POV: Ren
I was going to die. Not from a monster, not from a villainess, but from a sheer, catastrophic lack of cardio.
My boots skidded on the polished marble of the academy's outer corridor. Every muscle in my body felt like it had been shredded and then reattached with rusty staples. My lungs were a pair of scorched bellows. I looked like I had been dragged through a swamp, then thrown off a cliff, which wasn't far from the truth. The "mana current" shortcut had deposited me in the academy's lake, and I had spent the last hour sprinting toward the Grand Hall while trying to wring the lake water out of my silver-trimmed blazer.
The massive oak doors of the Grand Hall were beginning to groan shut.
"Wait!" I wheezed, my voice a pathetic croak.
I threw my shoulder against the narrowing gap, sliding through just as the latch clicked. I stumbled into the back of the hall, immediately ducking behind a massive stone pillar to catch my breath. The air inside was cool, scented with expensive incense and the lingering hum of high-level defensive magic.
I looked down at myself. I was a mess. My hair was a bird's nest of knots, my boots were caked in dried mountain mud, and I smelled faintly of river algae. But I was here.
I scanned the rows of seats. The hall was divided into four sections by class: S, A, B, and C. The S-Class section was right at the front, but I didn't dare walk all the way down there while looking like a drowned rat. I saw the commoner section in the back of the A-Class rows and spotted a familiar mop of messy brown hair.
I moved quietly, sliding into the empty seat next to Alex.
"Ren?" he whispered, his eyes bulging as he took in my appearance. "Man, where have you been? You look like you went twelve rounds with a Forest Ogre and lost."
"Fell... in the lake," I gasped, leaning back and closing my eyes. My heart was finally starting to slow down from 'heart attack' speed to 'standard panic' speed. "Did I... miss it?"
"Just in time," Alex whispered back, mercifully not pushing for more details. "The faculty just walked in. Principal Molly is about to come up."
I let out a long, shaky breath. "Good. Great."
"You missed the ranking announcement, though," Alex added, leaning in closer. "Everyone was talking about it. Some commoner got into S-Class by 'Special Recommendation.' They didn't even show up for the physicals. The nobles are already calling for his head."
"Sounds like a nightmare," I muttered, staring at the ceiling and trying to look like I wasn't that specific nightmare.
Suddenly, the chatter in the hall died down. A wave of literal pressure swept through the room—a weight that felt like a thick, warm blanket draped over everyone's shoulders. It wasn't hostile, but it was undeniable.
At the center of the stage, a small figure appeared. She didn't walk there; she simply was there.
Principal Molly.
In the novel, she was a fan-favorite character and one of the most terrifying entities on the continent. She looked like a ten-year-old girl with porcelain skin, giant pink ribbons in her twin-tails, and a dress that was far too frilly for a woman of her power. But the blue numbers floating over her head told a different story.
[Strength: B (41)]
[Agility: A (89)]
[Mana: S (112)]
[Intelligence: S (105)]
She was a Master-class mage, one of the few humans capable of casting two Master-tier spells simultaneously. In the lore, she had once frozen an entire invading army in a single breath just because they had interrupted her afternoon tea.
A ripple of whispers broke out among the freshmen.
"Is that really her?"
"She looks like a doll..."
"Careful, I heard she turned a senior into a toad last year for saying that."
Molly stepped up to the podium. She didn't use a microphone, yet her voice rang out clearly in every corner of the massive hall, vibrating in our very bones.
"Welcome, little stars," she said, her voice high and melodic, but underscored by a terrifying resonance. "You have been gathered here because you are the best this generation has to offer. Or, at the very least, you're the ones whose parents could afford the tuition."
A few nobles stifled indignant coughs. Molly's sharp, feline eyes scanned the crowd, and I felt a jolt of electricity when her gaze briefly passed over my section.
