Looking at the boy in front of me, I couldn't help but curse so violently inside that Satan would tell me to tone it down, and even my ancestors probably woke up in their graves just to facepalm.
'Why... why the actual fuck is this bastard here?'
The bastard in question had brown hair styled like he just rolled out of bed, yet somehow looked like a GQ model. His face? Handsome enough to make nuns rethink their vows — smooth, noble features, the type you want to either punch or kiss, depending on your mental stability that day.
He had that "boy next door who could also bang your mom and get away with it" look.
His green eyes carried a friendly sparkle, but underneath it, I could see the well-trained killer that he was. His posture was perfect, like he spent his whole life being beaten with a stick every time he slouched. Tanned skin, a clean body smell probably infused with thousand-dollar lotion, and a jawline sharp enough to cut through my last shred of patience.
Everything about this guy screamed two words: nobility and nightmares.
His name was Caster — or as I preferred to call him: Legacy dickhead no. 1.
'Yeah, a textbook psychopath with a golden spoon shoved so far up his ass he probably poops privilege. Always looking down on everyone not born with a famous name, especially me — Sunny, the commoner who somehow refuses to stay on the floor and die like a good little worm.'
And just like every rich idiot, he was on a "secret mission" — personally sent by Anvil to kill Nephis of the Immortal Flame clan.
Spoiler alert:
He fails. (He fails so hard it becomes a cautionary tale in future Legacy bedtime stories.)
Sunny (me, the now upgraded version) personally rearranges his insides with a smile later.
Caster sauntered over my table with the easy grace of someone who's never been punched in the face for being too smug, and flashed a fake-ass smile, the kind you give someone right before stabbing them in a dark alley.
"You must be Sunless, right?" he said, voice smoother than a pornstar's best moan.
I didn't bother replying with words — mostly because my mouth was stuffed with enough food to scare a starving orphan.
Instead, I just nodded, chewing like a starved caveman at an all-you-can-eat brothel buffet.
'Motherfucker, Basted, Son of Whore, dickhead.....@$#%#....'
Meanwhile, inside my head, I was viciously cursing this prick for dragging the attention of the entire fucking cafeteria onto us.
It felt like every single pair of eyes was locked onto us... watching... judging... fantasizing.
The staff, the sleepers, the the cafeteria lady with three teeth was giving me a "Y'all about to fuck?" look. instructors — hell, even the janitor mopping up someone's puke — had frozen, turned, and were now staring at us like we were about to passionately make out on the table.
Even Nephis — the ice queen herself — tilted her head, her silver eyes glinting with something dangerously close to curiosity.
And Cassie — the blind bitch with the "I'm innocent but actually plotting your downfall" vibe — was leaning forward like a bloodhound who smelled gossip.
'Yeah, bitch, lean closer. Maybe you'll hear me smothering Caster in his sleep later.'
Caster's fake smile widened like a pervert finding free Wi-Fi.
"So, can I know which clan you belong to?" he asked smoothly, his voice so sugary I almost got diabetes.
'Why, you nosey, bougie, condom-breaking, blue-blooded son of a bitch.' I knew exactly why he asked. It was the classic Legacy dick-measuring contest.
I knew what he was trying to do.
First question: Clan.
Second question: Aspect Rank.
Third: True Name.
Fourth: Invite me to a gay little Legacy tea party where they all compare dicks and pat each other on the back for having famous granddaddies.
I quickly swallowed the mountain of food in my mouth — somehow without dying — wiped my mouth with the back of my hand like the classy barbarian I was, and stared dead into his green eyes.
Whatever. He asked, so I answered
And in the most serious, stone-cold voice I could muster, I said:
"No."
Then I stood up, flipped my long black hair like a emo girl, and walked the hell out of there like a supermodel leaving a table full of peasants.
Behind me, I heard Caster and his groupies choking on their own entitled rage.
"HEY! Caster wasn't done talking yet!"
"Look at that bastard running away!"
"GET BACK HERE, PEASANT!"
I tuned them all out. Their barking was beneath me — the sounds of lapdogs yapping at a wolf.
As soon as I exited the cafeteria into the hallway, I let out a long, tired sigh.
'That could've gone nuclear if I stayed.'
Because I knew Caster's playbook. if I'd stayed, he would've kept poking, prodding, peeling back my secrets like a sadistic stripper trying to make rent.
