Nexus Academy had divided its fifteen hundred freshers into twenty classrooms, seventy-five students to a class.
Seating arrangements and classroom assignments were both done at random.
Even though he’d mentally braced himself to change the storyline as much as he could, he still felt an indescribable exhaustion as he stepped into the same room as the rest of the main cast.
He’d wanted to steer the story from the sidelines, but now he had to face childish teenagers and their stupid politics head-on.
Classroom [B-04]
More than the classroom itself, what exhausted him was the seat he’d been given is right next to Kalen Barthalemou.
The red-haired celebrity punk.
“…I really hate my luck.” Dylan muttered, tapping his finger against the sleek polymer desk, one hand propped against his cheek.
He looked around and noticed several students were still trickling in surprisingly late.
“I figured everyone would rush to get here,” he thought, recalling how he hadn’t managed to sleep a wink all night.
The moment morning came, he’d freshened up and bolted for class in a hurry.
He pulled his phone from the inventory bracelet and checked the time.
7:48 AM
“…”
“So I’m just early,” he muttered, slamming his head against the sleek polymer desk.
The reason was simple, he’d been late to yesterday’s orientation ceremony that he’d overcorrected.
Now he just felt bored, sitting there early with nothing to do.
The classroom’s sensor doors slid open almost soundlessly.
A tall, exquisitely beautiful young woman stepped inside with unhurried grace.
Long silver-white hair flowed past her waist like liquid moonlight, gently swaying with each step.
Her porcelain skin seemed to catch the morning light, while a pair of elegant pointed ears peeked through the silken strands of her hair.
Calm emerald eyes swept across the classroom with quiet composure, and despite wearing the same academy uniform as everyone else, she carried herself with an effortless elegance that made it look tailor-made for her.
Every movement was refined, every step measured, as though the room itself had instinctively fallen silent to welcome her arrival.
Dylan found his gaze lingering for a second longer than he intended.
She wasn’t the kind of beauty that demanded attention through extravagance or charm.
Instead, she possessed a serene, almost ethereal presence that naturally drew every eye toward her without trying.
Even an empty classroom she stood apart as though she belonged to an entirely different world.
Although Dylan had been the one who created her, he couldn’t help but admire the quiet beauty of her presence.
It wasn’t the kind that overwhelmed people at first glance, but the kind that settled gently into the room like the warm sunlight of an autumn morning.
Moments ago, the classroom had felt lifeless and empty.
Now, despite there being only the two of them, it somehow felt brighter…
more alive.
“I spent years creating her on a screen,” Dylan thought with a faint, self-deprecating smile.
“And it took me one glance to realize my imagination had undersold her.”
Their eyes even shared the same shade of green, yet they couldn’t have been more different.
Dylan’s resembled polished emeralds deep and vivid, while hers carried the tranquil hue of flawless jade, calm enough to make anyone who met her gaze instinctively lower their voice.
He quietly looked away before she could notice him, clicking his tongue to himself.
“…No wonder she was one of the fan favourite characters in my past life.”
As if sensing his gaze…
Clarice turned.
Their eyes met.
For the briefest of moments, the world around Dylan seemed to fade into silence.
Those tranquil jade-green eyes reflected no surprise, no curiosity, no emotion he could read.
Yet somehow…
It felt like standing beneath the warm breeze of an autumn afternoon.
“…”
For the first time in a very long while…
Dylan didn’t know what to say.
A man who could shamelessly flirt with complete strangers without batting an eye suddenly found himself awkwardly frozen.
“…Uh…”
Almost on instinct, he gave a small, hesitant wave.
“Hi.”
Clarice blinked once.
Her head tilted slightly to one side, as though she were quietly wondering whether the greeting had been meant for her.
After a brief pause, she simply turned away and walked toward an empty seat by the window with the same calm composure as before.
“…”
Dylan slowly lowered his hand.
“…I just got politely ignored.”
