Surviving the Magic Academy With Just Intelligence Stats

In the bustling streets of Seoul, Park Jin-woo navigated through the morning crowd, a stack of documents clutched in one hand while the other pressed his phone tightly against his ear. The cacophony of city life made it difficult to hear the client's conditions, forcing him to strain just to catch every other word.

This was, by all accounts, just another ordinary morning commute for Jin-woo. In fact, it felt almost too ordinary. Since birth, he had been the living embodiment of average – average looks that neither attracted nor repelled, average grades that never disappointed but never impressed, and an average job that paid the bills but sparked no passion. Sometimes he would joke to himself that he must be the protagonist of some story, one of those self-insert characters that readers could easily project themselves onto. But even by his standards of normalcy, today felt unusually... normal.

As he attempted to close the deal over the phone, approaching a crosswalk, movement caught his eye. A truck was barreling toward the intersection, showing no signs of slowing despite the glaring red light. Other pedestrians noticed too, collectively stepping back from the curb with murmurs of concern and annoyance. Jin-woo joined them in retreat, sighing at the driver's recklessness. At least no one was hurt.

That thought had barely formed when his eyes landed on a small figure stepping into the crosswalk. A little girl, face set in childish determination, gripped a bright balloon as she marched forward, completely oblivious to the danger bearing down on her. Horror bloomed across Jin-woo's features as the truck's horn blared – a desperate, futile warning.

At that moment, time seemed to crystalize. The world slowed to a crawl as Jin-woo's eyes darted between the rapidly approaching truck and the oblivious child. His mind raced: Why isn't anyone moving? Why isn't anyone helping? The crowd around him stood frozen, faces masks of shock and fear, but not a single person stepped forward.

Then understanding struck him like a physical blow. Of course no one was moving – they were all asking the same questions he was. The real question wasn't why others weren't acting; it was why he wasn't acting. In that crystallized moment, Jin-woo finally discovered something extraordinary about himself.

Without further hesitation, he launched himself forward. His legs, powered by desperate adrenaline, carried him faster than he'd ever moved before. His arms stretched out, connecting with the child's small form, and he pushed with every ounce of strength he possessed. The force of his shove sent her flying – perhaps too hard, a distant part of his mind worried, but better bruised than dead.

The last thing he registered was the sharp pop of a balloon, a sound that seemed absurdly loud in that final instant. Then darkness claimed him, and Park Jin-woo, the most average man in Seoul, did something decidedly not average at all.

…

When Park Jin-woo opened his eyes in his new world, he found himself inhabiting the body of Marcus Turner, a commoner orphan in a realm where magic wasn't just stories but reality. The discovery of his new identity came with an extraordinary gift - a top-level talent known as Sword Intent. For Jin-woo, who had lived his entire previous life in crushing mediocrity, this seemed like fate's apology, a chance to be extraordinary.

Despite his common birth, Turner's talent opened doors that should have remained forever closed to someone of his status. He secured a coveted scholarship to Crono Magic Academy, an institution so prestigious that even nobles schemed and competed for admission. The achievement felt like validation of his potential, proof that his new life would be different from his last.

Initially, everything seemed perfect. His talent drew attention, earned him friends, and promised a future bright with possibility. But as the months passed, cracks began appearing in his perfect narrative. Each new challenge revealed limitations in his supposedly superior talent. While his peers continued to grow stronger, mastering increasingly powerful abilities, Turner found himself struggling to keep pace.

The gap widened until it became impossible to ignore. His former friends began to distance themselves, their expressions shifting from admiration to pity, and finally to disdain. The day they officially expelled him from their party, their contemptuous looks hurt more than any physical wound could have.

It was during this lowest point that he met Hualing. Like him, she was an outcast, someone whose talent had been deemed insufficient by their peers. They bonded over their shared experiences, their mutual understanding of what it meant to be labeled as "trash" by a society obsessed with innate potential. Together, they formed a new party, determined to prove that hard work could overcome the limitations of talent.

Their partnership blossomed into something beautiful. They trained together, supported each other, and slowly began to see progress. When Turner's talent finally evolved to legendary grade, it felt like vindication of everything they'd believed in. The discovery that talents could be improved through dedication rather than just innate potential seemed like it would revolutionize their world.

Eager to share his breakthrough with his closest companion, Turner sought out Hualing. But the person he found was a stranger wearing his friend's face. Her talent evolution had changed more than just her abilities - it had transformed her very personality. Before he could process this change, he felt the cold bite of steel in his back.

As he collapsed, her maniacal laughter filled his ears: "I'll make good use of your talent. HAHAHA!" Even as consciousness faded, his mind burned with questions. Why? How could she do this? Their shared struggles, their promises, their friendship - had it all meant nothing to her?

Death approached, but fate had other plans. Through sheer will, Turner found himself clinging to life, crawling across the ground with his talent forcibly extracted - an impossibility that should have meant instant death. In this state of living death, he encountered the King of Spirits, a being who seemed equally fascinated and impressed by Turner's tenacity.

The King offered him a chance - at a terrible price - to return and rewrite his story. Turner accepted without hesitation, willing to pay any cost for the opportunity to understand, to prevent, to change what had happened.

Now, standing among the crowd of prospective students at Crono's entrance exam, Turner breathed in the familiar air. A bright smile crossed his face as nostalgia washed over him. "I must say, it feels good to be back." His expression hardened with determination. "It won't be the same this time."

But unbeknownst to him, a figure watched from afar. A girl with low twin braids, bangs, and oversized glasses observed him with calculating interest. "Well, well, well," she murmured, a cunning smile playing across her lips, "isn't that our lovely regressor."