Ray sat cross-legged at the center of the room, spine straight, breathing slow and deliberate.
Mana churned around him.
It wasn't visible, yet the air bent under its pressure, rippling like heat over stone. Dust lifted from the floor, hovering in uncertain spirals. A faint glow pulsed around Ray's body in uneven waves as he guided the flow through his channels, forcing it to obey.
Focus, Ray. Focus.
As the thought settled, the turbulence softened. The pressure evened out.
The distortion faded until the room returned to stillness.
Ray exhaled slowly, sweat sliding down his temple.
"…There."
A slow clap echoed once.
Then another.
"Good."
The word came from the shadows near the far wall.
Ray's eyes snapped open.
Arthur stepped forward as if he had always been there, silver-white hair catching the low light, crimson eyes sharp and evaluative. His presence pressed against the room—subtle, but unmistakable.
"But," Arthur continued calmly, "not enough."
Ray groaned and let his head tilt back slightly. "You always say that."
Arthur stopped a few steps away. "Because it remains true."
Ray pushed himself to his feet, frustration bleeding through his composure. "It's been two months," he said, turning to face him. "Two months. I couldn't even feel mana properly before that."
He gestured around the room. "Now I'm already on par with academy students my age—maybe even better."
Arthur studied him in silence.
Then, flatly, "Irrelevant."
Ray stiffened. "Excuse me?"
Arthur's crimson eyes narrowed just a fraction. "Comparison is meaningless. The academy's average is not your standard."
He circled Ray slowly, gaze dissecting every detail. "Yes. Your progress is abnormal. Yes. By conventional measures, you are talented."
Arthur stopped in front of him.
"But talent is not why you are here."
Ray clenched his fists. "Then what is?"
Arthur met his gaze without hesitation.
"Utility."
The word landed hard.
"To be of use to me," Arthur continued, voice even, "you must be better than most. Not equal. Not promising. Better."
Ray's jaw tightened. "You're asking me to compete with the best the empire has to offer—people who've been trained since they could walk, with the best resources." He scoffed. "Are you insane?"
Arthur's lips curved faintly. "No. I am demanding something inevitable."
He lifted one hand, fingers flexing slightly. The air responded instantly—mana snapping into alignment with surgical precision.
"You survived soul deterioration," Arthur said quietly. "Your core adapted. Your recovery rate doubled. Your affinity sharpened."
His gaze bored into Ray.
"If you remain merely on par with academy students after that, then you are wasting what you have been given."
Silence stretched.
Ray looked away, teeth grinding. "…You're impossible."
Arthur inclined his head. "But correct."
Ray inhaled, then exhaled sharply, shoulders squaring.
"…Fine," he muttered. "Then stop talking and show me what 'better than most' actually looks like."
Arthur's eyes glinted.
"Now," he said, stepping forward, presence sharpening—as if the room itself were bracing—
"we begin."
The air collapsed.
Ray's knees slammed into the floor before he even understood what was happening.
Mana—vast, dense, merciless—poured out from Arthur like an invisible ocean turned vertical. The room groaned under the pressure. The floor cracked in thin spiderweb lines beneath Ray's hands as he caught himself, breath ripped from his lungs.
His chest burned.
His bones screamed.
It wasn't pain exactly—it was weight. Absolute, overwhelming weight, as if the world itself had decided Ray was no longer allowed to stand.
Arthur hadn't moved.
He simply was.
"This," Arthur said calmly, voice carrying through the crushing pressure, "is what it means to be strong."
Ray grit his teeth, palms pressed flat against the floor. Mana instinctively surged from his core, flaring in resistance—but the moment it did, the pressure increased, responding like a living thing.
Arthur looked down at him, crimson eyes impassive.
"Strength is not talent. Not ambition. Not survival," Arthur continued. "It is the ability to exist under force—and still act."
Ray's arms trembled violently. Sweat dripped from his face, hitting the stone and evaporating instantly under the strain.
"I do not have time," Arthur went on, tone unchanged, "to raise you slowly."
Another invisible layer of pressure descended.
Ray's vision blurred.
"I will need you," Arthur said, "when this year's batch enters the academy."
Ray's thoughts scattered, instinct clawing for coherence.
Need me?
Arthur's mana pressed deeper, testing, dissecting.
"This generation is… different," Arthur said. "More volatile. More influential. More dangerous."
Ray's lips twitched despite himself.
Of course they are, he thought bitterly. The main protagonist's of the story is among them so they have to be special by default .
His hands shook as he forced his head up, eyes burning as he glared at Arthur from the floor.
"So… you're telling me all this," Ray rasped, "because ?"
Arthur blinked once.
then—almost imperceptibly—his lips curved.
"To be pawn so i could control them better," he said. "Because it is easy control when they think you are like them."
The pressure intensified for one final heartbeat—
Then vanished.
The weight lifted all at once.
Ray collapsed forward, gasping, lungs dragging air back in like he'd nearly drowned. His whole body throbbed, mana channels screaming in protest.
Arthur stepped closer, looking down at him.
"You will be strong," Arthur said quietly. "As strong as possible. As quickly as possible."
He turned, already walking away.
"Because when that batch arrives," he added over his shoulder,
"standing beside them will not be enough."
Ray lay there, breathing hard, fingers digging into the cracked floor.
His core burned—alive, furious, hungry.
Great, Ray thought dimly, staring at the stone.
I really did get isekai'd into hard mode. Can i even call this an isekai more like transmigration than anything will who care's?