Chapter 1: An Irrelevant Man
Leon Ashford failed the mana awakening test.
That single sentence summarized his entire existence at the Royal Arcane Academy.
The crystal orb on the instructor's desk glowed faintly—barely brighter than a candle struggling against daylight—before dimming completely. A number appeared above it for a brief moment, then vanished.
Silence followed.
Not the respectful kind.
The uncomfortable, awkward silence that came right before ridicule.
"…Zero-point-six," the examiner muttered, staring at the orb as if it had personally offended him. "That can't be right."
Leon stood there with his hands folded politely in front of him, posture straight but relaxed, eyes lowered in what most people would describe as embarrassment. He had practiced this expression for years. Slight tension in the shoulders. A controlled breath. A hint of shame, but not enough to invite pity.
Too much emotion attracted attention.
Attention was dangerous.
The murmurs began spreading through the hall.
"Did he say zero-point-six?"
"That's not even civilian level."
"Is he sick or something?"
"Why is he even here?"
Leon heard every word.
Not because he had enhanced senses—though he did—but because people were loud when they believed someone didn't matter.
The examiner cleared his throat. "Leon Ashford. Mana capacity: extremely low. Elemental affinity: indeterminate. Control… negligible."
He looked up, eyes sharp with annoyance rather than curiosity. "You may step aside."
Leon bowed. "Thank you for your time, sir."
The words were polite. His tone was calm. His face was forgettable.
Perfect.
He stepped away from the crystal and merged back into the long line of first-year students awaiting evaluation. The hall was enormous, carved from white stone and reinforced with layers of magic that hummed faintly beneath the floor. Banners bearing the Academy's crest—an open eye surrounded by seven stars—hung from the ceiling.
This place existed to nurture heroes.
Leon had no intention of becoming one.
As he returned to his place, a ripple passed through the mana in the room.
Instantly, Leon suppressed it.
The reaction had been automatic—an old habit from a time when he didn't need to think about such things. The crystal orb had attempted to recalibrate itself, as if confused by what it had just measured. Left unchecked, it would have shattered under the contradiction.
Reality did not enjoy being lied to.
Leon gently corrected it.
The mana settled. The world continued.
No one noticed.
"Next!"
Another student stepped forward. This one was loud, confident, brimming with raw mana that flared wildly around him as the crystal glowed bright blue. Applause followed. Cheers. Recognition.
Leon did not clap.
He watched with mild interest, like someone observing a stage play he had already seen performed countless times.
When the evaluations ended, the instructor dismissed the students with a wave of his hand.
"Those with insufficient scores will be placed in auxiliary classes," he announced. "Support roles. Logistics. Theory. If you believe effort can overcome talent… you may continue trying."
The pause was deliberate.
Mockery, disguised as encouragement.
Leon bowed again, then turned and walked out with the others.
The corridor outside the hall was crowded, filled with voices echoing off stone walls. Groups formed instantly—high scorers congratulating each other, nobles surrounded by followers, prodigies already being scouted by professors.
Leon walked alone.
Not because he couldn't join them.
Because he didn't want to.
As he stepped into the sunlight, the System stirred faintly.
[Notice: NPC Mask integrity stable.]
Leon blinked once.
Good.
He adjusted the strap of his worn satchel and headed toward the auxiliary wing of the academy, his pace unhurried. He deliberately took the longer route, passing through a garden courtyard where enchanted fountains flowed endlessly, water forming intricate shapes in the air before dissolving back into the pool.
Students lounged around the edges, laughing, arguing, flirting.
Leon sat on a stone bench beneath a tree whose leaves shimmered faintly with residual magic. He placed his bag at his feet and exhaled slowly.
For a moment, he allowed himself to simply exist.
No fate pressing against him.
No divinity watching.
No worlds ending.
Just noise. Sunlight. Life.
He closed his eyes.
A fragment of memory surfaced unbidden.
A star collapsing in silence.
A universe folding inward.
A decision made out of exhaustion rather than regret.
Leon opened his eyes again.
"Hey."
He looked up.
A girl stood in front of him, hands clasped behind her back. She had short, wind-tousled blonde hair and bright green eyes that carried a stubborn spark. Her uniform was worn properly, but she had loosened the collar, as if the rules were suggestions rather than law.
"You're Leon, right?" she asked.
Leon hesitated just long enough to seem uncertain. "Yes?"
She squinted at him. "You don't sound very confident about your own name."
"Sorry," he said quickly. "I'm just… not very good with people."
That was technically true.
In this life.
She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Figures. I saw your test result."
Leon lowered his gaze, expression carefully neutral.
"…I see."
The girl's frown deepened—not with disgust, but irritation. "They shouldn't have let you take the test if you were that weak. It's humiliating."
Leon nodded. "I agree."
She blinked. "You do?"
"Yes," he replied calmly. "Public humiliation is inefficient."
That earned him a strange look.
"…You're weird," she said after a moment. "I'm Alicia Windmere."
Leon bowed slightly. "Leon Ashford."
"I know," she said. "That's why I came over."
She glanced around, then lowered her voice. "You don't look scared."
Leon tilted his head. "Should I be?"
"Yes," she said bluntly. "You're in the Royal Arcane Academy with almost no mana. People like you don't last long here."
Leon considered this.
Statistically speaking, she wasn't wrong.
"Thank you for the warning," he said. "I'll be careful."
Alicia stared at him for a few seconds, as if expecting something more.
"…That's it?"
"Yes."
She huffed. "You're impossible."
And with that, she walked away, leaving Leon alone once more.
He watched her go, noting the way the air subtly shifted around her movements. Wind affinity. Strong. Natural.
She would survive this world.
Leon hoped she would remain happy.
The bell rang shortly after, signaling the start of auxiliary classes.
Leon attended every one.
Theory of Mana Circulation. Magical Logistics. Historical Spell Failures. Basic Enchantment Safety.
He sat in the back, took notes, asked no questions, and answered only when called upon. His responses were always correct—but never insightful.
Correct answers were acceptable.
Insight invited attention.
By the time evening arrived, the academy grounds were bathed in golden light. Leon returned to his assigned dormitory—an old stone building on the edge of campus, reserved for low-ranking students and scholarship cases.
His room was small but clean. A bed. A desk. A narrow window overlooking the forest beyond the academy walls.
Leon set his bag down and sat on the edge of the bed.
For several minutes, he did nothing.
Then—
The world trembled.
Not physically.
Existentially.
Leon's eyes sharpened as something vast brushed against the edges of perception.
A disturbance.
Far away.
Deep beneath the continent.
Something ancient had shifted.
Leon inhaled slowly.
Not now.
The System responded.
[Notice: Probability anomaly detected.]
[Assessment: Non-critical.]
[Action: Deferred.]
Leon relaxed slightly.
He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as faint mana patterns traced along the stone above him.
"So it begins," he murmured quietly.
This world was already moving.
Heroes would rise.
Gods would scheme.
Fate would tighten its grip.
And Leon Ashford—weak, irrelevant, insignificant Leon Ashford—would walk through it all unnoticed.
At least…
That was the plan.
Somewhere deep below the earth, an ancient seal cracked imperceptibly.
And reality remembered him.