'Train incident?'
The guy had stopped right at the interesting part.
More puzzling was why he was voicing these thoughts aloud. Was he not worried about being overheard? This compartment wasn't exactly soundproof.
Or... was he mentally ill?
'...Nah, it shouldn't be that bad.'
The most logical explanation Ryn came up with was a simple one: the stress of the exam had cracked the kid's nerves. So, he was just muttering paranoid fantasies.
'...Hmm.' Sighing quietly to himself, Ryn closed his eyes again. Crazy or not, it wouldn't hurt to check.
He focused inward, and his awareness gently unfurled. It was like opening a second set of eyes in his mind, one that painted a perfect, detailed picture of the world around him without light or sound. He could feel the shape of the room, the texture of the blankets, and the steady hum of the train's core with ease.
Below, the boy was a ball of nervous energy, his heart beating fast, a bit too fast in fact. Ryn's perception swept through him, finding nothing but fear and a bit of anticipation mixed with excitement.
'...He's definitely crazy.'
Muttering to himself, Ryn let his awareness expand further. It flowed through the walls of the compartment, into the corridor, seeping into the neighboring rooms. He sensed other passengers: some sleeping, some reading, a couple arguing about something.
He mapped the entire carriage, feeling the structure of the train, the flow of energy in the tracks beneath them.
But there was nothing wrong.
It was just a normal arc-train full of normal people heading to their destinations, as it should be.
'Sigh, it was nothing to lose sleep over.'
He was about to pull back, to write the kid off as a sure lunatic, when his perception brushed against something.
'...Ah.'
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips in the darkness.
'I see.'
He retracted his consciousness in a smooth, instant motion. The vast mental map vanished, leaving only the familiar quiet of his own mind. The faint smile faded, leaving his usual calm neutrality in its place.
So the kid wasn't just crazy. He was… suspiciously well-informed.
Well, that did change things.
However, for now, it didn't change what he wanted to do.
Shifting slightly on the bunk, Ryn tucked a hand behind his head, closed his eyes, and let the darkness take him.
'I'll deal with it when the time comes…'
_______ _____ _
Meanwhile, right below Ryn, on the lower bunk, the boy let out a shaky breath he felt like he'd been holding for hours.
He was Asher, Asher Leonhart.
The third young master of the Leonhart Clan. A title that once meant something. He'd been the family's pride, their little genius, until the Awakening Ceremony six years ago.
That was when his elder brother manifested a pristine Violet Core in the Force Vein, and two years ago, his younger sister sparked a brilliant Gold Core and a mutated Flux Vein.
He, on the other hand, had only awoken an average Green Core in the Rune Vein.
He'd faded from a rising star to a background character overnight.
All the attention and resources were poured into his siblings, while he received nothing but leftovers.
Even though it should have been enough for an average talent like him, he wasn't obviously satisfied with it. After all, there was a difference between the two. He would never be able to get stronger with those few resources.
Therefore, desperate to claw back any shred of that lost attention, Asher pushed himself to his absolute limits. He trained until his hands bled trying to inscribe runes, studied until his vision blurred. But a Green Core had its limits, and no amount of sweat could bridge the gap to Violet, let alone Gold.
He failed. Many times. Publicly, repeatedly, and spectacularly.
Then, humiliation curdled into a hot, bitter rage.
If he couldn't be the genius, he decided, he would be the problem.
He skipped lessons, started fights with other minor nobles' sons to feel a fleeting sense of power, and took his frustrations out on the only people with less status than him: the household staff.
He'd shout, throw things, insult, and… even beat them for the most minor mistakes.
Each outburst was a cry for someone, anyone, to look at him and see something other than disappointment.
Instead, it only confirmed their worst opinions. His punishments grew harsher. His allowance was cut entirely. The last of his tutors was dismissed. Eventually, even his maids were reassigned.
He was left alone in his wing of the manor, stewing in his own toxic resentment, a snarling, isolated creature everyone had given up on.
But then, one incident changed everything.
Well, almost everything.
About a month ago, in a final, pathetic act of defiance, he'd stolen an advanced-grade Arcana crystal from his brother's study, a crystal he had no hope of safely absorbing.
In his rage and despair, he'd tried to shatter it and inhale the raw energy directly, a suicide attempt masquerading as a reckless power grab.
Yet, instead of death or a shattered core, he'd been plunged into a seizing, visionary coma.
For a whole week, his mind was flooded with weird dreams... vivid, horrifying, and completely absurd.
Because those dreams showed him a future where he took this exam, entered Stellar Nexus Academy, and played out the exact miserable, jealous script he'd been living, only to be casually crushed by a first-year from a backwater town during a tournament, left crippled and forgotten.
But the truly crazy part, the thing that made him question his own sanity long after he woke up weak and sweating in his bed, wasn't just the vividness of the dreams.
It was the other thing he was shown.
That…
That this world was based on a story!
It turns out this world was a structured narrative with its own heroes, heroines, side characters, and plot.
And the bitter cherry atop that realization?
He wasn't the main character.
Not even a supporting role.
He was just a minor, third-rate villain!
A disposable hurdle in the hero's journey.
If he didn't flip the script quickly, starting with surviving the next few hours, his role would end prematurely - with a lasting, painful farewell.