He let out a quiet sigh before resting his forehead against the desk again.
“So this is what defeat feels like…”
Soon, the quiet classroom began to lose it’s silence.
The sensor doors slid open every few seconds as more freshmen trickled inside, chatting amongst themselves while searching for their assigned seats.
Soon looked excited, others looked nervous.
A few already carried themselves as though they owned the academy.
Within minutes, the once-empty classroom gradually filled with conversation.
Backpacks landed beside desks.
Chairs scraped across the polished floor.
Someone complained about getting lost on campus before classes had even started.
“…At last.” Dylan muttered, quietly.
More students kept arriving.
Then, once again, the classroom doors slid open.
“There he is,” Dylan said, glancing toward the golden-haired figure.
Even among the ordinary students, he stood out effortlessly.
Ethan Walker walked into the classroom, bag slung over one shoulder.
The protagonist himself.
Several students immediately recognised him.
Whispers quietly spread across the room.
“Isn’t that Ethan Walker?” one student whispered.
“Yeah, the top scorer,” another replied.
“I heard he scored ridiculously high on the entrance assessment,” a third student added.
Ethan seemed completely oblivious.
He simply smiled politely at a student who accidentally bumped into him before walking toward his assigned seat.
Not long after, another familiar face appeared.
Megha Roy pushed past the crowd without a glance to either side, her eyes locking onto the golden-haired young man across the room.
She didn’t need to try.
Even in the plain academy uniform, with her raven hair swept back into a simple ponytail, heads turned as she passed boys glancing up without quite meaning to.
“Ethan!”
He turned at the sound of his name.
“Oh. Good morning.”
“Yeah, good morning.” Megha crossed her arms.
“You disappeared after orientation yesterday.”
“I got lost.”
She stared at him, genuinely at a loss for words.
“…How?”
“I took a wrong turn.”
“You could’ve used the academy GPS. There are campus maps everywhere, too.”
“I don’t know how to read maps.” Ethan scratched the back of his head, sheepish. Find the original chapter at g.com.
She sighed.
“…You’re unbelievable.” Despite the words, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“So you found your dorm eventually?”
“After asking five different people.” Ethan shrugged.
“First one I asked was a security robot.”
Megha blinked.
“…They have security robots?”
“They do.”
That Surprised Megha, “A robot gave you directions and you still got lost?” she teased.
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks warming slightly.
A few nearby students laughed quietly, and the tension around the pair melted away just as fast as it had risen.
Before the conversation could go any further.
The classroom door slid open again.
“Morning, everyone!”
Nobody needed to turn around to know who it was.
Red hair.
Bright smile.
Energy that filled the room before he even finished stepping through the door.
Kalen Barthalemou walked in like he’d known everyone here for years.
He greeted one student.
Then another.
Someone waved, he waved back twice as enthusiastically.
Within seconds, he’d somehow folded himself into three separate conversations at once.
“…How does he do that?” Dylan muttered.
Kalen’s eyes landed on Ethan.
“Ethan!”
“Oh, hey.”
“You got B-04 too?”
“Looks like it.”
“Awesome!”
Kalen flashed his trademark grin, then turned to Megha without missing a beat.
“I’m Kalen. Kalen Barthalemou.”
“Megha.”
“Nice meeting you.”
“You too.”
Barely two minutes in, and the three of them were already talking like old friends.
“…Extroverts really are terrifying creatures.” Dylan propped his chin on his palm.
“They make lifelong friends before I’ve even finished regretting waking up.”
“Not that I have any room to complain. I’m the one who created them,” Dylan thought.
He felt responsible for their characteristics.
His thoughts were cut short as Leonard walked in, stirring up a small commotion, trailing followers in tow.
“…Does that guy actually think he’s a king?” Dylan muttered, blinking.
Little by little, the noise died down as students found their way to their assigned seats.
Kalen glanced around the classroom, checking the number taped to his desk.
