Chapter 39: First day

Waking up early, Tristan fell effortlessly into his morning routine, washing his face, brushing his teeth, and preparing a light breakfast in his penthouse kitchen.

Over the past three days, he had barely left his suite except to train in the high-rank private sector of the campus gym. The hard work had paid off. He could now manifest a single thread of essence, holding it stable for a few brief moments before it dissipated into the air.

He pulled up his status interface to review his progress:

Name: Tristan Verneuil

Rank: Tempered

Essence Core Absorption: 132/5000

Unique Skill: [Reave+] (Mastery: 6%)

Abilities: [Dagger Skill (Basic)] (Mastery: 88%) [Essence Thread] (Mastery: 23%)

[Restrain (Basic)] [1 Use][Momentum (Basic)] [1 Use][Passage (Basic)] [1 Use]

Equipment: [Prowler’s Claw (Low-Grade)] [Brass Conduit (Low-Grade)]

Beyond his essence manipulation, Tristan had spent hours on cardio and heavy compound lifts. Checking his reflection in the mirror before getting dressed, he nodded in subtle approval, his physical conditioning was coming along cleanly.

Living in the Sovereign Wing meant he missed out on the communal dorm chatter, though he preferred it that way. Frustration was already brewing across campus; unranked freshmen and recommended nobles were growing bitter over the luxurious privileges handed to the top-ranked students. Rumors were circulating that higher ranks were being ambushed or challenged to duels constantly.

Opening his phone’s leaderboard, Tristan glanced at the current top ten:

Rank 1: Tristan Verneuil

Rank 2: Alexander Ashkin

Rank 3: Marcus Vance

Rank 4: Elena Vane

Rank 5: Lucas Thorne

Rank 6: Chloe Bennett

Rank 7: Seraph Ecclesia

Rank 8: Yumi Emery

Rank 9: Kaius Drake

Rank 10: Sophia Ward

Yumi had already fought her way into eighth place. Tristan smiled faintly, not at all surprised that the battle-crazed girl had claimed her first victim so quickly.

He poured himself a fresh cup of coffee, watching the steam rise. It was hard to believe only a few weeks had passed since he transmigrated. He still felt critically under-geared and lacking high-tier abilities, but fixing that would have to wait until after he dealt with the upcoming Red Mist issue.

Finishing his coffee, Tristan grabbed his bag and headed out for his very first class: Combat Theory.

The lecture hall was massive, built like a Roman amphitheater with tiered stone seating. Tristan found a seat near the end of the middle aisle. While scrolling on his phone, waiting for the lecture to start, he was interrupted by a short boy with dusty brown hair.

"Is anyone sitting here?"

Tristan shook his head and motioned that the seat was free.

"Thanks, I had a class earlier today and I accidentally took some nobles’ seats. Apparently they were a big shot or something," the boy said, rolling his eyes. "By the way, I’m Toby".

"Nice to meet you, I’m Tristan", Tristan replied politely. He vaguely remembered Toby as a minor character in the game. The loyal type, though not particularly remarkable.

Toby looked at Tristan curiously then remarked, "Wait! Aren’t you the rank 1 student?".

Tristan smirked, "I suppose my fame precedes me".

Toby, clearly impressed, was about to launch a barrage of questions, but at that moment the whole room went silent. The instructor had arrived.

The instructor was a tall, lanky man with several scars on his face, proving his battle experience. He wore a suit a few sizes too large and had a relaxed posture. Though his appearance was a bit odd, no one questioned his abilities.

The professor cleared his throat, "Ahem. Ahem. Hello, you may refer to me as Professor Jones or Professor J. Now no need for introductions, we will have plenty of time to learn about each other over the year".

He paused for a moment scanning the room. Then proceeded, "This class is combat theory, so can anyone tell me what separates the elite from the rookies?".

The room was silent.

"About 20 years," the professor answered, chuckling at his own joke.

Tristan overheard Toby groaning next to him. He fought the urge to do the same.

Professor Jones continued, "Though I was joking, age does play a factor. The more important variable though experience and age is a great indicator of experience. My goal is to cram as much information as I can into the minds of you young people and maybe you’ll get to my age".

And with that, the professor revealed the first lesson: Unique Skill Classifications.

"Understanding the exact category of your unique skill is not academic fluff," the professor announced, writing seven bold terms across the blackboard. "It dictates your growth. If you possess a fire-based skill classified under Restoration rather than Conjuration, and you focus solely on burning things down, you are throwing away half your potential."

The professor paced along the podium, his voice echoing. "Skill mastery is what pushes your core to evolve. Once you reach Master rank, there are no more essence stones that can force a breakthrough to Ascendant rank. It requires pure, absolute mastery of your concept, and usually, a monumentally heroic feat."

The instructor paused, his gaze sweeping the hall before locking onto Tristan. "Take Cadet Verneuil’s father, for instance. An Ascendant warrior who earned his title, the ’Demon Slayer’, by slaying a high-tier demon in one on one combat."

Tristan kept his face completely neutral as the eyes of every student in the lecture hall snapped toward him.

The professor turned back to the board, detailing the seven primary classifications:

Ascension: Passive or active self-amplification of baseline qualities.

Conjuration: Creation and manipulation of external forces or constructs.

Restoration: Reverting matter, energy, or living tissue to a prior state.

Transformation: Altering the intrinsic physical state of a target or self.

Perception: Expanding how information is gathered and processed.

Dominion: Direct manipulation of identity, ownership, and space.

Authority: Imposing absolute, unalterable rules onto reality.

***

As Professor Jones wrapped up class he gave a final request, "Your homework will be to find and exchange contact information with a student with each different skill classification. It’s fine if you can’t find one with dominion or authority because they’re quite rare".

Tristan rubbed his eyes and stretched before throwing his books in his spatial bag. It’s been years since he had sat in a lecture hall and he didn’t miss the feeling. The class was interesting, but he had already known most of the material from his gaming experience.

"What class do you have next?" Toby wondered.

Tristan checked his schedule, "Looks like Practical Combat. What about you?".

"Aww shucks, I got Monster Identification. I’ll see you around then!" Toby replied disappointedly before hurrying off.

Tristan also got up and headed towards the training ground. He wasn’t a fan of physical training in his original world, but in this new body he felt quite fit. ’Maybe it’ll actually be quite enjoyable’.

***

It was hell. The instructor, a grizzled, scarred veteran, hadn’t bothered with a speech. Tristan barely had time to read "Prof. Mann" of the burly man’s nametag before he was immediately to run. He wasn’t given a time or a distance, just a command. By the time the instructor ordered them to stop, nearly every cadet was doubled over, gasping for air. Tristan rested his hands on his knees, his lungs burning and sweat drenching his shirt.

"Look at you!" the instructor bellowed, walking among the exhausted students with his arms crossed behind his back. "Pathetic! You strut around campus flexing your entry ranks and noble names, yet a simple warm-up leaves you suffocating in the dirt!"

The instructor gestured toward the open dueling ring at the center of the track.

"Conditioning is over Ladies," he barked. "I’ve picked a partner for each of you. You will duel one pair at a time in front of the entire class. It’s time to see what you can actually do when someone is trying to take your head off, and I will personally point out every single flaw in your technique".