I am Just an Average Tamer

Thud! Thud!

"Haa… Haa…"

Footsteps echoed sharply against the cobblestone streets of Arulian City, bouncing off the quiet buildings still basking in the soft glow of early morning.

A boy, no older than seventeen, raced down the path like a man possessed.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one loud and desperate, as if his lungs were trying to escape his chest.

"Haaaf… Haaaf…"

He wasn't sprinting for fitness. This was a panic-fueled dash, the kind that made your ribs ache and vision blur at the edges.

His slightly messy black hair clung to his forehead with sweat, and his deep obsidian eyes darted ahead.

His frame was lean.

A large backpack bounced violently against his shoulders with every step, stuffed to the brim with who-knows-what.

He was dressed in the academy uniform. One of his shoes was half untied. He didn't care. There was no time to stop.

"Shit, shit, shit…!" he muttered between breaths, almost tripping as he turned a corner.

"I can't be late... damn it," he rasped, barely able to push the words out through his parched throat.

Each pounding step sent a jolt up his legs, but he forced himself to keep going.

'I made it… I finally fucking made it. I can't screw it up now.'

His mind screamed as loud as his lungs.

The pain in his chest, the fire in his calves, none of it compared to the years of grinding struggle he'd clawed through to get here.

Nights spent awake in freezing corners of rundown inns.

Days without food, working odd jobs just to survive.

Sleeping under broken roofs with an empty stomach and a dream too big for the world around him.

'I didn't suffer all that just to blow it on day one!'

His vision blurred, not from exhaustion, but from the rush of raw emotion surging in his chest.

This academy wasn't just some fancy place to learn magic or swing a sword.

For him, it was a gate. A gate to something bigger. To power. To recognition. To a future.

And he was not going to let it slip, not because of a damn clock.

Then.

The towering gates of the Azurean Academy finally came into view, standing tall like the mouth of destiny itself.

He pushed harder, gritting his teeth as his body screamed for mercy.

And then, with one last desperate step, he reached the entrance.

"Haa... Haa..."

He slumped forward, hands on his knees, panting so hard it sounded like he might cough up a lung.

His heart pounded like a war drum, and sweat dripped down his face in thick trails.

Just as he straightened himself, wiping the sweat from his brow, the sharp sound of wheels crunching over cobblestone caught his ears.

Clack! Clack!

He turned his head, and his breath hitched.

An obsidian-black carriage rolled to a smooth halt near the gates.

Its polished surface shimmered under the morning sun, gilded with delicate golden leaf patterns that curled along its edges like vines.

The horses that pulled it were well-bred, muscular, their manes braided with blue ribbons.

A moment later, the carriage door opened with a soft creak, and a boy jumped out.

Black-haired, with hazel-brown eyes that caught the light like amber glass.

His uniform was crisp, unwrinkled, and freshly pressed.

He looked around, amused as if the whole damn world was a festival put on just for him.

The boy clenched his fists.

His stomach churned, not out of hatred, but something close.

Envy? Or… maybe, because he recognized him.

Not only he was a top-ranking student.

But also a commoner.

Because while he had to run across the city, lungs tearing themselves apart, shoes nearly falling apart, that guy arrived in a carriage that screamed status.

That screamed he had made it.

'How the hell…?'

His thoughts paused as he noticed someone else.

Standing close beside the boy, perhaps too close, was a girl.

Caramel-brown hair tied back in a neat ponytail, her sea-blue eyes sparkling as she spoke.

Then flinched and looked away, clearly flustered by whatever he said.

And Him?

He stood there, still panting, sweat-soaked and alone, with a half-crushed hope in his chest.

Then he turned and moved.

As he stepped through the academy gates, breath still unsteady, he spotted two figures a little further in, leaning casually against the stone wall that lined the path.

Their uniforms were perfectly ironed, buttons gleaming.

Their posture? Loose, arrogant. They looked like they owned the place.

