Running for your life is a fantastic cardio workout, but I wouldn't recommend it for beginners. Especially when your personal trainer is a three-hundred-pound slab of angry, magical bacon equipped with iron spikes.
"System!" I wheezed, vaulting over a glowing, bioluminescent log. "Tell me this thing has a weak point!"
[Scanning Iron-Bristle Boar... Target's underbelly is unarmored. Eyes are highly susceptible to piercing damage. Host is highly susceptible to dying. Suggestion: Do not die.]
"Incredible. Truly groundbreaking advice," I grunted, my lungs burning. My F- rank stamina was depleting faster than my bank account in my previous life. If I kept running, I'd pass out and become fertilizer for the luminescent moss.
I needed to stop playing the victim. I wasn't the ignored background character anymore. I was Kaiser Warborn, the man destined to conquer the most dangerous women in this universe. I couldn't be bested by a pig.
Ahead, I spotted two massive silver trees growing dangerously close together, forming a narrow V-shaped gap. A plan, reckless and stupid, formulated in my mind.
I channeled my inner track star, sprinting directly toward the gap. The boar squealed, digging its hooves into the dirt, accelerating for a fatal charge. I waited until the very last second—until I could smell its foul, earthy breath—and threw myself sideways, sliding through the muddy grass.
CRACK!
The boar, unable to halt its momentum, slammed headfirst into the V-gap. Its massive tusks and iron bristles wedged deep into the magical bark. It shrieked, thrashing wildly, but it was stuck fast.
I didn't hesitate. I scrambled to my feet, grabbed the thickest, sharpest broken branch I could find on the forest floor, and marched up to the struggling beast.
"Sorry, pork chop," I whispered, my voice dropping an octave as I let my true eyes bleed through—pitch black, staring into its soul. The boar froze for a fraction of a second, paralyzed by the abyssal gaze.
I thrust the makeshift spear upward, burying it deep through the creature's eye and into its brain. The boar gave one final, violent shudder and went still.
I collapsed onto my back, panting at the purple-hued sky.
[Ding!]
[Tutorial Quest Completed! Reward: +5 Strength, +1 System Point (SP).]
[Host Level Up! Level 1 -> Level 2.]
A sudden, intense rush of heat exploded in my chest, rushing through my veins like liquid adrenaline. The soreness in my muscles vanished, replaced by a dense, coiled power. I looked at my hands. I was still lean, but the pathetic fragility was gone.
"Oh," I breathed out, a manic smile curling my lips. "I could get used to this."
[Notice: The Host has three years until the Apex Academy entrance exams. Current location: The Whispering Wilds. Survival rate for low-level entities: 4%. Commencing Absurd Growth Protocol.]
"Absurd Growth Protocol?" I chuckled, wiping monster blood off my flawless cheek. "System, you don't need a protocol for me. Just point me toward the experience points."
[Time Skip: 3 Years Later]
If someone had told the old Kaiser that he would spend thirty-six months living like a feral, magic-wielding apex predator, he would have laughed in their face. But the Whispering Wilds was a harsh teacher, and I was a very, very motivated student.
Over the next three years, the forest learned to fear the "White Ghost."
I didn't just train; I obsessed. I treated my survival and growth the same way I used to treat a hardcore RPG. Every waking moment was dedicated to min-maxing my stats. I hunted Venom-Spitting Arachnids for agility training. I wrestled Stone Golems to build my defense. I spent nights meditating under waterfalls of raw mana, forcing my magical circuits to expand until I was coughing up blood, only to heal and do it again.
I discovered my magic affinity was uniquely suited to my appearance: Light and Void. I could weave illusions of dazzling, holy brilliance to blind and comfort, and manipulate shadows of absolute, crushing gravity to destroy.
By the time my three-year deadline approached, my status screen was a thing of beauty.
Name: Kaiser Warborn
Level: 45
Strength: B+
Agility: A-
Magic Power: A
Charm: EX (Error: Unquantifiable)
Skills: Void Step (Lv. 6), Luminous Veil (Lv. 5), Predatory Instinct (Lv. 8), Mana Manipulation (Mastered).
System Points: 450
I wasn't a god yet, but I was powerful enough to tear an Iron-Bristle Boar in half with my bare hands. More importantly, I was ready.
Standing at the edge of the forest, I looked out over the sprawling valley. In the distance, rising like a jewel against the horizon, was Aethelgard's capital. Towering spires of gold and obsidian pierced the clouds—the Apex Academy of Magic and Warfare.
"System," I said, running a hand through my long, pure white hair. "It's time. Disguise mode."
[Activating Luminous Veil.]
