"What in the actual fuck?"
That was the first thought that exploded in my mind when I opened my eyes.
Tiered rows of wooden desks rose around me in a semicircle, like a lecture hall carved straight out of a fantasy cathedral. The ceiling was absurdly high, painted with constellations that slowly shifted position. Sunlight poured in through tall arched windows, glowing faintly blue as if the air itself was enchanted.
And the students.
Dozens of them sat quietly at their desks.
Every single one looked like they had walked out of a cosplay convention. Mage robes embroidered with runes. Cloaks stitched with glowing threads. Hair colors ranging from normal black, blonde and brown to silver, fiery crimson, and neon green. One girl whose hair shifted colors like a broken RGB keyboard absentmindedly levitated her quill. Another girl had sparks dancing between her fingers rumbling something about "Unlimited power".
This was not my room.
This was not my desk.
This was definitely not my gaming setup.
Just a moment ago, I had been finishing an all-night boss fight in Endgame difficulty with No armor, No magic and No weapons.
But only a wooden spoon.
A challenge run for my YouTube channel.
Hero of Sword and Sorcery.
My all-time favorite fantasy RPG.
I remembered leaning back in my chair, exhausted but satisfied. The run was perfect. Clean. Frame-perfect dodges. Exactly the kind of footage that would blow up as a short.
I had blinked once.
And now I was here.
My breathing grew shallow as a cold realization crept in.
The design of the room.
The uniforms.
The faint pressure in the air that screamed magic exists here.
No way.
This place was far too familiar.
"This is…" I thought, my stomach dropping.
"The Academy."
More specifically—
The Academy Prologue Arc.
The tutorial section of Hero of Sword and Sorcery.
The infamous one.
Four in-game years long.
Endless lectures on every in-game subject.
Slow stat growth in an area without any real EXP farming spot.
Mandatory dangerous exams and cringe high school drama scripted events.
An arc designed to teach players basic combat mechanics, magic affinities, societal function and in-game lore.
Everyone hated it on their first playthrough, thus everyone rushed it on replays.
I swallowed hard.
"Am I dreaming?"
I pinched my cheek.
Hard.
Pain flared instantly.
"…Yeah," I muttered internally. "No way this is a dream."
Before I could process anything else, a sharp voice cut through the lecture hall.
"You. Over there. Stand up."
My heart skipped.
The voice came from the podium.
A tall man stood there, posture straight, presence oppressive. His black hair was neatly combed back, and he wore a jet-black suit instead of academy robes. The fabric looked expensive, almost unnaturally so. His eyes were sharp, cold, and piercing.
I knew him.
Professor Karl Schwarzhaffen
Combat Theory instructor.
Also known by many players as "that Absolute merciless bastard."
Before I could decide what to do, my body moved on its own as if following an in-game script.
I stood up.
Not because I wanted to.
Not because I chose to.
It felt like invisible strings of game's developer had yanked me upright.
Professor Karl's gaze locked onto me like a blade.
"You failed your pre-sessional course examination," he said, his voice rising. "And yet you dare to daydream during my class?"
Whispers rippled through the room.
Some students stared openly.
Others quickly looked away.
I knew this scene.
I remembered it clearly.
"Such arrogance," Karl continued. "Such disrespect."
My chest tightened.
"I hereby declare—" he raised his voice, "—that you are expelled."
The word hit harder than any spell.
And once again, my body betrayed me.
"Please don't expel me!" I shouted, tears forming without my consent.
Is the gamedev want me to look pathetic that badly?
Then a crushing pressure wrapped around my torso.
Magic, a gravity magic.
My feet left the ground.
I was dragged backward through the air as gasps echoed behind me. Desks blurred past. The world spun.
Then—
*Bang!*
I hit the floor hard.
The classroom doors slammed shut behind me with terrifying finality.
Silence followed.
For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ornate hallway ceiling.
Then the pressure vanished.
The invisible strings snapped.
I could move again.
I pushed myself up with a groan.
The academy hallway stretched far into the distance. Marble floors reflected the sunlight pouring in through tall windows. Students walked past in groups, chatting casually.
Each one glanced at me.
Each one looked away.
No one stopped.
No one helped.
Just like in the game, they're like Npc without affection points.
As the chaos faded, my mind finally had space to think.
And it immediately focused on the most important question of all.
Not why I was here.
Not how this happened.
Not even when.
Those could wait.
What mattered was this.
"Who was I?"
I stumbled toward a window and looked at my reflection.
A thin, scrawny young man stared back at me.
Messy short black hair.
Black eyes dulled by exhaustion.
Deep eye bags that looked like permanent debuffs.
An utterly unremarkable face.
My blood ran cold.
"…Shit."
I knew this character.
Or rather—
I didn't.
Because he didn't matter.
In the Academy Prologue Arc, there was a short cutscene where a random student got expelled to show how harsh the academy was. He had no name. No backstory. No relevance.
After that scene, he vanished completely.
No quests.
No mentions.
No data.
Even ultra veteran players like me had no idea what happened to him.
He was erased.
And now—
That was me.
A nameless mob.
A disposable NPC.
A sacrificial lamb.
I clenched my fists.
"No," I whispered.
I refused that fate.
I knew this world.
I knew its mechanics, its secrets, its hidden flags and obscure systems. The academy arc alone contained easter eggs and secret items powerful enough to shape an entire playthrough.
And more importantly—
I knew how cruel this world was.
Villains.
Monsters.
Disasters.
Demon god.
Every arc escalated like a meth up escalator.
It was simple.
"Get stronger or die"
Even a protagonist and his party can't exactly save everyone caught up in this game mess.
I straightened my back and steadied my breathing.
Lowering my voice until it was barely louder than thought, I whispered
"Status… open."
----
Name: Mob
LV: 0
Class: None
Title: None
STR: F
DEX: F
CON: F
INT: F
WIS: F
CHA: F
LUCK: F
Active Skill: None
Passive Skill: (Unassuming Mob (LV1): Make everyone and everything less likely to notice you)
----
Just seeing my stats make me realize in despair, that's there're long... LONGGGG road ahead.
But first, let's not get expel.