up slowly. The first thing he noticed was a set of folded clothes on the table, next to a rolled parchment that hadn't been there the night before.
The uniform.
A short tunic of light gray fabric, reinforced at the shoulders and elbows with dark leather patches. Fitted black trousers designed for ease of movement. Thick leather boots that reached mid-calf, with soles built for more than just a simple stroll.
On the chest of the tunic, embroidered in silver thread, was an emblem: a tower encircled by a ring of interlocking runes.
It wasn't elegant. It wasn't flashy.
It looked functional, yet hastily made. As if to say: You didn't come here to look good; you came here to survive.
Arlen took the parchment and unrolled it.
SCHEDULE - ARLEN WEISSPrimary Assignment: Swordsmanship (Affinity: None)
Monday: 08:00 – Swordsmanship (Instructor Kaedor) 10:00 – World History (Instructor Eldric)
Tuesday: 08:00 – Swordsmanship (Instructor Kaedor) 10:00 – Ethics of Power (Instructor Eldric)
The word hit like a hammer, over and over.
Swordsmanship.
He kept reading: World History, Basic Survival, Basic Combat. But always, on every damn day, that same word returned.
Swordsmanship.
Arlen left the parchment on the table. Way too much swordsmanship.
He dressed in silence, adjusting the uniform. The fabric was heavier than it looked. He tucked the schedule away and stepped out.
On his way to the dining hall, he walked through corridors that were already beginning to fill. Native students walked in groups, speaking in low voices. They watched him as he passed—not with open hostility, but with uncomfortable curiosity.
As if he were something out of place.
The dining hall was packed. The smell hit him first—warm bread, cooked meat, and spiced porridge. Students sat in defined groups. Natives with natives. Transported searching for a place to fit.
Arlen saw Sora and Nira in a corner and approached. Sora was poking at his food listlessly.
"Hey," Sora said, counting on his fingers. "Do you guys have... four mandatory classes?"
"Yes," Nira replied.
"I have eight. Eight. Why did I get double if I didn't even—"
"You have two affinities," Nira cut in.
Sora looked at her. "Yeah, but I didn't ask for them. I didn't sign a contract saying 'I agree to study twice as much because a crystal blinked twice.'"
Sora sighed and looked at Arlen. "And you? What did you get?"
"Swordsmanship. A lot of it."
"Well, at least it's simple," Sora said. "Pick up a stick and hit things. More or less."
Nira looked at him with exhausted patience. "It doesn't work like that."
"I know, I know. I'm just trying to see the bright side."
They ate in silence for a moment. Then Sora spoke again.
"Are you guys taking any electives?"
Nira glanced at him. "No, thanks. I don't want extra work."
Sora snorted. "Don't tell me that. I already have double your workload."
Both looked at Arlen. "And you?" Sora asked.
Arlen hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Maybe Strategy."
Sora laughed. "Strategy? What, do you want to be Julius Caesar?"
Nira watched him with more focus. "Swordsmanship and Strategy..." she said slowly. "Careful. You might turn into Alexander the Great."
Arlen looked down. "I just want to be useful," he murmured.
The word hung in the air.
Useful.
Then, an unfamiliar voice cut in.
"Useful..." the voice repeated. The tone wasn't a question. "That would be good."
Arlen felt something tighten in his chest. They turned around.
The boy was tall and broad, with the presence of someone who never hesitated to occupy space. He wasn't smiling. He just observed, as if measuring the value of what stood before him.
Dae-hyun.
Arlen recognized him from the evaluation. Around them, the volume of conversation began to drop.
"That one..." "No affinity." "How...?"
Arlen heard it all.
Nira looked at him coldly. "And who are you to decide what's useful?"
Dae-hyun tilted his head slightly. "Dae-hyun. And I don't decide. I only see what's obvious." His eyes settled on Arlen. "You're the one who had no affinity. The one who's good for nothing."
Sora stepped forward, but Arlen stopped him with a gesture.
Not out of fear. Out of calculation.
Useful, Arlen thought. The ones who think they're strong always rush to the front. And they're always the first to fall.
He didn't say it. Instead, he replied in a calm voice.
"Maybe." Arlen didn't raise his voice. "But if I'm wrong, I'm the only one who dies. If you're wrong, you drag others down with you."
Dae-hyun looked away for a split second, as if he hated that the comment had registered. He looked back immediately, harder this time. He stepped forward, closing the distance.
