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Name: Auren
Age: 18
Race: The Sullied
Health: Healthy
Essence: 160/160
Rank: E
Shards: ◇─◇─◇
Strength: F+
Agility: F+
Vigor: E-
Soul: D-
Magic: F
Charisma: E+
[Imprints]
????? - Manifests upon achieving C- Rank.
[Manuals]
✩ All-purpose Swords: Defensive Style
Mastery: Adept
Description: A basic form for all sword-like weapons, emphasizing tight and controlled movements. Gains openings through fundamental, sturdy parries. Lacks offensive power or deception. Don't expect anything particularly deadly, flashy, or powerful.
[Skills]
Slot 1: Sunshine-pilled→ [Rank: F]
Description: Controls the user's brain, allowing for the artificial control of happiness through increasing and/or decreasing serotonin, dopamine, endorphins, and other chemicals, without any physiological complications as a result. As for psychological complications? That's up for interpretation.
Common. Replicable.
Slot 2: Unlocks at D- Rank.
[Traits]:
Endangered - You have been hunted your entire life, the crippling hand of fear bears down on your psyche at full force. The gut's feeling of danger is enhanced and profound.
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I close the bombardment of information, a hollow forming in my torso as the realization of my situation set in.
I am in danger. I am afraid. My trait has created this insatiable background itch, especially after reading my Skill's description.
[Sunshine-pilled]
The hollow flees as quickly as it arrives. My mood instantly softens from neurotic to amiable.
By instinct, I activated my sole Skill.
It was an easy feat. A trained action. Like a click of a button, similar to how I brought up the status in the first place, I merely willed it to do so. Skills are easy to use compared to Imprints, Manuals, or Spells
This particular Skill, the hatred I now feel, and the position I'm in, all of it belongs to a small child, effortlessly crushed under an iron boot, shattered, and scattered to the winds, trying with futility to make change in an unchangeable environment.
An Extra. Fodder.
Auren is all but destined for an offscreen death. The Cabal has thrown him to the wolves, hoping he can pull off a miracle.
How can a Sullied masquerading as a Human noble possibly hope to compete with these titans, let alone pierce their knowledge circles?
Long story short: he can't.
But now he can. We can. I can. We are one. I am Auren, and I'm going to shove the Cabal into a locker and let them drown in victory after victory.
VRRRTTTTT.
A message appears on my school-issued watch, an artificial Artifact. Magic makes normal modern technology infinitely cooler. Somewhat contrived, though.
With a sigh, my attention shifts to the school's message sent to me personally through the watch Artifact.
Dear Auren of Ovine,
Following the Dim's Placement Testing, you have been ranked 425th out of 1000 aspiring attendees.
Rank 423rd on the Interview section.
Rank 427th on the Status Measurements section.
Historically, the Dim has gone through a process of eliminating 50% of aspiring students from the initial 1000, down to a total of 500.
This normally would qualify you as a student, should you score similarly on the Entrance Exam.
This year, however, the Dim has changed the elimination percentage from 50% to 33%. The maximum number of first-year students admitted will be 333.
Therefore, your current ranking is insufficient. Should you place within the top 333 students on the special Entrance Exam scheduled for four weeks, you will be admitted to the Dim in full for the 601-602 semester and beyond.
In the meantime, the Dim's facilities are open to all aspirers. 10,000 points have been allocated to you for this month based on the Placements, which can be used on Dim Island for items and services located in the commercial district.
Keep in mind that the Dim's portal will be restricted after the Entrance Exam.
Best wishes,
Vice-Principal Everett Staal
…
I'm utterly crushed.
Not because I'm poorly placed. I think they got the preliminary ranking right; as of now, quantitatively, this is close to my absolute peak.
No, I'm crushed, swallowed, shat out, and fucked for a different reason.
I thought that I would swoop in and take every Artifact, Charm, Manual, or even a Hereditary Imprint straight from the protagonist's too-good-for-mass-murder-and-power-tripping hands.
I thought my path to Godhood was quite set.
I'll have to miss out on all that fun, unfortunately.
Why? Because of the date.
The current year is 601 AD. 601 years of aristocratic domination. AD standing for After Democracy, of course—essentially this universe's equivalent of Nazism, or otherwise demonized ideology.
A century ago, on 501 AD, Darrow of House Landeskog, the Hero, the protagonist of the novel, died.
…
What the hell is the point of transmigrating to the world's future?
***
I'm afraid I made a slight dramatic embellishment.
Knowing the Hero of Humanity's entire tale at a personal level could actually make me the greatest historian ever. I'm saved.
Fuck off. That obviously won't work; as I am now, there's a 50% chance I even make it to the top 33% of the first-years. Not bad odds, but not good enough for my liking.
The Cabal training I have pales in comparison to the years of tutoring and infinite resources these middle to upper nobles have enjoyed.
I do humbly proclaim a high level of combat talent on my part, but it lies in the assassin archetype of combat, where the Dim more so rewards head-to-head swordsmanship
Let's make this crystal clear: if I fail the Cabal, I will die.
If I am discovered or outed, either for my race or my affiliation with a secret terrorist organization that is the sole coordinated opponent against Humanity, then I will die.
If I run for the hills and live a peaceful life, I am as good as dead. I want to live, not just survive.
And if I fail here, I will never beat the Humans.
It is the reason I live, why I breathe air every morning, while I have toiled and scrounged and scratched and clawed for every inch of power.
It's why I have all but sold my Soul to the Cabal.
All to satiate my giant revenge boner.