Lucas woke to a dull throbbing in his bones.
The morning sun that leaked through the cracks of his shack barely warmed the air, but it illuminated the truth he already knew:
His body was falling apart.
Every muscle ached.
His arms felt like lead.
His back screamed from yesterday's training.
His legs trembled just from standing.
He leaned against the wall, breathing slowly.
"Status."
A pale blue window blinked into existence.
[STATUS WINDOW]
Strength: 3
Agility: 5
Perception: 7
Vitality: 5
Mana: 2
Condition:
• Muscle Fatigue (Moderate)
• Minor Bruising
• Mana Flow Unstable (Mild)
Lucas exhaled.
"…Still acceptable."
Pain was pain, but it meant he was pushing his limits.
If he expected to stand on the same ground as prodigies like Ethan Crestvale, Elara Valenford, or Kael Dawnwhisper—
this was nothing.
He washed his face with cold well water, straightened his tattered shirt, and stepped into the slum street. The morning bustle had already begun.
Vendors shouted at passersby, selling stale bread or diluted soup. Children ran barefoot through the alleys. Slum thugs lingered near corners, eyeing easy prey.
Lucas ignored all of them.
He walked toward the clearing where he trained yesterday, determined to continue.
The moment Lucas reached the open training ground, he noticed someone already there.
Kael Dawnwhisper.
The red-haired youth was throwing punches at a tree stump. Each blow echoed like a hammer striking metal. His fists were wrapped in fresh cloth, and the stump had new cracks spiderwebbing across it.
Lucas approached cautiously.
Kael glanced over, smirking.
"You actually showed up. Thought you might've died in your sleep."
Lucas rolled his shoulders, wincing at the pain. "Didn't die. Came close, though."
Kael nodded approvingly.
"That's the spirit of a survivor."
Lucas didn't respond, but Kael tossed something toward him.
Lucas caught it automatically—a small, slightly dry loaf of bread.
"Eat," Kael said. "Your face looks like it's about to fall off."
Lucas hesitated. "I can't repay you."
"Did I ask?" Kael snorted. "Just don't die. Getting food for dead people is pointless."
Lucas's lips twitched.
He took a bite.
It wasn't good, but it was enough.
Lucas began his stretches.
Sharp pain ripped through his muscles.
His vision blurred for a moment.
But he kept going.
Kael watched silently, leaning against the tree stump.
"You're actually serious," he muttered.
Lucas didn't stop stretching. "I have to be."
"Why?"
Lucas paused a moment, then whispered:
"…Because I want to survive."
Kael fell silent.
Maybe those words resonated more with him than Lucas expected.
When Lucas started running, his legs felt like stone.
Every step hurt.
Every breath burned.
Sweat dripped down his back.
He completed only seven laps before collapsing.
Kael walked over, looking unimpressed.
"You're an idiot."
Lucas gasped. "…Probably."
"Want help?"
Lucas blinked. "Help?"
Kael grinned.
"Let me teach you how to run without dying."
Kael grabbed Lucas by the wrist and pulled him up.
"Your posture is garbage. Your steps are too long. Your shoulders are stiff. You look like you're running from death, not toward strength."
Lucas blinked. "That… might be accurate."
Kael smirked. "Exactly my point."
He positioned Lucas.
"Feet closer. Bend your knees slightly. Arms loose. Breathe with rhythm—not panic."
Lucas adjusted, imitating Kael's stance.
"Now run. Slow. Controlled."
Lucas moved.
And for the first time, it didn't feel like pure torture.
"Better," Kael shouted. "You won't last long, but better."
Lucas kept running until sweat poured down his face again.
Kael nodded.
Not impressed, but satisfied.
"You're stubborn. I like that."
Lucas collapsed again, but this time… he felt a strange warmth in his chest.
Not from mana.
But from something rarer in the slums.
Someone believed he could improve.
After resting, Lucas grabbed the wooden stick he used as a sword. He took his stance.
Kael raised an eyebrow.
"You're doing sword stuff too?"
"Magic swordsman," Lucas answered. "At least… I hope to be."
Kael whistled. "Ambitious for a slum rat."
Lucas lifted his stick. "I learn fast."
"Prove it."
Lucas swung—
Slow, shaky, shallow.
Kael grimaced.
"…You learn fast?" he said bluntly. "What part of that looked fast?"
Lucas's face heated slightly.
"It… feels better than yesterday."
Kael crossed his arms.
"Move your feet. Don't just swing your arms like a broken puppet."
He stomped forward, grabbed Lucas's wrist, repositioned his feet, and guided his shoulders.
"There. You're balanced now. Swing again."
Lucas did.
The wooden stick cut the air with more control than before.
Kael nodded slowly.
"See? That's better. Keep your wrist firm. Use your core."
