The sun rose golden over the academy, scattering warm light across dew-laced rooftops and stone courtyards. Students began to emerge from the dorms in groups, chatting and yawning as they headed toward the training grounds for the physical curriculum—a program every student had to attend, regardless of mana aptitude.
Akito stepped out of his dorm alone, adjusting the simple academy-issue tunic and boots. His expression was calm, unreadable, save for the faint upward tug of one corner of his lips.
First physical class. Let's see what this side of the world has to offer.
He made his way across the courtyard, cutting through a shaded arch when—
Wham!
A shoulder bumped into him—hard.
"Oof—watch where you're walking, trash tier."
Akito blinked. In front of him stood a tall, broad-shouldered student with sleek blond hair and a smug grin. His uniform bore a silver trim—Second Tier. Two of his friends flanked him, snickering.
"Let me guess…" Akito sighed, brushing off his sleeve. "I bumped into the 'arrogant noble' type, right? What is this, Act One of a cheap drama?"
The blond narrowed his eyes. "What did you just say?"
"You're like a checklist," Akito said with a flat stare. "Broad shoulders. Arrogant smirk. Two disposable backup dancers. Let me guess—your dad's a minor baron and you peaked in mana manipulation at twelve?"
The two lackeys gasped.
The noble student flushed. "You've got a mouth on you, Third Tier filth."
"Thanks," Akito said nonchalantly. "I use it to recite physics principles."
The noble snapped. "You little—!"
Before he could charge, Akito's right eye flickered faintly—the golden Φ symbol rotating like a gyroscope.
Newton's First Law of Motion, he thought.
The bully froze mid-step, leg raised, mouth open. His entire body locked in place—like a statue on the verge of action.
The courtyard went dead silent.
Akito walked around him slowly, examining the way his hair floated slightly, suspended by motion's memory. He waved a hand in front of the frozen noble's face.
"Still conscious?" he asked, not expecting a reply. "I'll release it in thirty minutes. Should give you time to reflect on your personality arc."
He turned and kept walking, muttering to himself. "Why are clichés universal across dimensions? I expected better from a fantasy world. Still, got an interesting results. It can stop any motions as being freezed, but the time still continue to tick."
He stepped into the training ground with the same casual air as if nothing had happened. Several students were already gathered—dressed in tunics, adjusting sparring gloves, stretching.
As he crossed the space, he felt their eyes on him—curious, skeptical, expectant.
The clatter of wooden blades and scuffed boots quieted as Instructor Velea stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back. Her sharp silver eyes swept over the gathered students before resting on the new face standing just outside the training ring.
"We have a new addition today," she announced, voice cutting through the morning air like a drawn blade. "Third Tier. Transferred under direct permission from Professor Caldus Marrenvar."
A wave of murmurs rolled through the group. Farren leaned over to whisper something to Nella, but a look from Velea silenced him instantly.
She gestured toward Akito. "State your name and anything else you want the class to know."
Akito stepped forward, hands casually tucked in his sleeves. He paused, letting the silence hang a second longer than necessary—just enough to make a few students uncomfortable.
"…Akito," he said at last. "I don't have mana. I'm not from around here. I like books, I hate crowds, and I was a hikkikomori before I got isekai'd into your fantasy world."
Blank stares.
Then Farren burst out laughing. "Okay, what?"
"Translation," Nella added, raising a brow, "you were a shut-in and now you're the main character?"
"Exactly," Akito replied flatly. "It's contractually required."
A few chuckles broke out.
Instructor Velea didn't react. "Whether you're a chosen one or just another oddball, I don't care. You're in my class now, and here, everyone pulls their weight."
Akito gave a mock salute. "Understood, Commander."
"First session: footwork and foundational sword drills. Anyone who slacks gets double rounds on body conditioning."
Instructor Velea added. She ran them through drills—stance correction, weight shifting, basic cuts and blocks. Akito, despite his weak sword grip, moved with surprising control. His eye scanned angles and spacing instinctively, making subtle adjustments with every repetition.
Farren struggled to keep balance. "How're you so smooth already?"
"Physics," Akito said. "I may not have mana, but my posture has theoretical backing."
They spent the morning running basic drills. Akito stayed quiet, focused, observing not just his form but everyone else's. Nella occasionally barked at Farren to stop leaning forward. Joren helped two other students adjust their grips. Tamril yawned mid-swing but nailed the motion anyway.
By late evening, sparring gear was laid out.
"That's enough warm-up," Instructor Velea announced. "Pair up. Light sparring. I want to see how you move under pressure."
Akito exhaled and turned—only to feel a heavy presence behind him.
"I want him," a voice growled.
The blond noble student from earlier stood behind him, face twisted with a mixture of shame, fury, and bruised pride.
"You're back," Akito said without even turning around. "Mob character with unresolved ego issues."
"You embarrassed me in front of the Second Tier," the noble snapped. "I'll make sure you regret it."
Akito's eyes narrowed. His voice was almost bored. "Is this the part where you give a long speech before charging recklessly?"
Instructor Velea raised a brow. "Something wrong, gentlemen?"
The noble student—a tall, broad-shouldered second-tier with a perfect academy posture and an overly self-satisfied smirk—grinned darkly. "Not at all, instructor. Just eager to show our new classmate how we train."
Akito rolled his shoulder once, casual as ever. "Sure. I'll play along."
The surrounding students instinctively stepped back, forming a loose ring around the sparring circle. The air buzzed with curiosity. Whispers passed between the rows of Third-Tier students, most of whom had never seen a duel up close, let alone one involving a noble.
Farren leaned close to Nella, voice barely a whisper. "Think he'll get flattened?"
Nella's eyes narrowed, arms folded under her notebook. "Probably not, looking at his confident self. He doesn't even blink."
Instructor Velea stepped between the two and barked, "Sparring rules: wooden swords only, no lethal strikes, no magic unless cleared beforehand. First to disarm or yield loses. Begin when I say."
Both students gave a nod. The noble—Lynx, Akito would later learn—twirled his wooden blade with unnecessary flourish, clearly playing to the crowd. Akito held his loosely at his side, fingers relaxed