---
Morning sunlight streamed through the cracks in the curtains, warm and persistent.
The city of Xyrus looked different by day. In the soft light of morning, its grime felt more like character than corruption. Merchants shouted half-heartedly, kids dashed between legs, and the smell of sweat, bread, and soot hung in the air like an old cloak that no one had the heart to wash.
I walked with purpose—head low, steps steady. New face, new identity, same instincts. It was time to gear up.
I know, I know—gacha would probably give me better gear than anything available in this world.
But I wasn't looking for fancy. I wanted quiet quality—something that wouldn't snap in the first fight or draw the wrong kind of attention.
Eventually, I found it. A small forge tucked behind a tannery, smoke barely visible, no ridiculous signage screaming "masterwork weapons" with glitter and dragons.
Good.
The blacksmith barely looked up from his work as I entered. Middle-aged. Scars. Arms like tree trunks. The kind of man who didn't care who you were, as long as your coin was clean.
"You lookin' or buying?" he grunted.
"Both," I said. "Need something compact. Concealable. Durable. Nothing flashy."
That earned me a glance. "Blade?"
"Short. Balanced. Something I can hide and draw fast. Also… a collapsible staff, if you've got one."
He squinted at me. "You an assassin, or just paranoid?"
"Can't it be both?" I asked with a half-shrug.
The man snorted and disappeared into the back.
Fifteen minutes later, I walked out with a thigh-holstered shortblade that slid free like water and a sturdy walking stick that locked into a reinforced quarterstaff. Nothing enchanted, nothing ostentatious. Just clean, deadly steel.
Pricey. But worth it.
Now I could defend myself without waving a red flag.
No threats. No surveillance. Just the soft creak of the inn settling and faint laughter from the street outside.
I was still in Dicathen. Still in the world of The Beginning After the End. And I had work to do.
After a quick bath and a reheated bowl of stew, I left the Velvet Antler and made my way toward the heart of the city.
Sister Celine had mentioned that Xyrus Academy wasn't just for nobles. Talented commoners could earn a place too—if they had enough mana sensitivity and passed the entrance exam.
And that entrance exam? Just a week away.
Convenient, right? I got out of the forest just in time. Almost like fate... or lazy writing.
Am I being paranoid or...
No. I'm overthinking again.
But first—new clothes. Because as they say, "First impression is the last impression." (Even if the grammar on that phrase is suspicious.)
So I bought clothes that were sturdy and presentable. Functional, but not so nice they screamed noble cosplay.
Then it hit me.
Wait… do kids in this world even have ID?
Meh. I'll just pretend to be an orphan. Or say I lost it in a tragic… uh… laundry-related incident.
Joining the academy wasn't my primary goal, but—
---
Xyrus Academy had libraries.
Access to world maps.
Historical records.
Mana theory.
And most importantly—a timeline.
I needed to know when I was in the story.
---
One week later
By late morning, I stood before the gates of Xyrus Academy.
They were massive—arched marble adorned with arcane sigils, guarded by two stern-looking mages. Behind them, a path wound up toward the building that shimmered with magical wards.
I swallowed in awe.
Always act like you belong here
One of the guards stepped forward. "State your business."
"I'm here to apply for the entrance exam," I said, confidently.
He looked me over—simple clothes, worn boots, but steady eyes. After a pause, he nodded toward a side gate.
"Examinees go through there. Forms are inside. Be honest. They'll know if you're not."
Phew. At least they didn't ask for identification.
Noted.
---
The exam hall was surprisingly simple. Dozens of teens filled the rows of benches—some in noble robes, others like me: wanderers and survivors.
The written portion tested mana theory, Dicathen history, and basic arithmetic. I answered what I could. When I didn't know, I guessed like an overconfident liar.
Standard spy protocol: bluff with conviction.
Then came the practical.
We were led outside to a small arena. A panel of mages sat at the far end, watching us with the enthusiasm of overworked professors during finals.
"Name?" one of them asked.
"Kael," I replied.
"Demonstrate your mana sensitivity," said another.
