3 Months has passed. Larian was still attending school so he hurried to class. Yesterday's training was twice as tough resulting in Larian oversleeping, this made him rush through the halls when he would usually move unseen.

His existence caught the attention of most students.

"Why hasn't this guy dropped out? How can Selarian Academy be prestigious if trash like this is allowed to roam its halls?"

"This disgusting bastard still hasn't quit? Cheaters like him who play with women's hearts deserve to die a hundred times over."

"Tsk. How can this trash still dare wear our uniforms, isn't he ashamed of everything he's brought to this school?"

Various insults were said aloud as Larian passed by the halls. Beneath his uniform, numerous bandages were tied to stop multiple injuries from bleeding into his clothes.

The pain as he moved allowed Larian to keep his mind from being affected by the surrounding chatter.

'As Luman or Larian these insults don't concern me, this is all fake. Fabricated rumours to bring me down. I'm better than this.'

Larian opened the door and entered class, he stopped in front of his supposed desk. It was riddled with insults, most of them hate directed at his involvement with the gem of the school, Triss.

As Larian took his seat, a group of classmates shifted closer.

"Oh? Look at who this is. Someone impersonating a Selarian student! This trash has long dropped out. How is IT still wearing a uniform?"

The nasally voice rang loud in the class attracting the attention of almost everyone. Among them a more outspoken character started laughing out loud as he spoke:

"Ha! This guy still thinks he has a chance, can't you see it's all useless? You should've left years ago, this academy is beyond you."

A spiky blonde haired man. Larian recognised him as the man he met outside the Infirmary a few days ago.

'Hans, I heard some guy call out his name earlier. That should be his nickname, someone of noble birth should have a last name.'

Among the snickering, Hans smacked Larian on his head as he came closer.

"Are you mute?"

Larian, wishing to keep his words to a minimum, replied: "...No."

Hans, seemingly expecting the reply, immediately asked again: "Then why are you still sitting here?"

He eyeball looked straight into Larians eyes, as if expecting him to get off his seat.

"Leave Luman alone, Hans."

The class president, who had just come in, didn't ask the rest of the class to settle down because he never cared much for his rowdy classmates.

Hans thought for a short moment before standing up. Still unsatisfied he continued: "You can't just be in Selarian without any progress, right? Not without giving something up."

He looked towards Larian as he emphasised his last line.

"I just want to find out what's going on in this Luman sized brain of his, besides of course cheating with a slut on the side."

Hans grinned as he riled up the surrounding students, he knew he was controlling the tempo now. The student president, in a headache, rubbed his temple to try to control this loose cannon.

"What's it matter to you? What he does is his business not yours."

Hans brows now furrowed together, "I just think he thinks that he's better than us. He wants to sit here wearing the same uniform while the rest of us bleed sweat and tears upholding the prestige of this school."

His anger resonated with the surrounding students as they stared into Larian almost in agreement.

Larian spoke immediately in retaliation. "I didn't do it!"

"This fucking liar!"

Hans in anger kicked Larian's shin causing the entire desk to topple over.

'Hold it in, there is no use getting into a fight here.'

Larian had imagined fighting back but he knew he was too weak. Not when he was just getting his bearings. Not now.

"What is this mess?"

The teacher, Mr Donnald, donned a black magician robe. Slung on his neck was a Gorget with multiple runes on it. He was slim and had long dirty white hair flowing down to his back messily. His face was frowning when he spoke.

"Handle your issues elsewhere, don't waste my precious time. Get back to your seat and prepare for class now."

Mr Donnalds's frown seemed to never leave his face as he continued. As if it would always have a frown.

Hans wanted to say more but decided to not push his luck and call it quits for now. However, not before spitting on Larian before he settled down. The rest of the groupies followed suit and got back to their seats for the lesson to start.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Rubbing the spit off, Larian sensed that the environment around the class seemed to be in similar consensus to the group. Everyone thought that Luman didn't deserve to be here.

'Whatever, I'll persevere. I swear on my legs I recovered.'

.

.

.

"Magic is the process of guiding your spirituality with your mental energy. This can come in the form of a Magic Circle which shapes the element of your magic. This brings about different effects like mending wounds or shaping a spear from your circle."

"Chanting Magic amplifies that, allowing you to bend the surrounding magic to aid in your cast. Thereby reducing your expenditure, allowing you to amplify your spells with the remainder of your magic."