"Crestwood is not a playground," she continued, her tone shifting to something colder. "It is a forge. Here, your status as a Prince, a Duke, or a Commoner means nothing. Only your results matter. If you are weak, you will be broken. If you are strong, you will be tempered. I look forward to seeing which of you will still be standing by the winter solstice."
She clapped her hands together, the sound echoing like a gunshot.
"Now, as is tradition, we shall introduce the three students who achieved the highest scores in this year's entrance and placement examinations. These three are your benchmarks. Your goals. Or, if you're particularly ambitious, your targets."
My stomach did a slow, heavy somersault. This was it. The moment the main cast was officially revealed to the world.
"Third place," Molly announced. "With a perfect score in Magic Theory and a High-A ranking in Combat Aptitude... from the House of Romanoff, Stella Romanoff."
The hall erupted in polite but intense applause. From the front row, a figure rose and walked toward the stage.
It was Stella.
Seeing her in the novel's descriptions was one thing, but seeing her in the flesh was... overwhelming. She moved with a grace that felt predatory, her silver-blonde hair shimmering like moonlight against the dark blue of the academy uniform. Her face was a mask of cold, aristocratic perfection.
I checked her stats as she took her place on the stage.
[Stella Romanoff]
[Strength: C (35)]
[Agility: B (42)]
[Mana: A (78)]
[Intelligence: A (82)]
She's already at A-tier Mana, I thought, a cold sweat breaking out on my neck. And this is just the beginning of the story. No wonder she's the primary antagonist of the first arc. She's a monster.
Stella stood at the edge of the stage, her gaze fixed on a point at the back of the hall—right over my head. She didn't look happy. She looked like a woman who was carrying the weight of a crumbling empire on her shoulders.
"Second place," Molly chirped, her eyes dancing with mischief. "The youngest Magic Prodigy in a century. From the House of Theodor, Lara Theodor."
A girl with pale, almost translucent skin and hair the color of fresh snow stood up. She didn't walk; she seemed to glide. Lara Theodor was the archetype of the "emotionless genius." Her eyes were a flat, dull grey, lacking any spark of humanity.
[Lara Theodor]
[Strength: D (18)]
[Agility: C (31)]
[Mana: S (92)]
[Intelligence: S (98)]
S-rank Mana at sixteen? My heart hammered. If she loses control of her magic, this entire hall becomes a crater.
Lara stood next to Stella. The contrast was striking: Stella was the "Ice Queen," a coldness born of discipline and pride. Lara was something else entirely—a void. She didn't look at the crowd. She didn't look at the Principal. She just existed, waiting for the next instruction.
"And finally," Molly said, her voice dropping an octave, "First place. A historical anomaly. The first commoner to top the entrance exams in the history of Tristan Kingdom. Ashton Reid."
The hall went dead silent.
It was a silence born of shock, envy, and redirected hatred. Then, a slow, steady clapping started from the commoner section. Alex was cheering loudly beside me.
Ashton stood up. He wasn't wearing a blazer—he had it draped over one shoulder, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that were already corded with muscle. He had messy black hair and eyes that burned with a stupid, heroic fire.
[Ashton Reid]
[Strength: B (48)]
[Agility: B (45)]
[Mana: B (50)]
[Intelligence: C (30)]
[Compatibility: ???]
His stats were balanced, but his 'Compatibility' was hidden—the mark of a true protagonist. He walked onto the stage with a grin that could light up a dark alley, standing right between Stella and Lara.
The three of them stood there. The Hero, the Genius, and the Villainess.
The goosebumps on my arms weren't from the cold lake water anymore. They were from the sheer narrative weight of the scene. I was looking at the center of the universe. These three would decide the fate of the kingdom. They would go on to fight demons, solve ancient conspiracies, and—in the original story—end up in a tragic, messy tangle of love and betrayal.
And I'm the guy sitting in the back smelling like a swamp, I thought, a self-deprecating smile tugging at my lips.
