Aron guided the carriage toward the main gates, joining the line of traffic waiting to enter. Carts creaked forward slowly. Guards checked papers. Merchants argued about tariffs. When his turn finally came, a guard stepped up to the side of the carriage. The man wore polished armor with the city's crest on his chest, an eagle with spread wings, clutching a sword in its talons.
"Name and papers," the guard said, his tone bored, like he'd said the same words a thousand times that morning.
"Aron Greyman." Aron handed over the sealed letter.
The guard broke the seal with his thumb and unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning the contents. His posture changed immediately, straightening like someone had pulled a string attached to his spine. "Duke Greyman's son. Apologies, my lord." He folded the letter carefully and handed it back, his movements suddenly precise. "Proceed."
Aron handed him a silver coin, enough to be generous without being excessive, and the guard stepped aside. The carriage rolled through the gates.
Wide streets stretched ahead, paved with smooth stone that didn't rattle the wheels like the dirt roads he'd traveled. White marble buildings rose three and four stories on either side, their facades clean and decorated with carved columns that spiraled upward.
Aron had never seen anything like it.
Shops lined the ground floors, their painted signs hanging from iron brackets: a hammer for a smithy, a loaf of bread for a bakery, a green bottle for an apothecary. People were everywhere. Merchants calling out their wares from doorways, their voices competing for attention. Children weaving between the stalls, clutching copper coins. Guards patrolling in pairs, their armor gleaming in the sunlight.
Trees lined the streets, their branches meeting overhead in places to form tunnels of green shade that offered relief from the sun. Fountains stood at major intersections, water splashing from stone sculptures of fish and lions. Everything was maintained. Everything worked. The streets were clean. The buildings intact. No beggars huddled in alleyways. No garbage piled in corners.
This wasn't like the towns he'd passed through on the way here. This was a city that functioned.
Aron followed the main road deeper into Neravia, toward the academy at the city's center. The buildings grew taller the farther in he went, the streets wider. More guards. More wealth on display in the shop windows: jewelry that glittered behind glass, fine fabrics in colors he didn't have names for, weapons with decorated hilts inlaid with silver and gold.
The academy's outer wall rose even higher than the city's walls. Guards were posted along the top, walking patrol routes with crossbows slung across their backs. The gates stood open wide, and students in green uniforms streamed through in both directions, some carrying books bound in leather, others weapons wrapped in cloth.
Aron guided the carriage inside.
The space beyond took his breath. Stone buildings stretched in every direction, dark and massive, the kind built to outlast kingdoms. Between them lay training yards where students sparred, their wooden swords cracking together in steady rhythm. Gardens with winding paths separated the combat areas from the academic halls, hedges carved into shapes that caught the eye. Barracks lined the eastern wall in perfect rows, and towers climbed from each corner, disappearing into clouds.
This wasn't just a school. This was a fortress that happened to teach.
Aron pulled the carriage to a stop near the main courtyard, where other students were dismounting from horses and unloading trunks from wagons with the help of servants. He climbed down, his legs steadier now than they'd been an hour ago.
An older man was already approaching across the courtyard, his stride purposeful but not hurried. He wore fine dark clothes with silver embroidery along the cuffs and collar, expensive work, the kind that took hours. His gray hair was pulled back neatly, tied with a black ribbon, and his face was clean-shaven, revealing sharp features and pale blue eyes.
"Lord Aron Greyman, I presume?" the man said, stopping a respectful distance away.
Aron's stomach growled. Loud enough that the man definitely heard it, his eyes flicking down for just a second before returning to Aron's face. He turned to face him fully. "Yes."
The man bowed, placing his hand over his chest in formal greeting. "Welcome to the academy, my lord. I am Cedric Marlowe. Your father has arranged for me to serve as your attendant during your time here. I shall see to your accommodations, your schedule, and any needs you may have while..."
"Is there food?" Aron asked.
Cedric paused mid-sentence, his mouth still open on the unfinished word. "My lord?"
