"Hey… doesn't Reed seem different today?"
Voices buzzed quietly through the early-morning air like persistent flies.
Gossip was a staple at the Solvanyr Academy of Mystics, but even that had its patterns — and today, someone had clearly broken them.
"Isn't he usually swinging a sword like a madman by now?"
"Maybe he finally snapped. Or maybe he gave up."
"He's… eating breakfast?"
Students whispered and peeked over their shoulders.
Sure enough, Reed Arkwright — the one unanimously dubbed the Weakest Student in Solvanyr — was seated at a stone bench under a tree in the eastern courtyard, calmly chewing a piece of toast like it was the most important mission in the world.
No training. No push-ups.
No solitary lectures whispered under his breath.
Just eggs, toast, and something that suspiciously resembled peace.
The cafeteria auntie had even smiled at him that morning.
Smiled… At Reed?
Unforgivable.
...
If you asked anyone at Solvanyr about Reed Arkwright, they'd sigh sympathetically — or snort.
He was the poster child for magical mediocrity.
A commoner from a backwater village so far from the capital it didn't even have a proper teleportation gate.
He had no noble lineage, no house crest, no political pull.
Just one pathetic affinity for [Dark Magic], and even that was questionable. His mana output was about as intimidating as a lit candle during a storm.
Still, the guy had hustle.
Every day he trained like he was possessed, blending physical endurance drills with mana exercises until he coughed up blood — and then did it all again after dinner.
The professors tolerated him for one reason: potential.
Not in combat, of course. Gods no. But academically? Reed had buried his nose in so many books that he practically had a thesis written before year two.
If he graduated, he could be a decent scholar or maybe even a professor. Maybe.
That is, if he didn't die from overtraining or embarrassment first.
...
Reed sat cross-legged, tearing into a sausage with unearned smugness.
Because this Reed wasn't the original.
He was James Parker — a 26-year-old from Earth, a former failed entrepreneur, average-looking, painfully single, and once a proud fantasy novel junkie.
Until a sudden car crash yeeted him into the body of one of his favorite webnovel characters.
Well… favorite was a strong word.
"Reed deserved better," James muttered between bites. "Poor guy was basically a training montage with legs."
A week had passed since the reincarnation. Seven days of trying to figure out whether he was dreaming, cursed, or in hell. Spoiler: it was none of those.
He really was in the world of Rise of the Arclords.
One of the top academy-fantasy novels online. And not as the OP protagonist with a hidden dragon bloodline.
No, fate was feeling extra spicy — so James got Reed.
A lovable underdog.
A hardworking doormat.
A guy who spent his youth trying to support his sick mother and little sister, clawed his way into Solvanyr on a scholarship, only to die in a dungeon raid in Chapter 50.
Alone.
Abandoned by his party.
All because he needed money.
"Yeah, screw that," Reed muttered.
He was not dying like that. Not after being handed a second chance. Sure, he had no OP system at first, no cheat skills, no family inheritance.
At least… until last night.
The moment he turned down a random noble girl who tried asking him for study notes with a smile that screamed "notice me," the message popped up like a cursed ad:
[System Installed]
[Debauchery System Activated]
[Seduce Girls to Grow Stronger. Progress is tied to Desire, Emotional Investment, and Physical Intimacy.]
James blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then laughed for about five straight minutes like a lunatic in the library hallway.
Now, sitting with a full stomach and a system no one would believe him about, Reed took a deep breath of fresh morning air.
He felt different. Stronger, maybe. Or just... free.
"This might actually work," he whispered.
"Work?" a voice asked behind him.
Reed froze.
The girl who had spoken was Cynthia Thornheart.
"Yeah."
And as Reed glanced up at her, he instinctively straightened his back. Not out of fear — but out of sheer appreciation.
Long, obsidian-black hair flowed like silk down her back, swaying slightly with the morning breeze.
Her face was porcelain-smooth, lips slightly pursed with the kind of pout that could start holy wars.
Her figure was curvaceous, balanced, and...
'Good Lord,' he thought, eyes darting away and then immediately back again. 'H-cups? Really?'
It wasn't even speculation at this point. James, with all his past-life training from late-night anime and indecent Google searches, was confident.
They were a solid H.
But more curious than anything else was the blindfold. A thin, semi-transparent strip of enchanted cloth lay gently across her eyes.
She could see through it — he was sure of that. But she never took it off. Not during class, not during training, not even when healing him in her room.
She was also wearing nun clothes which made her look really pretty.
"You're eating here today?" she asked as she gracefully sat beside him, her skirt rustling like soft silk. "That's new."
"I like the fresh air," Reed replied casually, glancing at her just as a cool breeze swept through the courtyard.
Their hair fluttered together in the wind.
It would've made for a poetic moment — if his heart hadn't been in his throat and his system HUD wasn't blinking like a notification-addicted teenager.
The truth was… she and the original Reed were close. Or at least, she was close to him.
She was the best healer in Solvanyr — hands down.
Future saint-level talent if the novel was to be believed.
Everyone in the academy knew her name. Nobles fawned over her, professors praised her, and everyone else just stared.
But for some reason… she healed Reed. For free.
Even when no one else would give him a second glance.
Even when he came to her barely breathing from his own idiotic training.
In the original novel, Reed had been one of her early love interests.
Then the author killed him off in Chapter 50 to make the protagonist look cool in comparison.
Cynthia, devastated by the loss, spiraled into depression… and then, two arcs later, she joined the MC's harem.
"Terrible pacing," James muttered under his breath.
"Hm?" Cynthia turned her head toward him.
"Nothing," Reed said quickly. "Just, uh… remembering something dumb I read."
She raised a brow under her blindfold. "You haven't come to see me in a while. I thought you finally decided to take my advice."
"What, and stop training until my bones crack? Unthinkable." He grinned, then softened. "But yeah. I figured I should slow down. Rest a bit."
She puffed her cheeks, which looked absurdly cute for someone who could probably mend a shattered spine with a flick of her fingers.
"I told you," she huffed, "your body isn't made of steel. You keep pushing it and one day — poof! You're going to collapse into dust."
"You say that," Reed said, leaning back on his arms, "but if I stopped entirely, you'd miss me."
"N-No, I wouldn't!" she snapped, turning her head away dramatically to the right. "Why would I miss healing an idiot who tries to out-punch fireballs?"