"Getting aid from your surroundings also has another derivative in which you expend all your magic for the sole purpose of establishing contact with beings like elementals, other mages or Deities to gather their aid. This is Ritual magic."

"Today we are experimenting with establishing contact with the elements around…"

Larian stopped paying attention here. With a suppressed magic talent, there was no need to join the class with their practical lessons. This is because he was still stuck with willing the passing requirement of magic from most year 1s.

But the lesson was not without use. Larian managed to confirm many guesses in his mind.

'Most magicians spread out their magic in a wave to sense the surrounding magic and drag them into their casting magic to amplify it.'

With his miniscule amount of magic, he had to gain power from his surroundings. But without enough magic he was not capable of reaching these pockets of magic. He was stuck.

'I need to use ritual magic not to contact beings of power but to reach the surrounding magic.'

Larian almost chuckled.

'While others seek help from powerful beings, I can only seek help from the air around me.'

In the practice ground, all the students were practising their ritual magic while Larian stood by the sidelines. This is almost routine each lesson. But unlike Luman who only seeked to learn from the others, Larian now put his thoughts into practice.

'To use less magic I have to make the line thin with minimal wastage.'

Larian stretched his magic into a thin line. As it flew out it waved aimlessly.

'Too thin, I'm not reaching any pockets.'

The line kept getting thicker and thicker until it was finally like a rope

'Still nothing. I can't get in touch with anything.'

Attempting different shapes and sizes for 30 mins, Larian seem to make no progress.

'Haah… Hah… This is not it.'

The difficulty was too much for Larian. What he was attempting was equivalent to using a string to catch a drop of rain. While it's possible for the liquid to dangle on the string, to achieve it is almost impossible.

Giving up in dejection, Larian quickly left class as soon as the bell rang to avoid the rest of the students.

Larian didn't head to the school cafeteria. He was despised throughout the whole academy so Larian could only head to the forest.

'If the old lady didn't hog me all night I would've at least prepared myself lunch from the boar I caught yesterday!'

The lady in grey kimono who refused to diverge her name made Larian dubbed her as Mrs Grey, and since she didn't refuse such a nickname it stuck.

Mrs Grey would teach Larian almost everyday after his classes from evening into the night. As repayment, Larian would do chores for her like preparing her dinner. This has continued for 3 months without stopping.

"Mrs Grey! I'm back."

An elegant wooden hut stood in an open area of the forest. In it Mrs Grey sat in a Seiza posture as she sipped her tea.

This used to be a peculiar sight since Larian was sure this culture originated from Japan which he had not included in his novel. This made him research on the surrounding continents.

In his research he found that the city which Selarian reside in is called Trier. Trier is in the central continent which is regarded as the largest continent by size and is neighboured the Yggdrasill to the south-west, the Ashlands to the southeast, Stormgro Coast to the North-east with the Forgotten Isle along its eastern coast and Orkan Valley to the North-west.

'The Forgotten Isles should be Japan's equivalent of this world. The main races of Demons and Monsters lived in the Ashlands while Yggdrasil belonged to the Elfs.'

'Within the Orkan Valley the Giths harnessed the power of the Mountains giving them yellow-skin bulkier physic. Stormgro Coast had unique humans blessed by the Lord of the Sea which gave them their trademark blue hair.'

'All of this is new to me. With how complex this world is. Is this world still based on my novel? Is all of this still fake?'

The people he met, the grass he is touching, the breath he takes in, it made him unsure of his answer. Such complicated thoughts, Larian could only leave them unanswered.

"Boil a pot, the tea has gone cold."

Larian, already in habit, had prepared the firewood.

"Yes Master."

Getting the menial chores done. Larian sat with Mrs Grey drinking tea.

"Throughout these months, I've been curious. What do you think of what has been taught?"

Larian placed the cup in perfect symmetry with his master's cup opposite from the table. This was to not incur the wrath of Mrs Grey's OCD which he had found out the hard way.

"Shinki Style is the skill which produces a sharp slash with the use of the Katana that flies in an arc towards the enemy. Its slices are so sharp and powerful that it is capable of cutting metal like paper."

Mrs Grey nodded and took a sip of her tea.

"That was what I told you when I first taught it to you. What I want is your impression of it."

Larian thought, slightly perplexed.

'My impression? As Larian or Luman? My initial thoughts were that this style is totally for a weeaboo from where I came from, which kind of fits me.

