"The universe isn't done throwing rocks at me yet."
I muttered the words as we passed under the massive stone archway of the Student Arena. The structure was a colossal ring of white marble, open to the sky, with tiered seating that could hold the entire student body. It smelled of dry sand, ozone, and the faint, coppery scent of old blood.
"Did you say rocks?" Tybalt asked, clutching his stomach. "I feel like I swallowed a rock. That meat bun is sitting like a brick. I knew I shouldn't have eaten the fourth one."
"Nerves," I said, patting his back. "Just breathe. You're a natural at Earth magic. Just make a wall and hide behind it. You'll be fine."
"Hide behind a wall," Tybalt repeated, nodding feverishly. "I can do that. Walls are safe. Walls don't judge you."
We walked onto the sandy floor of the arena. The first-years were gathered in a chaotic huddle near the center, while the upperclassmen and instructors watched from the stands.
I scanned the area. The setup was simple: three combat rings. In each ring stood a Magic Golem—a hulking construct made of wood and iron, pulsing with blue runic light.
Professor Hale stood on a raised platform, his voice amplified by wind magic.
"The Selection Trials determine your class placement," Hale boomed. "You will be judged on three criteria: Combat Ability, Mana Control, and Tactical Judgment. You may fight solo, or in pairs. Pairs are encouraged to test synergy."
Synergy. That was the keyword.
In the novel, this is where Kaelen usually shines. He pairs up with Lysandra after a dramatic moment. But right now, Lysandra was standing on the far left with the nobility, looking distinctively unapproachable. And Kaelen…
I looked to the right.
Kaelen was standing alone. Again.
The "Monster" label had stuck fast. Students were giving him a wide berth, whispering behind their hands. Even after the cafeteria incident, fear was a hard habit to break.
If Kaelen fought solo, he'd get a high combat score but a zero in synergy. That might drop him to Class 1-B. If he wasn't in Class 1-A with Lysandra, the main plot would fracture. They needed to be in the same classroom to trigger the "Library Duty" event in Chapter 5.
I need him to have a partner, I thought. But who?
My eyes scanned the crowd. I saw Jareth snickering with his goons. I saw Elara writing in her notebook.
And then I saw her.
Standing near the back, clutching a staff that was slightly too tall for her, was a girl with short, chestnut hair and robes that looked a size too big. She was trembling slightly.
Mira. The Compassionate Healer.
In the lore, she's the best support mage in the academy, but she has crippling stage fright. She usually ends up in Class 1-A because she accidentally heals an instructor during a panic attack, impressing everyone.
She was looking at Kaelen. Not with fear, but with... concern?
Perfect.
I focused on her.
Okay, let's test this new toy.
I brought up my interface.
[Ability: Whisper (Lvl 1)]
[Description: Implant a subtle auditory suggestion into a target's subconscious. Success depends on target's mental resistance and current emotional state.]
[Cost: Minor Mental Strain.]
I narrowed my eyes, locking onto Mira. I didn't speak out loud. I just thought the words, pushing them toward her like I was sliding a letter under a door.
Target: Mira.
Message: "He looks lonely. He needs a healer."
[Executing...]
A sharp pinch hit the bridge of my nose, like an ice cream headache.
I watched Mira. She blinked, shaking her head slightly as if swatting away a fly. Then, she looked at Kaelen again. Her expression shifted. The fear in her eyes softened, replaced by a sudden surge of resolve.
She took a step forward. Then another.
"Hey," Tybalt whispered, nudging me. "Look at the Healer girl. Is she... is she walking toward the Death Knight?"
"Looks like it," I said, rubbing my nose.
The crowd went quiet as Mira stopped in front of Kaelen. Kaelen looked down, surprised. He was a good foot taller than her.
"Um," Mira squeaked. Her voice was barely audible. "I... I can cast shields. If... if you need one?"
Kaelen stared at her. For a second, I thought he might dismiss her. He was still defensive after the morning's harassment.
But then he glanced at the instructors, then back at the small girl shaking in her boots but standing her ground.
"Shields are good," Kaelen said softly. "I'm Kaelen."
"Mira," she breathed.
"Kaelen and Mira!" Professor Hale shouted. "Ring Two!"
