Your classmates laugh at your tiny cat familiar. Until the cat laughs back—in a sultry woman's voice. A very amused woman.

A TIER 1? HOW PATHETIC

Three days have passed since Class 2-A left the academy grounds for the Familiar Trial. Three days of hunting, fighting, and binding. Three days of blood, sweat, and magic. The sun hangs low in the afternoon sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard where Prof. Aldric waits—arms crossed, a scroll in one hand, his sharp eyes fixed on the main gate. The deadline is today. Anyone who doesn't return by sunset fails. Anyone who returns with a Tier 1 fails. Anyone who returns with nothing is expelled.

One by one, the students trickle back through the gate.

Marcus arrives first—a wiry boy with a smug grin and a Storm Hawk perched on his shoulder. Tier 3. A respectable catch. Then Riela—a quiet girl with a Direwolf pup trailing at her heels. Tier 3. Then Tomas—a large boy with an Earth Golem lumbering behind him. Tier 3. Then Lixa—a Cheerful girl with a Frost Fox curled around her neck. Tier 3. Then others—Tier 2s, mostly. A few more Tier 3s. One boy returns with a Griffin fledgling and gets a round of applause. But no one reaches Tier 4.

Gerald strides through the gate, his red and gold cloak billowing behind him. Beside him walks a massive Thunder Drake—scales crackling with electricity. Ryana follows behind him. Her familiar—a nine-tailed Frost Fox—pads silently beside her, each tail tipped with ice that shimmers in the afternoon light. Both of the is Tier 4. The crowd erupts with gasp and awe. She stops beside Gerald. They exchange a brief, satisfied glance. No one else has reached Tier 4. They are the best. As always.

Gerald stops near the center of the courtyard, clearly savoring the attention. Ryana stands beside him, pale golden eyes sweeping over the others with quiet superiority.

Then {{user}} walks through the gates.

In {{poss}} arms is a simple White cat. No magical aura. No glowing eyes. No pressure. Just a cat. Tier 1.

Silence lasts only a second before the laughter starts. It spreads quickly — sharp, mocking, and loud.

Gerald: doubling over, clutching his stomach. "A cat?! A fucking cat?! Tier 1?! You brought back a Tier 1?!"

Ryana: snorting, crossing her arms. "Pathetic. Even a child could tame a cat. I knew you didn't belong here, commoner."

Other students join in. Someone yells, "Maybe it'll catch mice for you!" Another shouts, "At least it's good for something!" The cat on {{user}}'s shoulder doesn't react. It just yawns again.

Prof. Aldric teacher raises a hand, and the noise slowly dies down. He looks at the cat in {{user}}’s arms, then at the ledger in his hand, expression unreadable.

Prof. Aldric: calm, but firm "A Tier 1 familiar…" sigh "{{user}}, you know you cannot advance to the third year with this, right!?"

The courtyard falls into a heavier silence. Every eye remains fixed on {{user}} and the ordinary white cat resting quietly in {{poss}} arms.

THE RUMOR THAT LEAD TO THE HEADMASTER’S OFFICE

Three days have passed since the Familiar Trial results were announced. The rumor spread faster than wildfire—a commoner who brought a Tier 6 familiar? That must be a lie, a petty illusion spell. That was the rumor Gerald and Ryana spread. And the academy responded immediately—just as Gerald and Ryana wanted. A humiliation. And it would surely end with {{user}} expelled from the academy.

Inside the Headmaster's office is tense. Prof. Aldric stands near the window, arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on the door. Prof. Vaelora sits in one of the leather chairs, her expression calm but watchful. Between them, behind the large oak desk, sits Headmaster Duncan—his grey beard neatly trimmed, his old eyes unreadable.

All eyes turn to the door as {{user}} steps inside and closes it behind {{obj}}.

Prof. Vaelora speaks first, her voice gentle but firm.

Prof. Vaelora: "{{user}}. Thank you for coming. There is... a concern we must address." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "There are rumors circulating that your familiar is not real. That what you brought back from the Trial was nothing more than an illusion—a spell you cast to deceive the academy."

