Believe It or Not, I’m Not Totally Useless

Monsters.

Most of them were savage beasts, driven solely by instinct—a primal urge to kill and devour humans and anything beneath them on the food chain.

Sure, they were creatures of instinct, seemingly less intelligent than humans. But some of them? Some were smart. Real smart. High-tier types with the brains to match their brawn. Some could sense a person’s magic levels, gauge whether they could win a fight or not. Some could detect the presence of any nearby life. And a few could even speak in human tongues.

But the Gyork? That thing was something else entirely.

A humanoid head with an impossibly long mane and beard, twisted black horns sprouting from its forehead. A body like a minotaur, bulging muscles, four legs, and human-like arms. Oh, and wings. Giant, leathery wings. Standing over nine meters tall, it roamed the forest at night in search of prey.

Could there be a worse time to run into a Gyork?

Shiro was already thinking the worst. He knew exactly what that thing behind him was—and worse, he knew what it could do. Even if it didn’t have some supernatural hearing, the damn thing could feel magic. It could sense movement, energy, life. If it found him, it was game over. No questions asked.

The Gyork stopped. Right next to the tree Shiro was hiding behind. Its massive head turned left, then right, scanning for something to feast on. Shiro could hear his own heartbeat thudding in his ears—loud enough, he feared, for the beast to hear it too. Instinctively, he pressed a hand to his chest, trying to muffle the sound.

Shiro had never faced a real monster before—not outside of his dreams, at least. And what a lovely first encounter this was. Out of all the countless monsters he could've run into—most of them dumb, wild, and at least somewhat manageable—he had to stumble upon a Gyork.

Under the heavy downpour, the Gyork finally turned away and began lumbering off, away from Shiro’s hiding spot.

Not wasting a second, Shiro bolted.

As he ran through the mud and rain, one question nagged at his mind.

"How the hell... did it not notice me just now? Wasn’t it hungry? Or...?"

The answer came to him just a moment later.

“Oh. So that’s it. You’re telling me... my magic’s so weak, even a Gyork couldn’t sense it? That’s... great.”

He said it aloud, voice dripping with sarcasm, half-joking, half-scolding himself. Still, the disappointment stung. He kept moving, pushing toward the supply zone.

And just when he thought the worst was behind him—something shot out from the side, fast.

Shiro barely dodged it in time, leaping away from the surprise attack. His body moved on instinct, and his hand reached for the sword slung beside his bag—the very blade his father had given him before he’d left for the academy.

A voice rang out, sharp and mocking.

“Not bad, commoner.”

Through the curtain of rain, a tall figure appeared—a young man with jet-black hair, fine clothes clinging to his frame, and a smug smile. His backpack was slung lazily over one shoulder.

“Who are you...?” Shiro asked, eyes narrowing. He raised his sword cautiously, keeping it pointed at the newcomer.

The guy scoffed, like the question was beneath him.

“Isn’t it obvious, you simpleton? I’m one of the test participants— Who else would be out here? ...Ah, but of course. I forgot who I was speaking to. A commoner. No wonder you can’t even grasp the basics.”

Shiro didn’t take the insult too seriously. Nobles like this guy always looked down on others—it was practically a hobby for them. From the way he talked, the way he dressed, and the way he held himself—yep. Definitely your typical highborn jerk.

The worst kind of noble. The type the common folk used to call “high-heels.” The meaning? Nobles who thought themselves superior just because they wore those fancy, elevated shoes. But take away those heels, and they were just regular people. No different from anyone else.

Of course, names like that were a form of verbal rebellion—something the nobility didn’t take kindly to. They cracked down hard on anyone who dared disrespect them.

In the Kingdom of Wysperia, class division had only gotten worse after the Great War. Nobles and royals treated the commoners like dirt on their boots. People hated them, sure, but no one dared oppose them. Whenever someone stood up and called for equality, it wasn’t long before the nobles noticed—and silenced them. Permanently.

Hanging, stoning… The punishments were brutal. After a few executions, folks learned to shut up and obey.

But, of course, not every noble was like that. Some were kind. Some were generous. Some even believed in fairness.

And some... were just flaming bastards.

This one? Yeah, he was the flaming bastard kind.

Still, for some reason, Shiro hesitated. He lowered his sword, forcing a polite (if awkward) smile.

