Jaro Tenza flicked a copper coin at the iridescent pigeon perched on the brass eaves of the Schola of Zircol. The bird, a messenger-class avian with too many eyes and an even number of wings, caught it mid-air with an impossible beak-snap before dissolving into a shower of shimmering motes. [DELIVERY COMPLETE! Your 'Second Chance' Package has arrived!] "Package, my arse," Jaro muttered, dragging his oversized broom across the gleaming quartz tiles of the Grand Archway courtyard. He'd been sweeping this section for two hours, and the dust refused to accumulate. It was the perfect gig for a 'Scrapper' – a glorified janitor – who just wanted to be invisible. Especially after the celestial pigeon had delivered the 'regression pop-up' just moments ago, confirming his worst fears and most absurd hopes. He was back. Back to Zircolia. Back to the Benevolent Architect’s grand delusion. And worst of all, back to the academy, where the stench of elitism was thicker than the cheap incense burned at morning prayers. He watched a group of first-years, barely out of their swaddling clothes, practicing rudimentary spark-conjuring in a designated training circle. A few sparks sputtered into existence, then died. Pathetic. But they had the ‘potential’ of their high-tier classes, so they were practically royalty. Jaro, on the other hand, was a Scrapper. Lowest of the low. His 'talent' was apparently in 'manual labor and waste management'. It was a spectacular downgrade from his past life as the legendary vanguard, ‘Crimson Cleaver’ Tenza. But it was exactly what he needed. No glory, no recognition, no ‘Divine Blessings’ from the overseer, which he knew were nothing but gilded soul-traps waiting to spring. He just needed to keep Milla safe this time. And stay very, very lazy. "Look alive, Tenza! Don't want your 'scrapping' to interfere with the Chosen One's grand entrance!" A sharp, imperious voice cut through the air. Inessa Davor, a gleaming blade of a woman with a rapier strapped to her back, strode past, her stare burning with competitive heat. She was a high-tier ‘Vanguard Sentinel’, and she despised Jaro's shamelessly lackadaisical existence. Jaro offered a languid salute with his broom. "Wouldn't dream of it, Davor. I’m just trying to make sure His Radiance doesn't trip over a stray pebble on his path to destiny." Inessa snorted, her brow furrowed. "Your sarcasm is as dull as your class, Tenza. Just sweep." She swept past him, her cape billowing, heading towards the rising din of cheers from the main exhibition grounds. The Chosen One was arriving. Jaro sighed. Rodel Vance. The gilded boy. The ‘Radiant Dawn Paladin’. The system's personal favorite. In his past life, Jaro had been forced to babysit the useless lump through countless dungeon breaks. This time, he’d rather gnaw off his own arm. From the Grand Archway, Rodel Vance emerged, bathed in the synthetic glow of the academy's many light-runes. He was a vision in polished aurum-steel armor, his flaxen hair perfectly coiffed, his smile a practiced, blinding white. The crowd erupted into adulation, their tiny spark-conjurations forgotten. "My dearest Schola-mates!" Rodel boomed, his voice echoing off the ancient stone. "It is a true honor to stand before you, proof of the Architect's boundless grace! Today, we celebrate the spirit of courage, the unwavering resolve against the darkness!" Jaro rolled his eyes, sweeping an imaginary speck of dust. The kid couldn’t even kill a Sludge-Imp without hyperventilating. 'Unwavering resolve' indeed. Suddenly, the ground trembled. Not a gentle rumble, but a jarring, tectonic shift that sent tremors up Jaro's broom handle. The Schola's light-runes flickered, then died, plunging the courtyard into an ominous twilight. The cheers died, replaced by gasps and terrified whimpers. [WARNING! CLASS-B DUNGEON BREAK DETECTED WITHIN SCHOLA GROUNDS!] [THREAT LEVEL: CRITICAL!] With a deafening crack, the polished quartz tiles of the exhibition grounds burst inward. A chitinous nightmare, an ebon Gore-Mantis, scythed its way out of the gaping maw, its six razor-sharp limbs glinting in the dim light. Its compound eyes, like clusters of jet beads, swiveled, locking onto the closest, most terrified target: a young initiate, no older than Milla, frozen mid-scream. Rodel Vance, the 'Radiant Dawn Paladin', took one look at the towering beast, his gilded plate reflecting the predator's gaze, and promptly emptied his bladder. A dark stain spread across his pristine white breeches. With a strangled whimper, he dove behind the nearest stone pillar, a pillar Jaro knew was riddled with cracks and would offer no protection whatsoever. "Someone help!" the initiate shrieked, stumbling backward as the carnivore raised a foreleg, its blade-like appendage poised to strike. "It's going to—" Jaro let out a heavy sigh. So much for slacking off. The kid was too close to where Milla would be arriving later. He couldn’t risk it. Not again. In a blink, Jaro was gone. Not with a burst of speed, but a ripple in the very fabric of space. He didn't run; he ceased to be, only to reappear a hair's breadth from the fiend's exposed neck joint. His broom, discarded somewhere, was replaced by a short, matte-black dagger that seemed to drink the light. [DUSK-WALKER CLASS SKILL: SHADOW-STEP ACTIVATED!] His movement was a whisper, a silent death. The scything limb, already descending, froze mid-air. Its multi-faceted eyes fixed on a phantom image of Jaro’s face, rigid with cold focus. Before the beast could register the impossible intrusion, Jaro’s dagger tore through the chitin, finding the precise, hidden junction of nerve and sinew. A single, clean slice. The ebon terror shuddered, its six limbs spasming, then went utterly slack. It toppled with a sickening crunch, its massive body shattering into jagged chunks of black shell and ichor as it hit the ground. The entire sequence, from Jaro’s disappearance to the fiend's demise, took less than a breath. The dust from the impact hadn't even settled. Jaro was back at his sweeping post, his broom once again in hand, leaning against the quartz tiles as if he'd never moved. A few stray Gore-Mantis fragments skittered across the courtyard, evidence of the impossible speed of its destruction. The student, still trembling, stared at the pulverised carcass, then at Jaro, a look of profound confusion on his face. The courtyard light-runes flickered back to life, bathing the scene in a warm, false glow. Rodel Vance, pale and shaking, crawled out from behind the pillar, his face streaked with sweat and something else unpleasantly damp. He stared at the broken remains, then at the terrified onlookers, and a slow, triumphant grin spread across his face. "Fear not, my friends!" Rodel bellowed, puffing out his chest. "Your Radiant Dawn Paladin has arrived! The fiend is vanquished! Your chosen hero has protected you!" He pulled his greatsword from its sheath, its polished blade reflecting the light. He gestured dramatically at the creature's pulverised corpse, then at his own chest, still stained. The crowd, dazed and disoriented, began to whisper, then cheer tentatively. Rodel preened, soaking it in. [CONGRATULATIONS, RODEL VANCE!] [BENEFACTOR ARCHITECT IS PLEASED WITH YOUR COURAGEOUS DEFEAT OF A CLASS-B BEAST!] [REWARD: GOLDEN SOUL-SEED HAS BEEN BESTOWED! MAY YOUR GLORY SHINE ETERNALLY!] Jaro watched the yellow radiance coalesce around Rodel’s chest, then sink into his armor. He felt a familiar, sickening thrum. He’d seen that light before. It wasn't a blessing. It was an anchor. And it had just latched onto another unwitting fool.

Delivery Pigeons and Golden Idiots