The moment the Sovereign's sword art settled into my mind, I ran.
Not metaphorically.
Not cautiously.
I ran.
Mana flooded into my legs as I pushed my body far beyond what would normally be considered sensible. Muscles screamed. Lungs burned. The ground beneath my feet blurred as I leapt over fallen stone, cracked pillars, and jagged debris, my steps light but frantic.
There was a reason.
Behind me, the ruin trembled.
At first, it was subtle—an uneasy vibration, like a giant shifting in its sleep. Then the tremor deepened, rolling through the earth with a sound that was less noise and more pressure. The air itself seemed to compress.
The ruin was not collapsing.
It was responding.
I grit my teeth and forced more mana through my circuits, ignoring the protest from my body.
"Move," I muttered. "Move faster."
The Sword Sovereign's intent was not malicious—but it was absolute. His will, sealed for centuries, had finally been disturbed. And now that will was correcting the imbalance.
I didn't look back.
I didn't need to.
The moment I burst past the edge of the forest, the world behind me vanished.
There was no explosion.
No fire.
No sound.
Just—
Erasure.
The forest ceased to exist.
Not burned. Not shattered.
Gone.
A vast wave of invisible force swept through the land, flattening trees, soil, stone—everything—in a single, flawless arc. Residual Sword Aura tore through reality with surgical indifference, leaving behind a perfectly clean field as if the forest had never been there at all.
Silence followed.
Not the calm kind.
The kind that presses against your ears.
I staggered forward another dozen steps before my legs finally gave out. I dropped to one knee, then both, gasping, sweat dripping from my chin onto scorched grass.
My heart thundered in my chest.
"If I was even a second late…" I breathed.
I didn't finish the sentence.
I didn't need to.
The empty field behind me told the rest of the story.
It reminded me uncomfortably of images from my old world—those sterile photographs taken after nuclear tests. The same unnatural emptiness. The same sense that something fundamental had been stripped away.
I stayed there for a long moment, letting the residual aura disperse, letting my breathing slow.
"So," I muttered weakly, staring at the horizon. "That's what restraint looks like to a Sword Sovereign."
A laugh escaped me—short, breathless.
"Ridiculous."
Once my legs stopped shaking, I stood and adjusted my robe, pulling the fabric lower over my shoulders. The academy city lay ahead, nestled in the downward district like a patient observer beneath the mountain where the academy itself rested.
From the city, the academy was impossible to miss—white stone towers rising above everything else, proud and distant, as if reminding the world where power truly lived.
I slipped back into civilization quietly.
No grand return.
No witnesses.
I passed through the security checkpoint without incident, the ward barely acknowledging me before letting me through. Within minutes, I was back in my dormitory room.
The moment the door closed behind me, I collapsed onto the bed.
Darkness claimed me instantly.
I woke up to sunlight stabbing my eyes.
I groaned and rolled over, reaching for the mana clock on my desk.
7:30 AM.
"…Damn it."
My early training schedule was completely ruined.
Normally, I would have cursed myself into a foul mood for the rest of the day. Discipline mattered. Consistency mattered. Missing even one session was unacceptable.
But as I stared at the ceiling, feeling the subtle weight of unfamiliar knowledge settling deeper into my mind, I sighed.
"I suppose," I admitted, "I got more than enough in exchange."
I dragged myself up, washed, dressed, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face looked the same—sharp eyes, slightly disheveled hair, an expression that hovered somewhere between tired and mildly annoyed.
Still handsome, at least.
"That's one thing the Sovereign didn't take from me," I said solemnly to my reflection.
The mirror did not argue.
I made my way to class.
As usual, no one paid me any attention.
Students chatted in clusters, laughter echoing through the corridor. The heroes of this generation walked confidently at the center of it all.
And I—
I drifted past like background scenery.
A side character.
Which was fine.
That was the point.
I headed for my regular seat at the back, noting absently that Ione seemed to be sitting a little closer than usual.
Or maybe I was imagining it.
I dismissed the thought and kept walking.
Viola brushed past me without even noticing, fully engrossed in animated conversation with Aurelius. She laughed easily, her posture relaxed.
She's more comfortable with him now, I observed.
"Well," I thought dryly, that should be a good thing, shouldn't it?
I pushed the thought aside and took my seat.
Ione sat three seats away.
Out of ten.
She didn't glance in my direction.
Her posture was calm, distant, as always.
And yet—
Why did that bother me today?
I shook my head and opened my book.
The moment I saw the page, my expression darkened.
Mana formations.
Complex ones.
I stared at the diagrams, lines overlapping in nauseating precision.
"…I want to tear this page apart," I muttered.
Just missing two or three classes shouldn't have made this much difference. And yet—
A sudden, irrational thought crossed my mind.
Did that sword art come with some kind of curse?
I dismissed it immediately.
No. That wasn't it.
Before my frustration could spiral further, the door slid open.
Instructor Seraphina entered the room.
Her presence alone straightened spines.
She scanned the class with her usual sharp gaze.
Then her eyes met mine.
For just a second—
I felt killing intent.
"…Ah," I thought grimly. So she noticed.
Using her name to forge a leave permit had seemed clever at the time.
Now it felt suicidal.
My evening training is going to be hell, I concluded. Absolutely hell.
Seraphina turned to the class.
"Good morning," she said crisply. "Today's lecture is canceled."
Murmurs spread instantly.
"Instead," she continued, "you will be meeting the heroes who protect our kingdom."
Silence fell.
"There are ten of them," she said. "Each hero may choose up to four students as mentees. Selection is entirely at their discretion. Capability, talent, instinct—it is their choice."
She paused.
"Not everyone will be chosen."
The doors opened.
One by one, the heroes entered.
Their presence filled the room.
Sword Masters. Archmages. Hybrids whose very existence bent the atmosphere around them.
I leaned back in my seat.
Please don't pick me, I thought sincerely.
One by one, students were chosen.
Aurelius was selected, of course.
So was Viola.
Cheers, envy, admiration.
And then—
It ended.
No one approached me.
Good.
Then I noticed—
No one had chosen Ione either.
That surprised me.
I glanced sideways.
She remained calm, unreadable.
Is it because she doesn't listen to orders? I wondered.
Not my problem.
I stood to leave—
"Wait."
Seraphina's voice stopped me cold.
"You," she said. "And Ione."
I froze.
"You will report to the private staff room on the second floor."
"…Why?" I asked cautiously.
"Your mentor is waiting."
I stared at her.
"Are you joking?"
Her gaze sharpened.
I stopped talking.
Ione stood and walked past me without a word.
I followed, attempting conversation.
It failed spectacularly.
She responded with short answers, if at all.
Awkward didn't begin to describe it.
We reached the room.
I knocked.
"Enter."
The voice was calm.
Cold.
We stepped inside.
A young man stood by the window, hands behind his back. He looked no older than thirty.
Yet—
His presence was strange.
Not overwhelming.
Not imposing.
It was as if he wasn't there at all.
Every instinct in my body screamed danger.
Even Ione narrowed her eyes.
The man turned and smiled.
"Edward El Blackwood," he said lightly. "And you two will be my mentees."
I stiffened.
That's not possible.
He wasn't supposed to appear in this arc.
I forced a smile.
"Nice to meet you," I said. "Should I call you Master?"
I hesitated, then added, "If you don't mind me asking… why us?"
Edward chuckled softly.
"Because," he said, eyes gleaming, "you two are far more interesting than you think."
My unease deepened.
What exactly did you notice, I wondered, and how much trouble am I already in?