Ethan Hale never believed in fate.
He believed in spreadsheets, alarm clocks, and microwaved dinners at 11 p.m.
That night his last night was supposed to be just another routine walk home from the office.
The streetlights flickered above the empty road.
It was late too late.
He had stayed behind to finish a report his supervisor dumped on him at the last moment, the kind of petty punishment given to people too polite to say "no."
Ethan pulled his coat tighter around him.
The December cold bit at his neck.
The city was quiet, strangely quiet, like the whole world was holding its breath.
He checked his phone.
12:47 a.m.
"Another day… another unpaid overtime," he muttered to himself.
His apartment was five blocks away.
He took this route every night passing the old bakery, the closed pharmacy, and the little alley where stray cats always gathered.
But tonight… something felt different.
A thin, sharp cry sliced through the silence.
"–MOM!!"
Ethan jerked his head toward the sound.
It came from across the street, near the alley's entrance.
He saw them immediately:
A small girl, no older than nine, clutching her mother's coat in terror.
And a man standing in front of them.
Tall.
Hood up.
Face shadowed.
A gleam of metal in his right hand.
Ethan's heart slammed inside his chest.
He recognized that gleam instantly.
A knife.
The mother shielded her daughter, backing away step by step.
"P-please," she whispered, voice trembling, "take whatever you want. Just don't hurt her."
The man stepped closer.
No hesitation.
No emotion.
Ethan didn't think.
His body moved before his mind could.
He sprinted across the empty street, shoes slapping the concrete.
"HEY!" he shouted, voice echoing, "STOP!"
The attacker turned—
surprised for half a second.
One second.
That was all Ethan needed.
He shoved the mother and daughter backward, putting himself between them and the knife.
The girl fell into her mother's arms.
The woman stared at Ethan with wide, desperate eyes.
"Run!" he ordered. "Go!"
The killer lunged at him.
Ethan didn't know how to fight.
He'd never been in a real confrontation before.
But in that moment—
fear didn't matter.
Instinct took over.
He grabbed the attacker's wrist, trying to push the knife away.
They struggled.
The killer was stronger—far stronger.
His arm shook under the pressure.
He could feel his grip slipping.
And then—
A burning punch of pain struck his side.
The knife.
Ethan gasped, knees buckling.
His strength wavered, vision blurring.
The mother screamed.
The girl cried.
But Ethan didn't let go.
He pushed the killer backward with everything left in him.
The man stumbled, lost balance, and crashed into the dumpster behind him.
Sirens echoed in the distance.
Neighbors had heard the screams.
Help was coming.
The killer realized it too.
He cursed, turned, and sprinted into the darkness.
Ethan fell to one knee.
The mother rushed toward him, catching his shoulders.
"N-no— no, stay awake! Please! Please stay awake!"
But Ethan's vision was fading.
His breath trembled.
He looked at the little girl.
She wasn't crying from fear anymore.
She was crying for him.
"Mister… you saved us…"
Ethan felt warmth spread through his cold chest
not from the wound, but from something deeper.
A fragile, quiet sense of peace.
He had done something good.
Something important.
Something that mattered.
"Good…" he breathed out weakly, "…you're safe."
The mother held his hand tight, voice breaking.
"Thank you… thank you…"
The sirens grew louder.
Police cars screeched to a stop.
Officers ran forward.
But his body felt too light.
Too tired.
The world dimmed.
The last thing he heard was the girl's voice:
"We won't forget you."
And then—
Darkness.
Ethan expected nothing after death.
No heaven.
No hell.
Just… emptiness.
But something pulled him back.
Like being dragged upward through thick water.
A voice whispered—
faraway, ancient, impossible to understand.
Light exploded behind his eyes.
His lungs filled sharply.
And he woke—
—not in a hospital bed,
—not in an afterlife,
—but in a classroom.
A classroom straight out of a fantasy novel.
Wooden desks lined in neat rows.
Sunlight filtering through old cathedral-style windows.
Chalk dust floating lazily in the air.
Twenty students sat before him, staring in synchronized confusion.
Ethan blinked.
"What…?"
He wasn't sitting.
He was standing.
Behind a wooden teacher's desk.
Holding a chalk stick in his hand.
He was wearing long black robes formal, old-fashioned, embroidered with silver runes at the sleeves.
A faint breeze moved through the corridor outside.
And a system window flashed into existence in front of him, glowing faint blue.
[Welcome, Ethan Hale.]
**[You have been reborn as:
Instructor (F-Rank) – Rowanveil Academy]**
**[You possess the Blessing:
Dangerous Aura (Passive)]**
"Dangerous Aura?"
He read the description.
[Dangerous Aura]
Your presence radiates an overwhelming sense of threat.
Others instinctively believe you are extremely powerful.
Note: Aura does not provide actual combat ability.
Effect is intimidation only.
Ethan stared.
"…so you're telling me I LOOK dangerous… but I'm actually not?"
The students flinched at his whisper.
Several swallowed nervously.
One boy near the front actually started shaking.
Ethan raised both hands in a panic.
"No—no—listen, I'm not going to hurt—"
The boy fainted.
Right onto his desk.
Ethan froze.
His heart sank.
Oh perfect. I've been alive again for five minutes and already scared a child unconscious.
He looked around helplessly.
Every student was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.
He wasn't doing anything.
He wasn't trying to intimidate them.
His aura was simply… there.
Radiating a subconscious pressure like a predator walking into a herd of sheep.
