The Astraea Academy didn't just teach magic and swordsmanship; it taught hierarchy. The architecture itself was a map of power. The high nobles sat in the front rows on velvet cushions, while the lower ranks and "attendants" sat on stone benches in the back, where the heat from the mana-lamps barely reached.
"Look at them," a voice sneered from the row ahead of us. "The 'Heroes' of the Borderlands. I can still smell the manure from here."
Kael's jaw tightened. He was sitting next to me, gripping a quill so hard it was bowing. The boy speaking was Baronet Julian, a minor noble from a wealthy merchant family who had bought his way into the Academy. In my novel, he was a throwaway character—a "stepping stone" meant to show how much Kael would suffer before becoming strong.
"Ignore him," I whispered, not looking up from my notebook. "He's a background character. He doesn't have enough lines to be a real threat."
"What did you say, commoner?" Julian turned around, his face flushing red.
I looked up slowly. I wasn't the scared kid from the slums anymore. I was a twenty-four-year-old writer in a child's body. To me, Julian wasn't a scary noble; he was a trope. A cliché.
"I said your fly is open," I lied calmly.
Julian instinctively looked down. He realized a second later he'd been tricked, and his face went from red to purple. Several students nearby snickered.
"You little—do you know who my father is?"
"The man who paid for those expensive robes you're currently wrinkling?" I replied, tilting my head. "If you're going to threaten us, at least use a more creative line. That one's been used in every tavern brawl since the First Era."
Before Julian could lung over the bench, the door at the front of the lecture hall slammed open.
Professor Valerius (no relation to Kael) stepped in. He was a man with a face like a dried prune and an aura of mana so heavy it felt like the room had suddenly submerged underwater. This was the 'Combat Theory' class.
"Silence," the Professor commanded. The room went cold. "I do not care about your titles. Here, you are either a blade or a shield. If you are neither, you are trash."
He tapped a crystal on his desk, and a holographic map of the Empire appeared. It was covered in purple splotches.
"The Blight is encroaching. The Borderlands—specifically Oakhaven—were attacked six months ago. Most of you think the walls of this capital will protect you. You are wrong."
He pointed a finger at our row. "Kael von Valerius. Stand."
Kael stood up, his posture perfect.
"Your house was the first to face a High-Rank Blight Wolf in a century. Tell the class: what is the first thing you do when a shadow-beast breaches your perimeter?"
Kael hesitated. In the original book, he would have stayed silent, paralyzed by the memory of his father's death. But here, with Hestor alive and me at his side, he spoke clearly.
"You don't look at the beast, Professor. You look at the ground. The Blight corrupts the earth first. If you don't watch your footing, the vines will take your legs before the wolf takes your head."
The Professor paused, his eyes narrowing. "And who taught you that? Not the manual."
Kael glanced at me for a split second before looking back. "A friend, sir."
The class erupted in whispers. Julian, recovered from his embarrassment, shouted out, "He's probably just quoting some slum-dog superstition! My father says the Borderlands are just full of cowards who—"
"Enough," the Professor barked. He looked at Kael with a strange, clinical interest. "A correct answer. Five points to House Valerius. Sit."
As the lecture continued, I felt a prickle on the back of my neck. I looked across the hall to the 'S-Class' section, where the high-royalty sat.
Mila was there.
She wasn't looking at the map. She was looking at us. Or rather, she was looking at me. Her brow was furrowed, her silver hair shimmering under the mana-lamps. She looked like she was trying to solve a puzzle that didn't make sense.
I looked away immediately.
Don't get noticed by the Saintess, I warned myself. The closer you get to her, the closer you get to the 'Sacrifice' plotline.
After class, the "noble bullying" didn't stop; it just got physical.
As we walked through the cloisters toward the dorms, Julian and three of his lackeys blocked the path. They all had practice rapiers at their waists.
"Commoner," Julian said, his voice low and dangerous. "You made me look like a fool in there."
"You did that yourself," I said, stepping in front of Kael. I knew Kael wanted to fight, but if he struck a noble first, he'd be expelled. That was the rule I'd written to make his life harder.
"Let's see if your tongue is as sharp as a sword," Julian sneered. He drew his rapier—a real one, not a training blade. The tip glowed with a faint yellow light. Earth-element mana.
"Julian, stop!" Kael stepped forward, his hand on his own hilt. "He's an attendant. You can't challenge an attendant to a duel."
"I'm not challenging him," Julian laughed. "I'm 'disciplining' a servant."
He lunged.
I didn't move. I didn't have to. I had written Julian's combat style. "Julian's Earth-Strike is powerful but predictable; he always leads with his right shoulder and puts his weight on his front heel."
I stepped two inches to the left.
The blade whistled past my ear. I reached out, grabbed Julian's overextended elbow, and used his own momentum to pull him forward. At the same time, I stuck my foot out.
The "Noble" went flying, face-planting into the stone fountain in the center of the cloister. Splash.
His lackeys froze.
"You... you used a dirty trick!" one of them shouted.
"It's called 'physics'," I said, dusting off my hands. "Maybe if you spent less time bullying orphans and more time in Professor Valerius's class, you'd know what it is."
"I'll kill you!" Julian screamed, coughing up fountain water.
"Is there a problem here?"
The voice was cold, melodic, and carried a weight that made everyone's knees buckle.
Millica was standing at the end of the cloister. She was alone, her white robes fluttering in the breeze. She looked less like a girl and more like a statue of a goddess.
Julian immediately scrambled out of the fountain, bowing so low he almost fell over again. "Your Eminence! This... this commoner attacked me!"
Mila walked closer. Every step she took seemed to silence the world around her. She stopped in front of me. She was slightly shorter than me, but her presence was massive.
She didn't look at Julian. She looked at me.
"I saw the whole thing," she said quietly. Her voice sent a shiver down my spine—it sounded exactly like my Mila's voice when she was being serious. "You didn't attack him. You simply... refused to be hit."
She turned to Julian. "Leave. If I see you brandishing a live blade against a student again, I will report it to the High Priest. The Academy is for defenders, not thugs."
Julian and his group scrambled away without a word.
Silence fell over the cloister. Kael stood awkwardly behind me, unsure if he should bow or speak. I just stood there, my heart thumping.
Mila turned back to me. She stepped closer—too close. I could smell the faint scent of lilies and old parchment.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Mikhail, Your Eminence," I said, bowing my head to avoid her eyes. "Just an attendant."
"You have a strange mana signature, Mikhail," she whispered, her voice so low only I could hear. "It feels... familiar. Like a song I heard a long time ago but can't remember the words to."
She reached out a hand, as if to touch my shoulder, but stopped herself. Her expression shifted into one of confusion and a hint of sadness.
"Be careful," she said. "The shadows in this Academy are longer than they appear."
She walked past us without another word.
Kael let out a long breath he'd been holding. "Whoa. The Saintess... she actually talked to us."
I didn't answer. My hands were shaking.
She felt it, I thought. The synchronization. The soul of the Author is vibrating because it recognizes the character it loved.
This was bad. Very bad. If I wanted to survive, I needed to get stronger—not just with my "Author's knowledge," but with actual power.
"Kael," I said, my voice steadying. "I'm going to the library tonight. I need to look something up."
"About the Blight?"
"No," I said, looking at the distant spires. "About how to change a fate that's already been written."
Status Check
Current Identity: Mikhail (The "Disrespectful" Attendant)
Location: Astraea Academy Cloisters
Incident: Julian humiliated. First direct contact with Millica.
New Goal: Access the "Forbidden Archive" in the library.