Singularity alone isn't enough.
A person still needs to develop both magical and physical strength. That's the only way to become someone of value, worthy of respect, and eligible for the privileges that come not only within the academy but across the entire continent of Veganis.
Arsene had no clue how to train either aspect of himself.
Even though he was a Grade 0 Singular, that title alone meant nothing if he remained weak.
And as a first-year student, he wasn't granted access to the archives or the main library to study the various ways of enhancing one's strength.
It seemed strange—he was a Singular with special privileges. Why wouldn't he have the right to study and learn?
But that was just one of the academy's hard rules.
Failure in magical progression was common—especially among regular students. That was manageable. But for Singulars, it was a much more serious issue. That's why they were strictly forbidden from training on their own during their first year. Any solo attempts were banned entirely.
Singulars were to be trained and guided by experienced ones—Singulars who had already mastered their own power—to ensure a proper foundation and to reduce the risk of failure in magical progression.
But why so much concern over magical progression specifically?
Because failure to advance to the next stage didn't just delay you. It locked you in place. Permanently.
No second chances.
The early stages were relatively easy—but still prone to errors. That's why the academy chose the safest, most effective path. They accounted for every variable.
That included: a strict ban on unsupervised progression or training for Singulars.
At the moment, Arsene sat quietly in a hall, listening to a young lecturer give a mandatory introductory session. These were meant to provide essential knowledge before the real classes started.
Attendance was especially recommended for those who hadn't received basic magical education beforehand.
Arsene was one of them.
The young woman spoke at length. Most of what she said were warnings and tailored advice—directed specifically at the Singulars.
Arsene didn't know how many other Singulars were even in the room.
Maybe he was the only one without foundational training before entering the academy.
How could he have had any?
He came from another world.
And to make matters worse, the original owner of this body left no memories behind—not about the world, or even about his own past.
Arsene only knew his name because it was printed on the card that gave him access to free meals.
Pathetic, really.
But that's just how things were.
And the faster Arsene got used to it, the smoother everything would go.
But it was precisely the absence of those memories that troubled Arsene. There were many questions weighing on his mind, questions that demanded answers.
Did his transmigration into this body result in the death of its original owner?
If that were the case—if he was indirectly responsible—then perhaps it wasn't such a big deal. All he had to do now was fully assume Arsene's identity, figure out if he had any family or friends who knew him, and avoid raising suspicions or triggering too many questions.
A difficult step, yes—but not impossible, especially given his singularity.
The worst-case scenario that kept looping through his thoughts, however, was that the original owner of this body had been eliminated by someone else.
And if that were true… what would that person do if they found out Arsene was still alive?
When he first awakened in this body, there were no traces of blood or signs of violence—nothing to suggest he'd been murdered. That was a relief… at first.
But after learning about singularities, he realized: what if someone had the power to kill without leaving a trace?
It was a possibility he couldn't ignore.
Still, he was alive. If someone had truly wanted him dead and had the power to do so, wouldn't they have succeeded already? Unless… they already knew he was alive. Unless… they were just waiting.
So now, Arsene's mind was filled with theories—each branching into more possibilities and requiring its own set of answers.
But how could he get those answers?
That was the problem.
Arsene needed to recover some of his memories—the immediate ones that preceded his transmigration from Earth into this world.
It consumed his thoughts so much that he didn't even pay attention to the lecture in front of him.
Ding!
"Oii, Arsene, can you come to the open yard near the western building by the watchtower?"
That was Sarl's voice.
Everyone in the classroom turned to look at him, but Arsene didn't care. He responded with a simple, "Oh, yeah, I'm coming!"
There were stones etched with runes that functioned like communication devices. Cheap and useful—though limited.
You could only transmit your voice to another stone bearing the same rune and pattern.
Arsene and Sarl had matching stones, which allowed them to communicate freely.
"As you may have noticed, I was in class," Arsene said with a fake smile as he approached the open-air training field. "You didn't have to call me at that exact moment. You totally made me the joke of the room—some people were even annoyed I interrupted the lecture."
In the field, he saw Clem lying on the grass, casually watching as Sarl beat on his clone like a punching bag for practice.
Clem looked at Arsene with a smile and tossed him something that resembled a bottle. Inside was a reddish liquid. At first, Arsene thought it was grape wine.
But it turned out to be just fruit juice.
"Oy, Sarl, don't be too harsh on your clone—what if it turns on you in your sleep and kills you one day?"
Arsene called out, warning Sarl, and Clem laughed in agreement.
"Oi, don't scare me like that."
Sarl glanced at his clone, then chuckled.
"So, what exactly did you two call me here for? You just made me the butt of the joke," Arsene asked, his tone indifferent.
Clem scolded Sarl, "I told you it wasn't the right time to contact him—he was in a class!"
Sarl scratched the back of his head. "It's fine, it's fine. Arsene doesn't mind—you just wanted an excuse to scold me with your wise words."
Then he added, "Arsene, what do you think about the three of us forming a team? There are several activities for first-year students, and each team needs three members. It's like a three-versus-three tournament."
"Honestly, I wasn't going to call you just for this right now, but spots are limited, and registration closes in a few hours. That's why I thought we should sign up together. There are prizes for every match you win, but one loss means elimination."
"Of course, there are rules in place to prevent serious injuries or anything dangerous. It's just an activity to help first-years get used to things. So… you in?"
Clem then chimed in, "We don't want you to feel forced into joining or that we're pressuring you or anything…"
Arsene interrupted him, "Man, I would've been hurt if you didn't invite me. I would've come just to teach you two a lesson!"
Sarl, full of energy, shouted, "Told you! Told you he'd say yes! Let's go, Team Titans—AARGH!"
Sarl's clone grabbed him from behind and slammed him to the ground. Clem and Arsene just laughed and let him suffer.
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