Cherreads

swordmaster disciple at the academy

blanknim
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Thrown into a world he only half remembers from an old mobile game, a regular gamer awakens in a strange land governed by strength, magicand a rigid system. Starting at the bottom as a Colorless, he has no class, no skills, and barely any stats to his name. But fate has not left him entirely powerless. Taken in by a reclusive swordmaster once feared across continents, he is trained in a forgotten sword style that defies the rules of the world. When he enrolls at the Imperial Academy, he is given a rare and controversial title: “Swordmaster’s Disciple at the Academy.” To others, it’s a mark of honor. To him, it’s a target on his back. Mocked for his weak stats. Challenged by nobles and prodigies. Haunted by the lore he never bothered to read in the game that’s now his reality. With only a cryptic system, vague quests, and his mentor’s brutal lessons to guide him, he must carve his path one strike at a time. Because in this world, power isn't given It’s earned, one scar at a time.
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Chapter 1 - prologue

Moonlight flickered through the dense canopy, silver blades cutting across the forest floor. Twigs snapped beneath desperate feet as a woman raced through the underbrush, her breaths ragged, chest heaving. Blood trickled down her arm from a shallow wound, but she cradled the small bundle in her arms tighter than her own life.

Her baby, barely a few weeks old, whimpered softly beneath the cloth wraps. She hushed him gently.

"Please... just a little longer," she whispered, voice cracking. "Just until I find someone... anyone..."

Behind her, the sound of a blade carving through foliage. Vines snapped. Bushes quivered as though recoiling from the unseen weapon. The sound was too sharp, too deliberate for any wild beast.

Someone incoming.

And they were cutting a path straight toward her.

Her stamina had long since reached its limit. Her legs no longer obeyed her, each step cost her strength she no longer had. She wasn't running anymore. She was falling forward with every stride.

She stumbled into a shallow hollow between the roots of an ancient tree, the roots curved like a cradle. "No..." she mouthed, forcing the sobbing down her throat. Her baby whimpered once, then began to fuss.

Her heart shattered.

She kissed his forehead, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Reaching into her pouch, she drew out a small brooch, a glowing gem pulsing with faint light. She poured the last of her strength into it, casting a concealment veil over the hollow. Then she tucked the brooch into the wrappings with her baby, placing him gently into the root's embrace. The baby blinked up at her, confused.

She pressed her lips to his forehead again.

"You will live. Even if I die here... you will live."

She stood, trembling, blood dripping from her fingertips. The pursuers were close now. She turned from the tree.

And ran.

Straight toward them.

Praying to any god she knew, to someone, something, that might be listening.

Let this be enough.

Let her sacrifice be the price for her child's life.

She gave everything.

Even if the world forgot her.

---

In the silence that followed, the forest held its breath.

Then came footsteps.

Heavy. Slow. Intentional.

An old man in a heavy coat stepped through the foliage, a greatsword strapped across his back. His eyes narrowed as he approached the roots of the ancient tree. He paused.

A faint glow.

He moved the branches aside and found the baby. Quietly observing.

The man looked at the slumped figure not far away. The woman, lifeless and soaked in red.

He knelt beside her. Silence stretched.

"May your soul find peace."

Carefully, as though lifting a memory, he lifted the infant. His fingers caress the glowing gem tucked in the cloth. His eyes darkened.

"A veil charm... strong enough to fool most beasts. Not bad."

The baby didn't cry. Just stared at him.

The man sighed.

"You poor thing... How'd you end up here?"

And so, without fanfare or destiny written in stars, the child of no name was carried away from blood and death into the woods, into silence.

And into the arms of a forgotten swordmaster.