Lucas practiced again.
Ten swings.
Twenty.
Fifty.
Pain threatened to overwhelm him, but he kept going.
By the time he reached seventy, Kael whistled.
"You're insane. But… impressive."
Lucas panted. "Thanks."
Kael hesitated, then punched Lucas lightly in the shoulder.
"Don't thank me yet. You're still weak as hell."
Lucas smirked faintly. "I know."
They continued training together until the sun reached its highest point.
By noon, Lucas was drenched in sweat and barely standing—but he felt stronger.
The system chimed.
[Swordsmanship Mastery Increased: 3% → 5.8%]
[Body Reinforcement Familiarity: 2% → 3.4%]
[Agility +0.1]
[Vitality +0.1]
Lucas blinked.
"…Even today, I'm improving."
Kael nodded approvingly.
"Good. At this rate, you might survive a punch."
Lucas smiled weakly. "That's progress."
As they rested under a broken stone arch, Kael suddenly stiffened.
Lucas followed his gaze.
Two men approached—
Scarred faces.
Dirty clothes.
Cruel eyes.
Slum gang members.
The same group that chased Lucas in the ruin yesterday.
The leader smirked.
"Well, well. Found you, rat."
Kael immediately stepped in front of Lucas.
"Back off," he growled. "This is my turf."
The thug laughed.
"You think we give a damn? The brat owes us money. And yesterday, he embarrassed us."
Lucas's eyes narrowed.
He expected retaliation eventually.
The thug pointed at Lucas.
"Boss wants him alive. So don't try anything stupid."
Kael cracked his knuckles.
"You entered my part of the slum. That is stupid."
The thugs hesitated.
Kael was infamous—one of the few slum youths capable of fighting three men and winning.
But they pulled out clubs.
"Move, Kael. Or we smash his legs."
Kael's grin turned feral.
"Try it."
One thug swung—
Kael dodged effortlessly—
And slammed his fist into the man's stomach.
WHUD.
The thug collapsed.
Lucas barely had time to blink.
Kael wasn't trained, but he was naturally gifted—strong, fast, instinctive.
The second thug charged.
Kael angled his body—
Stepped inside the man's reach—
And delivered a knee strike to the ribs.
CRACK.
The thug screamed and dropped.
Lucas stared.
"…He's a natural fighter."
Kael spat blood from a cut lip and glanced at Lucas.
"You owe me."
Lucas nodded. "I'll repay it."
"You better. My fists aren't free."
Lucas smirked faintly.
But then—
A third figure appeared behind the fallen thugs.
A tall, cloaked man.
Cold aura.
Sharp gaze.
Silent footsteps.
Lucas's instincts screamed.
Not gang-level.
Not slum-level.
Something else entirely.
Kael tensed. "Who the hell—"
The man lifted his head slightly, revealing pale blue eyes.
"You two. Come with me."
Lucas stepped back immediately.
Kael growled. "Who are you?"
The man ignored the question.
"Lucas Starlight," he said calmly. "You've been chosen."
Lucas froze.
Kael's eyes widened.
The man pulled a small badge from inside his cloak.
A crescent moon intertwined with a burning sword.
Lucas's breath caught.
"Arcane Academy…?"
The man nodded.
"I am an apprentice examiner. We monitor potential candidates."
Lucas's heart pounded.
"Me? But I haven't—"
"You've been observed," the man said. "Your survival, your mana awakening, your fight in the ruins. And your bloodline."
Lucas stiffened.
Kael stepped closer to him protectively.
"What do you want with him?"
The man's eyes sharpened.
"The Academy has questions. And Lucas must answer."
Lucas clenched his fists.
The Academy was not supposed to approach him until the exam.
So why now?
The man pointed toward the district wall.
"Come. Immediately."
Lucas's mind raced.
He was weak.
Unprepared.
Not ready for questions about his bloodline.
But refusing a direct order from an Academy representative—
That could destroy his only chance at escaping the slums.
Kael grabbed his arm.
"Lucas…?"
Lucas looked at him.
"…I'll go."
Kael's expression tightened.
"Then I'm coming too."
The cloaked man's eyes narrowed.
"Only Lucas Starlight is summoned."
Kael snarled. "Too bad. He's not going alone."
Lucas inhaled deeply.
He stepped forward.
"I'll go. Alone."
Kael clenched his fists. "Lucas—"
Lucas smiled faintly.
"I won't die."
Kael's jaw tightened, but after a long moment, he nodded.
"…Don't do anything stupid."
Lucas turned to the cloaked man.
"I'm ready."
And with that, he followed the silent examiner toward the unknown—
Toward the first real connection to the Arcane Academy.
Toward the beginning of a destiny far larger than anything the slums could contain.