The morning sun spilled through the tall windows of Classroom C-9, casting soft light on half-awake students slouched in their seats. The usual hum of idle chatter died down as the door creaked open and Instructor Helmuth stepped in.
Clad in long gray robes etched with gold threading, he exuded the calm, practiced energy of someone who'd seen far too many arrogant Makers come and go.
"Listen up, all of you," he said, setting a leather-bound scroll on the podium. "Today's announcement might actually get you to stop sleeping in my class."
That got a few chuckles, and more than a few eyes to sit upright.
"The Maker Battle Tournament is happening this year," Helmuth said, his tone now sharp and serious. "Nationwide. Sponsored directly by the Crown and the High Maker's Guild."
Corven blinked.
A tournament?
"In short," Helmuth continued, "every Maker Academy across the kingdom will nominate participants—students who'll represent their school, and more importantly, their genre. You'll be tasked with surviving duels, creation trials, timed crafting challenges, and real combat scenarios using nothing but your magic, knowledge, and the ingredients you're given or brought."
He paused, letting it all sink in.
"The tournament is a proving ground. Nobles watch it. Guilds watch it. Even the royal family sometimes sends scouts. It's not just about winning—it's about showing the world who's next."
Corven's pulse quickened.
This is it. The perfect chance to show what Anime Creation can really do.
Helmuth's eyes swept across the class. "Now, before any of you get delusions of grandeur… this is C-Class. You're the bottom rung. Most of you won't even get a nomination."
A few groans rippled across the room.
Helmuth smirked. "But… if any of you actually make it in and manage to survive the preliminaries… I'll personally recommend you to move up a tier."
That got everyone's attention.
Corven looked down at his notebook, where the sketch of the half-finished Divine Armor still sat. The lines now felt sharper. More focused.
A national stage... and nobody knows what I'm capable of yet. Good.
The armor pulsed quietly in the corner of Corven's room, like a loyal dog waiting for its master to give it purpose.
Corven sat hunched over his notebook, pages already filled with crossed-out ideas, half-sketched weapons, and little arrows pointing to question marks.
His thoughts were tangled, but urgent.
I have armor. Defense covered.But in a tournament, that's not enough. If I don't hit back, I lose.
He leaned back in his chair and sighed.
His mana pool was still small. The Divine Armor helped conserve it, but he couldn't rely on raw power. No flashy energy blasts. No giant summons.
I need something smart. Something efficient. Fast to deploy, light on mana, and—most importantly—cheap.
He glanced at the coins scattered across the desk again.
2 silver. 6 bronze. 3 half-bronze.
Not even enough to buy a low-grade mana core, let alone something complex.
In this world's harsh economy, even silver didn't go far for Makers. It could get you cheap alloys, maybe a cracked crystal or two. Anything high-quality was strictly gold-level trade — noble-tier.
He tapped his pen again.
Should I go with a weapon? A tool? Maybe a skill technique? What's the simplest form of anime offense that could work here?
He wrote down:
Quick-blade weapons
Movement skills
Summoned constructs
Projectile spells?
Traps or support items?
Summons sound cool, but expensive.Traps are interesting, but slow. I'd have to predict the arena layout.A ranged tool might work, but… I need to be able to afford it.
He flipped to another page and started writing:
Requirements:– Low mana consumption– Few ingredients– Simple to build– Surprising or non-standard effect– Fast deployment
Corven chewed the end of his pen, eyes flicking to the glowing chestplate of his half-finished Divine Armor.
They laughed at "Anime Creation."But this genre isn't weak. It's just... undefined.No one knows what to expect.
Another idea struck him—he scribbled it down quickly before it vanished:
What about making something nobody understands until it's already working?
Then came a knock at the door.
"Corven?" Elira's voice was muffled through the wood. "You still alive in there?"
He blinked, startled.
"Yeah," he called back.
The door opened, and she stepped in holding a small bag of wrapped goods and a folded parchment.
"I figured you'd be in research mode," she said, tossing the bag on his bed. "You'll forget to eat if I don't show up."
He gave her a sheepish look. "...Probably."
She raised a brow and spotted the mess of notes. "Planning for the tournament?"
He nodded. "Trying. But I have no money left. Barely enough for low-grade materials."
Elira grinned.
"That's why you need someone with business sense. Like me."
She dropped the parchment in front of him.
It was a local commission board — bounties, requests, material gathering, odd jobs.
"Do something small for someone," she said. "Then do something big for yourself."
Corven looked at her, then back at the board.
One step at a time, huh?
— Elira's POV
At first, Elira Silvermantle hadn't cared one bit about Corven Blackfeather.
Sure, he had a noble name. The second son of the mighty Blackfeather Archducal line. That meant something to most people.
But to her?
Nobles are either customers or competitors. And half the time, they're broke and too proud to admit it.
So when she heard he had awakened to a genre called "Anime," she had mentally filed him into the "eccentric" category — the same space she reserved for old men who tried to turn soup into lightning or kids who thought they'd invented flying shoes.
Anime? What kind of genre is that? Sounds like a bard's bedtime story.
Still, she'd noticed something different about him.
He didn't beg for attention like most nobles. Didn't boast. Didn't even seem embarrassed that he'd been dropped into the C-Class.
And then came the moment that changed everything.
She had peeked into his dorm room, curious about a delivery he requested—special alloys and mana-reactive crystal dust. Way above his budget. She thought he was wasting it.
But what she saw inside...
That armor.
Not just any armor. Sleek, silver-black plating that shimmered faintly in the light. It was humming. Alive. Incomplete, but... functional. Detailed in ways no normal first creation should be. The etchings alone felt purposeful—like they had history behind them.
And Corven had made it. Quietly. Without fanfare.
He's not bluffing. That genre—Anime—might be more than just a gimmick.
Ever since then, she kept just close enough to stay relevant.
Brought him food. Delivered ingredients. Gave "casual" advice when he looked stuck.
Now, standing in his room again, looking over his scattered notes and thoughtful eyes, she found herself... curious.
Not just as a merchant, but as someone who wanted to understand.
If he can make armor like that from some fantasy memory, what else can he do?
She dropped the commission parchment on his desk and smiled, casual as ever.
"Do something small for someone," she said. "Then do something big for yourself."
His eyes lit up with something she hadn't expected—determination.
Yeah, she thought. I'm definitely not walking away now.