Arlen returned to his room with the strategy parchment in his hand.
The corridor was empty. The silence of the Academy after nightfall was different from the one during the day.
Heavier. Like the building was awake.
He changed in silence and dropped onto the bed.
He thought about the day.
About Dae-hyun.
About the whispers.
About the word that followed him.
Burden.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
I have to survive.
Sleep took him before he could think of anything else.
The bells woke him again.
Arlen opened his eyes, already used to it.
He dressed in the uniform that was starting to feel familiar and stepped out, heading toward the dining hall.
The corridor was full of native students. Groups walking together, talking, laughing. Arlen kept his eyes forward.
Then someone slammed into his shoulder.
Hard.
Arlen took a step back.
The native student stopped.
"Ah, sorry," he said.
Arlen gave a small nod.
The student kept walking.
A few steps later, Arlen heard another voice.
"Why'd you apologize? He's the weakest one."
The first student answered.
"I don't know. Felt bad."
Laughter.
Arlen didn't turn around.
He kept walking.
The label clung to him anyway.
The dining hall was crowded. Arlen spotted Sora and Nira at the same table as yesterday and sat across from them without a word.
Sora glanced at him.
Arlen broke his bread in silence. Sora watched him from the corner of his eye.
"Hey…"
Arlen didn't look up.
"What?"
"Did something happen? You look…" Sora searched for the word. "I don't know. Different."
Arlen chewed slowly. Swallowed.
"I'm tired."
"Tired or—"
"Just tired, Sora."
Nira watched in silence, not interrupting.
Sora didn't push.
They ate quietly for a moment.
Arlen checked his schedule.
"World History. All of us this time."
"At least it's not combat first thing," Sora said, relieved.
Nira finally spoke.
"Let's move or we'll be late."
They stood and headed toward the main building.
The history class was in a large room with tiered seating and a raised platform at the front. Old maps hung on the walls. Books stacked along the shelves. The smell of aged parchment.
Arlen, Sora, and Nira sat together halfway up.
Other transported arrived. Native students too. The room filled quickly.
A native student sat next to Arlen and looked at him with curiosity.
"You're one of the transported, right?"
Arlen gave a small nod.
"Yeah."
The boy seemed genuinely interested.
"What was your world like?"
Arlen hesitated.
"Different," he said. "No magic. No monsters. Just normal people."
The student frowned.
"That's… not what I've heard."
A knot tightened in Arlen's chest.
"What do you mean?"
"The others," the boy said, like it was obvious. "The previous ones. Some from the western lands talked about buildings that touched the sky. Flying machines. Others from the north said their world was all ice and metal."
Arlen didn't ask.
He kept his face still.
The previous ones.
The phrase sat in his throat and wouldn't go down.
Before he could follow it further, the door opened.
The professor entered with slow steps, carrying a large book under his arm. The old man in dark blue robes. He didn't look dangerous, but something in his eyes said he knew too much.
He stopped at the front and set the book down with a dull thud.
"My name is Eldric," he said. "I teach World History."
Nothing more.
The room fell silent.
Eldric walked toward one of the maps.
"This world has faced many threats," he began. "Wars between races. Power struggles. Famines. Plagues. But none like the current one."
He pointed to a darkened region on the map.
"The Corrupted Dragon," he said. "Decades ago, it turned against the Gods. Rejected its place in the natural order. Since then, it has sought to destroy this world."
A pause.
"It does not act alone. It controls the monsters. Directs them. Multiplies them. This is what we call the Corruption."
Arlen listened closely.
"The Dragon does not seek conquest," Eldric continued. "It seeks annihilation. It does not negotiate. It does not stop. It only advances."
He returned to the front.
"That is why you are here," he said, looking at the transported. "That is why you were brought. Because this world needs more than soldiers. It needs survivors."
The class ended half an hour later.
Arlen left with more questions than answers.
They walked together in the hallway.
Silence stretched until Nira stopped.
"That professor knows something."
Sora looked at her.
"Eldric? Well, he teaches history, so—"
"No." Nira cut him off. "He knows something he's not saying. Did you notice how he avoided explaining why we were really brought here?"
Arlen had noticed.
He said nothing.
Sora frowned.
"He said we need survivors. Isn't that enough?"
"No," Nira and Arlen said at the same time.
They glanced at each other.
Arlen thought about what the native student had said.
The previous ones.
The west. The north.
Others had come before.
They didn't talk about it.
Not yet.
They agreed to talk later, after classes, then split off.
The strategy class was in a smaller room, with a long table at the center and maps spread across it. Five chairs.
Arlen arrived first.
He sat at one end and waited.
The others came in shortly after.
Ren entered with his usual controlled calm and took a seat at the front.
A transported girl came in next. Short hair. Sharp eyes. Tense posture. She sat apart from the others.
Yura Kim.
Arlen remembered seeing her in the village.
Then a native student entered. Tall, a scar across his cheek. He looked at the transported with barely hidden disdain and sat on the opposite side of the table.
He didn't introduce himself.
Another native came in last. Younger. Messy hair. He dropped into his seat with a yawn.
"Are we starting?" he muttered, resting his head on his arms.
No one answered.
The door opened one final time.
The instructor entered.
A middle-aged man with gray hair tied back in a low tail. No visible scars, but something in his eyes said he'd seen too much. His robes were plain.
He sat at the head of the table and studied them in silence.
"Cyrus Malreth," he said. "I teach Strategy and Warfare."
Then he began.
"Strategy isn't just moving pieces on a board. It's understanding that every piece has value. And sometimes, sacrificing a weaker piece saves the rest."
A pause.
"Some of you are here because you want to win. Others because you want to survive. Both make sense. Only one tells the truth."
He looked at each of them.
"In this class, there are no correct answers. Only decisions. And every decision has a cost."
