SPELL BREAKER

A MAGIC ACADEMY PROGRESSION FANTASY

ARCANE ACADEMY

A.P. GORE

PATRICIA JONES

Copyright © 2025 by A.P. Gore

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

CONTENTS

1. Awakening

2. Reality

3. The Test

4. The Bet

5. First Law of Magic

6. Meeting the Principal

7. The Choice

8. The Hidden Spell Circle

9. Deconstruct

10. Illusion

11. Mr. Ashi

12. Making a Deal with the Void Rift Mage

13. Killing

14. Plans

15. Soldier’s Path

16. Alchemy Test

17. Surprise Test

18. Phila’s Surprise

19. Phila’s Shock

20. Unseen Dangers

21. Into the Familiar Prison

22. Setting the Prison on Fire

23. Crystal Heart Spider

24. Phila’s Punishment

25. Princy’s Judgment

26. Cool Down

27. Confession?

28. Library

29. Secret of the Library

30. Nyxara’s Rejection

31. Nyxara’s Fear

32. Planning Revenge

33. Nyxara’s Breakthrough

34. Revenge Plan

35. Shadow Librarian—Discovery of a Secret Passage

36. Start of the Torture

37. Training and Fainting

38. Who Is an Evil Lord?

39. Runesmithing

40. Rune Collector

41. Making a Deal

42. Intruder in Training

43. Showing Vella Her Place

44. Vella’s Interest

45. Call from the Outside

46. Trailing

47. Infiltration

48. The Den of Thugs

49. Fireball

50. Fire in the Hole

51. Hasty Breakthrough

52. Breakthrough Trouble

53. Portal in the Library

54. Mana Beasts

55. Ruthless Killing

56. Into the Void Rift

57. Reversal

58. Deconstruct at Its Peak

59. Secret Portal in the Library

60. Princy’s Questions

61. LitRPG/Progression Fantasy Groups

1 AWAKENING

A sharp tap, like the pounding of his heart, jolted Daren awake. Blinding light seared his eyes, blending with the memory of a spell—a death spell—racing toward him.

His breath hitched. Was he dead?

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Morin,” a deep, exasperated voice boomed. A broad figure loomed over him, a man in a white gown and a black shawl, his crooked nose almost comically large.

“Who?” Daren squinted upward, wincing as a dull ache pulsed at the base of his skull. Was this his familiar? He didn’t seem like one.

“Your teacher, Mr. Colin Woolins.” The man’s crooked nose dominated his round face as he pushed wire-rimmed glasses back up with one thick finger.

Recognition flickered in Daren’s mind, along with a distinct scent of burned wood and cold ashes that reminded him of his past self.

“Who…?” Daren mumbled again, his thoughts still scattered. The weakness in his body was foreign. It had been decades since he’d felt like this.

A quick, stinging rap of knuckles against his forehead cut through the fog in his mind. “Do I have your attention now, Mr. Daren Morin, or are you going to spend my lecture sleeping toward the destruction of your small career of magic and mayhem? I was talking about the two usages of a Spell Circle, and here you are…” The man’s voice carried the weight of authority. His receding hairline shone under the crystal lights coming from the window at the north end of the room.

“Where are we?” Daren’s eyes darted around the space, taking in rows of wooden benches filled with students in academy uniforms. Their faces showed a mix of amusement and secondhand embarrassment.

“Damn god. This child is going to destroy my remaining hairline.” The fat man delivered another swift smack to Daren’s head, his signet ring catching the light as his hand descended.

Daren was about to roar in rage and grab the man’s neck, intending to squeeze it into meat paste, when he realized something. He lacked a Spell Circle, and his hands were tiny, scrawny, and frail.

“What happened to me? Where am I?” he muttered as he stared at his trembling fingers.

A low murmur of laughter rippled through the classroom, a sound like leaves rustling in the breeze.

“Stop it, Daren. Focus on the lecture.” A girl sitting next to him slapped his shoulder with a force that sent him sprawling forward.

His forehead collided with the wooden table with a dull thud, prompting a new wave of laughter. At least he wasn’t in the Helm of the Eastern Paradise. No one there dared to touch him.

“Drink it, child. You’ll feel better.” The fat man tapped the air, and a glass full of brown liquid materialized.

The aroma of cinnamon and chocolate wafted toward Daren, comforting and familiar. Even after becoming a villain hated by the whole world, he loved this drink. Only one place produced it.

“Arcane Academy. I’m in the Arcane Academy,” he murmured in shock and confusion. Nostarion Kingdom of the Seven Kingdoms. He was back there, once again.