Smirks tugged at their lips as they watched him approach, whispering something to each other before he came closer to them.

"Hey, you," one of them called, voice laced with mock friendliness. "You are pretty late you know"

Before he could react, the taller one moved in fast, snatching the backpack right off his shoulder.

"Wait—!"

Too late.

The noble brat upended it with a dramatic flourish, spilling everything onto the clean stone tiles, books, clothes, a cracked comb, some stitched-up parchment, a half-eaten piece of bread wrapped in cloth and few other things.

All of it laid bare, vulnerable.

The boy froze.

Eyes cast downward.

Hands clenched at his sides.

"Pick it up," the second one sneered, nudging one of the books with his boot. "And where the hell's my vial? I told you to bring that, didn't I?"

The boy crouched down without a word.

He sifted through the scattered mess, hands trembling slightly, until he found the vial, a glass one with some strange liquid.

The noble snatched it from his fingers.

Then, without warning, he shoved him.

"Move, runt," one of them muttered, laughing as the pair walked off, smug satisfaction dripping from every step.

The boy stayed crouched, staring blankly at the scattered remnants of his belongings.

For a second, his vision blurred. His breath caught in his throat.

But no tears fell.

He wiped the mist from his eyes with the back of his hand, jaw clenched.

Then, in silence, he gathered each item with care, folding the bread back in its cloth, brushing off his tattered notebook, pushing everything back into his bag like he was sealing the moment away.

'Just endure it for a while Leo, you can do it.'

He encouraged himself.

And then he stood up.

And walked forward.

Then he finally reached the Assembly Hall.

He quietly slid his bag into one of the shelves near the entrance, letting out a soft breath as he straightened up.

He moved forward, weaving between scattered groups of students, until he found a spot near the back of the hall and sank into a seat.

The professor was already mid-speech. Something about expectations and responsibilities. But his mind… wasn't there. It was still stuck outside, the laughter, the hollow feeling in his chest.

His fingers dug into the fabric of his trousers. He barely heard the words echoing in the hall.

Then it hit him.

A weight. Crushing. Suffocating.

A sudden pressure in the air so heavy it nearly drove him to his knees.

His breath hitched, cold sweat lining his neck. Around him, several students gasped, others froze, even the professor paused.

And just as quickly, it vanished.

The boy blinked, breath shallow, heart hammering.

His gaze drifted toward the podium… and there he saw him.

A man standing tall with short silver hair and piercing amethyst eyes. Dressed in simple yet regal black robes.

The Principal.

The room had gone silent, not out of discipline, but reverence.

"So strong…" the boy whispered without realizing.

The Principal's voice echoed with quiet authority as he spoke—not of dominance, but belief.

Of how this Academy didn't just train warriors or mages or tamers, but future legends.

That no matter where one came from, bloodline or background, here… effort meant something.

That here, if you gave your all—

You could rise.

A spark flickered in the boy's chest.

Something that had been smothered for so long, it barely remembered how to burn.

But it did now.

'I'll reach there,' he thought, eyes fixed on the man who radiated strength. 'No matter what it takes.'

The assembly ended soon after.

Murmurs broke out as students stretched, stood, and began filing out in clusters, some laughing, some chattering about the aura earlier, others already trying to impress the stronger ones nearby.

He stood up slowly, walked over to the shelf, picked up his bag.

And then moved with the students out of the hall.

But fate wasn't done.

As he passed through a narrow walkway near the side gardens, where no professors were nearby and most students were too busy chatting or moving on.

Then they came back.

The earlier noble brats.

One of them, taller, with slicked-back hair and an ever-present sneer, stepped into his path.

Before the boy could even react, a rough hand grabbed his collar and yanked him upward.

His toes barely touched the ground.

"What the hell is this?" the noble snarled, shaking him like a ragdoll. "You deaf or dumb? I told you to bring the obsidian ink, not this cheap trash. Do you think we're playing games here, peasant?"