He unrolled a map across the table.
"Strategy isn't brilliance. It's understanding. Understanding the terrain. The enemy. And most of all, yourself."
He tapped the map.
"An old strategist from my world once said: 'If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.' That is the foundation of everything you'll learn here."
The messy-haired boy lifted his head slightly.
"And if you don't know yourself?"
Cyrus looked at him.
"Then you lose. And if you're lucky, you learn before you die."
The boy dropped his head again.
Cyrus continued.
"The terrain decides the battle. A strong army in open ground becomes weak. A powerful mage in confined space becomes useless. Understand the ground, and you already have an advantage."
Arlen listened closely.
"War isn't just strength," Cyrus said. "It's deception. Patience. Knowing when to strike… and when to retreat."
He looked at Ren.
"What would you do if your army is outnumbered three to one?"
Ren didn't hesitate.
"Fall back. Stretch their lines. Hit their supply routes. Wear them down before engaging."
Cyrus nodded.
"Effective."
Then he turned to Arlen.
"And you?"
Arlen felt the weight of every gaze on him.
He thought for a second.
"Depends on the terrain," he said. "If there's a narrow pass, I force them through it. If there's a river, I destroy the bridges after crossing. I don't try to win. I make them lose."
Cyrus studied him for a moment.
"Interesting."
Nothing more.
The class continued.
Formations. Supply lines. Morale. How a hungry army can be more dangerous than a rested one—and more unpredictable.
When it ended, Cyrus stood.
"For next class, think about this: what would you sacrifice to win? And if you're not willing to sacrifice anything… why are you here?"
He left without waiting for an answer.
The others stood in silence.
Arlen was about to leave when Yura approached.
"Interesting answer," she said.
Arlen looked at her.
"What was interesting?"
"That you didn't try to sound noble. Most people lie in situations like that."
A pause.
"Do you think the Gods brought us here to save us?"
Arlen met her gaze.
"No," he said. "I think they brought us because we're useful."
Yura watched him for a moment.
Then gave a small nod.
"Good."
She left without another word.
Arlen stepped out of the room, feeling like he had just passed a test he didn't know he was taking.
The dining hall was full when he got there.
Sora and Nira were already seated. Arlen joined them.
"How was strategy?" Sora asked.
"Interesting," Arlen said.
Nira looked at him.
"Just interesting?"
Arlen shrugged.
"The instructor is… different."
Min-jae arrived shortly after and sat down without a word.
Sora tried to pull him in.
"Hey, Min-jae, how'd it go?"
Min-jae looked at him briefly.
"Fine."
Nothing else.
Sora sighed.
"Well… at least the food's still good."
They ate in a silence more comfortable than before.
They were almost done when someone approached the table.
A transported girl. Black hair tied in a high ponytail. Uniform spotless. Posture perfect.
Kaori.
Arlen recognized her from the evaluation. Dual affinity. Magic and Aura.
She stopped in front of the table and looked at them with a neutral expression.
"There's going to be a meeting of the transported tomorrow night," she said. "After dinner. In the common hall."
She looked at Sora, Nira, and Min-jae.
"You three are invited."
Sora blinked.
"Three?" he asked, glancing around. "There are four of us."
Kaori followed his gaze to Arlen.
Then looked back at Sora.
"Three," she repeated, like it was obvious. "He doesn't count."
Silence settled over the table.
Sora frowned.
"Excuse me?"
Kaori ignored him.
"Tomorrow. After dinner. Don't be late."
She turned and left without waiting for a response.
Nira watched her go, jaw tight.
"Who does she think she is?"
Sora looked at Arlen.
"That was…"
"It's fine," Arlen cut in.
It wasn't.
But he wasn't going to argue there.
Min-jae watched in silence, expression unreadable.
They finished eating without saying much else.
One by one, they left.
Arlen closed the door behind him.
He changed and dropped onto the bed.
His body ached from training. His mind ached from everything else.
He closed his eyes.
Then he felt it.
The same sensation from the baths.
Like something was watching him from an angle that didn't exist.
His eyes snapped open.
A white light appeared in front of him.
It didn't come from anywhere.
It just… was.
Then it formed.
A window.
Floating in the air.
[USER CONFIRMED]
Arlen froze.
What is this?
His heart pounded.
The window flickered.
[ERROR]
[USER NOT SUITABLE]
[SWITCHING TO GUEST MODE]
A chill ran down his spine.
Another window appeared.
[WELCOME, GUEST]
[INITIALIZING SYSTEM…]
The light intensified.
Arlen shut his eyes on instinct.
When he opened them again, more windows hovered in front of him.
[SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
[AVAILABLE SKILLS:]
• System Eye [Level 1]
• Mental Lock [Level 1]
• Lie Detection [Level 1]
• Inventory [Level 1]
[COLLECTING DATA…]
[ANALYZING PAST ACTIONS…]
[TITLES ACQUIRED: 2]
1. COWARD
Condition: You lived while others didn't. You prioritized your own neck.
Passive: In chaotic situations, you're harder to notice and less likely to be targeted.
2. WEAK LINK
Condition: You were identified as the weakest by your group.
Passive: In combat, you are rarely the primary target at the start.
Arlen read both.
Coward.
Weak link.
Both were true.
Both hurt.
But both were useful.
He thought of the village. Of hiding while others died.
He thought of Dae-hyun. The whispers. The label.
The windows vanished.
Arlen remained sitting on the bed, breathing hard.
He didn't know what had just happened.
He didn't know if it was good or bad.
But he knew one thing.
He wasn't telling anyone.
Not yet.
Maybe never.
He lay back and closed his eyes.
The system was still there.
Waiting.
And for the first time since arriving in this world, Arlen felt like he had something the others didn't.
An advantage.
Small.
Hidden.
But his.