William didn't say a word.
In his eighteenth year, William graduated from the knight academy. He was granted the rank of knight-in-training and, at his father's arrangement, assigned to Count Avington's order of knights.
As a baron's son, William was allowed to bring along one familiar servant. In a knightly order, someone like that was usually treated as a "squire candidate."
Lucas became that person.
Eighteen years old.
Eighteen full years in this world.
From an abandoned baby to an eighteen-year-old squire candidate—no system, no cheat, no supernatural boost of any kind. Just eighteen years of feeding horses, cleaning stables, stealing sword forms with his eyes, and gritting his teeth through it all.
That afternoon, Lucas squatted outside William's tent, polishing William's boots.
Autumn wind swept dead leaves through the camp. In the distance, a horn blared over the new recruits drilling. He finished the left boot—smell damn near made him gag—then switched to the right, his hands moving with numb, practiced precision.
He held his breath. Didn't think about anything.
More accurately—he didn't dare to.
In the early years he'd curse the system now and then. Later, he couldn't even be bothered. Something that hadn't shown up in eighteen years might as well not exist.
He set the boots neatly aside, stood up, and dusted off his knees.
And in that exact moment—
A translucent blue panel popped into existence with zero warning.
That familiar glow. That familiar icy non-feel when he reached for it. Familiar enough to make every hair on his body stand up.
Slowly, text appeared:
[Sorry, I just got back from vacation ︶︵︶]
Lucas's hand froze halfway to the boots.
He stared at the lazy little "not-my-problem" emoticon. Everything he'd swallowed for eighteen years surged up his throat and packed itself into one word, forced out between his teeth.
"Va…cation?"
Another line hopped onto the panel:
[Yes~ System annual leave is 180 days. Plus comp time and compensation leave, I've accumulated a total of 6,570 days, which converts to about… Earth time…]
"Eighteen years."
[Wow, host, your math is so good! Then let's officially begin work now. First, let's check your current status panel—huh?]
The text paused for a beat.
[Host, why is your current class… knight-in-training's attendant?]
Lucas didn't answer.
[And your current Sword Mastery is 87%? Physical Adaptation is max stars? Wilderness Survival skills fully unlocked? How did you do that? I didn't even issue you any support abilities.]
[Detecting anomaly… host growth path deviates from standard model… recalculating permissions…]
[Calculation load too large… forget it. I'll help you return to normal.]
"Because the calculation load's too large, I'm supposed to just accept that? I'm filing a complaint."
[Calm down. Current individual data has exceeded the "Servant" class safety threshold.]
[If you continue in your current state, it will cause class tree disorder and prevent later support modules from loading.]
"That excuse—"
Ding. Extra abilities have been cleared…
[Okay. That looks way better.]
A cold, prickling numbness shot up Lucas's spine and into the back of his skull.
He clenched his fist on instinct—then felt it.
The way he generated force, the way his body connected—something he'd ingrained so deep it lived in his bones—was just… missing. Like a chunk had been dug out of him.
He didn't even need to touch a sword to know.
It wasn't muscle.
It was deeper than that.
It was the thing he'd hammered into instinct over eighteen years, rep after rep, mistake after mistake, until it became him.
His body suddenly felt empty. Weak.
"What did you clear?"
Wind snapped at the edge of the tent flap. The horn sounded again from the training grounds.
The panel went quiet for a moment.
Then, like it was trying to cover its own ass, the entire interface started flickering like crazy.
[Right, right, right! I almost forgot! Host, you still have an unissued SSS-rank support ability!]
[I'm activating it for you right now. This ability is called—]
In the distance, William lifted the tent flap and stepped out.
"Lucas, formation."
His voice was shaking.
"The order just posted a new assignment. Move—come with me."
On the panel, that last line only displayed halfway. It froze there, blinking.
And then a "data panel" screen appeared in front of Lucas—basically exactly what the system had been babbling about.
[SSS Support Ability — "Data Panel" activated. View details?]
Lucas sucked in a breath and muttered, "View details."
A translucent box popped up.
Lucas Reed
Class: Knight-in-training's Attendant Lv. 2 (10/20)
XP Pool: 0/100
"…That's it?"
No skill tree. No talents. No busted bonuses. No "one-tap kill" or "time stop." Just a dry little status sheet—about as exciting as a recruitment notice nailed to a board outside some village tavern.
Lucas stared at it for three full seconds.
"What about everything I trained for?"
"My Sword Mastery at eighty-seven percent? Maxed physical adaptation? Fully unlocked wilderness survival?"
[Huh? Host, you're not satisfied? This is SSS-rank!!!]
"This is what you call SSS-rank?" He let out a short, humorless breath. "Oh. I get it now."
"Your S doesn't stand for Super. It stands for Shameless."
The panel flickered, like it was feeling a little wronged.
[The Data Panel is an extremely powerful support tool!]
"Can't I do that with my eyes?"
Lucas flipped through it over and over—five times.
The text vanished for a second, then new words popped up, slow and lazy.
[Then… how about I swap it for something else?]
Lucas paused.
[I've got a few options that would fit you really well.]
[Advanced Stable Management Mastery.]
[Accurately assess a horse's health condition, emotional fluctuations, and bowel movement timing.]
[Greatly increases work efficiency.]
"…"
[Or: Mosquito Repellent Efficiency +1.]
[In livestock environments, significantly reduces bite frequency.]
"…"
[And here's one you'll definitely use.]
[Boot-Polishing Gloss +20%.]
[Guaranteed shine—nobles will be satisfied.]
[Perfectly matches the host's current career development path.]
"…"
"Enough!" Lucas hissed. "System, are you screwing with me? Seeing a status panel counts as an SSS-rank ability?"
Cursing under his breath, he tore his eyes away from the floating screen, turned around, and headed back into the tent.
"I don't care. I waited eighteen years for you. You erased everything I trained for. You owe me compensation."
The panel blinked.
[Compensation… isn't impossible.]