"You think you're smart?" he whispered, leaning in. "Words don't stop knives."
Sora intervened then, shoving him hard in the chest. "Don't touch him."
Dae-hyun stepped back, but he didn't fall. His eyes locked onto Sora. The crowd began to circle them.
Before anyone could move, two guards appeared.
"Is there a problem?" one asked firmly.
Silence fell like a stone. Dae-hyun didn't move. Sora didn't either.
Then, from the side, a voice spoke.
"No problem."
The voice was quiet but carried weight. Ren appeared between the tables. He walked with calm, deliberate presence.
"Just a misunderstanding," Ren said, looking at the guards. "It's already resolved."
He looked at Dae-hyun. "Right?"
Dae-hyun held the gaze for a moment, then nodded curtly. "Right."
The guards evaluated the situation and finally nodded. "Don't let it happen again."
They left. Ren looked at Sora, then Arlen.
"We don't need trouble right now," he said, keeping his voice low. "Not when we've just arrived."
It didn't sound like a scolding. It sounded like real advice.
Dae-hyun turned to leave, but before he went, he looked at Arlen one last time.
"Burdens are left behind," he murmured.
And he was gone.
The training field was outdoors, surrounded by low stone walls. The ground was hard-packed dirt, scarred by years of strikes.
When Arlen arrived, he felt the eyes on him again. Native students were already there, stretching and talking. The Transported arrived slowly, looking out of place.
"That's him..." "The one with no affinity." "Why is he even here?"
Arlen kept his eyes forward. He stood next to Nira, who remained close without saying a word.
Then the instructor arrived.
Kaedor.
He made no sound as he walked, but the field went silent the moment he appeared.
He was a man made of scars and time. His left arm was missing; the empty sleeve was pinned to the side of his worn tunic. His remaining arm was marked by old burns. A scar slashed across his face from forehead to jaw.
He didn't walk like someone who had lost something. He walked like someone who had survived.
"Kaedor," he said finally. "Swordsmanship Instructor."
Nothing more. His body told the story.
"Today you will learn the basics," he continued. "Not the pretty stuff. The useful stuff. The sword is the foundation of all weapons. If you understand the sword, you understand the rest."
He took a wooden sword from the shed. "Form pairs."
Arlen looked at Nira. She nodded.
Kaedor showed them a simple slash. A thrust. A parry. A side step. Basic movements. But when the native students executed them, Arlen noticed the difference. They moved with natural grace.
The Transported, by contrast, were clumsy. Uncertain. Arlen and Nira were no different.
"Ever held a sword before?" Nira whispered.
"No."
"Me neither."
They kept trying.
Then Arlen saw Dae-hyun. He was facing a native student, and the boy was clearly overwhelmed. When the student raised a hand to yield, Dae-hyun didn't stop.
One strike. Two. Three. The native fell to his knees, gasping.
"Enough."
Kaedor's voice cut through the air like a blade. He walked toward Dae-hyun slowly.
"You have talent," Kaedor said, staring him down. "But talent without control is just violence in disguise. And violence without purpose only makes you predictable." He paused. "You have no idea how many people like you I've seen die."
Dae-hyun gritted his teeth but remained silent. Kaedor watched him a second longer before turning back to the class.
Class ended an hour later. Everyone was sweating. Some had bleeding hands.
Nira approached Arlen. "I have Physical Conditioning next. See you later."
Arlen watched her go. For a moment, he thought about following her, but instead, he turned toward the administrative building. He had something else to do.
The Headmaster's office was in a quieter wing. The man with glasses from the first day nodded him through.
Amon Veyr was sitting behind a desk covered in scrolls. He studied Arlen for a moment as he closed the door.
"What do you need?"
"I want to enroll in an elective."
"Which one?"
"Strategy."
The Headmaster studied him intently. "Why?"
"Because I want to be useful."
He said the word, but he knew it was a lie. What he really wanted was to not die.
Amon Veyr observed him a moment longer, then handed him a slip of paper. "You're the third to choose it. There will be five students in total. A close friend of mine teaches the course."
"Thank you."
Arlen left the office, clutching the parchment. He walked through the empty corridors, feeling the weight of the decision. He hadn't chosen something to make him stronger. He had chosen something to keep him alive.
He thought of Dae-hyun's gaze. The whispers in the dining hall. The word that followed him like a shadow.
Burden.
He gripped the parchment tighter.
I have to survive. Whatever it takes.
For my family.
For Yui.