"Okay," Ethan whispered under his breath, "stay calm. Think rationally. You're in a game world… the world from Revenant Kingdom Online…"
He recognized the crest on the students' uniforms.
The textbooks on their desks.
The banners on the walls.
Rowanveil Academy.
The starting tutorial location for players…
…but a death trap for NPCs.
Powerful monsters attacked regularly.
Students died in random events.
There were assassination attempts.
Dark artifacts hidden beneath the school.
This was not the peaceful place the game trailer advertised.
Ethan inhaled deeply.
"I need information. And I need to not get killed."
A hand slowly raised in the back.
A nervous, trembling hand.
"Uh… Instructor Hale… s-sir…?"
Ethan tried to smile reassuringly.
His aura instantly twisted the smile into something terrifying.
The entire class flinched.
"S-sir… w-what will we be learning today?" the student asked, voice cracking.
Ethan exhaled.
He had no lesson plan.
He didn't even know what subject he supposedly taught.
A second system window appeared, saving him.
**[Subject Assigned:
Combat Theory & Monster Behavior (Beginner)]**
"Oh great," he muttered. "The two things I know nothing about."
But the students straightened, eyes wide, expecting wisdom.
They genuinely believed he was an expert.
His aura made sure of that.
Ethan cleared his throat.
"Today, we are…"
He paused.
"…reviewing basic safety protocol."
Several students nodded immediately, taking notes.
They're actually buying this?!
He tried to continue.
"Firstly—"
BOOM.
A loud crash echoed outside.
Students jolted upright.
Another crash.
A growl.
Ethan felt the hairs on his neck stand up.
He recognized that sound.
A monster.
From the game.
And not a small one.
The classroom door burst open with a violent slam.
A massive beast—twisted canine shape, fur bristling, red eyes glowing—lunged inside.
A Fanghound.
Level 8.
The same creature responsible for dozens of beginner player deaths.
Students screamed, scrambling behind desks.
Ethan froze.
He had no weapon.
No spells.
No fighting skill.
Nothing but a stupid intimidation aura.
The Fanghound snarled at him, saliva dripping from its jaws.
Step by slow step, it approached—
—and the system flashed.
[Dangerous Aura Activated]
Target senses overwhelming pressure.
Behavior shift: Fear + instinctive caution.
The Fanghound stopped.
Every muscle in its body tensed.
Its ears flattened.
Its tail tucked slightly.
Ethan didn't move.
He was terrified—absolutely terrified—
but the aura blanketed the room like a suffocating shadow.
The beast lowered its head.
Not submissive.
Not obedient.
But hesitant.
Terrified.
Ethan swallowed a lump in his throat.
"Good boy," he whispered involuntarily.
The students stared at him like he was taming a dragon.
One girl whispered:
"He's not human…"
Another murmured:
"He must be Rank S… maybe higher."
Ethan slowly raised one hand.
The Fanghound's eyes flicked to the motion.
It whimpered.
Then turned around—
—AND RAN OUT OF THE CLASSROOM.
The moment it disappeared down the hallway, silence fell.
A heavy, stunned silence.
Dozens of wide-eyed students stared at Ethan like he had just defeated the beast with a single glance.
Ethan slowly exhaled.
"…are all class interruptions like this?" he muttered.
The entire class bowed their heads.
"INSTRUCTOR HALE! THANK YOU FOR SAVING US!"
Ethan's mouth opened.
Then closed.
Because anything he said would only make them fear him more.
He rubbed his temples and sighed.
I just wanted to live peacefully… eat quietly… read books… sleep in a safe room… why am I suddenly the Academy's resident nightmare?
He dismissed the class early.
Students ran out, whispering excitedly:
"He scared the monster with aura alone."
"I bet he could wipe out a whole battalion."
"He's definitely a legendary rank."
Ethan listened, horrified.
Legendary? Bro, I can't even run without losing breath…
As the room emptied, one last notification appeared.
[Warning: Faculty Interest Increasing]
Teachers and administrators suspect you possess overwhelming power.
Requests for meetings: 5 pending.
Rumors spreading: "The Strongest Instructor in Rowanveil."
Ethan groaned.
"Wonderful. Exactly what I needed. Attention."
He grabbed his coat.
He needed to figure out how to actually survive.
Because if anyone tested his strength…
if anyone challenged him…
he would be exposed instantly.
There was only one thing that could save him.
A dark artifact.
A forbidden book.
He remembered it clearly from the game's lore:
The Dreadborne Grimoire.
Hidden beneath the academy's basement.
Capable of granting the power to create ghosts by sacrificing souls.
Terrifying.
Morally questionable.
And extremely strong.
But he needed power.
Any power.
Because living peacefully…
was impossible without being strong.
Ethan walked toward the corridor.
Students jumped out of the way.
Even teachers bowed slightly as he passed.
Nobody knew the truth.
Nobody suspected he was the weakest person in the entire academy.
To them—
The aura made him a walking calamity.
A god of death.
A man no one should provoke.
Ethan rubbed his forehead.
"…I have to act like I deserve this reputation until I find that book."
He reached the staircase leading downward.
The air turned cold.
The torches lining the walls flickered.
Something ancient stirred beneath the academy.
A faint whisper brushed his ear:
"Come, Child of the Dark Aura…
I have been waiting."
Ethan froze.
His breath hitched.
But he stepped forward.
Because peaceful or not…
His journey had already begun.