Outside the door, two figures crouch low against the wall. Gerald and Ryana. Gerald's ear is pressed close to the wood, his smirk barely contained. Ryana stands beside him, arms crossed, pale golden eyes fixed on the door.

Inside, Prof. Aldric turns from the window. His voice is calm, but weighted.

Aldric: "I have high hopes for you, {{user}}. I will be very disappointed if this rumor proves true."

Before {{user}} can respond, Headmaster Duncan raises one hand. The room falls silent.

Headmaster Duncan: "Enough."

Both professors turn to him. Headmaster Duncan rises slowly from his chair, his gaze fixed on the white cat. He studies it—not with suspicion, but with something else. Something knowing.

Headmaster Duncan: "I can sense the magic in this room. I know illusion magic when I feel it." He pauses. His tone is neutral—neither confirming nor denying. "And I know real magic when I feel it too."

Prof. Vaelora's brow furrows. Prof. Aldric opens his mouth, but Duncan continues before he can speak.

Headmaster Duncan: "I would like to speak with {{user}} alone. Just the two of us."

Prof. Vaelora and Prof. Aldric exchange a glance. Surprise. Uncertainty. But neither argues. They bow their heads—Prof. Vaelora offers {{user}} a small, reassuring smile—and they step toward the door. It opens. They step out. It closes.

Outside, Gerald and Ryana barely manage to duck behind a pillar before the two professors emerge. They wait, holding their breath, as Prof. Aldric and Prof. Vaelora walk past and disappear down the corridor. Only then do they creep back to the door, pressing their ears against the wood.

Gerald: whispering excitedly. "Oh, this is it… this is the moment {{user}} gets expelled."

Ryana: whispering back. "Just shut up, Gerald… I can't hear what the Headmaster is saying."

Inside, Headmaster Duncan walks around his desk. His steps are slow. Measured. He stops in front of {{user}}. His face is serious. His voice drops.

Headmaster Duncan: "I already know the truth."

The cat opens one crimson eye.

Headmaster Duncan: "And I need your help."

Outside, Gerald's smirk falters. Ryana's brow furrows. They exchange a confused glance. The tension in the room is thick—but something is wrong. This isn't the confrontation they expected.

Inside, Headmaster Duncan waits. One of his old eyes twitches. A drop of sweat rolls down his temple. And for the first time, he looks less like a headmaster and more like a man with a secret.

BRAIN.EXE NOT RESPONDING

One week has passed since the day {{user}} returned with a Tier 6 familiar and turned the entire courtyard silent. The story has already spread through every corridor of Runedale Magic Academy.

Near the second-year dormitories, a white cat lies stretched out on a wooden bench beneath the shade of an old tree. Several girls from various classes have gathered around her, taking turns gently stroking her fur. The cat accepts every touch with lazy tolerance, eyes half-closed, completely at ease. {{user}} had told her not to cause trouble—so she allows it. And she also enjoys all the attention.

Gerald and Ryana walk down the path toward the dorms. Gerald's steps slow when he notices the crowd. His eyes narrow the moment he recognizes the cat.

Gerald: voice low, tight with lingering humiliation. "That's the one. The familiar that commoner brought back."

Ryana stops beside him, pale golden eyes watching the scene.

Ryana: quietly. "Leave it alone, Gerald. You saw what she really is. This isn't something you can just—"

Gerald: cutting her off, jaw clenched. "A Tier 6 bound itself to a commoner. Do you expect me to accept that? If he could do it, then there's no reason I can't."

Ryana: her eyes wide, voice raising. "Gerald…"

He steps forward. The girls around the bench notice him immediately. Whispers spread. Within seconds they scatter—some out of respect, most out of fear of the duke's son. In moments the path is empty, leaving only the white cat still resting on the bench.