“…Seat twenty-three…”
He looked up.
“…Oh!”
His eyes landed on Dylan.
“Looks like we’re neighbours.” Kalen was already crossing the room before Dylan could brace himself.
The cheerful redhead dropped into the seat beside him with the ease of someone greeting an old friend not someone he’d met less than a minute ago yesterday.
So it really is you, Dylan sighed internally.
“…Morning,” he said.
At almost the exact same moment, several girls near the doorway noticed where Kalen had sat.
“…He’s sitting there.”
“…Lucky.”
“…Who’s the guy beside him?”
“…No idea.”
“…They don’t seem close.”
“…Maybe they just got assigned together.”
“…The other guy’s actually pretty good-looking too.” One girl among the crowd said.
“…Yeah, but he’s kind of short, isn’t he?” Another chimed in.
Dylan’s smile didn’t so much as twitch.
Short.
“Did she really just said short,” Dylan thought angrily.
Kalen noticed.
He scratched the back of his head, sheepish.
“…Sorry about that.”
“Hm?”
“My fans.” Kalen offered an apologetic smile.
“They can get a little overenthusiastic.”
Dylan glanced toward the cluster of girls, then back.
“…I’ve noticed.”
“They’re harmless. I promise.”
“I know,” Dylan muttered.
Kalen rubbed the back of his neck.
“Hope they didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“I’ve survived worse. A few teenage girls aren’t much of a problem.” Dylan shrugged, extending a hand.
“…Guess we never got a proper introduction, yesterday didn’t really count.”
“Kalen Barthalemou.” Kalen shook it.
“Dylan Harrow.” He met the grip firmly.
“Officially, this time. Nice meeting you.”
“You too.” Kalen held on a beat longer than necessary.
Kalen leaned back, comfortable.
“Got a feeling we’ll get along.”
“…We’ll see,” Dylan muttered, settling into his own seat.
Before either of them could continue, the classroom lights dimmed slightly.
The sensor doors slid open.
A man in his early thirties entered carrying a stack of worn books beneath one arm.
He wasn’t particularly tall, nor did he possess the commanding aura of Professor Diana Everhart or Chairman Marcus Marrow.
Instead…
He carried the quiet confidence of someone who had devoted his entire life to knowledge.
His chestnut-brown hair had been neatly combed back, while a pair of thin rectangular glasses rested upon the bridge of his nose.
Several faded ink stains decorated the sleeve of his academy coat, and the worn leather satchel slung over his shoulder clinked softly with every step, revealing the unmistakable sound of engraving tools rather than paperwork.
He placed the books onto the lectern before turning toward the class.
“Good morning.”
“My name is Hector Aldridge.”
“I’ll be your homeroom instructor…”
A collective sigh escaped several students.
Especially from the male students who expected Professor Diana as the homeroom instructor.
Who wouldn’t want a beautiful young lady as their homeroom instructor Dylan thought quietly.
“…I wish it was Professor Diana,” Dylan muttered under his breath.
Even so he had no complaints about Hector.
Although only an A-Rank Awakener, Hector Aldridge was regarded as one of humanity’s greatest authorities on Runecraft.
Whenever governments uncovered forgotten runic ruins…
They called Hector.
Whenever newly translated glyphs emerged from unexplored dungeons…
They called Hector.
Whenever Dwarven scholars and Elven researchers found themselves arguing over ancient magical inscriptions…
They somehow ended up calling Hector to settle the debate.
Strength alone had never defined greatness.
Knowledge did.
If anyone deserved to teach Glyph Magic Theory…
It was him.
“…Only problem is he’s way too serious.”
Dylan rested his chin on his hand.
“And…”
“…he’s one of the first major bosses.”
Professor Hector adjusted his glasses.
“Before we begin…”
“Welcome to Nexus Academy.”
“You stand here today because you were chosen from among thousands of applicants.”
“Never forget that.”