And eventually, someone would've ended up naked and dead — and probably not in a fun way.
I knew Caster's type too well.
Rich kid.
Daddy issues.
Probably the type to call you "bro" before stabbing you in the gut and asking if you want to hang out later.
'Smartest move? Bail while I could. And maybe commit minor arson later.'
But I wasn't naïve.
Caster wouldn't just let it go.
He'd have his little lapdogs sniffing around me, trying to dig up dirt.
'Good luck with that, Legacy bitch. Even I barely understand my own backstory.' yeah since i have now two live worth of knowledge.
The sheer headache of it all slammed into me like a sledgehammer to the balls.
On impulse — pure, frustrated, testosterone-fueled impulse — I punched the wall beside me.
It was a good punch.
A strong punch.
A heroic punch.
...It also hurt like Satan's dildo.
"FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUCK!!!"
I screamed, instantly regretting every life decision that led me to this point.
The pain shot through my knuckles like a thousand tiny orgasms — but, you know, the bad kind.
"Shit, shit, shit!"
I hissed, blowing on the red mark like a medieval peasant trying to cool molten iron with spit.
Once the searing, pathetic pain dulled into a manageable throb, I shook my hand out, flexed my sore fingers, and started stalking toward the classroom building.
'Why am I like this?'
There was no use wallowing. No use crying over spilled bullshit.
What was done was done.
'Can't change the past.'
'Can't kill Caster... yet.'
'Cassie is a bitch'
'Can only move forward — like a virgin at an orgy: scared, confused, but determined to leave with a story.'
I cracked my sore knuckles, a dark grin stretching my lips.
"Yeah. Let's fucking go."
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The Wilderness Survival classroom, as it was described in the novel, was supposed to be "spacious, tastefully decorated, and built for serious training."
Reality?
It was spacious, alright.
Tasteful?
Sure, if you considered empty a design choice.
But in my opinion It was just empty as a nun's panties on a Saturday night.
Big room, fancy wood floors, some lazy banners hanging like limp dicks in the wind. It looked like someone had spent ten minutes setting it up, realized no one gave a shit, and then just left it to rot like a forgotten erection.
But I knew I was in the right place.
Destiny had thrown me here — or maybe just bad luck — same difference.
And right on cue, I spotted him:
A gloomy-looking instructor slumped behind a big wooden desk, wearing the defeated expression of a man whose wife just told him "Not tonight, honey, I have a headache."
As if sensing my entrance — or maybe smelling fresh meat — the old bastard suddenly shot up from his chair, like he just saw that same wife naked and apologizing with lingerie and whipped cream.
"Come in, young man!" he barked, practically wagging his tail.
'Awakened Julius,' I thought, the memory clicking into place like a knife slipping into a rib.
I remembered him well from the novel —
He was a lively old fucker in the novel — messy grey hair, dazed eyes like he once snorted cocaine by accident, and a pair of eyebrows so wild it looked like two pubic bushes fighting for dominance.
He was Sunny's only teacher — the guy who single-handedly taught him how to survive in the Dream Realm, without dying like a pathetic virgin on prom night.
Sunny once said that without Julius, he would have died a thousand brutal deaths, each one more pathetic than the last.
And the best part?
Unlike everyone else — including that walking wet dream Milf Jet — Julius was the only one who actually waited for Sunny.
Everyone else fucked off after Sunny's first nightmare.
But not this old bastard.
He waited.
He worried.
He cared.
Like a creepy old grandpa who knew his favorite stripper would eventually come back.
In the novel, it was said he had been delighted when Sunny visited after finally Awakening… but also quietly terrified when he realized the kid had been in the dream realm for a year and a half.
Julius straightened up, smiled warmly — a smile so fatherly it made me feel weirdly guilty about all the sexual jokes running through my brain — and said:
"I'm Awakened Julius. You can call me Teacher Julius. Sit down, sit down! What's your name?"
I plopped into the chair like a good boy, flashing my best "I swear I'm not about to burn this school down" smile.
"You can call me Alex, Teacher," I said, crossing my legs casually.
Why didn't I say Sunless?
Well... I have my reasons.
Reasons that i will revel in the future.
Julius raised his chaotic eyebrows again, practically fondling the air with excitement.
"Ah! What a powerful name you have," he said enthusiastically, like he'd just found out I was heir to a porn empire.