“Thank God, you realized something meaningful, finally,” Colin Woolins muttered as he walked back to the podium, his heavy footsteps thudding. He held a thick book titled Basics of Spell Casting, its worn cover evidence of frequent use. Only first-year students of the mage academies studied this book.

“Chocolate drink.” Daren grabbed the glass and gulped it down, savoring the thick liquid as it slid down his throat and settled warmly in his stomach. Even if this was hell or his final moment, he wouldn’t miss the chance to enjoy the drink he had cherished for more than two hundred years.

The girl beside him jabbed her elbow into his ribs. “You are acting like a fucking moron, Daren. I regret sitting next to you on the first day.” Her voice dripped with annoyance. “If I had chosen a different place, I would be happier and not stuck with you for the entire year.”

Daren glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She had a common face, a flat figure, and glasses that covered half of her features. “Who are you?” he asked, confused.

“How dare you forget my name, Moron?” She slapped him on the back of the head, causing his vision to blur.

Instinctively, his fingers twitched, almost forming the gesture for a Death Ray, but he quickly realized he had no Spell Circle, at least not one for casting a Death Ray.

“Fuck off, lady, and stop hitting me,” he snapped, rubbing the back of his head where she had struck him.

“I will hit you all day. Even cast a spell at you.”

A tiny spark appeared at the edge of her finger. She pressed it against his shoulder, sending a sharp current through his left arm. It felt like a thousand needles pricking him simultaneously, and he shouted in pain.

“Daren Morin, get out of my class!” Colin Woolins bellowed from the podium, his wand raised and pointed directly at Daren.

Daren glared at the girl, pure malice in his heart. He stood up, grabbing the worn leather bag lying in front of him. A splitting headache pounded inside his skull, and an intense anger pulsed through his veins.

“If I had my powers, I’d fry your brain, bitch,” he spat, his voice low and venomous, as he stalked away from the desk and out of the classroom.

“Moron, you’re thrown out again,” a guy with a small beard taunted, throwing a crumpled paper at him.

The paper was enhanced with wind magic, and it struck the edge of Daren’s chin like a small stone, drawing a cry from him. He stumbled, his hand instinctively reaching up to rub the sore spot, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the hallway for any further threats. The bitter taste of humiliation lingered on his tongue as he walked out of the classroom.

This time, Daren recalled the guy’s name, Val Krakon, the star student of the Arcane Academy. A student who’d made life miserable for Daren when he’d been at the academy. Daren had been thrown out of the academy at the end of that year.

Wait… was he…?

An intense pain hit him, like a searing hot knife plunging into his skull. As the hallway spun and his knees hit cold stone, Daren clutched his head. A blinding pain erupted in his head, dragging him into darkness.

A memory surged to life, vivid and cruel. A friend—no, a betrayer—stood before him, their eyes filled with icy resolve. The spell struck Daren’s chest, a lance of agony that shattered his heart.

Daren’s eyes snapped open, sweat chilling his skin. “Not this time,” he whispered hoarsely, the words a vow and a curse.

2 REALITY

A sharp smell of magic and alchemy potions lingered when Daren opened his heavy eyelids. The familiar white ceiling and cream walls came into focus, the surfaces scrubbed clean and sterile. Afternoon sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, casting soft shadows across the room.

Recognition settled in his chest, heavy and unwelcome. The Arcane Academy infirmary. Memories flooded back in like water through a cracked dam—endless hours recovering from training injuries, magical backfires, and more often, bullying. His stomach churned as the fragments coalesced, ending in a single, unshakable image: the spell that had killed him.

A throbbing pain cracked through his skull, forcing his eyes shut. He could still see the betrayer’s spell exploding through his chest, shattering his heart. He was dead. Or he was supposed to be. The friend he’d trusted the most had killed him with a death spell, bursting his heart from the inside. The magic, the power he had put his faith in, hadn’t saved him—all because of a single knot in his ultimate Spell Circle. A knot born of tangled emotions.

Not this time. It would be different. The academy, the path to power—everything would be different.

“Damn it, kid, you scared the hell out of me.”

A shadow fell across Daren’s face as he blinked his eyes open again. Mr. Colin Woolins’s bulk blocked the light, his crooked nose and receding hairline instantly recognizable. The professor’s signet ring caught the light as he gripped the wooden bedframe, knuckles white with tension.

His usually composed face was etched with concern as he leaned closer. “How are you feeling?”

Feeling like shit—Daren wanted to say this, but he suppressed the urge, pressing his parched lips together. He wasn’t sure about this yet. On the surface, it seemed like he had reincarnated into his old self, which was a magic beyond anyone’s capability from his time, but he could also be moving to a parallel reality.

Colin’s eyes scanned Daren’s face. “You look well, and awake. I guess I’ll see you in the next class, kid.”

