The gates of Origin Academy were alive with the murmur of ambition. Children twelve years old and just-arrived sparkled with potential, their eyes bright with dreams of heroism, magic, and renown. I moved among them unnoticed, a small, unremarkable boy in the crowd—but my mind stretched beyond the walls, scanning, observing, calculating.
I activated my Codex, letting the threads of stolen System telemetry integrate seamlessly with the world around me. Numbers, patterns, probabilities—all poured into my vision.
[
And then I saw them.
A boy, tall for his age, hair like burnished bronze, eyes sharp and calculating. His presence was bold, his energy unfiltered—a statistical anomaly.
Strength: High
Intelligence: High
Mana: Moderate
Influence: Growing
Pattern Deviations: Minimal, yet notable
Potential Threat: Medium-High
He moved with confidence, scanning his peers, already marking rivals and allies without knowing it. Most children would have been blinded by the Academy's scale, but he navigated it like a chessboard. Fascinating.
And then… a girl. A small, unassuming figure, hair black as ink, eyes bright with a quiet fire. She carried herself with a calm precision, but I could sense a power under restraint—a dangerous combination.
Strength: Moderate
Intelligence: High
Mana: High
Influence: Low (for now)
Pattern Deviations: Frequent, subtle
Potential Threat: Medium
The male lead noticed her almost immediately. Their eyes met briefly, and a silent recognition passed between them, as if fate had begun to tether their threads together. But I observed from a distance, my Codex parsing every micro-expression, every heartbeat, every flicker of intent.
Interesting. Potential rivals. Potential pawns. Potential catalysts.
I tilted my head, letting my smile curve quietly. I had two years of preparation, hundreds of threads, and a Codex to measure every variable. These two—heroes in the story's default narrative—would soon enter my calculations. I would observe. I would integrate. I would manipulate when the moment was right.
The male lead laughed, a sound full of ease and confidence, drawing attention from nearby students. The female lead moved through the crowd gracefully, her gaze calm and calculating, yet careful to avoid immediate notice. Both were patterns in motion. Predictable if analyzed correctly, yet full of surprises if underestimated.
I let my Codex assign preliminary titles:
[Male Lead: "Golden Pawn" (Potential for leadership, influence, and narrative relevance)
Female Lead: "Shadow Spark" (Potential for high mana output, unconventional tactics, narrative disruption)]
These were placeholders. Variables subject to observation. Patterns to be rewritten.
I continued my silent survey, noting schedules, teacher assignments, classroom layouts, and dorm placements. Every detail fed back into my Codex. Every whisper, glance, and gesture added a point to my assessment matrix.
Two years of preparation, and this—the Academy—was now my stage. The players were arriving, unaware that a background character had already begun weaving reality itself.
I allowed myself a small, cold smile.
The story was starting.