Ryle lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
His mind wasn't on fire magic anymore.
It was on one place.
Arcanum Academy.
If this world had a center—a place where the future gathered—then Arcanum was it.
Arcanum Academy wasn't just a school. It was the academy. The most prestigious institution for magic and combat arts in the entire continent. Kingdoms competed just to send a handful of students there.
Graduates became court mages, knight-commanders, researchers, generals.
Some became monsters.
Others became legends.
Arcanum didn't care about birth alone, but it didn't ignore it either. Nobles entered with resources and backing. Commoners entered with raw talent and nothing else. Only those who could survive its curriculum stayed.
Most dropped out.
Some didn't leave alive.
"That's where the story really starts," Ryle muttered.
Because that was where he was.
The main character.
Ryle remembered him clearly.
Not a chosen one.Not royalty.Not some secret prince.
Just a commoner boy who lost everything during the aftermath of war.
He had no name worth remembering at first. No title. No family.
Until a noble woman took him in.
He grew up under a noble roof, trained alongside people who looked down on him, and learned very quickly that effort alone wasn't enough. But he had something rare.
Talent.
Not just for magic.
But for the sword as well.
A dual talent that shouldn't exist so easily.
He entered Arcanum Academy as an outsider—mocked, underestimated, ignored.
And then he proved everyone wrong.
Spell and steel. Mind and body.
By the time the Great War arrived, he was standing at the center of it all.
Ryle exhaled slowly.
"That guy…"
The hero of The Sovereign of Spell and Steel.
The one who was supposed to shine.
"And now," Ryle said quietly, "I'm heading straight toward his path."
Lucien Tharvayne—an unknown noble with a fallen name.
And the main character—a commoner who climbed upward.
Two people who should never meet.
Ryle closed his eyes.
Arcanum Academy…
That place would decide everything.
His growth. His position. His survival.
And maybe—
The future of the story itself.
He opened his eyes, a faint smile forming.
"Yeah," he whispered. "Maybe I need to meet him to survive."
But once I did—
The storyline might change....
---------
The next day came quietly.
Ryle woke up early, before most of the estate stirred. After a quick meal, he headed straight to the backyard again.
No hesitation.
No second thoughts.
"Alright," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Let's see how far this goes."
He started again with the basics.
Small flames. Mana control. Protecting his palm before casting.
At first, he expected his body to tire quickly.
It didn't.
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
His mana dipped—but it recovered faster than expected. The heavy feeling faded almost as soon as it appeared.
"…That's strange."
Ryle stopped and focused inward.
The mana inside Lucien's body was deep. Dense. It flowed easily, like a river that refused to run dry.
"This is way more than average," he muttered.
Most beginner mages needed rest after a few spells. Mana fatigue usually came fast—headaches, shaking hands, blurred focus.
Lucien showed none of that.
Ryle laughed softly.
"So this is what a noble bloodline leaves behind."
The Tharvayne family might have fallen, but their foundation was still there. Generations of powerful mages had shaped this body, leaving behind a massive mana pool.
He kept going.
Fire after fire.
Control improved. Casting felt smoother. The strain he expected never fully came.
Hours passed before he finally stopped.
Only then did he feel tired.
"…Incredible," Ryle said, breathing hard.
Lucien hadn't failed because he lacked power.
He had too much of it.
And for the first time, Ryle understood something important.
"This body isn't weak," he said quietly. "It was just never used properly."
That realization made his chest tighten.
If Lucien had been given the right guidance—
No.
Ryle shook his head.
What matters is now.
He wiped the sweat from his face and looked at his hand, faint warmth still lingering.
"With this much mana," he thought, "I can train faster than most people."
Ryle let out a slow breath and dropped onto the grass.
The ground was cool. The sky above was clear. For a moment, everything felt… peaceful.
He rested one arm behind his head and stared upward.
I adapted faster than I thought, he realized.
He wasn't panicking anymore. He wasn't counting the hours since he arrived in this world. Instead of worrying about resumes, bills, or rejection emails—
He was learning magic.
Training. Thinking ahead. Planning for a future that actually existed.
"…This is weird," he muttered.
Back on Earth, he struggled just to get through the day. Here, every effort had a clear result. Every hour spent meant something.
And that excited him.
A little too much.
Ryle closed his eyes and smiled faintly.
If this keeps going like this…
Then—
A low growl cut through the air.
Ryle's eyes snapped open.
"…What?"
He turned his head to the right.
Beyond the edge of the backyard, near the forest line, something moved.
Branches shook.
Leaves parted.
A large shape stepped out.
Ryle froze.
