The first thing he noticed was the loud roaring noise.
A deep roar of thousands of voices mixed, echoing off curved walls. It came in from all directions, vibrating through his skull like he was sitting inside a bell that had just been struck, making even his insides vibrate.
His vision was blurry and moving.
The world tilted, steadied, then tilted again.
"…Did I black out?"
He blinked once. Twice. Thrice as the vision finally cleared and steadied, letting his mind register what was happening to him.
As the blur cleared it took shape and then colour into rows upon rows of seats arranged in a massive dome like structure stretching wide with a transparent ceiling up above. Light poured gently upon the crowd.
And he was sitting among these people.
He did not transmigrate like an typical fantasy novel protagonist with a magic circle, with sacrifices or on some hospital bed.
Currently, he was just… sitting in a seat as if he'd paid for a ticket.
His head throbbed, but his mind was strangely clear.
"This is bad."
At the center of this stadium-sized dome was a cubical structure which was floating above the ground with some holographic video being played on the magical screens on each side for everyone to see the stage.
A man stepped forward on the central platform.
He was tall with broad shoulders, wearing an dark dress. A long scar ran diagonally across his face, starting just above his left eyebrow and ending just near his jawline with a pale weathered skin.
"Silence"
The crowd quieted.
His voice carried without any spekers.
"Strength is not a gift" the man said. "It is a responsibility given to the strong which you all here need to fulfil."
He stared at him blankly.
"Power exists to protect the weak and not for misuse." The teacher continued, his gaze sweeping across the stadium. "To carve a future where humanity does not bow its head to monsters, disasters, or despair."
Cheers erupted.
He didn't join the others in the cheering.
From the teacher's tone alone, he could already guess what kind of place this was.
"From over one hundred thousand selected candidates." The man declared, raising a hand, "only one thousand of you stand here today."
The noise doubled. Some people shouted while some gazed at the centre.
"You are the ones who have been chosen as the cube cadets."
"Among you" the man shouted loudly "are future heroes who will elevate this world to heights never before imagined. And it's also your chance to rise above within the society and climb the ladder to a higher place."
The cheers became deafening.
He leaned back in his seat and exhaled slowly.
"I am fuc*ed."
This thought came to his mind without any panic or a pumping heart.
It was just a quiet rational judgement.
"This was shaping up to be a disaster."
And oddly enough the dizziness faded the moment his mind registered that he was royally screwed.
Someone beside him moved and looked at him.
He turned his head slightly and found a girl staring at him.
She had short brown hair tied back hastily, bright eyes, and an academy cadet uniform that looked a bit too bright, like she'd worn it only today. Her expression was… well concerned.
"Are you okay?" she asked, leaning closer. "You looked like you were about to pass out."
He opened his mouth almost spilling the beans that he just took over this guy's body and is about to live his second life.
But then stopped.
He almost said it, that he wasn't supposed to be here, that this body wasn't his.
'I almost spilled the beans that I am a transmigrator who just took over this onnocent boys body.'
He nodded once. "Yeah. I am fine."
She frowned. "You sure?"
Before he could answer, the crowd roared again, drowning out conversation. The girl immediately straightened, eyes sparkling as she turned back toward the stage.
'Her concern for my health faded quite quickly.' He thought as he looked at the girl.
"Did you hear that?" she shouted, clapping. "We are the selected few who were chosen to enter the cube."
He watched her for a moment.
Then, internally, he sighed.
'Alright. Let's confirm the obvious.'
'As a compulsary thing to do as a transmigrator. Call upon status, system or whatever your cheat is.'
And so like any reasonable transmigrator, he called for the one thing that would tell him how badly things had gone for him.
'If I have a system, then there's hope for survival; if not well I will think about that later.'
"Status."
Nothing happened.
A second passed and his hopes crumbled.
Within that second, he cursed multiple gods of all religions he could remember.
Then another second later.
A translucent screen slid into existence before his eyes, pale grey and cleanly segmented.
He almost laughed.
'By the grace of the gods, I got a system.'
'I apologise for cursing you all. I thank your generosity for helping a kind soul like mine.'
