009. Choice

[System Notification]

❖ Narrative Task Initialized ❖

Designation: Emergency Storyline Intervention

Task: Ensure the survival of Seraphina Vaelthorne, a central narrative entity, for the next 6 days of real-time.

Failure Consequence: The death of the target will result in an unstable narrative divergence.

Reward Upon Completion:

▸ +100 Narrative Points (NP) – Influence and alter story progression.

▸ +25 Cipher Points (CP) – Unlock encrypted abilities, lore, or system functions.

Note: Interference or negligence may result in permanent consequences.

► Accept / Reject]

He stared at the screen for a while before swiping it away without giving the system a response. He couldn't just tap Accept—not when he didn't even know what he was dealing with yet. He wanted to know if the person he was about to possibly risk his life for was even worth saving, even though the reward points looked tempting.

But he still couldn't ignore or overlook the fact that the system included a warning about negligence—which meant he had to complete the task within six days to avoid any penalties from the system.

He was so deep in thought he didn't realize the teacher had been calling out to him for a while to introduce himself.

"Kael," Joe tapped him from behind. "Mr. Lemon is talking to you."

The tap on his shoulder immediately snapped him back from his thoughts, and he raised his head to the teacher. "Sorry, sir."

"I wouldn't want that behavior from you again. Stand up and introduce yourself to the class."

Kael shrugged slightly before rising to his feet, a faint grimace tugging at the corner of his mouth. If there was one thing he despised more than the awkward silence of a crowded room, it was the moment right before introductions—when all eyes turned expectantly toward you, waiting for a name, a title, or a reason to care.

He never saw the point in it. Names were just labels, and labels didn't mean much when no one remembered you anyway.

"My name is Kael Revenhart," he said, his voice steady but lacking the forced enthusiasm others had. "I'm an indigene of this country… and, uh, it's nice to meet you all."

Mr. Lemon stared at him for a while but didn't ask any further questions. "You can sit down. Next person."

Kael had narrowly escaped the class realizing a truth he wasn't ready to face aloud—that, at this moment, he was undoubtedly the weakest among them. It was a close call, one he knew wouldn't hold forever. Sooner or later, someone was bound to notice the gap in strength, the subtle hesitations in his movements, the lack of presence in his aura.

But he was banking on time—hoping that before anyone truly caught on, he would have already closed that gap, or at least climbed high enough that his current weakness would be buried beneath progress. He didn't need to be the strongest yet. He just needed to be stronger than the version of himself standing here now.

He sat on his seat and stared at Seraphina again. He was now undoubtedly curious about her situation, and she didn't seem to know about it either, which just made it all the more exciting to him.

If he could manage to complete tasks early—before the deadlines pressed in or the pressure started to mount—then there was a real possibility, however slim, that he might be able to level up at a significantly faster rate than simply sitting through the endless cycle of classes, lectures, and routine training that filled each day like clockwork.

Attending classes 24/7 might have been the standard path, the structured and approved method everyone followed, but Kael wasn't convinced it was the most efficient one—not for someone in his position, starting so far behind the rest.

Still, he wasn't stupid enough to dive headfirst into something he didn't fully understand. The idea of rushing in just to chase points or experience, without fully grasping the risks involved—it felt reckless, dangerous even.

He had no intention of standing out too early or drawing attention to himself when he hadn't even gotten a proper read on the system, the school, or his classmates yet.

So, for now, his goal was simple and small in scope: blend in, remain unnoticed, and settle into the rhythm of the class like any other ordinary student. He just wanted to feel included—even if only superficially—until he could figure out exactly what kind of game he was playing, and what the rules really were.

As for the system's first task, he wasn't ignoring it. He just planned to approach it on his own terms, at his own pace—when he was ready, when the time was right, and when he had enough understanding to minimize the risk. Until then, it could wait.

After everyone had properly introduced themselves—some with confidence, others with awkward hesitation—the room finally settled into a fragile quiet. The teacher, who had been observing them all with a measured gaze, straightened his posture and stepped forward, his voice carrying clearly through the classroom.

"Welcome," he began, his tone firm but not unkind. "As new students in this noble academy, you are each at the very beginning of a long and demanding journey.

At this moment, many of you may be among the weakest this institution has to offer—but that's not a judgment, it's a starting point. And from here, there is no doubt in my mind that you will all grow far beyond your current selves."

He allowed a brief pause, letting his words sink in before continuing, his expression now sharper and more serious.

"With that said, we'll be beginning this semester a little differently than most of you might expect. Starting immediately, we will initiate a series of practical evaluations—duels."

"Each of you will be allowed to challenge—or be challenged by—any other student in the class. These duels will serve as more than just combat practice. They are an opportunity to truly see each other, to measure your strengths, expose your weaknesses, and begin to understand what you must overcome to grow."

His gaze swept the room, silently daring anyone to take his words lightly.

"I encourage you to take this seriously. Observe, learn, and most importantly—engage. Because in the next class, our very first formal lesson will be centered around live duels between classmates. Prepare yourselves accordingly."

He gave a small nod, signaling the end of his address.

"Thank you, and have a great day."

He took his packed items and smartly walked out of the class, leaving everyone in the class to discuss their next decisions on his address.

Kael, on the other hand, saw this announcement as more than just a formal class exercise—it was an opportunity, an opening. A chance to level up, even if only slightly, and start closing the gap between himself and the others.

Of course, he had no intention of challenging anyone too strong. That would be foolish. Instead, he'd quietly observe the room, study his classmates, and identify the one who seemed just weak enough to give him a fighting chance—someone he could realistically face without being completely humiliated.

But it wasn't just about gaining experience or picking easy targets. This was also a rare chance to gather valuable information: how the others used their abilities, the way they moved, how they reacted under pressure, and what kind of control they had over their power.

Kael wanted to learn all of it—their habits, their tells, their flaws. And most importantly, he wanted to use this opportunity to understand his own limitations. What were his weaknesses? Where did he fall short? And how could he adapt?

He also needed to start thinking about how to integrate the system's skills into real combat. It wasn't enough to have powers—he had to make them seamless, instinctive, something he could rely on without hesitation in the heat of battle.

This wasn't just about survival or pride. It was about preparation. Every duel would be a lesson, and Kael intended to learn everything he could, while keeping his true strength—and the existence of the system—well hidden.

Joe tapped on him slightly. "You and me can duel each other! It would be awesome. We can finally show off our abilities!"

Kael forced out a smile at Joe and nodded in response. "Yeah, that seems like a nice idea."

But despite all his planning and quiet observation, Kael's eyes never once left Seraphina. No matter how much he tried to think ahead, to strategize, she remained the center of his focus—because deep down, he knew this was exactly the situation the system had warned him about.

A duel—that was how it said she would die. And now, with the class stepping directly into a series of one-on-one battles, the timeline for that grim possibility had just accelerated.

He didn't know when, or by whose hand, or under what circumstances—but the system had made one thing terrifyingly clear: if he didn't intervene, she was going to die. That meant he had to keep a watchful eye on her at all times—track her movements, study her expressions, anticipate her decisions.

He couldn't afford to look away, not even for a moment. Because if something went wrong and she ended up on the wrong side of a duel, the failure would fall on him. And the consequences, both personal and systemic, might be far worse than he was prepared to face.

"This task is already harder than I wish it was," he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched her leave the classroom, unaware of the weight she carried—and the one he now bore in silence.