It was a boar—but twisted. Bigger than any normal animal. Its muscles bulged unnaturally, black veins crawling across its hide. Thick tusks curved forward like blades.
And its eyes—
They glowed red.
The creature snorted, steam blowing from its nose as it locked onto him.
Ryle's heartbeat slammed in his ears.
"…A monster," he whispered.
The boar scraped its hoof against the ground.
Then it charged.
Straight at him.
Ryle shot up from the ground.
"—Shit!"
He jumped aside just as the boar rushed past him. The ground shook when it slammed into the spot where he had been lying.
Pain flared.
"Ah—!"
Something sharp scraped across his left arm. Blood welled up immediately, warm and real.
Ryle staggered back, clutching his arm.
I messed up, he thought.
Only then did it fully sink in.
This place is right next to a wild forest.
Of course monsters would wander close. Of course something like this could happen.
The boar turned around, snorting loudly, red eyes locked onto him again.
Ryle took a step back.
Run.
That was the smart choice. Call the guards. This was noble territory—trained fighters would deal with it easily.
He opened his mouth—
Then stopped.
His chest rose and fell as he stared at the monster.
Combat experience.
The thought surfaced on its own.
Real combat. Real danger. Something books and practice could never give.
Ryle clenched his teeth.
"If I keep avoiding fights like this," he muttered, "I'll die when it actually matters."
The boar lowered its head and charged again.
Ryle moved this time—not away, but sideways.
Mana surged.
He gathered it quickly, coating his palm first, just like he practiced. Heat built up, steady and controlled.
"Stay calm," he whispered. "Don't rush."
He turned and thrust his hand forward.
"—Fire!"
A fireball burst from his palm and flew straight toward the boar.
It hit the creature's shoulder and exploded into flames.
The boar let out a squeal and skidded to the side, its hide burning. It didn't fall—but it slowed.
Ryle's heart pounded.
It worked.
But the monster wasn't dead.
It shook itself violently, flames scattering, eyes burning even brighter with rage.
"…It's tough," Ryle said, forcing himself to stay upright.
The fire had burned its hide, but not deeply enough.
Thick skin. Dense muscle, he realized. Blunt fire won't finish it.
The boar snorted and slammed its hooves into the ground again.
Then it charged.
"—Again?!"
Ryle barely jumped out of the way as the monster rushed past him. The wind from its movement brushed his clothes. He kept moving, circling, dodging left and right.
If this keeps going, I'll get tired first.
That was when an idea hit him.
Piercing.
In stories and novels, magic wasn't just about power—it was about shape. Arrows. Spears. Drills. Spinning force to break through defenses.
If fire can burn… it can pierce too.
The boar turned sharply and charged again.
Ryle raised his hand, but stopped.
"No—focus."
He needed time.
He twisted and hurled a fireball instead.
The flame slammed into the boar's right leg.
The monster squealed, stumbling as its charge broke.
"Good," Ryle muttered. "Now—"
He closed his eyes for half a second.
Long shape. Pointed front.
Mana gathered, stretched, sharpened.
A spear of fire formed in his hand. It flickered wildly, unstable but real.
Ryle's breath caught.
"I did it."
But he wasn't done.
Spin it.
He forced his mana to spiral around the spear. The flame twisted, rotating slowly at first.
"Come on…!"
The spin strengthened.
Ryle thrust his arm forward and released it.
The fire spear shot out and struck the boar's back.
The monster screamed, flames tearing into its hide. It collapsed to one knee—but didn't fall.
Ryle's eyes widened.
Still alive.
But it was slower now. Weaker.
"…One more."
This time, Ryle didn't rush.
He gathered mana carefully, layering it thicker than before. The fire spear formed again—longer, sharper.
He focused on rotation.
Faster.
Faster.
The air around the spear began to twist. Wind surged outward as the spiral tightened.
Ryle's heart raced.
"Time to fry some bacon."
He fired.
The spear vanished in a flash.
A split second later—
It punched straight through the boar's body.
There was a loud crack as flesh tore apart, leaving a massive hole behind. The monster collapsed instantly, its red eyes dimming as it hit the ground.
Silence followed.
Ryle stood there, breathing hard.
Then—
"…Holy shit."
A grin spread across his face.
"I really did it."
Fire flickered faintly around his hand, responding to his excitement.
Ryle laughed, adrenaline rushing through him.
I just made a new spell.
That thought sent another rush of excitement through him.
Then—
A strange feeling crawled up his spine.
"…Huh?"
Ryle slowly turned his head toward the corner of the Tharvayne estate, near the outer wall. Shadows stretched there, quiet and unmoving.
