Levi was slowly becoming a little irritated. That was unusual for him; after the things he'd seen and done, most annoyances tended to slide off him like water off stone.

  His sister thinking him a failure? Okay. His fellow students laughing and sneering at him? Let them. His father threatening to disown him? Sure, why not.

  Levi had watched entire cities burn to the ground. He had heard countless grieving parents, widows, and orphans curse his name with abject hatred. Compared to that, petty insults and taunts were nothing.

  Even so, however, his patience wasn’t limitless.

  Levi had been willing to accept Lord Ironwood treating him like shit because he was both his father and a marquis. There was a chance Levi might need to utilize his political power or ask for help in the future, and he didn’t want to burn that bridge just yet.

  He had been a little less willing to accept Professor Heimler threatening him with magic. Levi had almost responded in kind were it not for Andevar stopping him. He still didn’t know why Andevar had been so panicked – Heimler was just a professor. What was the worst he could’ve done? Give him some detention?

  Though, Levi had to admit the magic Professor Heimler had displayed was… unusual. While it seemed to freeze the air around him, it didn’t feel like ice elemental magic. Instead, it felt more fundamental in nature. Even stranger was how the magic seemed to be shaped and powered by something external. But he digressed.

  What Levi wasn’t willing to accept was being a victim of schoolyard bullying. That would be way too embarrassing. Besides, he was fucking starving – he’d had to skip breakfast to attend the meeting with his father. All he wanted to do right now was grab something to eat and have a nice cup of tea. But instead, he had Winthrop blocking his way and monologuing at him like some third-rate villain.

  There was only so much inconvenience he could tolerate in a day before he finally reached his limit.

  Or maybe he just wanted to cut loose a little. There was that, too.

  The crowd was restless with anticipation. Levi could see several people exchanging betting slips. Beside him, Andevar had gone very pale. He was a bit overdramatic, huh.

  Across from him, Winthrop had entered a stance. Levi categorized all the details automatically – left foot forward, weight slightly back, hands up in a guard position. A physical fighter, then. Well-trained, too. Winthrop’s balance was measured, his guard tight. No openings.

  Well, okay. No openings to most people. To Levi, Winthrop looked to be as well-defended as a newborn chick.

  He supposed he shouldn’t judge. He was fighting a teenager, after all. A teenager still in school, at that. How old was Winthrop? Seventeen? Eighteen?

  Levi had never attended school. When Levi was Winthrop’s age, he’d already become Death’s servant and survived over a dozen life-or-death experiences on various missions. Privately, Levi felt Winthrop had the better lot.

  At least this wouldn’t be a complete waste of time. Admittedly, Levi was pretty curious to see how the people of this world fought. If he wanted to, he could end this fight before anyone even had the time to blink, but that wouldn’t give him any information.

  There was also the more pressing issue of Levi not knowing how effective healing magic was in this world yet – not to mention the potential insurance and litigation risks. That had been one of the first, and most painful, lessons he’d learned from his time in Death’s service.

  So he just stood there and waited for Winthrop to make the first move. Partly because he was curious to see what type of attacks Winthrop would use, and partly because he needed his subsequent actions to be categorized as self-defense.

  Just in case.

  Winthrop lashed out with a lightning-fast jab. Levi had no issues avoiding this, on account of having had to regularly dodge actual lightning before–

  Levi blinked as Winthrop’s fist grazed his hair.

  Okay. Fuck.

  Immediately, he realized his two fatal mistakes.

  One: this body wasn’t his own. While his mind and magic might’ve been the same, everything else was different. His speed was dramatically reduced, his reflexes nonexistent, stamina diminished, muscle memory shot, even his brain’s raw reaction time was slower. Running some rapid calculations, he estimated he was operating at eight, perhaps nine percent of his peak physical combat effectiveness. Fuck, how hadn’t he realized this until now? He hadn’t made such an egregious tactical blunder in years. Retirement really had made him rusty.

