Ralph sat on the ground, arms wrapped around his knees as he stared blankly at the dirt.
His body ached all over.
The cocky grin he'd worn earlier had long since disappeared, replaced by a look of stunned defeat. A few of the students were chuckling behind their hands. Others whispered quietly, their amusement barely hidden.
It stung.
I thought I'd impress them…
Just as the weight of embarrassment began to settle deeper into his chest, he heard approaching footsteps. Heavy. Measured. Confident.
Samuel, the Captain of the Royal Knights, stood over him.
Without a word, the seasoned warrior reached out and patted Ralph gently on the shoulder.
"There is no need to feel shame," he said calmly.
Ralph blinked and looked up, confused.
"You did well for your first battle. You possess powerful Skills and the potential to surpass even me someday."
Samuel's voice carried no sarcasm. No judgment. Just quiet conviction.
"That is why you need training," he added, his warm smile deepening. Then, stretching out his calloused hand, he asked:
"So, what do you say... Warrior? Do you wish to grow strong and defeat me one day?"
Ralph's eyes widened.
The same hand that had mercilessly beaten him moments ago was now offering to help him rise.
Then—clap.
He turned.
Luna had started clapping, beaming from ear to ear. Her applause was soon joined by Adonis, then Daniel, and before long, the entire group of students was applauding.
They're clapping… for me?
Then he saw her.
Amy.
She was smiling. Smiling and clapping just like the rest. Her gaze met his briefly—and it wasn't mockery. It was pride.
Something swelled in Ralph's chest.
The sting of humiliation was still there… but now it was wrapped in something new.
Hope.
Ralph's trembling form steadied. His lips curved upward.
He looked back at Samuel—at the firm hand still waiting—and nodded.
"I wish to grow strong," Ralph said, voice steady.
He grasped Samuel's hand, and the knight pulled him up with ease. For a moment, the two locked eyes—one seasoned and wise, the other young and earnest. A silent bond was forged.
One of respect.
One of purpose.
"Good," Samuel said. "I look forward to your training."
~~~~~~~
'I see now...'
Oliver narrowed his eyes slightly, watching the scene wrap up—Ralph getting up, the applause, Samuel's praise.
'Our Skills are only as good as our mastery... and our Level. Just like Luna said.'
He folded his arms.
'A Level 1 A-Tier Skill user won't beat a Level 10 B-Tier. Not unless they're lucky or really smart. It's not just about having power—it's about knowing how to use it. Having the body to back it up. The experience.'
It felt fair, in a way. The system wasn't completely broken. Just tilted.
'Still... I bet there's a ceiling for lower-tier skills. Eventually, they stop growing. But the high-tier ones? They'll scale with you. A-Tier stuff might look weak now at Level 1, but it'll shine later.'
He clenched his fists.
'In the end, it's just better to have everything. High-rank Skills. High Stats. High Level.'
As the tutors began organizing everyone for proper training, Oliver's resolve slowly settled in.
'If I'm going to survive here... I can't slack off.'
He didn't care about glory, or titles, or impressing anyone.
But he did care about control. About not being used, or looked down on, or left behind.
'This world respects strength. It stomps on the weak. I'm not here to be stepped on.'
Among all the elite Classes and golden Skills of his classmates, he was just the "Linguist."
The joke. The bottom rung.
But he had seen enough today to understand one thing:
'Power isn't just handed to you. Even if your Class is strong, you need to build on it. And if your Class is weak... then you just have to dig deeper.'
His lips twitched into a small smirk.
'Let's see what this "Linguist" can really do…'
~~~~~
Two weeks had passed since the day Oliver's class had been revealed.
Since then, he'd been branded the weakest. Everyone knew. Everyone accepted it.
And honestly… so had he.
Royal Library – Afternoon Break Time
Oliver sat slumped in one of the far tables, a thick, worn book in his hands. The title read:
"Language of Magic"
He flipped another page. Scanned a few lines. Then sighed.
"Haaaahhh~"
The kind of sigh that came from deep in the soul.
With a dull thud, he tossed the book onto the table.
"Bang!"
A startled yelp came from behind the nearest bookshelf.
"Quiet, please!" snapped a grumpy-looking librarian who'd just rounded the corner, glaring at him like he'd thrown a bomb.
"Ah—sorry, sorry!" Oliver raised both hands quickly, bowing his head. "That was my bad."
The librarian gave him one more threatening squint before walking off.
As soon as she was gone, Oliver slumped over the table again, dragging his face across the polished wood.
'What the hell am I even doing…?'
Another sigh escaped him, quieter this time.
He lazily opened his Status Window with a mental command.
[Status Window]
Name: Oliver Shaw
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Level: 2
Class: Linguist (F-Rank)
Strength: 19
Agility: 20
MP: 25
Skill:
Language Comprehension
He stared at the screen blankly for a few seconds. Then shut it off.
'This is it. Two weeks of grinding, training, pushing myself until my arms felt like they'd fall off… and this is what I get.'
He scoffed, borderline laughing.
'It's actually sad. I'm not even a joke character. I'm just the skipped tutorial NPC.'
Oh and let me tell you our hero's stats.
[Status Window – Daniel Blake]
Name: Daniel Blake
Age: 19
Level: 10
Class: Hero (SSS-Rank)
Strength: 220
Agility: 100
MP: 205
Skills:
All Affinity | Divine Aura | Foresight | High-Speed Recovery | Auto-Blessing Field | Multicasting | Unbreakable Will | Radiant Slash| Limit Break
'Two weeks. Same starting point. This guy's strength stat is literally over ten times mine.'
He stared at the ridiculous numbers in dead silence.
'His passive buffs have buffs.'
He rubbed his temple slowly.
'God, why was I even summoned?'
Honestly, he'd been okay with having no physical strength. He wasn't expecting to become a sword god overnight.
But then came the real blow.
'No magic affinity either? Then what the hell is the MP stat for?! Decorative?'
He closed the screen and dropped his forehead to the table again.
"Thunk."
This had been the pattern for the last week or so. Show up to the training yard. Get flattened. Get ignored. Then sneak off to the library and try to make sense of things.
He had even stopped attending the physical drills entirely by this point. No one noticed. No one cared.
'They probably think I'm just dead weight anyway. Let the dead weight read some books and stay out of the way, right?'