The Agony of One Second's Acceleration
The morning Aria left for class, leaving our dorm room empty except for me.
A time to focus entirely on myself, undisturbed by anyone. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had such solitude.
It wasn't that I hated or found my previous life burdensome—just unfamiliar.
Morning sunlight filtered through the cracks in the old dorm window, illuminating the wooden floor. I sat on the edge of the bed, breathing quietly.
The only sound in the silent room was the ticking of the clock's second hand.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
"Hoo."
I let out a short, deep breath.
The new ability I'd only glanced at in the infirmary yesterday—now was the perfect time to test it, with my Black Magician level rising to Lv.3 and unlocking the skill.
Time Acceleration.
It was definitely a cheat skill, but the penalties listed in the description nagged at me.
The warning of extreme strain on the body. Black magic fundamentally gnawed at the user's life force—an irrational structure by design.
If even that system flagged it as "extreme strain," it was no joke.
Even Bullet, which had no initial warnings, came with side effects.
Still, I couldn't use it in real combat without testing it first. If I activated it mid-battle for the first time and collapsed from the recoil, I'd be dead meat.
I slowly stood from the bed, double-checking the door lock and adding the latch—just in case Aria came back.
I drew the curtains, blocking all outside views. Then I picked up a small wooden pen from the desk that looked like one of Aria's.
Lightweight, safe—no risk of shattering if dropped.
I raised it to shoulder height with my right hand.
Just one second. Real-world time—one second.
Observe how the world changed in that instant. And test how long my body could endure. That was the goal.
No need for longer. Fixing my gaze on the pen in mid-air, I released my fingers.
—Srrrrk.
The pen began falling toward the floor, pulled by gravity.
Time Acceleration.
In that moment, I activated the skill in my mind.
The hot life force surging through my veins suddenly whooshed and evaporated near my heart.
And then...
"..."
The world transformed.
The first change hit my hearing. Birdsong from outside, rustling leaves in the wind—all vanished.
Even the clock's ticking stretched into a drawn-out "tiiick—" before sinking into perfect silence.
Next came vision. Fine white dust motes floating in the air froze in the sunlight, suspended motionless.
The falling pen did the same—not plummeting, but hovering in mid-air.
No.
Looking closer, it was moving—ever so slightly downward.
The world hadn't stopped; my perception had accelerated abnormally.
So this was Time Acceleration.
I reached for the hovering pen.
Heavy. An unexpected resistance as I lifted my arm—like swimming through deep water or thick mud. The air felt dense, viscous.
Still, I snatched the precariously floating pen faster than it could fall.
—Tap.
At this speed, dodging incoming spells or arrows would be feasible.
Not raw physical enhancement, but cognitive speed alone granted absolute superiority—enough to overturn any fight.
Success, for now.
Mission accomplished. I'd felt the mechanism firsthand.
I cut the skill in my mind.
Release.
The moment it ended, the second hand snapped back with a "—tock."
Wind sounds from outside flooded in like a tide.
The near-frozen world resumed its pace.
Aria's wooden pen rested innocently in my palm.
The test succeeded. But before I could savor it...
"Kuhk...!"
Horrific pain slammed my entire body the instant the skill released.
Like every vein swelling and bursting. Muscles screaming, bones grinding out of joint.
I lost balance, knees buckling to the floor.
"Haa... haa..."
Couldn't breathe properly. Lungs burning like fire.
Thick fluid surged in my mouth. I clamped it shut hastily.
Dark red blood dripped between my fingers, staining the wood.
Physical strain exceeded limit.
Life force consumed: 30
The red system window flashed obnoxiously before my eyes.
Unbelievable. Just one second in real time—one measly second—and the price was this brutal.
Too high a multiplier? I'd thought testing max would build tolerance fastest.
The physical recoil exceeded imagination.
Insane skill.
Trembling, I braced my hand on the floor and hauled my upper body up.
Wiped the blood from my mouth roughly with my sleeve.
Fortunately, not much on the floor. A towel before Aria returned, and it'd be fine.
Dragging my unsteady legs, I stumbled to the bathroom.
Ran cold water, gargling the metallic blood taste repeatedly.
"Haa..."
Leaning on the sink, I sighed deeply.
New skill acquired, but not one to use carelessly.
Lower multiplier might work, but no appetite for retesting.
I wiped my mouth and returned to the room.
First: erase traces.
Grabbed a dry rag from the corner, knelt, and scrubbed the bloodstains meticulously.
Luckily, hadn't soaked deep into the wood—cleaned right up.
Or not.
A faint red seep along the grain remained—barely visible unless nose-to-floor.
Aria wouldn't notice.
I folded the bloody rag and buried it deep in the laundry basket.
Then collapsed onto my bed, body spent—not sleepy, just exhausted.
Skill test done, traces gone. Nothing left to do in this cramped room.
Lying there, I stared blankly at the ceiling.
Old dorm ceiling splotched with mysterious dark stains.
Will my body hold until we subjugate the Demon King?
Lv.3, one second— this backlash. Stronger skills ahead? Unimaginable cost.
Held up my fingers. Skin blackened dead to the second joints of index and middle.
Staring, I clenched my fist.
"Can't just lie here."
Dwelling on gloom changes nothing.
I bolted up. Staying cooped up dragged me down—better go out, get fresh air.
Exempt from Adrian's office today—plenty of time.
Grabbed my jacket from the chair and left the dorm.
///
Exiting C Dorm, late spring morning sun bathed me. Most students headed to lectures; campus quiet.
Aimed for the old building for a head-clearing stroll—secluded, away from eyes.
Rounding a corner on the path...
"Where are you going?"
A familiar, coldly sunken voice halted me.
Looking up: a figure leaning under a massive tree's shade by the path.
Neatly tied red ponytail. Immaculate imperial guard uniform.
Esilla.
She leaned against the trunk, gaze fixed on me—no surprise, as if she'd known I'd pass.
I glanced between her pristine attire and her incongruous presence on this quiet weekday path.
Finally, I blurted the question I couldn't hold.
"Esilla."
"Speak."
"Don't you have work?"
Does this girl have nothing better to do?