They stepped into the ring. A Wooden Golem rumbled to life, its eyes glowing red. It raised a massive timber fist.
"Begin!"
The golem charged.
Kaelen didn't draw a weapon. He didn't use the darkness magic that had terrified everyone yesterday. Instead, he stepped in front of Mira.
"Shield," he commanded.
"Y-Yes!" Mira slammed her staff into the sand. "Aegis!"
A golden dome of light snapped into existence around them just as the golem's fist slammed down.
BOOM.
The shield held. The impact shockwave kicked up dust, but the barrier didn't crack.
Kaelen smirked. "Nice."
He lunged out from behind the barrier. He moved fast—faster than a mage should. He closed the distance, channeling raw mana into his fist—not dark mana, just pure, neutral reinforcement.
CRACK.
He punched the golem squarely in the chest core. Wood splintered. The construct staggered back.
"Hold it," Kaelen said, stepping back.
Mira understood. She pointed her staff. "Binding Light!"
Chains of light erupted from the ground, wrapping around the golem's legs. It crashed to the ground.
Kaelen placed his foot on the golem's chest. "Yield."
The instructor blew the whistle. "Stop! Winner: Team Kaelen and Mira. Score: A-Rank."
The crowd murmured. It wasn't the terrifying display of power they expected. It was... competent. Controlled. Heroic.
I let out a breath.
Crisis averted. Kaelen gets his A-Rank. He's in the top class.
"Wow," Tybalt said, looking impressed. "Maybe he isn't a monster. That was... actually kinda cool."
"See?" I said. "Just misunderstood."
But as Kaelen walked out of the ring, his eyes scanned the crowd. He wasn't looking at the cheering students. He was looking for someone.
His gaze landed on me.
He gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
My stomach dropped. Did he know? No, he couldn't know I used [Whisper]. He probably just thought I was the only one who didn't hate him, so he was acknowledging me.
"Ren! Tybalt!" Hale shouted. "Ring Three!"
"Oh no," Tybalt whimpered. "It's our turn. My legs are jelly, Ren. Literal jelly."
"Let's go, jelly-legs," I said, dragging him forward.
Now came the hard part.
I had to fail.
But I couldn't fail too hard. If I got an F, I'd be expelled or sent to the remedial class (Class 1-D), which was basically a farming simulator. I needed to land squarely in the middle of the pack. I needed a solid, forgettable C.
We stepped into the ring. Our opponent was a standard Wooden Golem, slightly smaller than the one Kaelen fought.
"Begin!"
The golem lumbered toward us.
"Wall! Wall!" Tybalt shrieked. He slapped his hands on the ground. "Earth Wall!"
A slab of stone, about waist-high, shot up from the sand. It was sturdy, but short. Tybalt crouched behind it, covering his head.
"Good job, Ty!" I yelled.
I drew the standard-issue training sword from my belt.
Okay. Let's do the 'Panicked Conscript' routine.
I waited for the golem to reach the wall. It raised its arm to smash Tybalt's defense.
I lunged. "Haaa!"
I struck the golem's arm. I aimed for the joint—a smart move—but I deliberately turned my wrist so the blade hit flat instead of sharp.
Clang.
The sword bounced off the hardwood.
"Oh no," I said, deadpan.
The golem backhanded me.
I saw it coming. I could have dodged. My eyes tracked the trajectory perfectly. My body, seemingly reacting to the Observer prowess, wanted to slide left and riposte.
I forced myself to freeze.
The wooden hand hit my shield.
Wham.
I flew backward, tumbling into the sand. I made sure to roll dramatically, groaning loudly.
"Ren!" Tybalt yelled.
"I'm okay!" I coughed, spitting out sand. "Keep the wall up!"
I scrambled to my feet. The golem was pounding on Tybalt's wall now. Chips of stone were flying.
I needed to end this. If I did nothing, Tybalt would get hurt.
I ran forward again. This time, I channeled a tiny, pathetic amount of mana into the sword.
"Take this!"
I slashed at the golem's leg. I cut through the outer layer of wood, getting the blade stuck.
"It's stuck!" I shouted, pulling on the hilt.
The golem turned its attention to me. It raised both fists.
"Ty! Now!" I yelled.
Tybalt peeked over his wall. Seeing me in mortal peril triggered his 'Sidekick Instinct'.