The classroom became completely silent.
Dylan watched the professor for a long moment.
Six months from now…
Everything would change.
Crushed beneath grief after losing his beloved wife and consumed by the worsening schizophrenia that had haunted him for years, Hector Aldridge would eventually accept the hand extended by the terrorist organization Morningstar.
The resulting tragedy would become one of the academy’s darkest days.
“…What a waste,” Dylan thought quietly.
“It was such a simple cliche.” Who wouldn’t thought that a simple professor would be secretly a minor antagonist.
“Teenage me really thought this was some revolutionary twist.” Dylan thought.
Professor Hector picked up a piece of chalk before writing two elegant words across the smart board.
Glyph Magic.
“Today’s lesson,” he began, “is merely an introduction.”
“Long before humanity understood mana, before the first modern Awakener was recorded, two races had already mastered the language through which mana could be given form.”
“The Dwarves.”
“And the Elves.”
“Together, they preserved the Twenty-Four Primordial Runes the foundation upon which every discipline of Glyph Magic still stands today.”
Dylan listened quietly.
Back on Earth…
Back when he had still been Yoo Hajin…
He had been obsessed with Norse mythology.
Hours had disappeared as he read about ancient runes, old legends, and forgotten gods.
When he eventually began writing Leveling Up As The Player…
He’d shamelessly borrowed that inspiration.
Those ancient Norse runes had evolved into the Twenty-Four Primordial Runes, the magical language of his world.
A small smile formed on his lips.
“Never thought I’d end up attending a lecture about something I made.”
Professor Hector continued.
“Glyph Magic exists in two primary disciplines.”
“Runecraft.”
“And Sorcery.”
“Runecraft engraves glyphs upon physical mediums like metal, stone, parchment, artifacts, creating lasting magical effects.”
“Sorcery abandons the medium entirely.”
“The caster weaves Runic Formulas through mana itself.”
“Both require absolute understanding of the runes.”
“The only difference…”
“…is where those runes are written.”
Dylan’s eyes drifted toward Clarice.
In the original story, Clarice had become one of the academy’s finest Sorcerers.
As Elven royalty, she’d been trained in Glyph Magic since childhood.
Even among the Elves, her talent for runic invocation bordered on genius.
The rest of the main cast had taken different paths.
Ethan pursued overwhelming martial strength.
Leonard devoted himself to the sword.
Kalen refined close-quarters combat alongside his lightning techniques.
Megha specialized in a combination of close-quarters combat and marksmanship.
None of them had ever progressed beyond the fundamentals of Glyph Magic.
“…”
That wasn’t an accident.
“Back when I’d still been Yoo Hajin, my readers hated the idea of every important character using magic,” Dylan thought.
“They wanted each member of the main cast to have a distinct fighting style instead of everyone throwing spells around.”
He got comments like
“You have other stuffs too in your power system author use them.”
“If you weren’t even going to use innate Abilities and unique skills. Why the fuck did you even develop them?”
So He listened.
Instead of making Glyph Magic exclusive, He made it incredibly difficult to learn.
Anyone could study it in theory.
In practice…
Mastering all Twenty-Four Primordial Runes demanded years of relentless study, exceptional memory, and precise mana control.
It was a hurdle that defeated the vast majority of people long before they ever cast their first true spell.
That single decision shaped the world.
Most Awakeners including many named characters never advanced beyond the basics of Glyph Magic, choosing to focus on weapons, martial arts, or other combat disciplines instead.
“And now…” A faint smile tugged at Dylan’s lips.
“…It’s about to work in my favour.”
Unlike everyone else, he understood the system behind Glyph Magic better than anyone alive.
After all…
He was the one who had written it.
I don’t need to master both disciplines, Dylan thought quietly.
One is enough.
Runecraft…
Or Sorcery.
Straightening his posture, he turned his full attention to Professor Hector’s lecture, listening to every word with renewed focus.