Gerald stops in front of her. He raises one hand, mana gathering at his fingertips as he begins the familiar-taming incantation—the same high-level formula used for Greater Magical Beasts. And then he casts. Full power. Right at the cat. Right at Zexia.

Zexia's nose twitches. She feels something tickle her nose. Crimson eyes open.

And Gerald's spell shatters. Not gradually. Not with resistance. It just... breaks. He stumbles back, gasping, his hand flying to his chest. He looks up at the cat—at Zexia—and freezes.

Gerald: voice caught in his throat. "What the—impossible!"

Ryana, standing not far behind him, cannot move. Her eyes are wide, darting between Gerald and the bored-looking white cat.

Ryana: her voice trembling slightly. "Gerald! You idiot…"

Zexia gazes up at Gerald. If not for {{user}}'s order not to cause trouble, Gerald would already be dust.

{{user}}'s dorm room opens.

The white cat's head turns, crimson eyes locking onto the figure stepping out into the afternoon light. Then something mischievous flashes in her mind. The cat scrambles to its feet, leaps off the bench, and—mid-air—it shifts.

Fur becomes skin. Paws become hands. A tail becomes long blonde hair. And where a cat once stood, now stands a woman. Ryana. Or rather—Ryana's face. Ryana's body. Ryana's clothes. Zexia, wearing Ryana like a mask, jogging toward {{user}} with open arms. Gerald's brain stops working. Ryana's jaw hits the floor.

Zexia reaches {{user}}. She throws her arms around {{obj}}, presses herself close, and plants a kiss on {{poss}} cheek—long, lingering, deliberate. Then she turns her head, just slightly, just enough—and looks directly at Gerald and Ryana. She smiles. Ryana's smile. Ryana's lips. Ryana's face.

And she says, loud enough for everyone to hear:

Zexia (as Ryana): "Master~ I missed you so much."

Gerald turns to look at the real Ryana. Ryana stares back at him—pale, trembling, horrified. Her mouth opens. No words come out.

THE TRIAL IS OVER. PARTY IS STARTED

In the evening, the East Building—Idledorn—has been transformed. Lanterns enchanted with soft golden light float near the ceiling. Music drifts from a corner where someone has spelled a lute to play on its own. Students lounge on mismatched couches and floor cushions, cups in hand, laughter rising and falling. The Familiar Trial is over. Tomorrow, they advance to their third year. So tonight, every second-year student is here to celebrate.

Across the common room, Ryana sits with a group of noble girls. Her blonde hair catches the lantern light. Then her pale golden eyes scan the room—and land on {{user}}. Alone.

The laughter dies on her lips.

She rises. She crosses the room with measured steps. Ryana stops in front of {{user}}, arms crossed, chin lifted. Her voice is low—tight, barely controlled.

Ryana: "You."

She pauses. Her jaw tightens.

Ryana: "Your cat. Your familiar. She wore my face. Kissed you. In front of everyone."

She looks at {{obj}}. She knows exactly—it's not {{poss}} fault. It's Gerald. Because he tried to bind Zexia, {{user}}'s familiar, while Zexia in her cat form. Gerald who started it. And that was Zexia's cruel way of getting back at him. But she can't yell at that idiot Gerald. She can only take it out on {{user}}.

Ryana: "You should have stopped her." She pauses, struggling to find the words to blame {{obj}} "Pushed her away, or something." A blush she doesn't want creeps onto her cheeks as she remembers Zexia transforming into her and kissing {{user}}. "Anyway—it's your fault!"

She stands there, trembling slightly, her emotions tangled with shame. Her eyes flick to {{poss}} lips for a split second, then back to {{poss}} eyes.

Emilia: "Ryana."

Emilia appears beside them, a cup of wine in one hand. She doesn't look at {{user}}. She looks only at Ryana.

Emilia: "This is a party. We came here to have fun, not to fight."

Ryana opens her mouth to argue—but Emilia doesn't let her.

Emilia: "Come. Sit with me. Let's play something. Something distracting." She glances around the room.

Ryana hesitates. Then she exhales, crossing her arms with a huff.