Most of all he was thankful for the fact that he did not need to do some strange ritual for the system like stabbing himself with some cursed blade or kneeling in front of some forgotten goddess statue offring his loyalty and some other thing.
'It had just… a polite interface.'
The girl beside him glanced over again, eyebrows knitting together.
"…Why are you smiling like that?"
He immediately wiped the expression from his face. "Nothing."
She stared for another second, then shrugged and turned back, shouting with the crowd as someone else on the stage waved.
He focused on the screen.
__________________________________
[ STATUS ]
Name: Zeref Noctis[1]
Age: 16
Race: Human
Health: Grade 8 (Medium)
Stamina: Grade 8 (Medium)
Mana: Grade 9 (Low)
Strength: Grade 9 (Low)
Agility: Grade 8 (Medium)
Endurance: Grade 8 (Medium)
Perception: Grade 8 (Medium)
Mental Stability: Grade 7 (Medium)
__________________________________
Zeref scanned it once. Then again.
…Wow.
'So my name's Zeref. Not bad.'
'But what does grade 7 mean. Is it good or bad?'
Well he will know it when he sees something to compare his abilities with.
No glaring advantages. Just a collection of almost-mediocre values that screamed background character.
Perfect.
"Now" the scarred man continued, "we will introduce the top ten students of this year's first generation."
The stage shifted.
One by one, figures were called forth.
They were beautiful. Every single one of them was god damn gorgeous unlike the lil ol me.
Men and women alike—tall, sharp-featured, radiant. Some had unusual hair colors, others carried themselves with effortless confidence.
The crowd went insane.
Just at that moment.
Zeref felt something stir in his head.
Memories which were foreign, but not hostile, began to surface.
Classrooms. Training halls. Application tests.
This body's past.
Though not all memories came to him but he got the gist of it and as these memories surfaces he felt as if he was losing his original memories because he can't even remember his own past name.
'It's quite concerning as I am starting to forget who I truly was, but for some reason I don't think I should be concerned about things I can t do anything about.'
Zeref, the original, had been a normal kid. Average grades. No outstanding talent. Just good enough to slip through selection with effort and a bit of luck.
'From the looks of it I wasn't weak enough to die immediately.'
But he was absolutely not too strong.
Well he at least made it seem like he barely passed.
And then.
A darker memory surfaced.
A quiet room with a man affiliated to some cult with covered eyes.
A simple instruction was given.
"Enter the cube and report anything of value.
You will be compensated accordingly.
As for betrayal—don't entertain the thought. You've already signed a magic contract.
Disobedience will be fatal for your life. And you know the pain in soul is much worse than any physical pain.
Do your job, and you'll be paid well."
Zeref's fingers twitched.
His fingers curled slowly against his thigh, nails pressing hard enough to hurt.
'…You have got to be kidding me.'
The body he'd taken over wasn't just a student.
He was a plant. A spy of some cult.
'He was a kid who took such a job cause he was offered good bucks.'
The urge to hit something preferably the past owner of this body rose sharply.
Connected to a terrorist organisation that had somehow placed him inside the Hero Academy or THE CUBE to gather internal information.
'And I still don't know what the grade in the Status screen mean but I can make a wild guess that it's from grade 1 at the top and grade 10 at the bottom.'
Zeref sighed as her lamented his fate.
'If there was a wrong place at the wrong time, this was it.'
"This time I am completely screwed."
"Hey" the girl beside him snapped, elbowing his side. "Can you stop muttering?"
He blinked. "What?"
"You're ruining the moment" she said, annoyed. "I can't hear him properly."
Zeref followed her gaze to the stage.
One of the top ten stood at the centre a tall, smiling, waving confidently. Judging by the way the crowd screamed, he already had fans.
Lots of them.
Zeref leaned back again, eyes half-lidded.
Heroes. Terrorists. Systems. Cadet.
And him, sitting quietly in the middle of it all, with nothing exceptional to show and everything to lose.
"Yeah." He thought calmly. 'Let them ignore me. That's the best thing that could happen to me right now.'
[1] I like Final Fantasy