I fixed my gaze upon the glowing blue operating system panel hovering in front of my eyes, the translucent, semi-submerged textual caption laughing at my inability through its machine logic-based coldness.
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[Status Window]
Name: Valerian Thorne
Age: 16
Rank: Novice (Low)
Strength: 2
Agility: 3
Endurance: 2
Mana Capacity: 5
Mana Control: 1
Talent: Dormant
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(A/N: Hey Everyone, I changed the status of our mc to much lower as previous one as they were just like average and I thought he can easily increase them so, to add more challenge to increase his stats I changed it)
I blinked. Then I blinked again.
These numbers… were they actually real?
I rubbed my eyes, but nope, still the same garbage stats.
"What the hell is this?" I muttered, shaking my head.
I did not expect to begin life as a superpowered creature, but this? This was tragic. If my stats were any lower, I'd be classified as a houseplant instead of a human.
No, scratch that—some plants probably had a higher endurance stat than me.
I stretched out my arm and flexed.
Nothing. Just bone covered in skin.
I poked at my bicep.
Nope. Still nothing.
This was actually depressing.
I let out a deep sigh and sat on the edge of my bed, running a hand through my disheveled silver hair.
I recalled that Valerian was weak, but I understood that it was not just an idea, but a set of numbers. I was not just an average, unhealthy lord's son—I was a truly pathetic wimp.
How the hell did this guy even get into Eclipsia Academy? Were there charity slots for nobles with more money than muscle? Did his family bribe someone to get him in?
If someone sneezed on me too hard, I might actually die.
No wonder Valerian got beaten to a pulp by Alistair in the original story. At this rate, I would beat myself up out of frustration.
Alright. Let's think logically.
I had nine months before I had to step foot in the academy.
That meant I had time.
Step one: Fix this noodle body before a wind gust threw me back and forth, and again and again.
Step two: Figure out how to actually use magic.
Step three: Become strong enough that no one even thinks about messing with me.
And for gosh sakes I wasn't going to pretend to be a "close the eye" type hero like all the other heroes in these stories.
Nope. If I got strong, everyone was going to know.
I wasn't going to just sit around and pretend to be powerless just because someone thought it was an excuse to draw unwanted attention. What does it matter what if nobody ever knew?
In the original novel, Valerian had talent, but he never used it. He squandered what could have been a bright future as an arrogant oaf, guzzling the fine wines, and tormenting the less fortunate students. Meanwhile, the 'protagonist'—Alistair—was out there grinding every single day, training, learning, getting stronger.
And what did that lead to?
Valerian getting humiliated. Over and over.
Well, not this time.
Before I actually have the chance to make any more plans, a gentle knock at my door happened.
"Young Master Valerian, it's time for breakfast."
A maid.
I frowned. Right. I had maids now.
That was weird.
I wasn't used to having someone wait on me. In my former life I could hardly even cook instant noodles without burning them. And now? I had meals and acquaintance with me in the form of "Young Master. ".
Before I could speak, the door opened and a girl in a black and white dress came in, with neatly folded hands in front her. She had auburn hair wrapped in a bun and a prim but rather wary gaze.
She probably thought I would play the same "lonely ass with my own food here, don't want anyone to come over and get in the way" game.
However, I certainly wasn't going to spend my mornings eating all by myself, as some brooding, antisocial, villain.
"Yeah, sure," I said, standing up and stretching. "Let's go."
The maid blinked. Once. Twice.
"...You'll be coming to the dining hall, Young Master?" she asked, as if she had misheard me.
"Obviously," I said, cracking my neck. What, should I look like I want to sit and eat in my room by myself?
Right, it seems that I did, as she continued to look at me like I had grown another head.
Strange. Young Master Valerian would never leave his chamber for morning meal. He always demands that it be brought to him.
Something's different today…
I noticed her hesitation and raised an eyebrow. "You good?"
"Ah—Yes! My apologies, Young Master," she said quickly, bowing her head. "I'll lead the way."
She moved to step out, but I stopped her with a casual, "Wait. ".
She turned back, looking confused.
"Have the training grounds prepared," I said. "I'll be using them after breakfast."
Silence.
She blinked again.
"...The training grounds, Young Master?"
"Yeah, you heard me."
"...For yourself?"
"Who else?"
A longer pause. She looked me up and down—taking in the walking skeleton that was my body—before nodding slowly, as if she was witnessing something historically significant.
"All right then, Master," she murmured before turning out.
I emitted a deep sigh as soon as she was out of sight.
She thought I was joking. I could see it on her face.
But joke's on her. I was dead serious.
This weak body wasn't going to cut it.
Nine months. That was my deadline.
If I had nine months, I would make every single second count.
I tightened up my fists and resented their weakness.
This wasn't just about survival anymore.
This was about proving everyone wrong.
The title 'Valerian Thorne' will not be anything connected to failure and weakness.
Not anymore.
And step one?
Survive my first workout without dying.