Noah tightened the knot on his dark blue tie, letting it hang slightly loose around his neck. His white shirt was crisp, and his black slacks fit just right. The faintest scowl tugged at his lips as he surveyed his reflection in the cracked mirror, looking over the uniform that didn't quite match his mood.
He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and stepped out of the worn apartment that had been his home for the past few years.
The air was cool outside, the first hint of morning breaking through the haze of night. Down in the parking lot, Noah wheeled out his bicycle—a beaten, second-hand thing that had served him well through the years.
There was nothing flashy about it, just a reliable companion. With a swift push, he mounted it and began pedaling, the early morning wind brushing softly across his face.
Then, something shifted—
[New Skill Acquired!]
[Skill: Beginner Cyclist]
[Description: Increased balance and efficiency while riding a bike. Slightly improved speed and reduced stamina consumption]
Noah smirked, the soft chuckle escaping his lips. So, this was how it worked. He'd been wondering when the system would start responding to the most mundane of actions.
"Interesting," he muttered under his breath, already feeling the change.
He picked up speed, and it wasn't long before he noticed it—the pedals moving smoother, his balance sharper. It was only a beginner's skill, but the difference was tangible. He couldn't help but wonder—if this was just the entry level, how much stronger could he become with time?
As the school building came into view, Noah slowed his pace.
But something was wrong.
A crowd had gathered near the gymnasium—a building that had long been abandoned, save for occasional maintenance. But today, it was different. People were everywhere. Students, faculty, a few police officers, and even ambulances. The air was heavy, charged with the weight of something terrible. Some students stood in shock, while others sobbed, their grief raw and loud.
Noah slowed his bike to a stop, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.
The gymnasium. That was where it had all gone down—where he'd ended Jake, Liam, and Ryan the night before.
He stood there for a moment, watching the scene unfold before him, his expression neutral. But somewhere deep inside, something stirred—not guilt, not fear—just satisfaction.
His gaze swept over the crowd.
He saw the parents first.
Two adults were near the front, their faces contorted in anguish, clutching each other as they sobbed. A few officers tried to console them, but the grief was too much. One parent collapsed, crying out in a way that made Noah's chest tighten.
Liam, Ryan, and Jake's families. He recognized them immediately. The very same people who had made his life a living hell—who had never given him a second thought, who had used him for sport.
If only they knew.
If only they knew that the person responsible for their children's deaths was standing just a few feet away, watching without a hint of remorse.
A faint, cold smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
Then, a tap on his shoulder broke his concentration.
He turned to find Elliot Graves standing beside him. Elliot was shorter than Noah, with messy black hair, sharp eyes that had seen too much for someone his age, and dark circles under both eyes.
"Morning," Elliot said, his voice soft, the usual lightness in it gone.
Noah raised an eyebrow. "What's going on? Why the crowd?"
Elliot didn't answer immediately. His eyes flicked toward the gymnasium, then back to Noah. "Three people are dead," he said quietly, his voice thick with disbelief.
Noah didn't flinch. "Who?"
"Liam, Ryan, and Jake. They found the bodies in the gymnasium this morning," Elliot replied, his voice low.
Noah's gaze drifted toward the ambulances parked outside, the black bags being loaded into the back.
"Sounds like divine justice," Noah murmured. "How'd they die?"
Elliot leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It was... brutal. The cops haven't said much, but—" he hesitated. "—Their bodies were unrecognizable. Like they'd been torn apart. Whoever did this... definitely a psycho."
Noah nodded slowly, his face blank, but a wicked smile curled inside his mind.
If only Elliot knew.
If only he realized that the 'psycho' standing right next to him was, in fact, the one responsible.
Elliot glanced around nervously before speaking again, his lips curling into a crooked smile. "Still, I gotta admit... I think the guy did the world a favor. Especially for you, man."
Noah remained silent, his gaze still locked on the scene before him.
"I'm sorry I didn't have your back more," Elliot added, his voice softer now. "Those guys... they were trash. I should've stood up for you when I had the chance."
"You don't owe me anything," Noah replied coolly. "It's over now."
A teacher came out a moment later, urging the crowd to disperse. The students were corralled into the schoolyard, a memorial of sorts hastily organized. Words were spoken—condolences, promises of tighter security, vague warnings. It all seemed hollow to Noah.
They should've been more careful long before now.
---
Classes resumed after the memorial, but to Noah, it felt like the world had changed.
For everyone else, the routine continued. They were shaken, sure, but soon enough, they'd forget.
But Noah? He couldn't forget the night before—the power, the release.
Sitting at his desk, he opened his book with calm detachment, flipping through the pages, letting his mind drift.
Then—
[New Skill Acquired!]
[Skill: Speed Reading]
[Description: Increases reading speed and enhances information retention.]
A small smile tugged at his lips.
This was getting interesting.
---
By noon, the bell rang, signaling the end of classes. The halls were alive with muted murmurs, students whispering about the deaths, while others pretended nothing was wrong.
Noah walked back to his apartment, shedding his school uniform and changing into a black T-shirt, a worn gray jacket, and loose cargo pants. He made a quick meal in the kitchen—nothing fancy, just enough to fill him up.
Leaning back in his chair afterward, he stared at the wall, his eyes distant, his mind working.
"I need to get stronger," he muttered to himself.
His physical abilities were still average, nothing extraordinary. That wouldn't be enough for what was coming. Not in this world, not with what he knew lay ahead.
He had Starflame, yes—but it wasn't enough.
Not yet.
The quickest way to improve? Direct combat. And the best place for that?
The forest.
A perfect hunting ground—wild beasts twisted by mana, dangerous, but perfect for training.
Noah grabbed his bag, stuffed a change of clothes inside, and headed out.
By the roadside, he waited. A few minutes later, a rideshare car pulled up.
The driver rolled down the window. "You're Noah?"
Noah nodded. "That's me."
"Hop in," the driver said.
Noah paused for a moment, a thought crossing his mind.
He smiled.
"Actually," he said softly, "let me drive."