He patted Daren’s shoulder lightly, a gesture of comfort but also a bit awkward, as if he wasn’t used to physical contact. It was something no one had dared to do with Daren in the last hundred years.

Daren swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy. “Colin, one moment. Give me a chocolate drink,” he said, his voice coming out as a weak rasp.

This body was as frail as a ten-year-old kid’s. Well, he had only grown into a tall man after casting a growth spell on himself. And that had happened ten years after he’d been kicked out of the Arcane Academy.

Colin’s eyebrows shot up, and he squinted at Daren, looking comical with his crooked nose and tiny eyes. “Since when did you start calling me by my name, kid?”

Daren chuckled dryly, the sound barely escaping his parched throat. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Once, as an evil lord, he’d had people trembling and kneeling before him. Now he had to show deference to a lowly mage just to get a simple chocolate drink. So be it.

“Please forgive me, teacher. I don’t feel good yet,” Daren said with a note of reluctant submission.

Colin’s stern expression softened. With a flick of his wand, a glass of chocolate drink appeared, the rich aroma wafting through the air, tempting Daren’s senses. The drink looked as rich and delicious as he remembered—a comfort in his current predicament.

Sitting up, Daren grasped the glass with shaking hands and brought it to his lips. The warmth of the chocolate drink spread through him, and he savored the taste, letting the thick, sweet liquid coat his tongue before swallowing. He drank deeply, the familiar flavor bringing a rare moment of pleasure. After half the Arcane Academy had vanished, he had spent years perfecting the formula for this very drink, a small peaceful win in decades of carnage and war.

Colin watched him for a moment before speaking again. “Nyxara will bring you to your dorm. If you don’t feel good, take a rest tomorrow. I’ve applied to the Administrative Department for your leave.”

The room smelled of antiseptic and was filled with the soft hum of magic-infused equipment. Colin rubbed his forehead lightly, stress and worry etched into his features. With a final nod, he turned and exited the infirmary room, leaving Daren to his thoughts. Daren closed his eyes, thinking about the events that would occur. One event was engraved in his mind—the disappearance of the academy after he’d been expelled.

Footsteps forced him back to the present. The flat-figured girl walked in through the wooden doorframe. Her glasses had slid down to her nose, and she pushed them up with her left middle finger. She began scolding him as soon as she stepped in, her voice piercing.

“You moron, why didn’t you eat something? I warned you not to drop dead one more time, but you keep begging to fall unconscious.”

“Shut up, lady.” Daren’s strained voice barely carried over the rustling sheets as he shifted against the uncomfortable mattress.

“Nyxara,” she corrected icily. “And don’t think for a second I’ll let you off easily. You keep collapsing like this, and I’ll have to start charging you babysitting fees.”

“I know, so please shut up. I’m not feeling well, and your annoying voice is cracking my head open. If I was at my full power, I would have glued your tongue to your throat so you wouldn’t mutter a single word in your life!” Daren snapped, his eyes narrowing.

Immediately, he regretted speaking—not because he had a soft spot for her but because it took a lot of energy. He slumped back against the pillows, feeling the emptiness in his dried meridians. The fucking moron he’d been in the past hadn’t known how to cultivate mana, and now his body screamed in protest. There wasn’t a drop of mana present in his system, and he felt parched inside.

Nyxara’s expression softened just a bit as she watched him struggle. She sighed, pulling a small vial from her pocket and placing it on the bedside table. “Drink this. It’ll help replenish some of your energy,” she said, her voice losing some of its harshness.

Daren eyed the vial suspiciously but reached for it, feeling the cool glass against his fingers. He uncorked it and downed the contents, a bitter taste flooding his mouth. He grimaced but felt a slight warmth spreading through his body. The impure mana potion wasn’t ideal, but it eased some of the dull ache of his meridians. He felt a slight relief, though the bitterness of the potion still lingered on his tongue.

“Thanks,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension ease just a fraction.

“And, Moron, how dare you talk shit to me?” She snorted, crossing her arms. “You can’t even cast a simple spell, and you want to glue my tongue? Dream on, Moron.”

“Why do you keep calling me Moron?” he protested. The fact that she had given him the potion made him hesitant to lash out completely.

“It’s your surname. What else am I supposed to call you?” she retorted, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s Morin, for fuck’s sake.” Daren rubbed his temples, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Memories of the academy had lain dormant because he’d hated this place. Though he’d eventually become an evil lord who looked down on the world, the academy had brought him shame, and memories of it lay in a dust-coated corner of his mind. Even after coming back to that time, he didn’t want to think about it.