"Spike!" Tybalt screamed.
A sharp pillar of earth shot out from the wall, slamming into the golem's chest. It wasn't enough to kill it, but it knocked it off balance. The golem stumbled back, ripping my sword loose.
I fell on my butt. The golem wobbled and fell over.
Professor Hale blew the whistle.
"Stop! Time's up. Neutralized by technicality." Hale looked at his clipboard, unimpressed. "Tybalt: Decent defense, good reaction. Class 1-C. Ren: Poor form, terrible grip, but... brave enough to be bait. Class 1-C."
"Yes!" Tybalt cheered, running over to help me up. "We did it! We're average!"
"We're average," I repeated, dusting off my pants. "Mission accomplished."
I ignored the stinging scrape on my elbow. Being a background character was painful work.
As we walked off the field, I felt the gaze again.
Elara.
She was standing near the exit tunnel. She wasn't writing this time. She was tapping her pen against her chin, staring at me with a look that made my skin crawl.
I tried to walk past her without making eye contact.
"You turned your wrist," she said.
I froze. Tybalt kept walking, oblivious. "I'm gonna go find a bathroom, Ren! Meet you at the dorm!"
I was left alone with the Strategist.
"Excuse me?" I asked, putting on my best confused-face.
Elara adjusted her glasses. "In the ring. When you struck the golem. You had the angle for a severing strike on the elbow joint. At the last millisecond, you rotated your wrist thirty degrees to hit with the flat of the blade. Why?"
My heart hammered against my ribs. She saw that? That was a frame-perfect mistake.
"I... I panicked," I stammered. "My hand slipped. Sweaty palms."
Elara stepped closer. She smelled like ink and old paper. Her eyes were sharp, analytical, dissecting me like a frog in biology class.
"Sweaty palms don't cause a thirty-degree rotation with localized wrist torque," she said dryly. "And earlier. You stared at Mira for exactly four seconds before she decided to move. You stared at the water bottle before it rolled. You stared at Jareth before he backed down."
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Who are you, Ren? Because you're certainly not F-Rank."
This was it. The Jig was up. Chapter 5 and I was already busted.
[Narrative Alert: Character 'Elara' Awareness Level Critical.]
[Options: 1. Deny. 2. Distract. 3. ???]
I swallowed hard. "I think you're overthinking it. I'm just a guy who wants to survive the semester."
"Survival doesn't require sabotage," she countered. "You threw the fight. You wanted 1-C. Why? The resources in 1-A are superior."
"Maybe I don't like the spotlight," I said, meeting her gaze. "Spotlights cast big shadows. And things hide in shadows."
Elara paused. She seemed to weigh my words.
"Interesting," she murmured. "A philosopher in sheep's clothing."
She pulled a folded piece of paper from her clipboard and shoved it into my chest pocket.
"If you're going to hide, do it better," she said. "I'll be watching."
She turned and walked away, her heels clicking on the stone.
I stood there for a moment, letting the adrenaline fade. Then, I pulled the paper out of my pocket.
It was a class roster.
Class 1-A:
Lysandra
Kaelen
Mira
Jareth
Elara
...
Class 1-C:
Ren
Tybalt
Onion Guy (listed as 'Bob')
...
I breathed a sigh of relief. The pieces were on the board. The main cast was together. I was on the sidelines.
But then I flipped the paper over.
On the back, in neat, cursive handwriting, was a note. But it wasn't from Elara. The ink was shimmering, shifting colors like oil on water.
To the Observer in Row 43:
You aren't the only one rewriting the script.
Meet me at midnight. The Old Bell Tower.
- A Friend.
I stared at the note. The text in my vision flared up.
[New Plot Thread Detected: The Second Author.]
[Objective: Investigate the Bell Tower.]
"A friend," I whispered, crushing the note in my hand. "Or a rival."
I looked up at the sky. The sun was setting, painting the clouds in bruised shades of purple and red.
The arc had just begun, and already, the genre was shifting. It wasn't just a fantasy adventure anymore.
It was a mystery. And I was the detective who knew too much.
"Well," I said to the empty tunnel. "I guess I'm not getting any sleep tonight either."
I shoved the note into my pocket and walked out to find Tybalt. The long game had officially started.