“Heh... I see. My bad, then. I didn’t realize the noble children were stepping out of their cozy palaces to roll around in the mud like the rest of us. You might wanna watch out, though. That pretty white outfit of yours might get dirty, ‘my lord.’”

With that rarely-used sarcastic tone of his—one he didn’t often find an opportunity to use—Shiro struck a nerve in the young noble.

“You’ve got quite the tempting tongue to cut off, you filthy commoner!”

The noble exploded, visibly agitated. Of course, such words might pass unnoticed if said noble-to-noble—but from a lowborn? That was simply unforgivable.

“My tongue only speaks the truth, pampered little lord.”

Shiro’s words poured fuel onto the fire, and the noble, his fury now properly ignited, let out a shout and drew his sword.

Now, why would Shiro say something like that, knowing full well what the noble might do in return? Well, if you were to ask him, he’d quickly remind you of something Instructor Shin said earlier—something that, while not stated outright, made the rules of the academy clear. Rank didn’t matter here. Effort did.

At first, when Shiro realized the guy in front of him really was a noble, he felt a bit of fear stir in his chest—but then he remembered supervisor Shin’s words, and it was like a new foundation had formed beneath his feet. One that allowed him to stand on equal ground, even with those born into power.

“I’ll admit it,” the noble spat, raising his sword. “You’ve got quite the mouth for a stray dog who snuck into this sacred exam! Now face your punishment. Veil of illos—Vanish!”

And just like that, the young man vanished from Shiro’s view. His magical energy disappeared completely—gone, as if he’d never existed to begin with.

It didn’t take Shiro long to grasp the situation. His opponent was using an advanced form of illusion magic—one that affected the visual field. Not only that, he’d clearly refined it to the point of making himself completely undetectable.

“An illusion, huh? Alright... that might be a bit of a pain.”

He spun around slowly, trying to sense the noble’s magical presence—but felt nothing. Nothing but the steady sound of rain pelting the ground around him.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Shiro felt a sharp pain across his back. He turned quickly, only to receive another cut—this time on his leg.

“Wha—?!”

The noble circled him like a silent predator, dealing shallow, precise cuts—not deep enough to kill, but painful enough to humiliate. He was toying with him, enjoying every second of the lesson he believed he was teaching.

After a few more minutes, Shiro’s body was covered in gashes and scrapes. Nothing life-threatening—just enough to hurt. Enough to mock.

Finally, the noble dispelled his illusion and appeared right in front of Shiro, just as he’d vanished earlier. He waved his blade lazily as he spoke with a smug grin.

“Still not giving up? I could keep this up all day, you know. But I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed you’re still standing. Not bad for a mutt.”

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He said this as Shiro dropped to one knee, using his sword as a crutch to support his wounded body.

“I appreciate the compliment,” Shiro muttered, blood dripping down his cheek. “But I don’t need praise from a spoiled coward who fights in the shadows.”

That did it. The noble’s smug smile twisted into a snarl. Without a word, he reactivated his illusion and vanished again.

Seconds later, his voice echoed in rage:

“I’ll cut out that tongue of yours, you wretch!”

This time, though—this time he made a mistake.

In his anger, the noble moved carelessly, too fast, too loudly. The slap of his footsteps on the wet ground echoed just long enough for Shiro to notice something.

Suddenly, Shiro looked down. Then, without hesitation, he stepped his left foot back, spun in a half-circle, and swung his sword sideways with his left hand—then jumped backward.

It was a weird mix of movements. No form, no technique—just instinct.

But when the move ended, the noble reappeared, blood trickling down one side of his face.

“What in the gods’ name...?!”

He stared in disbelief. How had Shiro dodged his attack? Countered, even? There was no way he could’ve seen him—not while hidden under a high-level illusion. So how?

The question repeated over and over in the noble’s head as he wiped the blood from his cheek. And before he could ask it aloud—

Shiro, smiling now, let out a sarcastic chuckle.

“Oh? What’s wrong, Your Grace? You look a bit… confused. Don’t worry about what just happened—it was just a lucky guess, you know?”

“How dare you touch me with that rusted excuse for a sword! I’ll show you your place, you filth!”

The noble gritted his teeth, then vanished once more. He came at Shiro again—faster this time, more vicious. But again, Shiro dodged and countered. Again, and again, and again.

Until at last, the noble reappeared—bloodied, panting, his fine clothes now tattered and torn.

“H-How… How is this happening? Who are you?! How can you see me?!”