I stepped forward, heart pounding, and focused inward.
I felt the mana in the air—warm and buzzing, like sunlight distilled into energy. Slowly, carefully, I drew it in, guiding it along the channels that had started to form.
My palm glowed faintly. Green threads of healing-type mana shimmered over my skin.
Silence.
"…That's rare," one of them murmured. "Healing affinity in a commoner?"
What?! Wasn't Arthur Leywin's mom a healer?I thought they were common here.
Guess not.
"More than that," another examiner said. "His control is exceptional for someone without formal training."
Yeah well—assimilation perks for the win.
"Pass," the head examiner said.
And just like that, I was in.
---
The next day
All the new students gathered in the Grand Hall for the entrance ceremony. Hundreds of us sat shoulder to shoulder—nobles in crisp new uniforms, commoners like me looking slightly overwhelmed but stubbornly determined.
I sat near the back, arms folded, scanning faces instead of admiring the architecture. Never trust crowds. Too easy to vanish in one. Too easy to get caught in one.
A hush fell as a platform rose at the front of the hall. A woman stepped forward—gray hair, brown eyes, the gentle features of a storybook grandmother.
Cynthia Goodsky.
"Welcome to Xyrus Academy," she said, her voice amplified by sound magic. "I would like to welcome you all—future leaders, scholars, and powerhouses of Dicathen—to this humble academy. I am Director Cynthia Goodsky."
Blah blah blah… I tuned her out after the introduction.
Instead, I studied her.
She looked young—maybe five years younger than she did in canon. I couldn't be sure, but it gave me a solid idea about the timeline.
---
I leaned back, arms folded, letting the rest of her speech wash over me like white noise.
Every now and then, my eyes flicked to the nobles in the front row. Teenagers playing at being elite. But I knew better.
Some of these brats would grow up to become pillars of Dicathen.
Or corpses.
Depending on how the war unfolded.
The speech ended. Polite applause followed. I clapped too—just enough to blend in.
"Dorm assignments and class schedules are being distributed," barked an instructor.
I joined the herd, grabbed the parchment with my name—Kael—and slipped away before anyone could try small talk.
Dorm C, Room 17.
Communal living. Not ideal.
I'd have to sleep light.
---
Room 17 was... modest. Two beds. A small desk. A shuttered window overlooking a training field. My roommate hadn't arrived yet, so I took the bed closest to the door.
Always stay near the exit.
I unpacked quickly. Blade hidden in the false bottom of my satchel. Staff tucked behind the headboard. A few coins and spare clothes. That was it.
I sat on the edge of the bed and unfolded the schedule. Classes started tomorrow.
Basic Mana Theory. Combat Conditioning. Dicathen History. Mana Manipulation Practice.
All basic stuff—but more importantly, opportunities. To learn. To probe. To gather intel.
---
Later that evening, I sat alone in the academy library.
Stacks of dusty tomes towered around me. The air smelled like parchment and candlewax.
I wasn't here for light reading.
The history section confirmed what I'd started to suspect. No signs—yet—of the war that would one day raze this continent. No Wykes uprising. No Alacryan invasion. The political tensions weren't even simmering.
I was early.
Too early.
I was right. I'm at least five years before the canon events.
Arthur Leywin isn't even born yet.
I have time.
Which was both good... and bad.
Good, because I could prepare.
Bad, because I didn't know how long I had.
Still… breathing room. A plan was already forming.
---
Later that week
My roommate finally arrived—a skinny boy with wild red hair, ink-stained fingers, and the energy of someone who'd inhaled too much caffeine and not enough oxygen.
"Name's Deric," he said, plopping his books on the desk. "You must be Kael."
I gave a curt nod. "Yeah."
He didn't ask questions.
Good. I liked him already.
Sigh...
One week left till next month.
I just hope that I get something or someone strong.
-------------------------
CHAPTERS END
Double chapter.
Tell me your thoughts. Next chapter is going to be a slice of life and his last week before next gacha.
And yes he will get something strong as for what , just give suggestions.
Thank you.