For a brief moment, it felt like—
Someone was watching him.
His eyes narrowed. He scanned the area carefully.
Nothing.
No movement. No presence.
"…Guess I'm imagining things," he muttered.
His heart was still racing from the fight. Adrenaline could mess with the senses. He let the thought go and exhaled.
That was when the familiar black panel appeared in front of him.
Golden border.Dark background.
Ryle blinked.
"Oh?"
The letters formed clearly.
[New Spell Unlocked: Flaming Piercing Spear]
Ryle smiled.
"There you are," he said lightly. "I was waiting for you to show up."
The system didn't respond, of course.
Ryle crossed his arms. "So when are you giving me another quest?"
Silence.
The panel stayed there for half a second—
Then disappeared.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
Ryle stared at the empty air, then let out a short laugh.
"What an asshole system."
He shook his head and looked back at the boar's corpse. The body was massive, still faintly warm.
"…Can't just leave this here."
He waved over one of the nearby guards, explaining what happened as simply as possible. The guard looked shocked at the dead monster, then nodded quickly.
"We'll handle it, Young Master," the guard said. "We'll send it to the butcher as well. A beast like this will feed many."
"Good," Ryle replied. "No reason to waste it."
With that taken care of, Ryle cleaned himself up and returned inside.
Time passed.
Dinner came and went, just like before.
Same table. Same faces. Same silence.
But this time, Ryle's mind was elsewhere.
When dinner ended, he stood up.
Instead of turning toward Lucien's room, he headed in a different direction.
Down a quieter hallway.
Toward a heavy wooden door.
Father's office, Ryle thought.
He stopped in front of it.
Straightened his posture.
And raised his hand to knock.
A calm voice answered from inside the room.
"Enter."
Ryle pushed the door open slowly.
The office was dimly lit, shelves filled with documents and old records lining the walls. Lord Severin Tharvayne sat behind a large desk, reading through a stack of papers. He didn't look up right away.
Ryle stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
"Sorry for disturbing you this late, Father," he said.
Severin finally raised his eyes.
His expression didn't change.
"Speak."
Straight to the point.
Ryle took a quiet breath. "I want to join an academy."
Severin studied him for a moment. Not surprised. Not interested. Just observing.
"Which academy?" he asked.
Ryle answered without hesitation.
"The one in the capital city of Aurelion," he said. "Arcanum Academy."
The room went silent.
Severin leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Arcanum," he repeated. "Their enrollment opens in one month."
Ryle's heart tightened.
"I can arrange for you to attend," Severin continued calmly. "If you meet their requirements."
Ryle blinked.
"…You will?"
"Yes."
That was all.
Ryle lowered his head immediately and gave a proper bow.
"Thank you," he said. "I won't waste the opportunity."
Severin returned his attention to the documents on his desk, clearly dismissing him.
Ryle turned and left the office, closing the door quietly behind him.
Only when he was alone in the hallway did he finally let out a breath.
"…Good," he muttered. "He approved."
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
So he doesn't hate Lucien after all, Ryle thought.
Whatever the reason—
That was enough for now.
Ryle walked down the hallway alone.
The lamps were dim now, casting long shadows along the walls. His footsteps echoed softly, steady and slow.
Then—
That feeling came back.
"…Again?" he muttered.
It was subtle, but clear enough to bother him. Like someone was watching him. Not all at once—but step by step.
Ryle stopped.
Silence.
He turned around.
Nothing.
No footsteps.No presence.No sound.
"…I really can't tell," he said quietly.
Whether it was his imagination or something else, he couldn't prove it. After a moment, he shook his head and continued walking.
He entered his room and closed the door behind him.
Only then did his shoulders finally relax.
Ryle slid onto his bed and let his body sink into the mattress.
"…What a day," he sighed.
Magic.Monsters.The Academy.
His mind drifted forward.
The future…
Would he make friends here? Real ones? People who wouldn't ignore him like Lucien had been ignored?
"…Or maybe," he muttered, staring at the ceiling, "I'll finally get a girlfriend."
He snorted.
"Twenty-three years single," he said to himself. "All my experience came from watching adult videos."
The thought made him laugh quietly.
"…That's kind of sad."
But also funny.
As his laughter faded—
A familiar black panel appeared in front of him.
Golden border.Dark background.
Ryle's eyes lit up.
He smiled as he read the words at the top.
[New Quest]
"Oh?" he said. "Now we're talking."
The message formed clearly.
[New Quest: Hunt 1 Alpha Wolf — 0/1]
Ryle stared at it for a second.
Then he grinned.
"…Guess tomorrow won't be boring."