...
They say repetition kills the soul.
Whoever said that probably never went to an academy where mana-infused idiots tried to blast each other's heads off before breakfast.
The morning began with the usual bell toll—sharp, cold, and intrusive. I sat up in bed long before it rang, the echo of dreams I couldn't quite remember lingering like fog behind my eyes. I stared at the ceiling, letting the silence settle.
Another day. Another mask.
I went through the motions. Wash. Dress. Breathe.
The uniform was too stiff. Too clean. It clung to me like a skin that didn't quite fit.
...
Breakfast in the Hall of Mettle was a performance. Students jostled in line, bantered in noble dialects, and made sure every movement reminded you where you stood on the food chain. I kept my head low, ate slow, and watched.
They watched me too.
Not out of admiration. Not yet.
Curiosity. Wariness. The type of attention you give a wolf that wandered into a kennel.
I found a corner table. Alone. By choice.
A few brave ones came by.
"Aurthur," one of them said, trying to sound casual. Tall, lean, a badge of mid-noble lineage pinned to his chest.
I looked up from my plate. It was a student named Derrien, someone from Valen's Memories it seems.
I Didn't answer. Just nodded.
He wanted a duel.
They all did.
...
The Yard was a war zone of cracked stone and broken pride. It was divided into 4 categories, for students of different combat skills, and I was at the lowest.
The one thing that remained constant across all of them however was the Instructors barking and the Spells that clashed in the air like thunder.
I was paired with someone familiar—Derrien Vale. He'd beaten Aurthur Valen last term. Easily.
He smirked as we stepped onto the circle. "Don't flinch this time."
I didn't answer. My focus sank inward.
They expected the old Aurthur.
Weak. Naive. Sloppy with his magic.
Instead, they got me.
My lips curled slightly.
"Begin!"
Derrien surged forward with a burst of wind. Predictable.
I sidestepped, eyes tracking his mana pulses. He threw a Flare Bolt—center mass. I absorbed it with a barrier I barely wove in time. Sloppy. I was still adjusting to the weight of this body.
He pressed again—Mana Needles this time. I spun, dashed behind him using Windstep. Reaction Weave let my limbs adjust faster, even if they screamed with tension.
I side stepped and hit him on the knee with a condensed Flare Bolt.
He spun—too late, and ended up falling face first.
"Point: Authur Valen," the instructor called.
"Damn you," Derrien growled. Most of them did.
I gave him a hand up. He slapped it away.
Fair enough.
...
Instructors noticed. One, a woman named Sereth, narrowed her eyes every time I deflected a spell too early—as if I'd anticipated it. Too early for someone of Aurthur's supposed skill.
She didn't say anything. But her silence grew heavier with each session.
...
The whispers returned by lunch.
"He never moved like that before."
"Was that Mana Flow reading?"
"Impossible. Is someone teaching him?"
Yes, I wanted to say.
Me.
...
Afternoon passed in lectures—rune theory, elemental resonance, tactical mana formations. I took notes. Mostly for show.
I was on edge. The system kept pinging minor notifications—"Coordination instability," "Mana spike irregularity," "Reflex override engaged."
"Ugh, this is getting annoying now... I would rather not have it at this point"
My mind was adjusting faster than my body could follow.
...
Late Evening – Outer Campus Garden Path
I'd taken a different route back—one shrouded in low lanterns and twilight fog. I should've known.
The first attack came as a gust—compressed wind magic aiming for my knees. I leapt, just as two more figures stepped from the hedges.
One wore a veil of frost. Ice user.
Another's hands burned green. Acid?
[Caution: Multi-source ambush detected. Mana types: Wind, Ice, Acid.]
Soul-Body Sync holding at 46%.
I barely got a barrier up as the frost mage launched a spear of jagged ice. My counter-Flare Bolt melted it mid-air, but the Acid user hurled a glob that splattered nearby.
I sidestepped. Pain lanced through my thigh—wind slash grazed me.
Blood.
[Minor Injury Detected: Right thigh laceration.]
[Focus Breathing activated. Reflex Weave heightened.]
I exhaled. Deeply.
Mana Flow Analysis lit up the three attackers. The ice mage overcharged his core. I hurled a Needle at him—not to kill, just to stun.
It struck his shoulder. He fell back.
The Acid user stepped forward, confident. I feinted left, used Windstep—my body dragged half a second behind the intent, nearly tripping.
Still, I got close enough to land a pulse of fire at her side.
Two down.
The wind mage circled. He wasn't new to this.
We clashed—Flare Bolts, Needles, even physical hits. He managed to nick my jaw.
"Who sent you?" I growled.
He didn't answer. Just attacked again.
I forced him back with a chain of Mana Needles. He flared his core—overchanneling.
[Mana Surge Imminent – User risk: 15%.]
I punched him squarely in the gut as he chanted. He dropped.
Three bodies. None dead. Just broken enough to remember me.
...
I found a crest buried beneath the wind mage's collar. Faint but still warm.
And a name engraved into the steel:
Corviel Thanus
I froze.
A name that brought fourth memories.
Finally! A NAME!
...
I limped back to my dorm, trailing faint blood.
[Soul-Body Sync Progression: 48%]
[Warning: Instability at threshold. Recommend rest and recalibration.]
I collapsed onto the bed. The wound pulsed.
I'd survived. For now.
And I had a name... as well as some memories.
"These memories... they arn't mine... no"
The memories varied, they weren't just of a single moment... no... they were worth years...
"Someone I— Valen knew... maybe even someone close..."
But that arose the question of why would such a person...
The name brought forth more questions than it has solved.
Corviel Thanus.
The first link in the chain... as well as an old aquentaince...
To find the answer to all my questions...
The hunt had begun...
To Be Continued...