"The name Alex comes from Alexander the Great — it means 'helper and defender of mankind.' Very good. Very fitting. You'll need to live up to that name, young Alex." He clapped his hands together like a giddy uncle finding out his niece turned eighteen.
I smiled politely, nodding like a wholesome choir boy, while inside I was laughing like a hyena.
'Helper of mankind?'
'Buddy, I'm not here to help mankind. I'm here to exploit, stab, betray, and carve a bloody empire out of their corpses.'
He didn't need to know that yet.
One day at a time.
But I just nodded politely, smiling like a whore at tax season.
"So, Teach, when are we starting with the class?" I asked, trying not to sound like i am eager to get this over with.
I already knew everything from the novel. The sooner we got this party started, the sooner I could stop dying like a dumbass.
Hearing my urgency, Julius's old man eyebrows twitched like two old perverts arguing over who gets to watch first.
"You're quite the eager learner! Good. Very good!" he said enthusiastically.
But of course — like any teacher worth his wrinkles — he didn't just start the damn class.
Nope.
Instead, he dropped the one question I was hoping to dodge:
"Say, young Alex... why did you choose Wilderness Survival, of all things?"
'Goddammit, here we fucking go.'
Fate was as relentless as a horny virgin on prom night.
No matter how much I tried to change the flow of conversation, some things were inevitable— like taxes, death, and accidental boners during funerals.
'Well, whatever.'
I already had an answer loaded.
"Well... a milf — I mean, Master Jet — told me to take this class," I said shamelessly.
For half a second, Julius blinked like I had just flashed him my balls.
Processing.....
Processing.....
Processing.....
Then his eyes went comically wide.
"Soul Reaper Jet? That murderous savage?! Hmph. Who would've thought a bloodthirsty barbarian like her would know the value of intricate knowledge?"
I chuckled, unable to help myself, but my mind was elsewhere.
Because if you knew Jet from the novel like I did, you knew:
She was dangerous. Like... rip-your-soul-out-and-use-it-as-a-condom dangerous.
Still...
A guy could dream.
'Maybe... just maybe... I could fix her.'
Then again, she'd probably gut me like a fish before I even got my pants off.
'I wonder if i will enjoy getting raped by her.' i couldn't help but started fascinating about her, how she will tear my clothes off, how she will tried me up, how she will choke me with her hands or thighs, and how she will suck my dic-.
Meanwhile, Julius seemed to be deep in thought — probably wondering if he should give me a helmet and life insurance right now.
Getting out of my thoughts, I decided to push the momentum.
"So, Teach... when are we going to start?" I asked again, smiling sweetly like a kid asking Santa for a gun.
Julius snapped out of it.
"Yes, yes, about that! But first, let me ask you another question—"
'Motherfucker,' I thought, still smiling politely like a psychopath in court.
"—what other courses are you taking?"
'At least it's not something about my secret powers.' i know that he was not the type to asked these question but still, i need to be careful.
"I haven't picked any yet, but I do want to learn swordsmanship and swimming," I said honestly.
Swordsmanship, so I could kill things without looking like a drunken idiot.
Swimming, because Forgotten Shores wasn't going to hold my hand if I started drowning like a dumb virgin.
Julius stared at me for a moment — a long, thoughtful stare.
The kind of stare old men give you when they're wondering whether you're secretly dating their daughter or just planning to burn their house down.
Or
The kind of stare that made you wonder if he was about to sign your death certificate or write you into his will as a joke.
'But i was doing nether of that.' trust me.
Then — slowly — a mischievous gleam appeared in his eye.
The kind of gleam usually followed by "I have a dungeon in my basement, wanna see it?"
It was the kind of gleam that usually ended in regret, blood, and at least two police reports.
He grinned wickedly.
"Good kid, you're a promising young man! As for swimming... don't worry. I can teach you that myself. And swordsmanship? i know a women who is very skilled with her weapon. I'll recommend you to her personally."
'Finally! Some action!'
I thought, vibrating like a virgin who just got invited to an orgy.
Then Julius leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was about to offer me a contract with the devil.
"And don't worry, young Alex... in these four whole weeks... I'll make you immortal."
'Hell yeah, Teach. Give me that thick, throbbing, unbreakable plot armor.'
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Author note: Tell me about you thoughts on this chapter and also if you like my work be sure to give reviews, and tell me if you want me to add something, because after the next chapter, their will be no chance and also a warning. i will not follow the original story storyline from next chapter their will be a change.