C-4
The broken slum shack felt colder now that Lucas was fully awake—awake not only in body, but in purpose. The Arcane Academy letter trembled slightly between his fingers, the ruby-red wax seal glinting with nobility far beyond anything he had touched in this life.
Five months.
That was all he had.
Five months to transform from a G– rank, half-starved slum orphan into someone who could stand on the same battlefield as nobles, prodigies, and future heroes.
Five months to reach the level required to enter the most prestigious academy in Eldorin.
Lucas inhaled slowly.
"…I'll need food. Water. A training plan. Equipment. Mana awakening. Sword basics. Ruin survival… Five months is nothing."
But he had something the original Lucas never possessed:
System
Talent Source
Knowledge of the story
A desire to live
And a quiet, growing determination that warmed his chest like embers
The first logical step was obvious:
He needed to leave the slums.
Not permanently—he had nowhere else to go yet. But he couldn't train inside a place where gangs roamed, and corpses were found every other morning.
He folded the Academy letter carefully and tucked it beneath his shirt, near the faintly glowing star-shaped mark on his chest.
As he stepped outside, the slums unfolded around him.
Cracked stone roads.
Collapsed houses.
People coughing violently.
Children begging for scraps.
Thieves watching from dark corners.
Noble guards patrolling far away, pretending this place didn't exist.
Lucas breathed in.
The air smelled like rotting wood, sewage, and hopelessness.
But he no longer felt like he belonged here.
The moment he started walking, his legs protested.
His new body was weak. Extremely weak.
He made it ten steps before his knees buckled slightly.
"Right… this body starved for years," Lucas muttered, steadying himself against a wall. "I can't just start training. I need nutrition first."
A simple truth the original Lucas never had the luxury to consider.
He scanned the slum street.
Merchants were setting up stalls. Most sold moldy bread or murky water. A few had normal food, but the prices were outrageous for slum residents.
Lucas had no money. He checked his pockets.
A broken copper piece.
Two worn-out bandages.
A small bone needle.
A torn pouch.
And a handful of coarse threads.
Nothing worth selling.
He needed a short-term survival plan—and fast.
He focused, recalling the panel he saw earlier.
"Status Window."
A translucent blue screen materialized.
[STATUS WINDOW]
Cultivation: G–
Strength: 3
Agility: 5
Perception: 7
Vitality: 4
Mana: 1
Lucas hummed. "…If I want to make progress, I need my Mana stat to be at least 5."
He looked around. No one else could see these glowing panels; systems were internal.
But he wasn't stupid— slums were dangerous. He moved to a back alley and whispered:
"Skill Window."
[SKILLS]
None acquired.
[Masteries]
Swordsmanship Mastery – Novice
Magic Control – Unawakened
Body Reinforcement – Untrained
Magic Control was unawakened because he had never used mana consciously.
He rubbed his temples.
"To use mana… I need meditation and nourishment. But to eat…I need money."
A deadlock.
"…Unless."
He looked at the broken broomstick still in his shack.
A weapon. A club. Ruin monsters dropped small mana stones worth money at the lowest tier.
But entering a ruin now would be suicide.
"No… I need a starter job. Something even the weakest can do."
The solution clicked.
Slums often had task boards posted by merchants and guards—cleaning stables, clearing trash, delivering messages.
Small tasks, small coins. But enough to survive.