Ashton stepped forward to give the student representative speech. He spoke about equality, about the "new era" of the academy, and about how anyone, regardless of birth, could reach the stars if they worked hard enough.
It was a great speech. It was also a death warrant.
I watched the faces of the noble students in the front rows. Their expressions were curdled with disgust. Stella Romanoff was staring at the side of Ashton's head with a look that could have flash-frozen a volcano. She didn't hate him yet—she was just insulted that he existed.
"He's incredible, isn't he?" Alex whispered, leaning over. "He makes you feel like... like we actually belong here."
"He's a beacon," I said softly. "But beacons attract a lot of moths. And a lot of people who want to put the light out."
Alex looked at me, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. I'm just tired."
I looked back at the stage. Ashton was finishing his speech, bowing to the Principal.
Soon, I thought. Soon, I'm going to be among them. Not as a hero, and not as a rival. But I'll be in that S-Class room. I'll be in the same lessons. I'll be breathing the same air.
But to survive that, my 0.03% mastery of the Instantaneous Flash wasn't going to cut it. I needed to train. I needed to do those 10,000 repetitions. I needed to push my E-rank body until it became a vessel for the void.
The ceremony ended with a final flourish of magic from Principal Molly—a shower of golden sparks that drifted down from the ceiling, dissolving into a pleasant warmth as they touched our skin.
"Dismissed!" she shouted. "Report to your classrooms for orientation. And remember: if you're late, don't bother coming at all!"
The hall erupted into motion. Hundreds of students stood up, forming a chaotic tide toward the exits.
I didn't move.
"You coming, Ren?" Alex asked, standing up. "Our classes are in the East Wing."
"Go ahead," I said, leaning back against the pillar. "I need to... dry off a bit more. I'll find my way."
"Suit yourself! See you at lunch!"
I watched Alex disappear into the crowd. I stayed in the shadows, waiting. I watched as Ashton was mobbed by other commoner students. I watched as Lara Theodor walked out alone, a ten-foot radius of empty space following her like a shield. I watched as Stella Romanoff was surrounded by her entourage of noble girls, her head held high, looking like a queen returning to her throne.
I waited until the hall was nearly empty. I didn't want to encounter any of them. I didn't want a "chance meeting" that would trigger some hidden plot flag. I was a variable, and variables worked best when they stayed hidden.
Finally, I stood up. My joints popped, and a fresh wave of soreness washed over me.
I walked out of the Grand Hall and toward the West Wing—the section reserved for the S-Class and A-Class lecture halls. The architecture here was even more oppressive. The ceilings were higher, the statues more detailed, and the air hummed with a constant, low-level magical field.
I followed the signs until I reached the very end of the corridor.
There was a single, massive door made of dark mahogany, inlaid with silver runes. Above the door, a plaque simply read: S-CLASS.
I stood in front of it for a long time.
My hand hovered over the silver handle. This was the room where everything would change. In the novel, this was where Ashton would first clash with the Prince. This was where the villainesses would begin their descent. This was the heart of the storm.
"So this is it," I whispered to the empty hallway. "The class that started it all."
I looked at my hand. It was still shaking slightly—not from fear, but from the lingering tremors of the Infinite Ladder. I thought about the 10,000 draws I had to do tonight. I thought about the path I had chosen.
I wasn't a hero. I wasn't a villain. I was just Ren.
I pushed the door open.
The room was circular, with tiered seating and a massive mana-projection screen at the front. There were only twenty seats in the room. Most were already occupied.
As the door creaked open, twenty pairs of eyes—the most talented, powerful, and dangerous eyes in the kingdom—turned to look at me.
I saw Ashton. I saw Lara. I saw Stella.
I saw the confusion on their faces as they took in my ragged, lake-soaked appearance and the silver trim on my blazer.
I didn't say a word. I just walked to the very last row, found the most isolated seat in the corner, and sat down.
The script was live. The curtain had risen.
And for the first time, I wasn't the one reading the pages. I was the one standing on the stage.