[A/N: no harem, no ecchi, no NTR, no yuri, no damn short lived fulfillment. If you're here for these, then you probably don't want to add this to your collection]

Main Synopsis ↓

Let me be honest with you.

I'm Ren Mora. Weakest student in Silvic High. No ability, no rank, no business being here. For almost three years, I've been everyone's favourite punching bag. Which, honestly, takes more skill than people give me credit for.

Then I died. Briefly. And apparently, that was enough to qualify me for a system.

Not the generous kind that hands you godlike powers and a harem. The inconvenient kind, that throws me into life-threatening tournaments, assigns me a holographic guide with zero sympathy, and calls becoming stronger a process.

I've beaten bullies. Survived gang ambushes. Walked into a rival school and started a fight I probably shouldn't have. And somewhere between all of that, I ended up with an S-rank ability nobody can explain and a best friend I refuse to admit I had until it was too late.

Now there's a government academy, a conspiracy that runs deeper than I want to know, and a system that's been lying to me since day one.

Graduation can't come fast enough.

Riven had his hands on his head. The pose of someone who had walked into a mess and had no choice but to walk straight through it. He regretted the exact hour he'd walked into the staff room and requested an application form for the BHA.


Apparently, he wasn't alone in that. Cael was fidgeting thoughtlessly with his spoon, stabbing into his porridge one too many times like it had personally offended him. Zael was working very hard to not frown with every bite he took — which was impressive, considering the porridge. He'd been the one who'd decided in the first place that it was a good idea for them to come here. He'd convinced them to apply because he hadn't wanted to be alone.


For every reason available, Riven felt the urge to pulp his brain right there on the cafeteria table.


Chapter 41 - Porridge Politics.