Jericho groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
Suspended.
As a consequence, all his academy privileges were revoked. No dormitory, no canteen, no access to classes for the next two weeks. He was, in every way that mattered, kicked to the curb.
"Ugh... no food, no bed, no roof."
He stared at the banana peel stuck to his shoe.
"I'm really in deep shit."
He was starting to understand why the old Jericho ran away. You couldn't live on campus without being a student, and you couldn't live in the city without money. Which, surprise, he also didn't have.
Still, the sheer hatred people had for him was insane. Resentment? He could understand. But this? This was burning, spitting, tomato-throwing hatred.
Would it cool down in two weeks?
He doubted it. At best, they'd just stop talking to him. At worst... better pick a religion.
Jericho sat on a cut tree stump near the forest's edge and sighed deeply. The sky was already starting to darken. His stomach growled.
"It'd be real dumb to die of starvation on day one."
He looked up at the sky.
"Thanks, God, really. For putting me in this world. But why not someone better? Why not the hero's best friend? Or one of the powerful students with a hidden bloodline and a six-pack?"
He paused, grimaced.
"Why Jericho?"
Around him stretched the Evermist Forest. In Alchemia Tale, this sprawling woodland separated Darmine City from Celestia Academy. Most of it was peaceful, even scenic.
Birds, mushrooms, and strange plants. But there were areas, darker parts, where low-level monsters roamed. Easy prey for adventurers. Death sentence for guys with weak ankles.
Jericho straightened and took a breath. He needed to think quickly. Night was falling, and cold would follow.
Then, he focused.
And with a soft chime, a faint blue system window popped up in front of his face.
[Jericho Vaun Ashenwald]
Strength: 5
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 4
Magic: 7
Fireball (Lv.1)
Jericho stared at it in silence.
"...Seriously."
This was one of the first things he figured out after his sanction: how to check his stats, just like in the game. And wow, was it depressing.
He remembered Shin's system. Full pages of abilities. Swordsmanship, elemental mastery, crafting bonuses, hidden titles. Even his hair had stats.
And him?
Fireball. One, singular, and unyielding weak.
"This is what a normal system looks like...? I'm supposed to survive this world with stats like a retired librarian?"
He bit back a scream and flopped back onto the stump. Okay, focus.
All he had to do was survive two weeks. That's it. Then the suspension would end. Hopefully, they'd let him back in. Back into the dorms. Back into warm food and clean floors.
"I just have to stay alive. That's the goal. Survive, Jericho. Don't die like an idiot."
He looked at his stats again and squinted at the only ability listed.
Fireball (Lv.1)
He nodded.
"Right. Fire. I can use that to keep warm."
He stood up and moved to a small clearing. Nothing flammable nearby. He held out his hand, staring at his palm like it owed him rent.
"Okay... Fireball. Let's go."
Nothing.
He tried again, this time waving his fingers a bit. Like in the game.
Still nothing.
Then he crouched, pointed like he was casting a spell, and focused hard. His head throbbed. His fingers tingled. A spark fizzled at his fingertips... and died with a fart noise.
"Are you serious?!"
It took fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of gritting his teeth, muttering bad Latin, visualizing fire, and accidentally slapping his thigh like a drum.
Then finally...
Fwoop.
A tiny flame sputtered in his palm.
"YES!"
He grinned, cradling it like it was his firstborn.
The flame flickered. Small, weak, but warm.
It was something.
Now he just had to find sticks, maybe a cave or some flat ground. Build a basic camp. Something to last two weeks.
He looked at the forest around him and sighed again.
"This is gonna suck."
Jericho trudged through the Evermist Forest, the last bits of daylight running away behind the trees.
He knew this place. In the game, he had memorized the paths like the back of his hand. Every hidden chest, every side quest location, every mob spawn.
But real life was no minimap. Here, the dirt felt real, and the branches actually smacked you in the face.
It took longer than he expected, but after a couple wrong turns and one awkward moment with a very territorial squirrel chasing him, he found it.
A clearing. Quiet, flat. Right by a narrow stream that wound its way through the trees. Moonlight danced on the water, and a few fish glided lazily beneath the surface.
"Jackpot."
His legs felt like bricks, and his stomach was tying itself. But at least this was something shelter-ish. Water, fish, and no dangerous monster in the area. He could survive here for the two next weeks.
Now he just needed food.
He crouched near the stream, hands on his knees, eyes narrowing like a predator. One flick of the wrist.
He focused, summoned the tiny spark of magic he had.
Fwoop.
The fireball shot out, landed on the surface of the stream... and died. Not a splash, not even a ripple.
Jericho blinked.
"...Oh. Right. Fire. Water. Great plan."
He waved off his own stupidity and tried something else. A fishing rod. He looked around for a long stick, some vines, anything.
But it was night. His visibility sucked, his fingers were clumsy from hunger, and the result looked less like a rod and more like a sad twig on a leash.
He tossed it.
"Okay. Manual mode it is."
He rolled up his sleeves, stepped into the stream, and lunged.
The fish scattered like they were laughing at him. He slipped, flailed, and belly-flopped straight into the cold water with a loud splash.
By the time he pulled himself out, soaked and empty-handed, his teeth were chattering.
He got a fire going, barely. Some damp wood and the weakest flame imaginable.
It sputtered and hissed, giving just enough warmth to make him wish for more.
Then came a drop.
It landed square on Jericho's forehead. He blinked up.
Another drop. Then three. Then more.
He squinted at the sky.
The drops turned into a light rain, then a steady sheet, and then the kind of downpour that made everything feel like a bad joke.
The fire hissed, sputtered, and died with a pitiful sigh. Jericho didn't move.
He just sat there, soaked, staring up at the dark clouds.
"... I'm pretty sure there was a full moon earlier."
Jericho barely slept that night.
The ground was cold, the wet leaves stuck to his clothes, and the wind whistled through the trees like an angry ghost.
He kept tossing, turning, trying to get comfortable on the soggy earth. His stomach bullied him, and every noise made his nerves spike.
He heard a branch crack somewhere nearby, probably just a bird, but in his exhausted mind, it might as well have been a monster.
And when he finally managed to sleep, to crown is first day, a nightmare.
He was standing in the academy courtyard. Everyone was there, students, teachers, all staring, whispering.
Then came the voices.
"You disgust me."
"Stay away from me."
"I hope you rot."
They echoed, layered, building into a crushing wave.
Then a sharper voice cut through them all.
"Get up! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Jericho woke up instantly, heart pounding.
He blinked. Still in the clearing, still damp, still very much lying where he'd collapsed hours earlier.
He looked up, and there she was.
Short blue hair, sharp eyes, her small frame tense like a spring ready to snap.
It was the first time he met her in this new life, but it was someone he knew too well, even better than herself.
Lena Arkwell, Shin's childhood friend.
The girl Jericho had tried to assault in the game.