If fate were a person, Kael Vire would've filed a formal complaint and then stabbed it.
There were maybe a dozen other classes he could've been slotted into. Magical theory. Aetheric calculus. Politics of post-dominion reconstruction. Hell, he would've taken Aether Gardening for Nobles if it meant staying away from this.
But no.
He got Combat Class.
The one where they put all the plot-critical morons in one room and told them to hit things with their feelings.
The Arena Sector Nine was less a "classroom" and more an open-air warzone with a syllabus. Wide enough to hold a skirmish team. High barriers for practicing vertical movement spells. Auto-healing tiles lined the ground. Overhead cameras hummed as they recorded every form, misstep, and facial expression for feedback analysis.
Kael arrived ten minutes late, naturally.
The doors hadn't even creaked open yet before he could feel the narrative tension building like a migraine behind his eyes.
[SYSTEM WARNING: Proximity to Hero-Centric Narrative Field Detected.]
He sighed. "You think I don't know that already?"
[Reminder: You are choosing to attend this class.]
"I'm choosing to survive the semester. There's a difference."
[Probability of that outcome: 52%. And falling.]
Kael grimaced and stepped into the arena.
Every student paused.
Or at least it felt like they did.
Eyes shifted. Whispers passed. Training dummies froze mid-spin.
Kael didn't strut in. He didn't slink either.
He walked like someone who owned the room but forgot why he came in.
And at the center of the chaos?
Them.
The six.
The "friends of the chosen one." The six-person disaster party that followed Arin Solari into every noble duel, cursed temple, and moral turning point.
They looked exactly like the novel described them.
Except worse. Because they were real now.
Arin Solari – Golden boy. Sword-wielding protagonist with wind affinity. Born to lead, look good in rain, and say things like "There's always another way."
Kael: "You reek of integrity and dramatic backlighting."
Leona Vale – Longbow goddess. Noble posture. Keeps her arrows emotionally repressed and alphabetized.
"Probably has a trauma playlist and a secret pet bunny."
Tarin Duskfall – Shadow prince. Doesn't talk. Communicates via lingering glares. Looks like he drinks melancholy like wine.
"I bet he has a tragic flute solo queued up in his soul."
Aeris Kintara – Ice mage. Academic perfectionist. Could slice egos with her cheekbones. Might be the most dangerous person in the room—except she already judged Kael and found him lacking.
"She breathes in frost and exhales citations."
Fenn Aro – Buff, sweet, punches things. Believes in everyone. Cries at graduation speeches.
"Will one day take a fatal hit for Arin while shouting 'Noooo!'"
Lyssa Morel – Light healer. Soft voice, big heart, radiates wholesome energy. Believes in "the good in everyone," which is an exhausting personality flaw.
"Too kind. I automatically feel worse just standing near her."
Kael spotted a few other familiar faces, but most blurred into the backdrop of the main event: six shiny protagonists, one legendary instructor, and a handful of nobility with something to prove.
And then there was him.
The supposed villain. The dropout heir. The kid with Core Drift and an attitude problem.
Perfect.
He made it three steps into the arena before a voice rang out like judgment itself.
"Kael Vire."
His shoulders didn't drop.
His soul did.
Every head turned.
Even Arin.
Kael looked up to the raised observation platform where a woman stood like a weapon in stiletto heels and silk battle robes.
Instructor Niaomi Starstriker.
Gorgeous. Deadly. One of the most powerful women in the world—and more importantly, the one who'd been grading Kael's attendance.
Not well.
Niaomi descended the steps slowly, each click of her heels somehow scarier than a war horn. She said nothing as she approached. She didn't need to.
Her expression was polite murder.
"You've missed three lessons," she said. "Do you consider yourself exempt from combat training, Vire?"
Kael gave her a thoughtful expression, then a shrug.
"I was conducting field research," he said smoothly. "Turns out bruises hurt. I'd like partial credit."
Niaomi blinked once.
Just once.
"I see. And what did this research entail?"
Kael smiled. "Falling down stairs. Multiple staircases. One of them was on fire."
A student snorted. Quickly choked it back.
Niaomi tilted her head.
"You believe humor will protect you?"
"No," Kael said. "But it's cheaper than a healing potion."
A few laughs this time. Nervous. Controlled. The kind of laughter that tiptoes past death.
Niaomi didn't smile.
But she did turn away.
"Fine. You want to make light of this?" she said. "Then you can demonstrate."
Oh no.
"Front and center," she said. "Now."
Kael glanced at the rest of the class. Most looked like they expected him to swagger up and dominate.
Only Arin looked skeptical.
Good.
He stepped forward, hands loose at his sides.
"Do I get to choose my partner?" Kael asked.
"No."
She turned toward the main group.
"Tarin Duskfall."
Of course.
Of course.
Tarin stepped forward silently, eyes narrowed.
He was a master of silent disapproval. Kael had only spoken to him once in the novel. It ended with threats and an almost-duel.
They faced each other on the dueling platform as Niaomi stepped back.
"This is a mark demonstration. First hit to the core zone. No lethal spells. Begin on my count."
Kael stretched his neck.
Tarin just stared.
Kael grinned. "Hey. Long time no almost-murder."
Tarin said nothing.
The tension in the air felt like two cats staring across a narrow hallway.
"Begin."
Tarin moved like a shadow in motion.
Kael moved like a guy who had no idea if his body was going to glitch mid-step.
He dodged left—barely. Tarin's blade cut through the air inches from his face.
Kael ducked low, sliding under the second strike, and twisted behind him. Aether crackled down his arm, Core Drift humming in his spine like an unstable engine.
He flared a sigil—simple. Flashbang.
Tarin threw up a shadow screen to block it. Smart.
Kael followed it with a feint, spinning toward his opponent's exposed flank—
And paused just long enough to wink.
Tarin hesitated.
Kael poked him in the chest with a spark-etched fingertip.
Mark registered. Round over.
Silence.
Niaomi raised one brow.
Kael stepped back, hands up.
"Technically not lethal," he said.
Tarin just stared at him like someone trying to solve a moral puzzle with a broken compass.
Niaomi spoke flatly. "Interesting approach."
Kael bowed.
"I aim to surprise."
The class broke for cooldown. Kael retreated to the far side of the arena and sat with his back to the wall.
Eyes still followed him.
But now they weren't watching a monster.
They were watching something they didn't understand.
Good.
That was the plan.
[SYSTEM: You have successfully confused your enemies. +1 Misdirection, +3 Mild Reputation Crisis.]
Kael leaned his head back and smiled to himself.
"Still undefeated."