  Two: Winthrop was fucking fast. Far faster than he had any right to be. The punch had been mana-powered, yet Levi had barely sensed any mana build-up before the punch had snapped toward his face, and even then the amount of mana didn’t appropriately reflect the power amplification of the punch.

  Was this related to the greater amount of ambient magic in the air? Slowly, a hypothesis began forming in Levi’s mind. Upon awakening in this world, he’d sensed that there was far more ambient magic present than his previous world. Could this mean that the people of this world were also stronger, magically-speaking?

  But that didn’t explain the mana efficiency, nor the near-factory perfectness of Winthrop’s attacks. It was almost as though there was something external guiding and shaping his strikes…

  With a start, Levi recalled the essay Andevar had written.

  Was this what the term ‘System’ had referred to?

  Levi didn’t have any more time to ponder on this new development. Winthrop pressed him with a flurry of attacks, and Levi was forced to give ground, barely avoiding each strike as he was pushed backward toward the edge of the crowd. The only reason he hadn't been struck yet was experience. Despite his inferior physical conditioning, he outclassed Winthrop entirely in terms of sheer skill.

  He could read every attack Winthrop made with ease, from the tilt in his shoulders, to the direction his eyes flickered, to even the minute shifts in his footwork. That kept him ahead enough to evade the incoming onslaught – but it wouldn’t be enough. Already, this body was getting winded.

  Should he end the fight now? Levi briefly considered it, but decided against it. He needed to get used to fighting in this body, and this would serve as decent practice.

  “You’re not even going to try to fight back?” Winthrop asked in between punches. He wasn’t breathing hard at all. “Pathetic, Levi. That’s the problem with you – you never try, and even when you do, you fucking fail at it.”

  Levi didn't respond. Magic threaded through his body in diagnostic waves, checking muscle integrity, nerve response, and skeletal stress points. His mind ran calculations in parallel – where the muscles were weak, where the connective tissue would tear first, optimal mana ratios each part could handle before rupturing.

  “If the Institute won’t expel you, then I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands,” Winthrop sneered. “Let’s see how badly I have to maim you until you give up becoming an adventurer. I’m sure your father won’t mind. Hell, he might even send me a letter of thanks.”

  Using reinforcement magic on an unfamiliar and unconditioned body was asking for trouble. Most mages Levi knew didn’t even bother with it. It normally took novice martial arts practitioners months if not even years of careful meditation and training before they could even begin safely augmenting their bodies with mana. One wrong move could mean grievous injury or even death.

  Thankfully, Levi was already plenty familiar with both. With one last mental check, he let his magic loose.

  The change was instant. Magic flooded his body, reinforcing muscle fibers, augmenting bone density, and enhancing neural pathways. His limbs immediately felt lighter and his lungs no longer felt like they were inside an oven.

  Much better.

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  Winthrop narrowed his eyes as Levi suddenly began effortlessly flowing through his attacks with a grace that hadn’t been there before.

  “Maiming seems a little excessive, don’t you think?” Levi said mildly, finally gaining enough breathing room to exchange some mid-fight banter.

  “It’s what you deserve,” Winthrop growled as he continued pressing forward. He looked frustrated as Levi practically danced around all the incoming strikes, his expression relaxed, as though he were taking a pleasant stroll through a meadow.

  Levi, for his part, was busy picking apart Winthrop’s fighting style. It was a striking style that used both the hands and feet, a mix of punches and kicks that were all enhanced with some sort of mana amplification. Winthrop was getting faster and stronger too as the fight went on. While he might have been holding back at the beginning, he definitely wasn’t now.

  A downward axe kick slammed downward so fast it whistled through the air, and Levi had to twist to the side to avoid it. The quartz floor cracked beneath the blow, sending up a cloud of shining dust.

  Levi frowned, narrowing his eyes slightly. That had been a genuine blow, not fit for a hallway fight. He had no doubt his skull would’ve cracked right open if the kick had connected.

