Three days. That was all the time I had until orientation week at Hero Academy.
And unlike the other eager freshmen—hungry to prove themselves, make friends, or challenge the hierarchy—I had one, singular goal: survival.
I had no desire to stand out, no grand ambition to reshape the academy, no foolish fantasy of stealing the spotlight from the protagonist.
I just wanted to live.
But in this world, being mediocre was a death sentence, and blending in was an art. The mediocre became fodder for the special individuals. This world required power. Power that could be used quietly, efficiently—without leaving traces. That was the dilemma.
And my biggest weakness?
Combat.
In my past life, I was a story developer and game tester—not a fighter. I knew the numbers, the balance, the mechanics. I could tell you the most optimized skill progression route for a mage, the drop rates of every rare item in a 10-mile radius, and the hidden stats of the forgotten classes. But give me a sword, and I'd probably slice my own leg before an enemy.
I needed something. Fast. Something that didn't scream power but could kill when necessary.
A sword art. One designed not for show, but for precision. For efficiency.
There was one that fit the bill perfectly. A hidden legacy sword art not tied to any major character route. Forgotten by the world, overshadowed by flashier, plot-critical treasures.
It was perfect.
[Poetic Sword].
It wasn't famous. Not flashy. But it was deadly—blindingly fast, surgically precise, and designed to kill before the opponent even realized they'd been struck. Its strength wasn't in destruction, but in execution.
It also came with a blade—not a mana weapon, not a crafted relic. Just a black sword. Ancient. Heavy. Cold.
[Obsidian Fang].
A sword carrying two traits:
> [Murderous Intent] – Every slash echoes with the wielder's killing intent. It breaks weak wills and amplifies presence, making even a novice seem like a battlefield reaper.
[Shadow Sword Domain] – A domain skill that projects an illusory darkness into the enemy's mind. The stronger your will, the more vivid the illusion. Against weaker minds, it's like being swallowed whole by the void.
A weapon and an art—both dangerous, both hidden.
And I knew exactly where they were.
---
Ruby shifted slightly in my lap, the corner of her lips twitching. A tiny Z popped above her head, floating lazily before fading.
I stared at her for a second.
A Rubik's cube. A talking Rubik's cube. The companion of the real Axel Calford.
She didn't realize the real Axel had died. That I had taken his place. Or maybe she did and simply didn't care.
In a way, she was my only ally. A sleepy one, but still.
I gently moved her to the side and stood up, stretching.
The room I'd been given wasn't much—spacious for a student dorm, sure—but cold, lifeless, and sterile. Like everything else in this new world.
I sat at the desk and pulled out a pen. Planning helped calm the mind.
---
[Objective: Survival Plan]
1. Acquire a sword art
→ [Poetic sword] Trial.
→ Location: Trail Chamber, North Gloomridge. Off-campus.
2. Acquire weapon
→ [Obsidian Fang] obtained upon completing the trial.
3. Information Gathering
→ Study blueprints and journals left by original Axel.
→ Visit the academy library—blueprints, design philosophy, possible upgrades.
4. Test [Understanding] Trait
→ Review magic arrays, circuit theory, enchantment pathways.
→ See how far I can push comprehension speed.
5. Avoid unnecessary interactions
→ No duels. No clubs. No getting involved with the protagonist or the harem squad.
→ Eye contact = danger.
---
That was the outline. Simple. Efficient.
I leaned back in my chair and exhaled.
…The old Axel had talent. That much was undeniable. His notebooks—while half-scattered and disorganized—held insight. Good instincts, poor execution. The kind of stuff a genius kid with no guidance would come up with.
With [Understanding], I could finish what he started.
But first… the sword art.
The Trail Chamber was an independent ruin site that most assumed had collapsed. The mana readings around it were faint, and the local monsters made the area annoying to explore. No one had ever made it past the first chamber—except me.
Well… the old me.
When I tested the game version, I played the trail so many times I could recite the trigger mechanisms in my sleep.
There were three trial stages.
First: Perception. A test of reaction speed and instinct.
Second: Resolve. A mental assault meant to shatter your will.
Third: Intent. You had to land a single, killing blow on a shadow that mirrored you.
Each stage, brutal. But manageable. Especially now that I knew every enemy's pattern, every environmental hazard.
I stood up, grabbing a light black coat from the hanger.
Ruby stirred. "Mmm… where you goin'...?"
"To get a sword," I replied.
She opened one eye lazily. "Mmm. Be back before nightfall... Ruby still needs changing..."
"Right."
---
The wind outside was sharp. Cold. A reminder that the world wasn't a game anymore.
I pulled the coat tighter and set off toward the northern forest.
The Trail Chamber wasn't far—just a few hours of walking, maybe faster if I took the old railway path. A forgotten relic of a pre-mana era, now just rust and gravel.
I walked in silence. Mind replaying every sequence of the trial, every movement I'd need to replicate.
But something felt off.
Not wrong—just… different.
The air around the trail was thicker than I remembered. The kind of thickness that came with old mana. Heavy. Pressing. Watching.
When I finally arrived at the broken archway that marked the entrance, I paused.
The gate was intact.
"…What?"
It was supposed to be collapsed. The game version had rubble blocking the front—players had to detour through a hidden back path. But now…
It stood open. Waiting.
And just past the gate, where darkness should've loomed, I saw it.
A figure. Tall. Silent. Standing in the threshold, its face shrouded by a tattered hood.
Watching me.
And smiling.