"Food. I haven't eaten since yesterday."
Cedric's expression flickered. Surprise, maybe. Or mild disapproval at being interrupted. Then it smoothed back into that careful neutrality. "Of course, my lord. I will have a meal brought to your quarters immediately."
"Good."
Cedric's eyes drifted toward the carriage behind Aron. His expression stayed neutral, but Aron saw exactly where he was looking. Blood. Dried and dark, staining the wood near the door where Israel had bled out, the streaks running down in fingers toward the ground.
Cedric looked back at Aron, his face giving nothing away. "My lord, the carriage appears to require... attention."
Aron glanced at the stain. "Find someone to clean it."
"Of course. I shall see to it at once." Cedric gestured toward the largest building in the complex, a five-story structure with wide steps leading up to its entrance. Stone gargoyles perched along the roofline, their mouths open in silent roars. "If you would follow me, my lord."
Aron followed.
They crossed the courtyard, passing groups of students who moved aside when they saw Cedric leading him. Some stared. Others whispered behind their hands, their eyes following Aron as he passed. He ignored them.
Inside, the main building opened into a wide entrance hall with high ceilings supported by stone columns thicker than tree trunks. Sunlight poured through tall windows, illuminating murals painted on the walls: battles against dimensional monsters with too many limbs, famous warriors in heroic poses with swords raised, scenes of awakening ceremonies where figures glowed with astral energy. The floor was polished marble, black veined with white, and their footsteps echoed in the vast space.
Cedric led him up a staircase to the right. One flight, then another. The hallways here were quieter, lined with doors spaced evenly apart. They passed a few students carrying books, who pressed themselves against the walls to let them by, their eyes downcast.
Cedric stopped at a door near the end of a corridor and produced a brass key from his pocket. He unlocked it and pushed the door open, the hinges moving smoothly without a sound.
"Your quarters, my lord."
The room was bigger than expected. A four-poster bed stood against the far wall, green curtains tied back with gold cord. Beneath the window sat a writing desk overlooking the training yards. Bookshelves lined one wall, waiting to be filled. A dark oak wardrobe stood in the corner, and when Cedric opened it, the smell of fresh cedar drifted out.
The floor was actual hardwood, not rough planking. A thick rug lay beside the bed, woven in green and gold.
"Your classes commence tomorrow morning," Cedric said, standing near the door with his hands clasped behind his back. "I will return shortly with your meal and your schedule for the term."
"Fine."
Cedric bowed again and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
Aron stood in the center of the room for a moment, just looking around. It was quiet here. Clean. Safe, or as safe as anywhere could be.
He walked to the bed and sat on its edge. The mattress was firm, better than anything he'd slept on in days.
Blue text appeared in his vision, floating in the air before him like it had been projected there by some invisible source.
[Welcome back, Host]
[Congratulations! You have saved a character crucial to the future timeline]
[As reward for your actions, Access to Attributes has been granted]
[You have been awarded 30 Attribute Points]
Aron stared at the floating words.
'I didn't save her intentionally. I was saving myself.'
The system didn't care about intentions, apparently. Just results. He'd kept the princess alive when she was supposed to die, and now he got points for it. Like some cosmic transaction where motivation didn't matter, only outcome.
'Fine. If that's how this works, I'll take it.'
He'd learned a long time ago not to refuse advantages when they were offered, even ones he didn't understand.
[Would you like to view your Attributes?]
"...Yes," he said, the word barely more than a whisper.
The text expanded.
NAME: Aron Greyman
RANK: Unawakened
LEVEL: 3
STRENGTH: 22/100
STAMINA: 18/100
AGILITY: 25/100
INTELLIGENCE: 46/100
ATTRIBUTE POINTS: 30
ABILITIES: None
SKILLS: None
SKILL POINTS: 0
Aron stared at the numbers, reading each line twice.
'Stats. My body reduced to numbers on a screen.'
