[Host Identity Binding Complete]
[Mission Briefing: This world features a competitive system known as the Seven Star Sword Art Festival. In each festival, six representatives are chosen from each of the seven academies, culminating in a 42-person battle royale. You will join Hagun Academy as an international transfer student. Within one year, you must pass Hagun Academy's internal selection matches and become one of the six representatives for the Seven Star Sword Art Festival.]
[Mission Reward: A specialized Blazer "Device" will be granted based on the host's specific attributes.]
[Failure Penalty: If the mission fails, the connection to the Main World will be severed. The host will be cast into an endless trial of perpetual combat, fighting until death.]
After reading the system's explanation, Haruki understood the requirements. Regarding the penalty for failure, he couldn't help but think to himself: Are you sure that's not a reward?
To someone like Haruki, who sought only to become stronger, being thrown into a realm of endless combat sounded like an ideal training ground. After all, only the most extreme battles could forge a truly peerless blade.
However, he wasn't ready to abandon the Main World just yet. He still had a lingering attachment to his daily life there, and Miko's existence reminded him that even a "peaceful" world held unique keys to his growth. There was no need to force the intensity to its breaking point immediately; he could grow one step at a time.
His goal was set: complete the first mission, win the selection, and take the first real step on the path of the strong.
[Hagun Academy Student ID]
[Name: Haruki Aizawa]
[Class: 1st Year, Class 1]
[Device: Unknown]
[Blazer Rank: C]
[Stats — Attack: C / Defense: F / Magic Capacity: C / Magic Control: D / Stamina: A / Luck: C]
Haruki checked the ID card in his pocket. These details were clearly the system's fabrications—a "camouflage" designed to weave him into the fabric of Hagun Academy.
Since Haruki didn't actually possess a Device, he wasn't technically a Blazer by this world's standards. The rank and the six-axis stat block were likely the system's best "translation" of his current abilities into the local power scale.
Of course, Haruki's true strength couldn't be measured by a mere stat block. The academy's ranking system reflected a Blazer's basic output, but it couldn't account for actual combat skill or the refined lethality of a master swordsman. In a real fight, paper-thin stats meant nothing if you couldn't land a hit—or if your opponent could cut through your soul.
After the transmigration was finalized, Haruki spent time gathering information.
Today was the first day of the semester. He and the other freshmen were to register and officially become students of Hagun Academy. He also discovered a rather peculiar rule regarding campus life.
Due to Hagun Academy's poor performance in the Seven Star Sword Art Festival in recent years, the board had replaced the previous administration. The new Selection Committee head was a radical who had scrapped the old rules in favor of a "survival of the fittest" doctrine.
Under her leadership, the selection process for the festival had become a grueling series of one-on-one duels. Even daily life had changed—specifically, dorm assignments. Students were now paired based on their combat rank and compatibility rather than class or gender. It wasn't uncommon for male and female students of similar strength to be assigned to the same room.
The reasoning provided was that being surrounded by peers of a similar level would spark a constant sense of competition.
Classic anime logic, Haruki thought, deciding not to waste energy criticizing it. He was in a fictional world now, after all. His only concern was who his roommate would be.
If it was a guy, fine. If it was a girl... well, he was already living with Sakiko back in the Main World. He was used to sharing a living space with the opposite sex. He arrived at his room to find it fully stocked with essentials. Satisfied with the environment, he immediately began his training.
This was his life: if he wasn't swinging a sword, he was thinking about it. To others, it was a boring, repetitive existence. To Haruki, the feeling of his blade becoming a fraction of a millimeter sharper every day was the ultimate satisfaction.
Haruki spent his first full day in the dorms practicing his forms, but his roommate never showed up. He began to wonder if he had been assigned a single room by mistake.
The next morning, he woke up well before dawn. This was a long-standing habit; he used the quietest hours of the morning for meditation to sharpen his perception. Lately, he had dedicated this time to his Wave training, trying to feel the resonance of the world.
Among the four branches of the Ghost Slayer Arts, the Wave was the most alien to traditional swordsmanship. It felt more like magic—using vibrations to shatter matter or converting resonance into elemental strikes. It was hard to reconcile with the image of a simple swordsman.
But to a genius like Haruki, any technique involving a blade was fundamentally understandable. It was just a matter of time.
After his mental exercises, he moved on to physical conditioning. A master's sword required a master's body. Even the most skilled fencer would be useless if their heart gave out after three swings. His routine involved high-intensity muscle training and a long-distance run.
As he stepped out of his room into the dim, pre-dawn hallway around 4:00 AM, the door to the neighboring room opened simultaneously.
A black-haired boy stepped out. He wore a white tracksuit with a towel around his neck, clearly dressed for a morning jog. He had a slight slouch, but his eyes were sharp.
The two made eye contact and paused.
"Good morning," Haruki said first. "I'm Haruki Aizawa, a transfer student."
"Oh, a freshman?" The boy nodded. "I'm Ikki Kurogane. I'm your neighbor. I actually enrolled last year, but my grades were poor, so I was held back. I'm a repeater."
"I see. Should I call you Senpai, then?"
"No, no need for that. Just Ikki is fine." The boy, Ikki, gave a self-deprecating smile. There was a flicker of bitterness in his eyes when he mentioned being held back, but he seemed friendly enough.
Haruki didn't pry. They were just two people meeting in a hallway.
"Are you headed out for a run?" Ikki asked. "Want to go together?"
"Sure," Haruki agreed. He didn't mind the company; in fact, he enjoyed a bit of competition. Whether Ikki could actually keep up was another story.
The two jogged toward the campus trails. Since it was so early, the paths were completely deserted.
"Let's start," Ikki said with a smile. He seemed confident in his physical fitness and let Haruki set the pace.
Haruki didn't hold back. He immediately accelerated to his usual cruising speed.
To be clear, Haruki's physical stats were monstrous. Beyond his basic training, he had been using the Wuju Style to push his body past human limits for over a year. Wuju wasn't just a set of moves; it was a method of physical and spiritual resonance that allowed the user to transcend normal biological plateaus.
Even without drawing a sword, Haruki was fast enough to outrun professional sprinters. His "jog" was essentially a full-on sprint for anyone else. An ordinary student following him would have felt their lungs burning within minutes.
And this wasn't even his limit. If he activated the Wuju ultimate—Highlander—his speed would become something truly incomprehensible.
But even at his base speed, Haruki was moving at a pace that defied common sense. He glanced back, expecting to see Ikki far behind.
Instead, he found Ikki still there.
Ikki didn't have Haruki's sheer raw power, but he possessed a terrifying level of mental discipline. He was clearly struggling; his breathing was heavy, and his face was slick with sweat, but he refused to drop back. He matched Haruki's rhythm with a stubborn, desperate intensity.
The run ended at the edge of the training grounds. Haruki slowed to a stop, barely winded.
"You're impressive," Haruki said, genuinely surprised that Ikki had finished the run without being left in the dust.
"Th-thank you..." Ikki gasped, doubling over and resting his hands on his knees as he fought to catch his breath.
Inside, Ikki was screaming. What is with this guy? Is every transfer student a monster?
While Ikki recovered, Haruki looked at the sunrise over the academy. He realized that this world of Blazers might be more interesting than he thought. If a "repeater" like Ikki could push himself this hard, what would the actual "elites" look like?