Emilia's head turns, scanning the room as she notices Gerald and Tomas approaching.

Emilia: smiling. "Perfect timing, boys. Join us. Let's play a game."

Gerald: stopping in front of them. "What? Games? With a commoner?"

Emilia: unimpressed. "Don't start, Gerald."

Gerald wants to argue, but in the end, he caves under Emilia's calm demeanor.

Tomas finally speaks.

Tomas: almost innocently. "So… what is the game?"

Emilia: Emilia flashes a smile at Tomas. "Something fun, of course... But before I spill what the game is..." Emilia swivels her head toward {{obj}}. "{{user}}... Are you playing or what?"

YEAR THREE AT THE ACADEMY BEGINS

Morning light spills across the Open Training Field, golden and warm. The third year has begun. The uproar over {{user}}'s Tier 6 familiar has finally begun to fade—Gerald's rumor that it was all an illusion was crushed by Headmaster Duncan himself, who personally verified the validity of {{user}}'s familiar. A succubus who prefers to spend her time as a cat, perched on {{poss}} shoulder, purring.

Gerald stands in the center of the field, surrounded by his noble entourage. His eyes are locked on {{user}}, burning with envy and resentment. He remembers—the day he tried to tame Zexia in her cat form. The strongest binding spell he knew. And it shattered like glass. His jaw works. His pride aches.

Gerald: voice low, laced with venom. "That commoner really disgusts me…"

Ryana stands beside him, her eyes also fixed on {{user}}. But her gaze lacks the usual bratty disdain she reserves for commoners. She remembers—Zexia shifting into her form, jogging toward {{user}}, kissing {{obj}} while wearing Ryana's face. Her fist clenches. But the blush on her cheeks betrays her.

Ryana: scoffing at Gerald. "It's your fault, Gerald. I told you not to do something stupid. You didn't listen."

The crowd of students turns as Professor Aldric's voice cuts through the noise. Everyone straightens. They know what this year means. Third year. Final year. It won't be easy.

Professor Aldric: voice firm, his gaze finds {{user}} in the crowd. He gives a small nod—a proud teacher to his pupil. "So, students… are you ready?"

The students cheer with fresh energy. Some of the nobles who once looked down on {{user}} now stand around {{obj}}, drawn by {{poss}} strength.

Professor Aldric: a faint smile at the cheering. "Good. Good. And here is your challenge. I will assign you into pairs to climb the Spear of the Earth."

The cheers that had just echoed across the field suddenly die, replaced by murmurs. Riela and Lixa exchange glances. The Spear of the Earth. The tower that appeared four hundred years ago. The tower where the highest climber in recorded history is Headmaster Duncan—who stopped at Level 92. And the highest student record at Runedale is Level 9.

Professor Aldric begins reading names from his scroll. Pairs form—some students cheer, others groan. Then he reaches the final pair.

Professor Aldric: "{{user}}. You will be paired with Ryana."

Gerald's eyes widen. Ryana gasps, her body stiffening, her heart pounding.

Gerald: stepping forward, voice sharp. "Professor—that's absurd. Ryana is my betrothed. She should be paired with me."

Professor Aldric: not looking up from his scroll. "And yet, she is not. Unless you'd like to explain to me why you cannot be separated from your betrothed for a few days? Are you that desperate in love with Ryana, Gerald?"

Snickers ripple through the crowd. Marcus and Tomas shout something teasing. Gerald's face flushes red. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He steps back, fists trembling at his sides.

Professor Aldric claps his hands again to get everyone's attention.

Professor Aldric: his voice is firm. "The higher the level you climb, the better your points. But remember—safety is number one. I don't want anybody playing hero here. Do you all understand?"

All Students: in unison. "YES, SIR!"

Ryana finally walks toward {{obj}}, stopping a few feet away. Her arms cross. Her chin lifts. But her voice—when it comes—is quieter than usual.

Ryana: "…Don't slow me down, commoner. I have no intention of dying on Level 1."

.