The classroom at Hunter Academy thrummed with the low buzz of mana-charged devices, a constant reminder of the world Leo could never fully join. Students leaned over their desks, voices overlapping as they swapped stories of their latest training feats. "Did you see Ryn's fire orb yesterday? Blasted through the dummy in seconds!" a boy with a cocky grin boasted. "Tala's shield held off three strikes—her mana's peaking," a girl beside him chimed in, nodding toward Tala, who smirked modestly. "Practice, that's all," Tala said, adjusting her glowing bracer. The chatter was a wall Leo couldn't breach, slouched in the back row, his worn uniform creaking with every shift. The other students' polished gear—mana-infused vests, sleek tablets—made his patched jacket stand out like a flag of failure.
"Hey, Blank, you even listening?" a voice jeered from across the aisle, sharp and cutting. Leo kept his head down, scribbling notes on borrowed paper, the ink smudging under his sweaty palm. "Leave him, he's useless anyway," another muttered, loud enough for the room to hear. A ripple of snickers followed, and Leo's cheeks burned. "Shut up," he mumbled, but the taunts persisted. "Heard he failed the mana test again—zero output!" a boy laughed. "Maybe he should stick to fishing!" another added, sparking a fresh wave of giggles. Master Korran, a grizzled ex-C-Class hunter with a scarred jaw, slammed his fist on the desk, the sound cracking through the noise. "Enough! Focus, all of you! Rift navigation—mana flows shift daily. Know your exits or you're dead. Leo, you got that?"
"Yeah, sir," Leo replied quietly, his voice barely audible. But his mind was miles away, replaying yesterday's chaos—the Shadow Wyrm King's roar, the ring's sudden power, Torin's final scream. "What's with you today?" Korran snapped, narrowing his eyes. "Nothing, just… tired," Leo lied, his fingers brushing the ring hidden under his sleeve. Its dull pulse confused him—Usopp's slingshot had saved him, but how? The dream's words echoed: three times a day, one hour each. What did it mean? "Pay attention or drop out," Korran growled. "Blanks don't last long here." Leo nodded, but the ring's mystery gnawed at him. Amid the doubt, a thought took root—this could be his chance, his way to prove he wasn't just a blank.
The bell rang, a sharp relief, and chairs scraped as students filed out. "See you at the simulator, Ryn!" a voice called. "Tala, spot me later!" another shouted. Leo gathered his notes, the paper crinkling in his grip, and slipped out, heading for the teachers' room. The door creaked open, revealing Korran hunched over a mana-signature report, the room smelling of old leather and faint mana residue. "Sir, I need to renew my hunter card," Leo said, stepping forward with his expired card extended.
Korran looked up, his frown deepening. "Renew it? Leo, you sure about this?" he asked, his tone laced with concern. "Yes, sir," Leo insisted, meeting his gaze. Korran leaned back, arms crossed. "Hunting's not for you, kid. You're a blank—no mana, no potential. The Academy gave you that card as a favor, but your tests are flat. Eighty percent of unawakened die in their first year—look at last year's roster. Half didn't make it. Try mechanics or cooking—the District needs workers, not corpses."
"I appreciate it, sir, but I'm doing this," Leo said, his jaw tightening. Korran's words stung, echoing Mira's warnings and the shelter's harsh lessons, but he clung to the ring's promise. "Why? You've got no mana—tests don't lie," Korran pressed, his voice softening. "I can do this," Leo argued, his resolve hardening. "Stubbornness won't change biology," Korran countered. "You're throwing your life away." "I've thought about it, but I want to hunt," Leo shot back. Korran sighed, rubbing his temple. "Fine, but don't come crying when it ends badly. Here's your E-Rank temp—use it wisely." He tapped the console, the renewed card sliding out with a soft beep. "Thanks, sir," Leo muttered, clutching it like a shield as he left, already planning tomorrow's dungeon raid.
Downstairs, he paused by a classroom window, the Low District's grimy streets sprawling below. The hum of mana-trams and street vendors filled the air until a granny's cry pierced through. "Help! My purse!" she wailed, her frail figure stumbling as three thugs in tattered jackets snatched it and bolted. "Get back here!" she screamed, collapsing. "Hey, stop!" Leo shouted, adrenaline kicking in. He ran, his renewed card bouncing in his pocket, the thugs' laughter echoing. "Kid's got guts!" one called. "Or no brains!" another taunted. They ducked into a quiet alley, and Leo followed, his breath hitching.
The alley was narrow, its walls slick with moss, the air thick with rot. The thugs turned, knives glinting under a flickering mana-lamp. "Lost, kid?" the leader sneered, twirling his blade. "Give it back," Leo demanded, his voice trembling. "Or what, Blank?" another taunted, stepping closer. "Look at him shake—easy pickings!" the third cackled. They circled him, their sneers tightening the noose. "Hand over anything you got, or we carve you up," the leader growled, his knife inches from Leo's chest. The granny's purse lay spilled—coins rolling, a faded photo fluttering—mocking his helplessness.
Leo's back hit the wall, panic rising. "Please, just leave," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Shut it," the leader snapped. "Last chance." "Cut him!" one urged, raising his knife. Leo's mind raced—no mana, no training, just the ring. His hand shook as he slid it onto his finger, its glow flaring. "Help me!" he cried, the alley trembling with his shout. The thugs froze, confusion flickering. "What's he doing?" one muttered. "Some trick?" another hissed. "Doesn't matter—finish him!" the leader roared, lunging.