'You'll be head of the family one day at this rate.'
'At your age, no one compares to you.'
'Very good. You're amazing. I'm proud of you.'
Those voices echoed in Jayden's mind like ghosts.
Praise.
Expectations.
Pressure wrapped in kind words.
He had grown up surrounded by them — parents, elders, instructors, everyone telling him how exceptional he was. His status window always climbed higher. Every small increase in stats felt like proof that he was destined to stand at the top.
Not just as an S-Class student.
But as the strongest S-Class.
The Black family trained him relentlessly.
Resources, time, attention — all poured into him.
Then he entered the Triangle.
And reality slapped him in the face.
Watching the rankings, the fights, the casual dominance of other students… he could only grit his teeth.
Talent?
Hard work?
Effort?
Even with everything he had, Jayden couldn't reach S-Class.
He couldn't even become the strongest in Class A.
He watched monsters like Lucas Væresberg, Raisel Silvius, and Alan Walker — each one standing higher than him as if it was natural.
His pride cracked.
His obsession grew.
If he wasn't on top, then what was he?
Jayden began watching them.
Their movements.
Their expressions.
Their routines.
He tried to find the difference.
And finally, he did something for the first time.
He spoke to Lucas.
"Let's fight."
Lucas blinked, surprised.
It was the first time Jayden had addressed him directly. Lucas had already noticed Jayden talking to everyone but him, and assumed Jayden hated him.
He didn't know Jayden also avoided Alan and Raisel just as much.
"Hm? What do you mean, now?" Lucas asked.
Jayden swung his newly acquired weapon onto his shoulder — a heavy battle axe — and grinned.
"Of course now. We both just picked our spiritual weapons," he said. "No better time to test them."
Lucas glanced at the instructor overseeing the spiritual weapon distribution.
The training hall was buzzing with activity. Students lined up along racks of spirit weapons: scythes, bows, swords, knives, pistols, rifles. Most were low to mid quality — nothing high-tier, but strong enough for early Triangle training.
The professor stroked his chin, watching the two.
"Alright," he said at last. "Since you're both eager, this is a good chance to test your spiritual weapons."
He clapped his hands sharply.
"Everyone back up! I'll be the judge. If I say stop, you stop. This is a demonstration, not a death match."
Students quickly formed a circle.
Lucas still seemed hesitant, but he stepped back from Jayden and drew his sword.
They took their positions opposite one another on the training floor, both gripping their chosen weapons.
The professor raised his hand—
Then dropped it.
"Begin!"
From the sidelines, I watched quietly.
Jayden Black.
A minor villain — in terms of story role.
But a major problem.
He was the classic "small tyrant" type: arrogant, obsessed with being special, incapable of accepting second place.
In the novel, he expected to be the strongest in the Triangle.
Number one.
Top of S-Class.
Instead, reality crushed him.
He couldn't even be the strongest in Class A.
His pride refused to accept that. His ego twisted everything. The world was "unfair," others had "cheated," something had to be wrong.
As long as he could cling to that delusion, he didn't completely break.
But the moment he truly accepted reality…
He snapped.
And that day started here.
Lucas held his sword in a relaxed stance.
Jayden gripped his axe too tightly, knuckles white.
Steel clashed.
At first, it looked even — weapon against weapon, sparks flying, pressure mounting.
But Lucas wasn't just swinging.
He was measuring.
Timing.
Reading.
Jayden grew more frustrated with each failed attempt to overpower him.
The professor watched, frowning slightly.
Then it happened.
Lucas stepped back, raised his sword with both hands—
And his blade began to glow.
The spirit weapon trembled as a strange, dense energy gathered along its edge. Mana wrapped it completely.
Jayden swung his axe down with all his strength—
Lucas's sword came down in a single clean arc.
CRACK—!
The blade cut straight through the axe, shearing it in half like it was made of cheap wood.
The same strike continued onward, catching Jayden across the chest and tearing his uniform open with a deep, burning gouge.
He dropped to the ground, breath stolen, eyes wide in shock.
The room went silent.
The professor exhaled heavily.
"Near-grade spiritual weapons don't break that easily," he said. "That's Lucas's skill at work."
He raised his voice so everyone could hear — trying to turn the spectacle into a lesson.
Lucas lowered his sword, frowning.
Jayden stared at the broken pieces of his axe.
The professor tried to soothe the tension, but it was too late.
Jayden's lips moved soundlessly.
"I'm better than them… I'm better than them… I'm better…"
Over and over.
In the original story, this was one of the cracks that let something far worse in.
Desperate to prove he was special, Jayden eventually sought power in all the wrong places.
He became a lackey of a demon.
Not just any demon.
The Demon of Fear.
Things spiraled from there.
"Things are going to get complicated…" I muttered under my breath.
Killing Jayden wasn't simple.
In the novel, Lucas killed him — and paid the price.
He gained a stigma of evil. His overall power dropped by half. He only removed the stigma later, with the help of a heroine whose level 10 skill was Magic Energy Manipulation.
So no, Jayden wasn't just a random side character.
He was a pivot.
I tore my gaze away from him and looked down at my own spirit weapon.
A pair of black brass knuckles.
