By the time Lily finished washing her face and wrestling her hair into something vaguely human, the Starblaze Sect grounds were already alive.
Morning drills.
Shouting instructors.
Disciples trying way too hard to impress their seniors.
Typical.
Icarus/me, walked beside her, keeping a casual pace down the narrow stone path leading toward the inner kitchens. Lily skipped a little, rubbing her eyes and humming under her breath. She was too carefree for a place like this.
"This early, they'll only have porridge," I said.
She made a face. "Can we put honey?"
"If the cook doesn't see us."
Her smile was immediate and glowing,
unfairly so.
She wasn't in the novel.
That simple fact sat in the back of my mind, quiet but heavy. Not wrong, not world-breaking, just… a deviation. Something the original story didn't include.
Didn't mean anything was changing. Didn't mean fate had shifted.
It just meant I had one more reason to stay away from every plot point.
We reached the dining hall at the edge of the inner court. Disciples lined up with bowls, steam rising into the morning air. The cook, a tired-looking man named Harold, ladled porridge with the enthusiasm of a dying ox.
"Morning, Icarus," he muttered. "And morning to the sunshine behind you."
Lily beamed. Harold always melted around her, the traitor.
"Morning, Uncle Harold!"
He chuckled and gave her a bigger scoop than everyone else. I pretended not to see.
We sat outside under a pine tree, Lily swinging her legs while blowing on her spoonful.
"Gege," she said between sips, "are we going to the market later?"
"Maybe. Why?"
"I wanna see the bird seller again. The red one was pretty."
"We're not buying a bird."
She pouted. "But"
"Nope."
She puffed her cheeks dramatically. I kept eating. If I softened even once, she'd have a zoo in our room by next week.
The peaceful moment lasted all of two minutes before a voice called out:
"Icarus!"
I turned.
A boy my age jogged toward us, dark hair, sharp nose, and a grin that belonged on someone far less annoying.
Lucas.
Talented. Talkative. Overly friendly.
Not a protagonist, thankfully, just a recurring side character. Harmless.
Mostly.
"Morning," I said.
"Morning," he replied, plopping down beside me. "You hear the news?"
"What news?"
"The sect elders approved the first sparring assessment of the year. It's happening next week. Everyone from the outer courts up is required to join."
Lily glanced between us, sipping quietly.
I frowned. "Mandatory? Why?"
"No clue." Lucas leaned in. "But there's a rumor that someone from the main branch will be overseeing things."
My stomach tightened.
The main protagonists were part of the main branch.
Not yet strong, not yet terrifying… but enough to warp every event they touched.
"Who?" I asked carefully.
"No name yet," Lucas shrugged. "But people are excited. A chance to be noticed, you know?"
"I'm not interested in being noticed."
Lucas blinked. "Why not? Elder Rowan keeps saying you're one of the best talents of our generation. If someone important sees you"
"That's exactly the problem."
He stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
Most young cultivators here would kill for attention. Glory. Recognition. A chance to secure a strong future.
Not me.
The more attention you got, the more you drifted into the orbit of the main story.
And the closer you got, the faster you burned.
Lucas sighed dramatically. "You and your weird pessimism. Whatever. Just don't skip training again."
"I didn't skip, I"
"You were napping on the roof."
"…that was cultivating."
"It was snoring."
Lily giggled softly behind her bowl.
I scowled, but just as I was about to come up with a comeback, a sharp bell rang across the training grounds.
Lucas jumped to his feet. "Ah, that's Elder Rowan. I gotta go!"
He sprinted off, waving without looking back.
I watched him disappear through the crowd, then glanced down at Lily, who was licking honey from the rim of her bowl. "You're going to the reading hall after breakfast," I said.
She blinked. "Why?"
"Because I said so."
She grumbled, but she didn't fight it.
The sparring assessment…
I needed to prepare. Blend in. Perform well, but not too well. Enough to stay respected, not enough to attract a protagonist.
As we walked back home, Lily tugged on my sleeve.
"Big brother," she whispered, voice small, "are we in danger?"
"…No," I said, steadying my voice. "Not right now."
And that was the truth.
Not right now.
But soon.
Soon, the story I knew would start rolling forward.
Geniuses would rise.
Beasts would evolve.
Ancient relics would surface.
And the Golden Age would kick open its door and drown the world in opportunity… and death.
I tightened my grip on Lily's shoulder.
I just needed to get strong enough.
Quietly.
Steadily.
Before fate noticed I was here at all.