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The March to Class C
The mood on the way to the Class C dorms was a strange blend of tension and denial—a mixed bag, if there ever was one. On one side, you had the low-ranking nobles puffing up their chests, already trying to assert some fake sense of dominance. They were loud, boastful, calling the whole placement "temporary," claiming they'd climb to Class A within a month. A few others kept repeating the same hollow consolation: "Well, at least we're not in Class D."
Kai didn't say anything. He barely even listened.
The other side of the group quieter, tighter was made up of those who still couldn't believe they were here. Kids with expensive haircuts and tailor-made uniforms. Kids whose entire identities were built on being better than others. They moved like their bones were made of glass—confused.
Ironically, they were the ones who broke the fastest.
The truth, as revealed at the end of the first-year arc in the novel, was that this year's Class C would've been considered Class B in any other generation. A statistical fluke, the result of an unusually powerful Class A batch. The administration quietly admitted it in the epilogue of the third arc, just to add insult to injury.
But for Kai, that tidbit didn't matter.
It was trivia.
Even if he bombed every class, failed every test, and kept to himself the entire year, it wouldn't matter. The truth was harsh but freeing: most of the so-called "top performers" from the academy never did anything important in the later arcs. They were footnotes. Side characters. Cannon fodder.
Kai wouldn't be one of them. Not with the Lightless Inheritance in his possession even just with the tiny portion of of one of them let alone all 7 but just the part he already had acquired
. He was spared from irrelevance, no matter how low his starting point looked. But if he did climb, if he earned Class A-level privileges, if he stood beside the central figures in the story he wouldn't just thrive He'd become an elite.
A main character
When they arrived at the Class C dorms, it was exactly as Kai expected perfectly average. The building was functional, clean, and entirely forgettable. Beige walls. A common room with threadbare couches. Beds that looked like they'd been made by someone who gave up halfway. It wasn't terrible. Just dull.
He walked to his assigned room, tossed his bag on the bed, and didn't bother unpacking. The caretaker gave a halfhearted tour, ending with a single announcement: Lunch is being served in the commons. Free to all students.
Everyone made their way to eat. Kai didn't.
Because he knew what was coming.
That Night
The feast, as expected, was a trap.
A lavish dinner. Plates piled high. Spiced meats, buttered breads, glowing drinks that shimmered with enchantments. The instructors smiled, laughed, encouraged second helpings. The air was warm with celebration and comfort.
All of it was bait.
Kai, having read the novel, didn't touch a single thing.
He also didn't say anything
Because he knew that in just a few short hours, they'd be forcefully teleported into an artificial forest the size of a small country. No warning. No briefing. Just thrown into the wild like toys in a sandbox, all under the guise of a "survival orientation."
The students were told there would be two ways to win: survive the three-day battle royale and be the last one standing—or form a team and outlast the others. Standard isekai fare. Predictable enough.
But it was a lie.
There was a third way.
Hidden in the center of the forest was a Guardian Beast—a level 20 creature made entirely of ironbark and vines. In the novel, June had discovered it on the second night. He fought it alone, bruised and half-dead by the end, only to have the kill stolen by another student from Class C.
Alaric.
A minor noble with a talent for illusions and a knack for manipulation. He wasn't stronger than June. Not even close. But he was opportunistic. Political. He used the kill to rally Class C behind him, taking credit for the Guardian's defeat and turning himself into a symbol. For a while, at least. Until the underground battle arc, where his posturing caught up with him.
Kai remembered all of it.
And this time, he had no intention of letting someone else claim his reward.
Yes the one who would rip off June would be kai
The Drop
It came around midnight.
A sharp chime filled the dorms, followed by a pleasant voice over the intercom. "Students, please remain calm. You are about to be transported to the Orientation Grounds. Good luck."
Then came the sickness.
It wasn't like the elegant teleportation earlier in the Guild Hall. This was raw. Unfiltered. A chaotic rip through space that clawed at your nerves and yanked your stomach into your throat. It felt like falling sideways through a whirlpool of nausea and white noise.
Kai clenched his jaw and braced himself.
But it still hit like a sledgehammer.
His vision blurred, his limbs spasmed, and then—just like that—he was underwater.
Thrown directly into a river.
The shock of cold snapped his senses awake.
He thrashed, coughing, fighting to orient himself as he clawed toward the surface. The moon was a silver blur overhead. Trees loomed in every direction, tall and dense, branches like claws against the stars.
He dragged himself onto the riverbank, coughing up water, his school uniform soaked and clinging to his skin. The gold trim on his black coat was already smeared with mud.
He sat there for a moment, just breathing.
His head spun, but he could only imagine how much worse it must've been for the kids who'd gone all-in at dinner. The ones who stuffed themselves with roast and mana-ale before being thrown into a survival game.
All around him, the forest was waking up.
He could hear it—the rustling of leaves, the soft splash of others falling into the river downstream, the distant shouts of confusion and panic. The air was thick with mist and the faint scent of wildflowers and old stone.
Kai stood.
Shaky. Soaked. Focused.
Around 450 students, by his guess. All dropped somewhere within the forest. Some would try to form alliances. Others would go full solo rogue. And a handful—the smart ones—would already be hunting for the Guardian.
Kai reached into his sleeve and tapped the faint tattoo on his wrist.
The curved blade of shadow began to manifest in his hand, smoke swirling into cold steel.
He didn't need a team. He didn't need a speech.
He was like an all knowing God compared the blind pigs
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