Lucien did not sleep well that night. He kept rolling on the sheets, staring at the ceiling, trying not to wake his family. Every time his eyes closed, his mind sparked awake again.
The thought of going to see the main characters from the game refused to let him rest. His pulse beat faster the more he imagined it.
He was also worried about what kind of power he would get. Since both his parents belonged to the warrior class, he might awaken the same. Or, if the stars aligned, he could become a knight.
Knights earned enough to lift their families far above life in Ravenholt. The possibility burned in his chest like a stubborn ember.
As much as the exam terrified him, he was equally electrified by the chance to experience the game's world firsthand and to finally lay eyes on his favourite character.
Well, I will be seeing her today anyway. He smiled to himself, heat rushing to his ears.
"Mom, brother's gone mad," Lily said, catching him laughing like an idiot.
Her voice was sharp, teasing like always.
"It wasn't as ugly as the smile you had on your face when I brought the cake," Lucien fired back, his tone dry but amused.
"Shut up. Hurry and get ready for the exam," Lily muttered, then ran off. The wooden floor creaked under her hurried steps.
Lucien sat up. His stomach tightened. He knew what the academy exam was supposed to be, its structure, the way it was designed to measure potential, the points where characters in the game usually failed or won. He had seen it all play out before on a screen. But seeing something in a game and living through it were very different. In the game, the protagonist had plot armour. Lucien did not.
He changed into the clothes his father bought for him. They had the letters T A patterned into the fabric, simple yet meaningful.
His father's name was Theodore, and his mother's Akinsha. Commoners did not have surnames. He traced the letters with his fingers before putting them on. The fabric was light but sturdy, cool against his skin. It had the faint scent of mana herbs, the kind elves used in enchanted weaving to strengthen clothes for defence. It must have cost more than they could comfortably afford.
He headed to the hall.
"How do I look, Mom?" Lucien asked, stopping like a soldier awaiting inspection. He wore a full-sleeved brown shirt and black pants, hands awkwardly placed at his sides.
"You look handsome in everything," his mom replied. Her voice was warm, almost too gentle, like she was afraid to break the moment.
Lily made a vomiting gesture beside the table, wrinkling her nose dramatically.
Lucien stuck his tongue out before sitting. The chair groaned under him.
Today's breakfast was made specifically to boost him. Forest deer meat simmered in rich broth sent steam curling into the air. The aroma was earthy, filling his lungs with warmth. His mother's cooking had always been magic of its own kind. He finished his bowl in minutes, his appetite sharpened by anticipation.
After eating, he slung a bag onto his shoulder and stepped toward the door.
"I'll be back," he said, his voice steady even as his palms grew slick.
"Please be careful," his mother replied. She held his hand a moment too long before letting go.
Lily's eyes glistened, but she turned her head away as if she had dust in her eye.
The academy exams were not life-threatening, but failing meant never unlocking a system. A life like Earth: normal, mortal, alone. Lucien could not afford that. Ravenholt would fall in a few years if the story played out as it did in the game. He needed power, not just for himself, but for everyone around him.
He walked the familiar streets until he stopped in front of Dolan's shop. Morning mist clung to the stones. Most shutters were still closed; the city had not yet woken.
Dolan would take him to join the participants travelling to the capital, Solarion. Lucien hoped to see a familiar face in the travelling cart.
"Are you good to go?" Dolan asked, his voice even and flat. His eyes, however, flicked over Lucien with quiet scrutiny.
Lucien had worked here since he was ten. Strength built through hammer swings and hauling crates. Dolan's training was cruel at times, but fair. It made Lucien feel capable.
"Aww, are you worried about me?" Lucien asked, raising a brow, mocking lightly.
"Who is worried?" Dolan sneered, jaw tightening. He crossed his arms and remained beside him, silent after that. A few minutes had passed before he noticed something towards the end of the path.
A golem approached from down the road, metal joints clinking, mana stones embedded in its chest glowing like dying stars. It carried a cart behind it. It was almost time.
"Do you have the knife I made for you?" Dolan asked, tone shifting just slightly, less bite, more weight.
"Of course," Lucien said. His hand brushed the dagger in his bag. It felt like confidence pressed into metal.
"Good," Dolan said. "Remember, you can always come back and work here. Maybe one day I will let you take over this shop if you are good." He gestured toward the cart, still not facing him.
Lucien's throat tightened. He hummed an acknowledgement. Safety was an option, just not the one he would take.
He had seen the exam in the game. He knew the questions, the illusions, the traps, the method by which the system judged potential. But knowing and surviving were two different things. Players could restart. He could not. If he failed, he would be just another NPC.
The golem cart pulled up. Lucien climbed inside, sitting near the door. He waved.
Dolan's lips twitched, barely a smile, before his expression smoothed into indifference again.
Then he casually looked behind Dolan.
Movement in the doorway caught Lucien's eye. All the dwarves from the workshop were hiding behind barrels, waving at him with soot-stained hands. They ducked down when Dolan turned.
Lucien's chest warmed. He waved harder, pretending it was only at Dolan. The cart lurched forward, picking up speed. Wind pushed through the slats, cool and sharp.
Lucien looked inside the cart.
Inside were three boys and two girls. They eyed one another silently. Tension hovered like a held breath. He had never seen any of them while playing the game.
One of the girls, noticing Lucien's sharp profile, moved beside him. Short black hair, red eyes, black dress. She smelled faintly of lavender and iron. She looked younger than nineteen.
"Hey, what's that on your neck?" she asked, her gaze catching the pendant as it glinted in the rushing light.
Lucien looked down at it. He had no idea what it truly was. He did not find anything about it, even from the memories of the original owner. He just let it rest against his chest. Without letting the silence stretch any longer, he replied, "A lucky charm from my parents."
Her eyes glowed with interest, almost greedily. "This looks like a really expensive ornament. Are your parents knights?"
"Just warriors."
The word hit her harder than he expected. She made a judging face, her nose wrinkling slightly. Whatever warmth she had a moment ago evaporated the instant the word left his mouth. In this world, knights were respected; warriors were tolerated. Knights served nobles, protected cities, and wielded system-blessed weapons. Warriors were labourers with swords, frontline bodies meant to break before the real battle began. Calling someone a warrior was like calling them a tool, useful, replaceable, and rarely worth remembering.
She quickly lost interest, turning her head toward the front of the cart as if she had already forgotten the conversation.
No one spoke again after that. The atmosphere turned still and awkward, filled only by the creaking of metal and the rhythmic thud of the golem's footsteps as the cart sped onward.
Two hours later, they reached the front entrance of the academy. Massive iron gates towered above them, carved with sigils that shimmered faintly with mana. He saw that the participants were gathered in front of the gate.
Then his eyes landed on a particular individual.