  Had the previous Levi been bullied like this too? Been surrounded by a crowd and brutally pummeled for their amusement?

  “I don’t understand,” Levi said, his voice suddenly hard. “Do you enjoy this? Do you find it fun to beat up those weaker than you?”

  That question seemed to enrage Winthrop for some reason. “You think I’m doing this for fun?” He asked harshly. “You think I’m doing this because I enjoy it? I’m doing this because it’s my duty, you wretched cur.”

  “Your duty to rile up a mob and cripple me?”

  “My duty to prevent someone like you from killing someone like me!”

  A deafening BAM echoed throughout the hall. Great gusts of wind blasted out from where Winthrop’s fist had impacted Levi’s cheek and been stopped in place. The force had been powerful enough to pulverize a boulder, and several onlookers flinched automatically.

  Levi didn’t give any indication that he’d been hit. His head remained perfectly still as he looked at Winthrop, his expression indecipherable, seemingly not noticing Winthrop’s fist still pushed against his face.

  “What do you mean by that?” he asked.

  Winthrop seemed confused by how his punch hadn’t done any damage, but he answered anyway, glaring at Levi as he withdrew his fist.

  “Are you daft? If you graduate and become an adventurer, people will end up relying on you. Innocent civilians, your party members – a fucking cat for all I know! And you’ll fail them like you always do. You’re going to get someone fucking killed out there, Levi. I won’t let that happen. If that means I have to cripple you beyond repair, then so be it.”

  Levi was quiet as he held Winthrop’s gaze. Winthrop stared fiercely back at him, and beneath the haughty noble exterior, Levi could see a hint of iron conviction peeking through.

  This entire time, he’d assumed that Winthrop was just an arrogant noble bully, a brute picking on someone weaker than himself.

  But…

  The previous Levi had been a cheat and a failure. He might have just been the laughingstock of the Institute — but what about afterward? What about after he entered the field? Would his incompetence have resulted in someone’s death?

  “I see,” Levi said quietly. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Tch,” Winthrop said. “You shouldn’t even have needed to be told. Are you truly so short-sighted and selfish?” He shook his head in disgust. “Just quit, Levi. Give up on being an adventurer and we can end this right now.”

  Levi tilted his head, considering the best way to respond.

  Then, he stepped forward and unleashed his first attack of the fight.

  John Winthrop was feeling slightly disconcerted.

  This fight hadn’t gone like it was supposed to. John had expected this to end like every other time he’d beaten up the former disinherited Ironwood heir – Levi on the ground, begging for mercy, only this time, John wouldn’t give him any. He would’ve been punished, of course, but he was John Winthrop of House Winthrop. He would’ve weathered any and all repercussions with the solemn resolve of the Knight that he was.

  However, Levi hadn’t gone down. At the beginning, he’d barely been able to dodge John’s blows – which was already an anomaly by itself. But halfway through, Levi had… changed. He’d become swifter, surer, dodging every attack with an infuriating ease. It had been downright jarring.

  John was strong. He was considered a prodigy, nearly ten levels higher than the average Institute graduate, and had even already awakened a low-intermediate Concept. If it weren’t for her, he would’ve easily been the strongest Institute graduate in over a decade. As it stood, he was confident he was already on par with most silver-tier adventurers out there. Though he didn’t have his sword or shield with him, his unarmed skills should’ve been more than enough to slaughter Levi over a hundred times over.

  Actually, forget the skills. Just the difference in their raw base stats should’ve meant the fight would’ve lasted no longer than five or six seconds. He’d even used [Institute Registry] on Levi multiple times throughout the course of the fight, and each time it had returned the same thing.

  Levi Ironwood

  Level 14.

  John Winthrop was fucking Level 34. Over double his level.

  What the fuck.

  Then Levi had taunted him with those questions, and in his frustration and anger, John had landed a full-powered punch to Levi’s face.

  Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

  John honestly hadn’t even expected it to connect, and the second it did, he’d instantly regretted it. He’d held nothing back: the punch had been empowered with his [Crushing Blow] skill, a [First Strike] damage amplifier, a [Critical Hit] effect, as well as his Conceptual skill, [Weight of Subjugation], which temporarily tripled the mass of his weapon (or fist) without actually changing its weight.

  There had been enough power behind that punch to put a hole through solid concrete; John had been scared that he’d genuinely killed Levi; he was pretty sure Levi’s Constitution was too low to withstand the blow.

  It had no effect on Levi at all.

  John didn’t understand. Levi’s head didn’t even jolt or shake a little from the impact. John wasn’t even sure how that was possible – it was as though the laws of momentum had been repealed while he wasn’t paying attention. Had Levi acquired some sort of defensive magical artifact? That must’ve been it.

  House Ironwood wasn’t necessarily an old family like House Winthrop, but it was a powerful one. Their vaults ran deep, and Levi could’ve easily pilfered some arcane item or enchanted talisman.

  Still, magical artifacts didn’t make an adventurer. The mindset did, and John knew Levi didn’t have it.

  Levi was silent for a moment, tilting his head. For a second, John thought that he was going to take the offer, which he admitted brought a slight sense of relief. While the other students might’ve enjoyed watching this like some blood sport, John himself didn’t take too much pleasure at the thought of having to break Levi entirely.

  Then, Levi stepped forward and moved.

  John immediately began to defend, but somehow, impossibly, Levi was even faster. He reached out toward John, slipped past his hasty guard, and before John could even blink, Levi’s right hand was hovering right next to his neck. John’s eyes widened in alarm, a cold chill running down his spine–

  He froze as Levi gently clasped his shoulder.

  “I don’t blame you for acting this way,” Levi said softly, so quiet only John could hear. “Frankly, there’s not really much I can say here to change your mind. All I can ask is that you give me another chance.”

  John reflexively began to scoff, but then went silent when he saw the look in Levi’s eyes.

  Levi looked... tired. Weary. But with a definite steel to it. John had often seen that expression before on seasoned war veterans – the likes of Professor Heimler or Marquis Ironwood or Cadmus Locke. He hadn’t ever expected to see it on Levi.

  It was a look that said the wielder had seen hell in the face, stared right back, and found it lacking.

  John swallowed slowly. He cleared his throat. “Well,” he said loudly, blustering, forcing a smirk to his face, “If you’re going to beg like that, I suppose I can show you some mercy for a little longer.”

  Levi nodded. “I appreciate it.”

  He tapped his shoulder once, almost friendly-like, before turning and walking away toward the dining hall. Several members of the crowd moved to block him, but John stopped them with a raised hand.

  “John?” Thomas Blackridge asked, stepping up to him. “Hey, what gives? Why did you take it easy on Levi with that punch there, much less let him go afterward? Don’t tell me you feel bad for that mutt?”

  “Ha!” Marcus Vellidan laughed. “John’s not that sentimental. He probably did it so I’d win my bet, huh?” He grinned, slinging an arm around John’s shoulder and elbowing him in the side. “A hundred to one odds that he leaves without any broken bones, may the System fucking bless you. I made a KILLING today, my brother from another mother.”

  John was silent for a long moment as he watched Levi’s retreating back. The commoner, Baker, was also with him, though trailing a respectable few steps behind. A couple people in the crowd were calling out insults and jeers after them, and even more had turned on John and were angrily accusing him of intentionally throwing the fight.

  “Yeah,” he said, barely even hearing his own voice. His heart was still pounding furiously in his ears, his mouth drier than the desert.

  Levi had only clasped his shoulder just now, but if he’d wanted to… John suppressed a shudder at the thought. On an intellectual level, he knew that none of Levi’s attacks would have been able to hurt him. He’d once taken Levi’s strongest attack to the face and gotten nothing more than a bloody nose.

  But on a baser, instinctual level?

  It felt like someone had walked over his grave.

  What the fuck had happened to Levi Ironwood?