Lian slept for three hours as usual, then dragged himself to class the next day.
The campus was already busy when he arrived. Students moved between buildings with coffee and notebooks, some discussing assignments, others laughing about unrelated things. A couple sat together on a bench near the walkway, quietly talking while holding hands.
Lian walked past them and entered the Class D building.
Inside the classroom, he took his usual seat at the back near the window.
Outside, a few birds sat on a tree branch. One of them suddenly took off into the air.
Flying would be cool, I guess.
He rested his head on the desk. Most teachers in Class D barely checked on students.
No one really noticed or cared even when Lian slept during class.
This time, however, before he could doze off, a conversation caught his attention.
It came from the class clown—the guy who usually asked stupid questions just to make everyone laugh.
The history teacher had been explaining a past war, describing how a Sequence 4 warrior had nearly turned the entire war alone before it ended in a treaty, later going on to help found our country and spent years developing it. Along with some boring historical geopolitical shit.
Right then, the class clown raised his hand.
He said with a straight face, "how can I become Sequence 4… what's the fastest way?"
Lian's eyes shifted toward the teacher, anticipating the answer.
The teacher adjusted his glasses and replied calmly.
"We all know that to ascend from Sequence 1 to 2, you refine your ether pathways—making them denser, smoother, and increasing storage."
"After you reach peak stage, you condense that ether into a single point and form an ether core, becoming Sequence 2."
He continued without any enthusiasm.
"After that at Sequence 2 peak stage, you saturate the ether core with energy and compress it. Once it stabilises, you reach Sequence 3."
"For Sequence 3 to 4, you expand the ether core while maintaining its density. That density determines your capacity and output—the core stays compressed, just larger."
The class was quiet for a moment.
Then the class clown raised his hand again.
"So… what about Sequence 5? How do I become that?"
The entire classroom burst into laughter.
"Become Sequence 2 first," the teacher said drily. "Forming the ether core is far harder than you think, so focus on what you can actually do."
He paused before continuing.
"As for Sequence 5, it's only vaguely mentioned in historical records. No one really knows much about it."
The classroom grew a little quieter.
"The higher the sequence, the harder it becomes to ascend." the teacher added. "Even I barely managed to reach Sequence 3, and I've been stuck at the initial stage for the past ten years."
Lian listened to this intently, his earlier drowsiness completely gone.
He slowly fell into deep thought.
There are far too many inconsistencies in history…
How did that random guy who appeared out of nowhere manage to tilt the entire balance of the war by himself?
And how did he go from that… to founding a nation and developing it afterwards?
In this world, to become truly powerful, strength alone isn't enough, Lian thought.
What's the use of being Sequence 4 if you don't have the Sequence 4 runes? You can't even display that level of power.
And if you have the runes but not the strength to use them, that's useless too.
Runes weren't something a single person could easily obtain.
They required resources, rare materials, and skilled engineers capable of designing weapons, attuning spells into them, and creating stable enchantments. That kind of work usually needed an entire organisation of intelligent people working together.
Let's say he somehow found them through some inheritance… maybe from a fragmented domain or an ancient ruin. That could explain how he obtained powerful runes.
But that still doesn't explain everything.
How did he go on to develop an entire nation?
That required leadership, planning, political skill, and countless other abilities.
What are the odds that some random hero just happens to be good at everything?
The lecture continued in the background while Lian remained lost in his thoughts.
Eventually, the bell rang.
"Break time. Gotta fill my water bottle."
As Lian got up with the crowd, the teacher stopped him.
"Stay a minute."
When the class emptied, the teacher sighed. "I don't mind if you skip once or twice a week, but you only show up once or twice a week. Try to come regularly. I expected more since you came from Class B. Don't make me write to your parents. Other teachers already would have."
Lian gave a short apology and walked out.
By the time he stepped into the corridor, the conversation was already fading from his mind.
In the gaps, he studied the world like a puzzle—mapping its hierarchy, its hidden power players, and the systems holding it together. He couldn't find anything useful in news or the history so he went into the conspiracy theories on the internet.
It would sound crazy to anyone else, but through his hacker network, he'd seen files passed around by whistle blowers and people like him. He knew the line between conspiracy and truth was thinner than people thought.
The truth wasn't hidden.
It was buried in lies—so even if you found it, you wouldn't recognise it.
Not every theory held weight. Most of them were true along with some false and some impossible to prove.
Aliens fell into that last category.
Lian believed they existed. He just didn't buy the idea that they were secretly living among humans or working with governments. It didn't fit his logic.
Working with governments made no sense. A species capable of interstellar travel wouldn't need Earth's resources.
Observation, maybe—studying humans like ants in a glass tank.
UFO crashes made even less sense—if planes have autopilot, something that advanced wouldn't crash or even be detectable.
The thought lingered, which made an old memory resurface in Lian's head.
A memory from his elementary school in his previous world.
The teacher was handing back graded papers, marking corrections as she went. She paused at his desk.
One question stood out.
It was the only one he had gotten wrong—and it was supposed to be the easiest in the entire paper.
"Earth is the only planet with life. True or false?"
He had marked false.
"It's a simple question," she said, glancing at him. "You probably ticked the wrong option by mistake. Don't repeat this next time."
The boy shook his head. "I think the textbook is wrong."
His face was calm. Honest.
"There are no aliens" the teacher replied.
"Why can't they exist?" he asked.
"Because they simply don't."
the boy frowned slightly, thinking it through. "Proving they exist is hard. But proving they don't is even harder. You'd have to check every planet in the galaxy and confirm there's no life."
He paused, then added, "We don't even know how many planets there are. If life exists on Earth, it can exist somewhere else. Maybe not now, maybe in the past, maybe in the future. It's still possible."
"They don't even need to be flying in UFOs. Even bacteria or simple unintelligent life is still life. That still makes them aliens."
The teacher looked visibly annoyed. She scolded him for acting over-smart and told him to stick to the textbook.
After that, the boy stopped asking questions.
Instead, he started looking for answers himself.