Shiro looked the noble up and down, taking in the state of his once-pristine outfit. He grinned arrogantly.

“I never said I could see you. That’d be impossible for me, don’t you think?”

“You didn’t see me? No… No, there’s no way you could sense my movements either! Don’t you dare lie to me!”

“I’m not lying. Sure, you flit around like a butterfly and sting like a bee—but that’s all you’ve got, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean by that...?”

Bingo. That last jab hit the mark. The noble stepped back, startled by Shiro’s words—as if they weren’t just an insult, but a truth he couldn’t ignore.

“What? Isn’t it obvious?” Shiro said, gesturing with his chin. “Look around you. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Stop speaking in riddles, you idiot!!”

“Ahh... I wonder who the real idiot is here.”

What Shiro had meant by “look around” was actually the weather. The heavy rain pouring down around them. Of course, something like that wouldn’t affect a high-level illusion—it wouldn’t reveal a body hidden by advanced magic. No, Shiro wasn’t looking at the rain itself...

“Speak, damn you!!” the noble shrieked hysterically, startling even Shiro.

“Whoa there! Calm down, will you? You’re not a kid, are you? Can’t believe you didn’t figure it out. What do they even teach you rich brats in those gilded mansions, huh? Look. Down. Check your feet, genius.”

“Huh—?!”

The noble finally looked down.

There they were—footprints. All over the muddy ground. Clear as day. Obvious to anyone paying attention.

That’s why Shiro had kept glancing down during every attack. That’s why he always knew where the noble would come from.

“You don’t know anything outside your precious fog and illusions, huh? Sure, that spell might work great in a big open space—or anywhere your footsteps don’t leave a trail. Unless you can float, I guess. But that’s a different story.”

Shiro spoke with a confidence far beyond his station—as if he knew the entire world of magic inside and out.

“…This…”

“Moves like a butterfly… stings like a bee. I’d say you’ve got the seed of the Mist element, maybe? Plus, you were using some kind of skill that makes you almost like air. A technique you poured your whole focus into mastering until it reached the level it is now—which, if you ask me, is pretty impressive. Then, you started developing your agility and speed so you could move like the wind and make as little noise as possible.

But in doing so… you neglected everything else. You didn’t develop any other skills, didn’t bother learning more about your own abilities or their downsides, and worst of all, you didn’t train your body. Not even a little. That’s why your movements and sword strikes look like some kid flailing around with a blade for the first time. You clearly haven’t practiced actual sword combat, you just focused on your element as if your body didn’t matter.

…Well, not like I’m some sword expert myself or anything. But I am a farmer. Swinging a sword? Way lighter than swinging the damn heavy axe I use every day. You’ve got the body of a regular civilian—while mine? I’d confidently say it’s way more flexible and faster than yours by a mile. Am I wrong?”

After going on for that long—which was rare for him—Shiro took a deep breath to reset his pace, leaving the noble wide-eyed, mind still scrambling to catch up with the detailed breakdown he just got… the kind of breakdown you’d expect from a seasoned instructor or expert.

“I’m not… Wait, hold on! What the hell?! Have you been watching my entire life or something?! And why the hell is someone as strong as you even here?! Are there seriously guys like you among the commoners?!”

Shiro blinked. That was unexpectedly honest. The noble just… said it outright. He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit when he heard the word “strong.” That’s not something he ever expected to be called. Made him feel kinda… happy. Just a little.

…Also, were nobles just dumb? I mean, it wasn’t that hard to figure out, was it?

“Strong? Nah, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m just some guy with crappy physical stats, an unknown seed, and zero special skills. Maybe you’re just a little stupid? …Just a thought.”

Ignoring that last part completely, the noble froze, stunned by what he just heard.

A guy with no skills figured him out like this? Just by thinking and moving his body accordingly?

That was… hard to believe. For anyone.

“Quit screwing around… You did all that to me without even having any real skills?! That’s worse than insulting my entire family! I don’t care if you figured out one or two things, just you wait, bastard! I’ll show you what I’m really capable of!!!”

“…You really don’t learn, huh?”

The moment he shouted that, the noble charged at Shiro, blade raised and coming straight for his neck this time—no tricks, no hiding.

Shiro easily sidestepped, as if he’d already seen it coming, then with a swift upward swing, sliced through the noble’s bag strap cleanly, making it fall to the ground. He snatched it mid-motion, then jumped back with a grin.