I willed my aura to compress. The abyssal black of my eyes faded into a striking, deep crimson. My flawless, universe-shattering features dulled slightly, shifting from 'Literal God of Beauty' to 'Heart-Stoppingly Handsome Young Noble'. If I walked in with my true face, I'd incite cults. I needed to be approachable enough to seduce, yet mysterious enough to draw them in.
I walked onto the main cobblestone road leading to the capital gates. The road was bustling with merchants, adventurers, and prospective students. I blended in smoothly, playing the part of a confident but quiet traveler.
As I approached the inner city marketplace, a familiar, sharp chime echoed in my skull. It was the sound I had been waiting three years to hear.
[Ding!]
[Target Identified within 50 meters.]
My heart did a pleasant little flip. I stopped pretending to browse a merchant's fruit stall and let my eyes sweep the crowded plaza.
[Target Profile]
Name: Seraphina Von Althaus
Race: High Vampire (Pureblood)
Status: Duke's Daughter / 2nd Year Academy Senior
Difficulty Level: A
Current Affection: 0% (Strangers)
Personality Archetype: Cold, Arrogant, Power-Supremacist.
Warning: Target views weak males as literal trash.
I spotted her instantly. She was standing near a high-end magic core vendor. Seraphina was devastatingly beautiful. She had cascading silver hair, pale porcelain skin, and eyes the color of fresh blood. She wore a tailored black and red academy uniform that hugged her curves perfectly, exuding an aura of absolute superiority. A couple of sycophantic noble boys were trailing behind her, trying to gain her attention, which she ignored with icy disdain.
Cold, arrogant, hates weakness, I analyzed, my mind immediately shifting into manipulator mode.
If I went up and introduced myself smoothly, I'd just be another handsome face trying to court her. She'd dismiss me. She needed a reason to look at me, to acknowledge my strength, but also feel an opening she could exploit. I needed to create a scenario where I was the anomaly in her perfect, rigid worldview.
I noticed a group of rough-looking mercenaries—likely hired thugs for a rival noble—eyeing her from an alleyway, whispering amongst themselves. They were subtly maneuvering to box her in.
Perfect.
I could step in and save her, playing the white knight. But Seraphina wouldn't respect a white knight. She'd think I was condescending, assuming she couldn't handle trash by herself.
So, I decided on a different script.
I casually strolled directly into the path of the largest mercenary, a hulking Orc with a scar across his snout. I didn't brace for impact; I purposely let my shoulder clip his hard.
"Watch it, pretty boy!" the Orc barked, shoving me back.
I stumbled backward, perfectly calculating my trajectory to crash directly into Seraphina's back.
She let out a sharp gasp of annoyance as I collided with her, spinning around with a glare so cold it could freeze fire. "Watch your step, commoner," she hissed, her crimson eyes flashing with vampiric hostility.
I fell to one knee, looking up at her with an expression of mild surprise, quickly masked by a polite, apologetic smile. I ensured my crimson eyes locked with hers.
"My sincerest apologies, My Lady," I said, my voice smooth as velvet, laced with just a hint of aristocratic drawl. I didn't cower. I didn't beg. I held her gaze with absolute, unyielding confidence. "I was merely correcting a piece of trash that forgot its place on the road."
Before Seraphina could process my audacity, the Orc lumbered over, drawing a rusted cleaver. "You want to die, little—"
I didn't look at the Orc. I kept my eyes locked on Seraphina's. Without breaking eye contact, I snapped my fingers.
Void Step.
In a fraction of a second, a tendril of absolute shadow erupted from the ground beneath the Orc. It slammed into his chest with the force of a battering ram, launching the three-hundred-pound mercenary fifty feet into the air before he crashed through the roof of a nearby tavern. The rest of his gang scrambled away in sheer terror.
The plaza went dead silent.
I slowly stood up, dusting off my knees. I offered Seraphina a slight, perfectly executed bow. "As I said. Trash on the road. Do forgive the interruption to your shopping, Lady Seraphina."
Her eyes widened slightly. The ice in her gaze fractured, replaced by a flicker of intense, analytical curiosity. I had just demonstrated high-tier, silent casting magic, effortlessly disposed of a threat, and knew her name—all while treating her with a bizarre mix of absolute respect and complete nonchalance.
[Ding!]
[Target: Seraphina Von Althaus. Affection has increased! Current Affection: 5% (Intrigued).]
I turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd without looking back. You never linger after the hook is set. You leave them wanting more.
A dark, degenerate smirk spread across my face as I walked toward the Academy gates.
One target down. Only ninety-six percent to go until the madness begins.