Four years ago, I died.
And just before everything went dark… I heard thoughts.
Not mine. Someone else's. That's when I realized—I could read minds.
Then I woke up in a new world.
No golden light. No gods with flowing beards. Just pain, confusion, and a foreign body that wasn't mine.
No memories from whoever I now was—except a name.
No system.
No divine gift.
No overpowered inheritance.
I waited for the cheat. Every transmigrator gets one, right?
It never came.
All I had was:
• A glitchy mind-reading ability that worked maybe 50% of the time.
• A body barely tougher than a civilian's.
• And a planet that didn't care where I came from.
Welcome to Nexarion—
A world where magic and technology fused long ago.
Where cities float, weapons hum with mana, and weakness isn't tolerated—it's deleted.
And yet… the gods might've left me a breadcrumb.
Turns out, the guy whose body I hijacked?
He'd started a small business before dying.
Not much, but it gave me something precious: independence.
No noble house. No fake benefactors. Just enough coin to train, study, and stay off the radar.
In a world like this, staying invisible was the first rule of survival.
⸻
"All of you have reached Rank 2."
The voice echoed across the arena, sharp as a blade.
I looked up.
At the center stood Velmaria Nocturne—Rank 7 Warrior, top instructor at Elydrion Academy.
She wasn't just a woman.
She was a predator wrapped in silk.
Jet-black hair spilled down her back. Her coat shimmered with crimson phoenixes stitched in mana-thread. Skin like marble. Eyes like twin voids.
People whispered about her beauty. I saw something else:
Control. Precision. Danger.
She glanced at the floating digital board displaying our names and progress.
Then spoke again, calm and absolute.
"Mana Foundation training shifts today."
Her heels echoed as she strode across the polished floor. She didn't raise her voice—she didn't need to.
"Until now, you've used mana through crystals and objects. That was child's play.
From today, you'll shape mana through your weapons. Guns, blades, staves—if your mana can't follow your will, you're wasting your place here."
Murmurs stirred around me.
She ignored them and smiled slightly. That smile could kill.
"Before we begin, a simple evaluation.
Vacation's over. Let's see who trained—and who pretended."
She turned sharply, coat flaring like wings.
"Group A. Arena. Now."
I exhaled slowly and tightened my grip on my weapon—
My GunBlade.
⸻
All thirty students entered the arena. She faced us without blinking.
"You will each face an Autobot of your current rank. Defeat it—or survive ten minutes."
Weapons drawn.
Staffs hummed. Spears gleamed. Blades flickered with mana.
I flipped my GunBlade into blade mode.
"One by one. I'll call your names. Step forward when I do."
"Dracian Stormclaw."
A tall dragonkin stepped forward. Ash-blue hair. Black eyes. Empty hands.
Velmaria didn't seem to care he had no weapon.
"Three. Two. One."
The moment she said one, Dracian vanished—
Accelerated at 4x speed.
He reappeared behind the Autobot, thrusting a massive ice spear through its chest before the bot even turned.
"Advanced Rank 2 spell. Well done, Dracian," Velmaria said. "You've improved again."
I stood on the sideline, watching.
Dragons really were monsters.
Advanced spells already? He had to be at intermediate Rank 2 at least.
How do I know?
Easy. He was shouting it in his mind.
"Hmph. Intermediate Rank 2 now. Nobody in class can match me."
Back when I first got here, every thought hit me like a truck.
Now, four years later, I can filter it. Focus on just one person at a time. A blessing.
In this world, anyone can become a mage or warrior by forming a Core.
Core grades range from F to S.
S-grade is just a myth. Never seen, never confirmed. But it's out there—somewhere.
Your core grade defines how far you can go.
From Rank 1… to Rank 9… or beyond.
"Zevir."
My turn.
I stepped forward.
Eyes turned to me.
"Who's he?"
"Was he in the first semester?"
"Must be a transfer. They don't allow weaklings in…"
Let them think what they want. I wasn't about to explain myself.
Velmaria nodded.
"Begin when I say 'go.'"
I tried reading her mind. Nothing.
She was too far above. Mind-reading doesn't work if the rank gap is three or more. She was five ranks higher.
"Three… Two… One—Go."
The Autobot lunged at me at blinding speed.
I moved—not fast, but precise. Just an inch out of its strike zone.
My GunBlade shifted—blade to gun in a heartbeat.
One clean shot.
Mana bullet to the chest. It dropped.
I shifted back to blade form and sheathed it in silence.
"Well done," Velmaria said. "You didn't just dodge—you timed your counter with perfect instinct. Impressive."
Whispers rippled through the class.
"Who the hell is he?"
"That reaction speed—crazy."
"He's not flashy, but damn he's sharp."
I ignored them all.
"Elara Shadowbrook."
The next student stepped forward.
White-haired. Crimson eyes. Pale skin like porcelain.
A vampire.
She glanced at me briefly, then turned away. I caught a thread of her thoughts.
"Is he the one…?"
She knew something. About me? Or about the body I now owned?
I watched closely.
The Autobot cast a flaming spear.
She met it head-on—countering with her own flame spell, slightly stronger.
The bot was flung back, but she didn't pause.
In a flash, she leapt above it and unleashed a lightning strike.
Crack. Burn. Fall.
"Good, Elara. You've improved too," Velmaria said.
I watched for another second before turning away.
⸻
Class ended soon after.
"From tomorrow," Velmaria said, "your real classes begins."