Year 763 of the Kingdom Calendar – Morningstar Kingdom, Silverhawk Academy of Magic
Advanced Preparatory Class for High Magic
In the far corner of the classroom, near the tall arched window framed by ivy-covered stone, a young man lay fast asleep on a bench. His brow was furrowed, his face twisted in anguish, as though trapped in the grip of a terrible nightmare.
But none of this stopped Miss Reyna, the sharp-eyed homeroom instructor, from flicking a piece of enchanted chalk with pinpoint accuracy.
Thwack!
"Kale Thorne!" she snapped, her voice like a whip. "Your aptitude evaluation is this very afternoon—and you're dozing off in class like some common farmhand?"
The boy named Kale jerked upright, eyes wild, slamming his palms on the desk as he shouted, "No! I won't allow this marriage! Elenya must not marry that old goat, Duke Hector!"
The classroom fell into stunned silence. One could hear the sound of breath being held.
Three seconds later, it erupted into laughter.
"By the gods! Kale's finally lost it!"
"Did he really think he's some storybook hero? What a joke!"
"Imagine that! A magic-less failure trying to meddle in the affairs of Elenya Silverplume, the kingdom's most radiant rose!"
"Keep dreaming, peasant!"
"Kale Thorne! My office. Now!" Miss Reyna barked, her patience finally snapped as she stormed out.
Kale stood there, cheeks burning, the laughter and jeers of his peers ringing in his ears. Head bowed, he rushed out of the classroom, trying to escape the weight of a thousand mocking eyes. As he passed Elenya Silverplume's desk, he lowered his head so fast it was as if fleeing a battlefield, unable to meet her gaze.
But Elenya watched him leave, her grip on her runic quill tightening until it nearly snapped in half.
"You dare speak of Duke Hector like that? Who do you think you are? You won't allow it? As if I would!"
Miss Reyna's Office
"Kale." Her voice was tight, her gaze colder than the stone walls around them. "What's wrong with you? Do you think this is some bard's stage? You must understand—your affinity rating is F. Even if the Demon King himself were reborn in your body, he couldn't lift you out of mediocrity."
Kale said nothing, shame reddening his face.
He wanted to work hard. Gods knew he had tried. But fate had no mercy.
Three years ago, he had passed the written entrance exams to the prestigious Silverhawk Academy with top scores. But the moment of truth came during his magical resonance test: F-rank affinity. The lowest grade recognized by the kingdom.
Every six months, the tests were repeated. Every time, the same crushing result: F.
The magical talent scale had nine tiers—SSS, SS, S, A, B, C, D, E, and at the very bottom... F.
F-rank. It meant no connection to mana. A cursed fate in a world where magic was everything.
A thousand years ago, the Gates Between Worlds were torn open. Horrors and monsters flooded into the mortal realm. Humanity, caught between steel and sorcery, barely survived. They carved out last bastions of hope behind enchanted barriers—the Morningstar Kingdom among them.
But to protect what remains, one must grow strong. One must awaken.
Kale wanted to be strong. But reality shattered his resolve again and again.
At last, he raised his head and spoke, voice hoarse.
"Teacher… If there were a way for me to gain power—no matter the cost—I'd take it. Gladly. But what can I offer? What can an F-rank failure trade? What good is hard work when destiny has already condemned me?"
Miss Reyna sighed deeply and waved him off.
"Go back to class, Kale."
"This world was never fair to begin with."
Kale slumped back into his seat, ignoring the mixture of pity and scorn directed his way. He sat like a hollow shell—empty, lifeless.
And then—
Ding—
A surge of survival instinct and sacrificial intent detected. Initiating: Infinite Sacrifice System.
"Huh?" Kale blinked, startled. A voice, clear and resonant, echoed inside his mind.
Who... are you? he thought.
[Designation: Power of Heaven's Offering. You may address me as… the Supreme Sacrificer.]
[Offer up what you possess, and I shall bestow upon you power in return—power beyond imagining.]
"Sacrifice?" Kale's pulse quickened. "What exactly do you mean by sacrifice?"
[All things may be offered. Anything of value may be converted into strength. The greater the worth, the stronger the return.]
His heart thundered in his chest.
Without making a sound, Kale reached under his desk and pulled out a thick, worn tome—The History of Arcane Inscriptions. His eyes gleamed with a wild hope as he whispered:
"Sacrifice."
Instantly, the aged book twisted and writhed in his hands… and turned into a dull-eyed tortoise.
Kale: "…"
He exploded, whisper-snarling under his breath, "System, are you mocking me?!"
[Host, that was your fault. A tattered book? Really?]
"Tattered? That's a limited edition hand-copied manuscript on enchanted goatskin parchment! I've cherished it for three years!"
[Limited edition, you say?]
"Yes! I'm sure of it!"
[Very well… but you truly think I need that pathetic relic?]
"…"
Kale fell silent. He realized, to his dismay, that he'd just been verbally outdueled by his own mysterious system.
"…Fine," he muttered. "Then tell me—what actually works?"
[At the very least… something infused with magic.]
Kale groaned. "I'm so broke I drink water for dinner, and you want me to find magical artifacts? Why don't I just sacrifice a living person while I'm at it?"
[…Not… entirely out of the question.]
"…Wait, are you serious?"
[This system is always serious.]