A young man with raven-black hair stood at the center of a damp cave, his eyes scanning the shadowy surroundings with growing disappointment.
"This is what I get for my reward?" he muttered, his voice echoing against the stone walls. "After trudging through this dark, miserable cave at level 999,999, couldn't I at least receive something worthwhile?"
He continued searching, his footsteps splashing through shallow puddles as he hunted for gold, jewelry, a sword—anything that might justify his arduous journey. Instead, his gaze fell upon a simple book resting atop a moss-covered rock.
"Are you serious?" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. "A book? This has to be some cruel joke. I've endured all this way, and my reward is just a book? What kind of twisted place is this?"
The man, whose name was Ray, approached the mysterious tome with reluctance. He attempted to pry it open, straining with all his might, but the cover remained firmly sealed.
"Now I can't even open the damn book," he groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Well, what do you know—this place truly despises me."
Turning the book over, Ray discovered an enchantment inscribed on its back cover. "Oh God, release the light," he read aloud, furrowing his brow. "Oh God, release the light. Oh God, release my light. Oh God, release the light."
"What in the world is this?" Ray whispered, contemplating whether to recite the enchantment. Something warned him against it—potential danger lurked in those words—but curiosity had always been his weakness.
"Oh God, release the light," he mumbled, shaking his head. "Oh God, release the light. Oh God, release my light. Oh God, release the light. This is so stupid."
The moment the final word left his lips, a blinding ray of light burst from the book, enveloping Ray completely. His body dissolved into the radiance, transporting him to another world entirely.
Ray awoke instantly to a sharp pain in his stomach. Someone had punched him, sending him flying backward into a locker before he tumbled unceremoniously to the ground.
"What in the world?" he gasped, clutching his abdomen. "First I get a worthless book as my reward, then it refuses to open, then I speak some ridiculous enchantment, and now I'm greeted with a punch? Who thinks they can just hit me like that?" he demanded, scrambling to his feet.
"Hey, you know I'm level 999,999, right? Who do you think you are, punching me?" Ray yelled at his attacker.
"Level 999 what? What did you just say?" the man asked, approaching menacingly. "Listen, kid, I don't know if you're speaking some fantasy nonsense, but what are levels?"
Ray's thoughts raced. "First he punches me in the gut, then he responds when I mention my level. He's not mocking me or calling me crazy—he's genuinely asking what levels are. A normal person would have dismissed me as delusional. This guy isn't acting like someone from my world would. What's he playing at?"
"I said, what in the world are levels?" the man repeated, attempting another punch. This time, Ray dodged with lightning reflexes, grabbing the man's finger and wrenching it off in one fluid motion.
"You don't punch me like that," Ray snarled, hurling the man through a nearby wall. "Sick of people thinking they're better than me. You might not have levels in your world, but I have them in mine. If you were transported to where I come from, you wouldn't stand a chance," he muttered, walking away from the destruction.
"Hey, who's that new kid?" a voice called out. A young man with a friendly face approached, flanked by two companions. His name was Fred, and he regarded Ray with genuine curiosity. "What's your name?" Fred asked.
Ray was taken aback by the friendly approach. "Someone actually wants to befriend me? That's a first. In my world, people check my level and run away immediately. It's not my fault I enjoy fighting," he thought, studying Fred's open expression.
"My name's Ray," he replied with an unexpected smile. "What's yours?"
"Oh, I'm Fred. How are you doing?" Fred gestured to his companions, both sporting blonde hair in contrast to Fred's black locks. "These are my friends, Kyle and Jacob."
"That's cool. Is it okay if I join your group?" Ray asked, surprising himself with his eagerness for connection.
"Sure, man," Fred agreed readily, turning to his friends. "Hey, are you guys cool with Ray joining us?"
Jacob nodded immediately while Kyle hesitated before finally giving his silent approval.
"Alright then, come along," Fred invited. The four boys walked toward a nearby classroom. "This is the magic class," Fred explained.
"Magic class? Do they have magic here too?" Ray whispered to himself, examining the door with rainbow text that read "Magic Theory."
"I'm assuming you're new here," Fred noted, "so let me introduce you to all the classes. This is Magic Theory, focusing on the principles behind spellcasting." The group continued walking to another classroom marked with bright red text.
"This is Fire Magic," Fred continued. "Obviously, it studies fire-based spells. There are other elemental classes too—Water Magic, Ice Magic, and plenty more." They proceeded down the corridor, with Jacob and Kyle following closely behind.
Fred led them to a black door with stark red and black lettering: "Martial Arts."
"This is the Martial Arts class, where we learn hand-to-hand combat," Fred explained, smiling as he glanced at Kyle. "This is your favorite class, right, Kyle? You're in here every day, hardly talking to us anymore," he teased with a playful wink.
Kyle chuckled nervously, unaccustomed to being called out in front of a newcomer. "Oh yeah," he admitted with a bashful smile.
Fred clapped Kyle on the shoulder with a smirk. "Anyway, there's also the Healing Class, which is self-explanatory."
Ray stared at the Martial Arts door, lost in thought. "That's interesting. What exactly is martial arts? He said it's hand-to-hand combat, but I've never needed that before. I've always relied on weapons or high-tier spells. My magical abilities might be affected in this place, and I know nothing about fighting with my bare hands. Learning something new wouldn't hurt."
His thoughts darkened as he continued his internal monologue. "As a child, I knew my goal was perfection. I need to master magic, martial arts—everything. I never want to be defeated again. I must be perfect, the pinnacle of what a mage can achieve. No one can surpass me."
Ray's expression grew somber. "It's not just about avoiding losses. I can accept defeat occasionally—that's how I reached my current rank. What I can't tolerate is arrogance, people thinking they can touch me or punch me without consequences. My only rule is simple: never punch me. Ever."
Jacob noticed Ray's distant expression. "Hey Ray, what are you thinking about?" he asked, concerned. Kyle and Fred also turned to look at their new companion.
"Ray? You okay?" Fred inquired.
Ray snapped out of his dark reverie, forcing a smile. "Oh yeah, I'm okay," he assured them, pushing his memories aside for the moment.
A few people rushed toward the destroyed wall. The first guy had black hair with a face contorted in rage; the second sported fiery red hair with an equally vengeful expression.
"Say that again, Ron," the first demanded. "Someone beat you up, took your finger, and punched you through a wall? Don't worry, man, we've got you. We'll get our revenge."
The red-haired boy's lips curled into a malicious smile. "Yeah, we've got your back. Don't worry—you won't have to lift a finger. We'll handle it. What was the guy's name?"
Ron, his body still partially embedded in the wall, managed a pained grimace. "I think it was... I think it was Ray," he hissed through clenched teeth.
"It's a good thing the professors don't care what happens to students around here," the first said darkly. "We can go as far as we want."
"Just don't murder him—we'll get in trouble for that," cautioned the second.
The black-eyed boy's voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "It won't be murder, but it'll be damn close to it." Both boys pulled Ron from the wall, strips of skin peeling away as some remained attached to the wall permanently.
"First, let's get you some medical attention, then we'll get revenge. How's that?" the red-haired boy suggested, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Sounds good to me," Ron agreed, wincing. "As long as that boy gets what's coming to him, I don't care what happens."
All three boys exchanged sinister smirks as the black-haired and red-haired companions carried Ron toward the infirmary.
An Earth mage approached the destroyed wall, sighing at the damage. "Looks like some martial artist caused quite a mess. No worry," the man muttered as he began repairing the wall with simple Earth magic. "Just kids fighting for competition. Well, back to my day," he sighed, walking off. Little did he know that Ray wasn't fighting Ron for competition—he was fighting because he got punched.