The dawn air was sharp, laced with the chill of steel and the staleness of sweat. Kael stood once again on the dusty sparring field, wooden practice sword in hand, heart pounding—not from fear this time, but from anticipation.
His body still ached from yesterday's match with Elyra Marten. But today, there was no room for fatigue. Not when the academy's daily rankings would be posted by noon. Not when everyone was watching.
"New meat thinks he's glowing now," a voice sneered behind him.
Kael turned. Three boys stood in his path, each wearing the red-trimmed training armor of House Varell, one of the major student factions within Ashen Valor. At their head was Darin Varell, son of a minor warlord and known across the academy as a brash brawler.
Darin's arms were crossed, his wide jaw tight with disdain. "You and Elyra had a lucky draw. One more spar and you'd be in the infirmary weeping."
Kael stayed silent. In the novel, Darin had bullied Kael relentlessly before his early death. He remembered Kael's humiliation in those scenes—mocked, ignored, used for training target practice. But that was the Kael of the book.
Not anymore.
Another figure stepped forward from behind Darin. A wiry boy with sharp features and sharp wit—Riven Halewick, the whispering tactician. Unlike Darin, Riven was clever, calculating. Karan recalled how, later in the novel, Riven would sell out several students during the Demon Siege Arc just to survive.
"Let's not break him, Darin," Riven said with a smirk. "He might be entertaining now. Like watching a rat trying to wear a lion's mane."
Kael met his eyes coolly. "Funny. I thought lions hunted in silence, not like cackling hyenas."
The yard fell quiet. A few nearby students paused mid-swing to watch.
Darin stepped forward, but a third voice cut in.
"That's enough."
A tall girl in black-accented training armor approached, short auburn hair tied back, a greatsword slung across her back. Her name was Ishira Dorne, the daughter of a disgraced noble house. She was one of the few students who kept to herself, training late into the night, reading battle treatises while others drank. In the novel, she had played a supporting role, dying to save the hero from a trap meant for him.
"I don't care who's posturing," she said. "You'll all be flattened if you miss Instructor Marek's summons."
Darin growled under his breath but backed off. "Keep that mouth running, Kael. You'll beg for silence soon enough."
As they dispersed, Kael turned to Ishira. "Thanks. You didn't have to step in."
"I didn't do it for you." Her tone was cold, but not cruel. "I just hate idiots wasting oxygen."
And just like that, she walked off, her blade shifting slightly across her back. Kael almost smiled. He was starting to remember how many characters were overlooked in the novel. Ishira, for example—barely mentioned, yet clearly hiding a deeper story.
New Objective Added: Form Strategic Alliances.
Potential Allies Identified: Ishira Dorne, Elyra Marten.
He blinked as the glowing system text faded from his vision. No one else could see it. No one else even sensed what pulsed within him.
> [Surya Putra Karn System]
New Passive Detected: Perception of Forgotten Threads (Lv. 1)
Ability: Detect potential in side characters with unfinished arcs.
"Interesting," Kael murmured.
The bell rang—deep, reverberating, a sound like a war horn striking stone. The students lined up in formation. At the front of the grounds, a towering man in black armor stood like a statue carved from stormclouds.
Instructor Marek.
A veteran of the Skyfire Wars. Known for breaking young warriors with words sharper than steel.
"Line up!" he barked. "This week's sparring rankings will determine your path—glory, support... or latrine duty!"
A few students chuckled nervously.
"You're to pair off for evaluation matches. Three rounds. Failure is recorded. Cowardice is punished."
Kael scanned the line. He needed more than survival now. He needed to stand out—to alter the story's course by forging connections and proving strength.
"I'll spar with him," came a calm voice.
Kael turned to see a boy with violet eyes and silver-threaded robes. Clean, crisp, composed. Theren Alwyn, heir to the Temple of the Fifth Flame. A prodigy. In the novel, Theren had been a rival to the main protagonist, known for his cold demeanor and unmatched magical control.
Theren tilted his head. "You fought well yesterday. I want to test something."
Kael nodded cautiously.
The crowd murmured. A no-name being challenged by a highborn mystic was rare.
As the duel began, Theren raised his hand. A swirling sphere of flame appeared above his palm—refined, contained, potent.
Kael rushed in before it could form fully.
His blade met air as Theren sidestepped smoothly, releasing the flame toward Kael's side.
Kael twisted, barely escaping the full force. The heat scorched his leather vambrace.
> [Radiant Resilience Activated – Minor Burn Reduced]
Stamina Depletion: 3%
Reaction Speed Bonus: +12%
Kael moved faster than expected. He ducked another burst, then struck forward. Theren parried with a rod of light that materialized from the flame.
The crowd watched in silence.
Strike. Dodge. Burn. Heal. Repeat.
For a moment, the entire world faded into movement.
Then Kael did something bold.
He threw his sword.
It wasn't skillful—it was desperate. But it was unexpected. The blade clattered against Theren's arm, causing a momentary break in his focus. Kael charged through the fire barrier and tackled him to the ground.
"Initiative point: Kael," Marek called.
Gasps followed.
Theren stared up at Kael, expression unreadable. Then, he smirked.
"You're not a background character anymore, are you?"
Kael stood, breathing hard. "Not if I can help it."
Theren nodded once. "Interesting."
As they returned to formation, Kael felt it—the ripple in the story. This moment never existed in the original novel. It was new. Unwritten. His.