The lectures that followed felt like a distant hum, the words of the professors blurring into an irrelevant drone. I attended the classes physically, my body occupying a chair, my pen occasionally scratching a note onto parchment. But my mind was elsewhere, caught in the swirling vortex of what was to come. The hunt was on, and I was the prey. Every ambitious student, every slighted noble, every warrior with something to prove would be coming for my rank.
My first instinct was to let them have it.
I should just step down, I thought, staring out the window at the drifting clouds. I want a simple life. I don't need the pressure, the constant challenges, the eyes watching my every move. The benefits of being Rank 1—the priority access to training grounds, the extra stipends—they meant little to me. I had my own methods, my own money. A quiet life with Yumi was all I truly craved.
Then, a sudden, chilling realization struck me, sharp and cold as a shard of ice.