The noble only noticed something was off once his body felt lighter—and then he saw the bag in Shiro’s hands.

“NO! Give that back!! That’s mine!!”

Ignoring the shouting, Shiro opened the bag once he was far enough… and there it was: more than a hundred badges.

Like stumbling on a buried treasure, his lips curled into a wicked grin. He turned back toward the devastated noble, who was now gripping his sword so tightly his eyes were bulging out of his skull.

“Oho~ Looks like your illusion magic really helped you to have quite the badge collection, huh?”

Still rummaging inside the bag, Shiro kept his eyes fixed on the noble’s face, his expression infuriatingly smug.

“None of your business!! Keep your filthy hands outta there! Give it back or I’ll—!”

“Or what? Stop with the threats and come at me. I swear, I’ll slice off one of your limbs this time.”

His tone dropped—dead serious. Cold eyes filled with killing intent bore into the noble, making him visibly flinch in fear.

No one knew what Shiro had gone through since this test began.

He’d been ignored… laughed at… stripped of his badge… treated like a burden… ran into that Gyork… and now here he was, holding a bag full of badges, and someone wanted him to just hand it over?

“W-W-What’re you even saying?! GIVE IT BACK!!”

“…You want it? Come take it.”

The noble hesitated. Of course he didn’t want to lose a limb over some badges. If it came down to a choice between his arm and the loot… screw the badges. He could always get more later.

Now, a terrifying aura started radiating from Shiro. Nobody in their right mind would want to be near him. And it’s not like this noble was particularly brave to begin with. From the start of the test, all he did was sneak around at night and steal badges from people way weaker than him.

But now… now he was face-to-face with someone far stronger. And he knew—deep down—he wasn’t walking away with a win.

“…Damn it… all that effort… wasted…”

He muttered, defeated, just as he was about to give up and run away—when suddenly, a massive explosion shook the earth.

The noble collapsed from the shock, and Shiro clung to a tree like it was the only thing keeping him alive—still clutching the bag.

“Ugh! I’m late because of this idiot!”

Right… this place wasn’t just some random part of the map. It wasn’t strange for someone to attack him here.

This was the supply zone. The place Shiro had been trying to reach from the very beginning.

He didn’t know he was miraculously the first one to arrive—and that he’d been seconds away from grabbing the supplies he needed, if not for that damn noble.

Still… what he got instead wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.

But now, thanks to that delay, everyone else had caught up. Explosions began to rain down all around, the sound of battles erupting everywhere.

And with the rain pouring down in sheets, Shiro’s instincts kicked in. The other test-takers were getting close. He scanned the area, looking for the best escape route—one where no one would see the bag in his hands.

That’s when he saw it.

“…”

His face twisted in horror.

No, it wasn’t a thing. It was a person—or maybe not a person.

A monster in human form.

Shiro had… history with this one. And he had zero interest in repeating it.

He looked again to make sure—yep. Soaked golden hair. A silver scabbard. That eerie blue aura.

The one who’d taken his badge at the start of the test.

There was no mistaking it.

Alice.

“No no no no no no no NO! Not again!!”

He looked like he’d just seen the Angel of Death. The noble on the ground even flinched from how genuinely terrified Shiro sounded.

The moment he saw Alice, all color drained from Shiro’s face. His brain kicked into overdrive, calculating every possible way to GTFO without her noticing him.

Then he ran. Fast.

Alice hadn’t even noticed him yet.

He left the noble behind, who, wisely, decided not to follow for some reason.

While sprinting like his life depended on it, Shiro muttered under his breath:

“Dammit! Has her primal instinct taken over?! Is she some kind of battle-crazed sex fiend or something?!”

His brain spiraled into nonsense.

Could things possibly get any worse?

Of course, the moment you think that…

They do.

Just as Shiro decided to abandon the supply zone and head back to his safe little cave—content with the badges he scored—he ran into it.

A Gyork.

A damn nine-meter-tall Gyork.

This time, it spotted him. Those yellow eyes locked onto Shiro.

Now, Shiro found himself being chased by a lightning-wielding monster, leaping and dodging bolts raining down from the sky, clutching his bag of badges like it was his baby.

“THIS IS WORSE THAN RUNNING INTO ALICE!!!”

He screamed while bolting through the storm, the sky raging above him as if it too wanted him dead.