Forged from the core of a Blue Lion — a powerful monster.
A Tier 2 spiritual weapon.
There were a few Tier 3 swords available, but I passed on them. I've always preferred fighting with my fists. Plus, my main focus is magic, not weapon mastery.
These knuckles were fire-resistant and highly durable.
Perfect for me.
I glanced briefly at the others' choices. As expected, nothing had changed from the original story.
Lucas — a Tier 3 sword.
Raisel — a Tier 3 bow.
Jayden — now weaponless, had previously chosen a Tier 2 hammer.
Dhara — a pair of black knives.
Riven — a large dagger.
"Some things never change," I murmured.
The professor's voice pulled my attention back.
"Tomorrow, you'll have combat classes with personalized instructors," he announced. "Each of you will be trained on your weaknesses and how to use your abilities more efficiently. This is exclusive preparation for Class A before the monthly dungeon exam. Take it seriously."
His explanation continued, but I wasn't really listening.
The Triangle liked to frame everything as "education" and "support."
But this was also how they extracted as much information as possible about our abilities.
Treating a professor like a friend would be a mistake.
He was an employee.
Nothing more.
"So, you're dismissed."
The moment he said it, I packed my brass knuckles away and headed straight for the gym.
My magic energy had gone up a lot lately — but stats still mattered.
Physical condition is extremely important here.
Magic-filled humans can push their bodies far past normal limits.
Superhuman speed.
Superhuman strength.
Superhuman endurance.
That's why the gap between ordinary humans and awakened ones was so enormous.
When I entered the training room, several students were already using the equipment.
I walked past them and picked a treadmill.
Starting at a normal pace, I gradually increased the speed.
My current limit was about 7.12 m/h — average, but solid.
The original Dreyden had been a hard worker.
"Damn… this is harder than I thought," I muttered internally as I forced my legs to keep moving.
Minutes stretched into an hour.
Sweat dripped down my jaw.
My lungs burned.
I pushed myself until the edges of my vision blurred.
Then a voice cut through the noise of the treadmill.
"You have a lot of stamina. More than most."
I glanced sideways.
Lucas had stepped onto the treadmill beside me and started running, his expression calm.
Honestly, I didn't want to deal with him right now.
He wasn't the kind of protagonist who sacrificed everything for others, but he was dangerous.
"I just have a habit," I replied.
"It shows," he said.
We ran in silence.
Time passed.
Lucas clearly wanted to say something but he hesitated whenever he saw how focused I was.
Finally, he just went for it.
"So," he said, "have you decided about my proposal?"
"It's still a no."
He was quiet for a moment.
"Why not?" he asked.
I slowed the treadmill and eventually stopped, wiping sweat from my forehead.
"Let me ask you something," I said. "What do you see in me?
Lucas stared at me, eyes narrowing slightly, like he was looking at a puzzle he couldn't solve.
Instead of answering, he closed his eyes and sighed.
"Alright," he said. "I'll stop bothering you. But the offer still stands."
He stepped off the treadmill and left without looking back.
I watched him go for a second, then moved on to the other equipment.
We both had our own paths to walk.
For now.
Lucas's POV — Luck and White Light
'What do you see in me?'
It was an impossible question for Lucas to answer.
But he couldn't stop thinking about it.
He still remembered the day he first got his ability.
After working, saving, and grinding to finally afford a skill, he was excited — only to end up with a level 2 skill that had nothing to do with combat.
He cursed it at first.
All his dreams of being a frontline hero disappeared.
But when he activated the skill for the first time… his world changed.
[Luck Point {2}]
Allows the user to see luck points beneficial to him.
Color Meanings:
Red — Misfortune
Blue — Neutral
Yellow — Good luck
Gold — Great fortune
White — Unknown. Could be extremely lucky… or extremely unlucky.
Since then, Lucas's life had changed.
He learned how to manipulate his own odds.
He avoided disasters.
He walked toward opportunities.
He still remembered the lottery ticket that had glowed yellow — and the pile of money he gained from it.
He also remembered the first time he saw something glow gold:
His family's necklace.
He'd worn it every day since.
"Are you still worried about that boy?" a voice echoed in his mind.
It wasn't his own.
He nodded slightly as he walked down the corridor to his room.
"I am," he murmured.
"Don't worry," the voice said. "That boy glows white. You've figured out most other colors. Try influencing this one yourself."
Lucas frowned.
"That's the problem," he said quietly. "Most of the time, he glows white. But when I invite him into my group, it turns blue."
Neutral.
Balanced.
He didn't know if that meant he was preventing disaster… or missing a miracle.
He muttered under his breath.
"What's so special about him…?"
He'd done countless small tests with his skill.
He knew colors could change based on choices and circumstances.
When he first met Arlo, the boy glowed red — misfortune.
When Lucas chose to bring Arlo into his group, that red turned yellow.
Opportunity.
But Dreyden was different.
Always white.
Always unknown.
"And you're not going to say anything else?" Lucas asked the voice.
No answer.
He clicked his tongue softly, speeding up his pace.
"What a strange situation…"
The necklace at his chest glowed gold in his perception.
And somewhere in the Triangle…
Dreyden Stella shone white.