The sun peeked over the rooftops of Ironveil Academy, its rays casting a warm glow across the training grounds. Students in crisp uniforms sparred with wooden swords, others gathered in study circles, and the bell tower rang in rhythmic chimes.
It was the start of another day.
And Toma was walking into it like a ghost returning from the grave.
---
The courtyard fell silent the moment he appeared. Conversations cut short. Wooden swords froze mid-swing. Jaws dropped as dozens of eyes followed his every step.
Toma's clothes were torn, his hair matted with dirt, and his "weapon" was… a broken chair leg strapped to his back with a rope.
The bullies—three older academy students who had tossed him off the bridge days ago—stared at him as if they'd seen a phantom.
"That's… impossible," one of them muttered, his face pale."He fell. I saw him hit the river! No one survives that!""Unless…" another whispered. "He's a ghost."
Toma stopped in front of them, glaring. For once, he wasn't trembling. He wasn't begging. He wasn't cowering.
He smirked. "Boo."
The bullies screamed and stumbled backward, tripping over themselves as laughter erupted across the courtyard.
Toma's grin widened. Deep inside, his chest felt warm—not from pride, but from the System's voice cackling in his head.
"Excellent delivery, my little zombie! I rate that a solid 8/10. Deducted two points because you didn't add creepy moaning noises."
"Shut up," Toma hissed under his breath.
Unfortunately, he said it loud enough that a few bystanders heard.
"Who's he talking to?""Maybe the rumors are true—he really is haunted!""Creepy…"
Toma groaned. "Great. Now I'm the crazy ghost kid."
"Correction: Crazy sexy ghost kid. Important distinction."
---
Inside the academy hall, students filed into their seats as Instructor Varic, a stern man with a scar across his cheek, began the morning lecture.
"Today, we continue our lesson on the foundations of knighthood," he announced, his booming voice silencing the chatter. "A knight is not simply a warrior. He is the shield of the weak, the sword of justice, and the bulwark of our nations."
He pointed to a chalkboard covered in diagrams of armored figures.
"The Four Pillars of a Knight's strength are as follows: Discipline, Valor, Strategy, and Technique. Remember these, for they are the core of our teachings."
Toma yawned loudly.
Varic's glare landed on him instantly. "Toma. Since you seem eager to demonstrate your knowledge, tell us—the difference between Valor and Discipline?"
The class chuckled. Everyone knew Toma was hopeless at theory.
He froze. "Uh…"
"Pick me! Pick me! I know this one!" the System chirped.
"No.""Yes.""No.""YES."
Toma grit his teeth. "…Valor is… um… charging at danger even when scared?"
The classroom snickered. Varic folded his arms. "And Discipline?"
Toma hesitated. "Not… charging at danger when scared?"
The room erupted in laughter.
Varic's eye twitched. "Incorrect. Both answers are failures."
Toma slumped in his chair, cheeks burning.
"Don't worry, partner. I would've answered the same thing. We're equally dumb."
"Why do you even exist," Toma muttered under his breath.
"To make your life entertaining!"
---
During sparring practice, the three bullies from earlier swaggered back into the picture. Though still shaken from seeing Toma alive, their pride couldn't handle being laughed at.
One of them, Darik, smirked cruelly. "Well, well. The trash survived. Guess the river didn't want you."
The others jeered. "Care to show us how strong you've gotten, Trash Knight?"
Whispers rippled through the students. Sparring matches between seniors and juniors weren't allowed… but the instructors weren't around.
Toma's hand tightened around his chair leg.
He should've run. He should've bowed his head. But the System's voice pushed him forward.
"This is your moment. Show them the power of Splinter-Fu."
Toma stepped into the sparring ring. "Fine. But don't cry when I beat you with garbage."
The courtyard roared with laughter.
---
Darik lunged with a wooden training sword, aiming for Toma's ribs.
Toma barely dodged, panic flooding his body. He swung his chair leg wildly. The blow glanced off Darik's shoulder with a hollow thwack.
"Pathetic!" Darik snarled, swinging again.
Toma ducked. His chair leg smacked the senior's knee. Darik stumbled with a curse.
"DING!"
[Improvised Weapon Proficiency – Lv. 2!]
Bonus Damage increased to +10%
New Passive: Splinter Shock – 1% chance to inflict bleeding with sharp splinters.
"Wait—did that just say… bleeding?" Toma whispered.
The chair leg cracked against Darik's arm again. A splinter sliced the boy's skin, leaving a tiny cut.
Darik froze, staring at the blood bead. His jaw dropped.
"What the hell—?!"
Toma blinked. "Oh… oh my god. It worked."
"Behold, the true terror of trash!" the System howled with laughter. "Your enemies shall fall… one paper cut at a time!"
Darik roared in anger, but before he could retaliate, Instructor Varic's voice thundered across the courtyard.
"ENOUGH!"
The entire class stiffened.
Varic's eyes burned as he looked at Darik, then at Toma, then at the blood on the sparring field.
"Seniors picking fights with juniors? And you, Toma…" His gaze dropped to the splintered chair leg. "…Where in the seven hells did you even get that?"
Toma scratched his cheek. "Uh… found it?"
"Technically stolen from the sacred Temple of Broken Furniture."
"Not helping!" Toma hissed.
Varic sighed, rubbing his forehead. "This is going to be a long year."
---
As the students filed out, whispers filled the air.
"That trash kid actually scratched Darik…""With a chair leg!""Maybe he's not completely useless…"
For the first time, the mocking wasn't as sharp. Some even carried a hint of awe.
Toma walked with his head high, the chair leg resting proudly on his shoulder.
The System whispered smugly. "Face it, Toma. You're legendary already. The world's first Splinter Knight."
"…Please never call me that again."
"Too late. I'm engraving it into your soul."
And so began Toma's classroom journey—half lessons, half humiliation, all chaos.
But in the shadows, the bullies glared with hatred. Darik clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.
"This isn't over, Trash Knight."