Strength at 22. Stamina at 18. Agility at 25. All pathetically low. No wonder every fight felt like dragging dead weight. No wonder he got tired after climbing a single flight of stairs too quickly.
His eyes moved down.
Intelligence: 46. He almost laughed, but it hadn't stopped him from letting a prev stab him in the back. Hadn't stopped him from being an idiot.
His eyes dropped further.
Abilities: None.
Skills: None.
Skill Points: 0.
'So I have no abilities. No skills. Just base stats and thirty points to spend.'
He frowned, staring at the floating text.
'Will the system give me abilities? Skills? How does any of this work?'
New text appeared, answering his unspoken question.
[Abilities must be awakened naturally through the host's own efforts. The system cannot grant abilities.]
[Skills can be acquired through Quest completion. Skill Points will be awarded upon Quest success.]
[Current Active Quests: 0]
Aron read it twice, making sure he understood.
'So abilities are on me. I have to awaken like everyone else. But skills come from quests.'
He waited, but no quest notifications appeared. No new objectives. No glowing markers or instructions.
'Nothing yet. Just the stats and these thirty points.'
Fine. He'd figure it out as he went. He always did.
He looked at the attribute points again, considering his options.
'If this is real, I need to test it.'
He focused on STAMINA, concentrating on the number until it felt like he could reach out and touch it. He thought about adding ten points.
[Allocate 10 points to STAMINA?]
[Yes / No]
He selected Yes.
The number changed immediately. 18 became 28.
Then the sensation hit.
Warmth spread through his chest, flowing outward into his limbs like hot water being poured through his veins. Not painful. Pleasant, even. Like being submerged in cool water on a hot day, that first shock of relief. His breathing deepened, his lungs pulling in more air than they had a moment ago. The exhaustion he'd been carrying since waking up lifted, fading like morning fog under sunlight.
Aron exhaled slowly, feeling the difference in his body.
'It's real.'
He allocated ten points to Strength next. The warmth came again, different this time. His muscles tensed and relaxed, fibers tightening and loosening in waves. His grip on the edge of the mattress strengthened without him meaning to, his fingers pressing deeper into the fabric.
Then ten points to Agility. His joints loosened, the stiffness in his shoulders and knees disappearing. His balance centered itself, his weight distributing more evenly across his feet. When he flexed his hand, the movement was smoother, more controlled.
When he stood, his body felt better. More responsive. Lighter, like someone had removed weights he hadn't realized he was carrying.
He looked at the updated stats.
STRENGTH: 32/100
STAMINA: 28/100
AGILITY: 35/100
ATTRIBUTE POINTS: 0
Still low. Still weak compared to what they needed to be. But better. Noticeably better.
He closed the display with a thought, and the blue text vanished from his vision.
Aron walked to the window and looked out over the training yards below. Students moved between buildings, their green uniforms bright in the afternoon sun. Some were sparring with wooden swords. Others were running laps around the perimeter. A group sat in a circle on the grass, books open in their laps.
Training. Talking. Living normal lives.
'So I have a system. Stats that can be increased. Numbers that actually change my body.'
He flexed his hand again, watching the movement. The response time was faster than before. The control more precise.
'This world isn't like my old one. And apparently, neither am I anymore.'
A knock came at the door.
"Enter."
Cedric stepped inside, carrying a tray balanced on one hand. Bread, still warm from the oven. Cheese cut into thick slices. Roasted meat that smelled like herbs and pepper. A clay pitcher of water beading with condensation. He set it on the desk and bowed.
"Your meal, my lord. Your schedule will be delivered this evening."
"Thank you."
Cedric left, closing the door behind him.
Aron sat at the desk and ate. The food was simple but good. The bread was soft inside with a hard crust. The cheese was sharp. The meat was tender enough to pull apart with his fingers.
When he finished, he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, feeling the firmness of the mattress beneath him, the warmth of the sun coming through the window.
Tomorrow, he'd start figuring out what the hell he'd become.