But considering my preference, I would have chosen a bow anytime or the sword with a shield at least.

If one were to forgo any choice of safety of course an amateur would choose the Katana as their starting weapon.'

In the moment Larian blinked, he noticed Mrs Grey had brought down the sheathed blade right over his head.

"You were having rude thoughts, were you not? Stop giving me that smug face of yours before it tempts me to wipe it."

'Fuck, my expressions always betrays me."

Gripping his fist in childish anger, Larian gave his answer that Luman would've given.

"Shinki Style is a technique that specialises in counterattacks. Its technique may be used aggressively to wage a surprise attack against an unsuspecting opponent."

The sheath was still above Larian's head as wcontinued.

"My guess of why you taught me this style was so I would only ever attack in self defence, and if I had to ever fight I would understand the outcome on my first strike and make the decision to flee if needed."

Satisfied with the answer Mrs Grey finally put away the sheath.

"Great, you understand. Considering this is an art for self defence, I would like you to promise me one thing. That is to never use this art to kill someone else."

Larian didn't need to think.

"Of course, I wont attack unless my life is on the line."

'This art only excels when an opponent least expects it, so I can't ever use it unless for a killing blow. Considering that I am deemed the weakest in the Academy, this is perfect for me since everyone expects nothing of me.'

'And its not like there is anyone I want dead…'

Larian paused in his thoughts. Hans, Ren and everyone that has crossed him.

'Sure I hate them, but not enough to wish them dead, and especially not enough compared to how much I hate myself. For being so depressed all the time, and for falling for the accident…'

Larian noticed his surge of anger, so he controlled himself.

'Wew, was spiralling down for a second. I need to contain myself.'

Putting in hard work for the past months had given Larian enough confidence to be bitter towards life. Now instead of despairing over the past he has directed his bitter feelings to better himself everyday.

"I won't kill anyone but myself. Only by tempering myself to be strong enough to kill myself from yesterday will I know my efforts are worth it."

Mrs Grey nearly spat out her tea from the first line, but she quickly released a sigh of relief. Though still pleasantly surprised that Larian would say such a line.

Larian has become more talkative ever since he came to her abode. It was obvious that having someone to talk to comfortably played a big impact in Larian breaking out of his vocal shell.

In the past living in a silent household, his father, who spoke little words was a tough target to converse with since Larian always felt like he was a burden. Like a parasite that leeched off his father, this damaged his pride. As such he didn't dare to speak unless spoken to.

Now the situation was much different, his mentor was easy to talk to and regularly joked and gave advice. Not only that Larian could return the favour with little chores since he had working limbs gave Larian all the confidence he needed to converse.

To Larian this flimsy looking hut was his safe haven, here he felt most comfortable in both worlds.

"Good. Same as yesterday, start by sheathing and unsheathing 1000 times."

Larian nearly shivered. After a heavy regiment, instead of rest he had to continue yesterdays intensity?

'Shit. I shouldn't have teased her.'

Larian had 3 regiments that encompassed the Shinki Art, firstly the sheathing and unsheathing of the blade which affected the quickdraw aspect of the art.

Secondly the slashing encompasses how many strikes one draw can send, on this Larian could only barely hit his mark.

But a true master could slash 10 times in one draw, this Larian seen from Mrs Grey herself. But he suspects this was not the limit of his master from how relaxed she was while doing so.

The last regiment was Qi training.Qi which is the magics equivalent is tied to the blade and sent as a mirror image while one attacks, this would double as an attack while providing variation to the art.

For his regiment, Larian would condense his Qi blade as thin as possible while maintaining its durability through his mental grip on his Qi. This trained his endurance while maintaining this control.

However Larian who had so little Qi had to adopt alternatives, one of which he attempted as ritual magic. Soon there might be a fourth regiment if he finds it.

Larian, who's body and mind completely drained. Draped the straw blanket as he lay on the wooden floor. He was sleeping in a smaller hut he had shaped himself, it looked like a doghouse shaped like a coffin.

In his first day here he had assumed he would sleep in the Elegant hut, but his master had kicked him out the house shouting:

"How dare you intrude into a maiden's house expecting to sleep together! Make your own hut!"

Larian laughed in thought.

'Maiden huh, how can this shameless old woman still calling herself a maiden.'

With such thoughts Larian slept.