One of the reasons was this girl. Nyxara Tusslewood—eighteen years old and a user of storm and other Spell Circles. She’d shocked him so much in his first year that she’d fried his arm meridians.

“Morin, Moron. It’s all the same,” Nyxara mumbled, a spark crackling at the tip of her finger. Back in the first year, she could barely cast any magic herself, but she had a lightning Spell Circle that could fry anyone at close range.

“If you keep shocking me with your magic, you’ll fry the meridians in my hand!” Daren snapped. He wanted to lie down on the bed and think about his future path, but this girl wouldn’t let him have a moment’s peace. “Please go back. I’ll find my way.”

“How can I let you go alone? You’re my roommate, so we have to go back together,” she insisted, a strange fear flashing in her big eyes.

Roommate. The word hit him like a bucket of cold water. Memories surged forward, unwelcome and sharp—Nyxara’s relentless nagging, her reckless experiments, and his hours of humiliation as her “practice dummy.” He could still feel the phantom pain in his meridians from spells that had gone wrong.

“Why?” he muttered, slumping back against the pillows, the rough fabric scratching his skin. “Why me?”

Nyxara stood at the foot of the bed, tapping her foot impatiently. “Let’s go if you’re feeling well. We have the first test tomorrow, and you’d better not flunk it and drag my name into the dirt.” Her voice cut through his thoughts like a blade.

A test. Daren’s chest tightened. How was he going to pass it without being able to cast a single spell?

3 THE TEST

Sunlight crept through the curtains as morning announced itself with a series of raps on the wooden door—Nyxara’s familiar knock. She was his desk mate and occupied the room directly beneath his in their shared two-story house on the academy campus. The administration had the brilliant plan to have students pair up both as desk mates and housemates. It was supposed to foster collaboration and magical growth.

Daren rolled onto his side, pressing his face into the cool pillow. It was a really stupid idea to have desk mates live together in a single house. He never would have chosen Nyxara if he’d known what would happen at the end of the year. But Daren hadn’t had a choice—like he hadn’t had a choice when his best friend had cast a death spell on him, killing him.

Daren sat up slowly, wincing as he probed the dry patch inside his meridians. The emptiness felt like sandpaper scraping against his magical pathways. Whatever mana he could afford from the potion had been used to heal the tiniest of his meridians. The thought of facing a test without his magic made his stomach clench. He would have to find a way to procure an actual mana potion to kick-start his mana cultivation.

“Are you sleeping again?” She knocked more sharply this time, irritating him to the maximum. Even his girlfriend had never annoyed him like this.

“Coming,” Daren growled as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, his joints popping. He shuffled into the bathroom, feeling the cold tiles under his bare feet. “Give me ten minutes.”

The chill in the air bit at his skin, and he shivered at the thought of the cold shower he was about to take. He’d always insisted on this practice, believing cold water honed his focus for the day ahead. Not that he’d needed it at the peak of his power, when concentration could be called upon on a whim.

Today, as weak as he was, he needed it the most. With his mana depleted, he needed every edge he could get. He paused, inhaling the earthy, musky scent of the bamboo pipes that delivered the water. The aroma of hot water tempted him, urging him to turn it on. But he pushed the thought away, steeling himself.

“Moron, do it fast!” Nyxara shouted from outside, her voice grating. “The exam starts at nine sharp.”

“And it’s only eight. The exam hall is just five minutes away!” Daren shouted back from the bathroom.

He twisted the knob, and a cascade of icy water poured down, drenching him instantly. He gasped at the shock, feeling the cold pierce his skin and waking him up fully. Nyxara was infuriating. If she hadn’t given him the mana potion the previous night, he might have considered sneaking into her room and slitting her throat.

He took a deep breath, letting the cold water hammer against his body, and tried to focus on the day ahead. The exam was looming, and he needed to be at his sharpest. The cold water cascaded down from the ceiling, a neat magic trick, and flowed over his long hair and his shoulders. His body tensed as the icy stream made contact, sending a shiver up his spine. He almost reached for the hot water tap, but he persevered, gritting his teeth. The cold water did more than just wake him up; it massaged the mana channels in the outer pores of his skin.

One could absorb mana through air, potions, and crystals. People preferred ambient mana—the purest form of mana. It was free, and everyone in the academy knew one or two mana cultivation techniques.

However, those were useless to him, thanks to his unique Spell Circle. While everyone else had a standard Spell Circle that allowed them to absorb ambient mana and conjure common elemental spells, he had a Deconstruct Spell Circle. Others could construct spells with ease, but Daren had the unique ability to deconstruct them, learn them, and improve them. This special Spell Circle had remained a mystery until he’d discovered a rare artifact in his previous life that finally revealed its secrets. Others relied on absorbing the ambient mana around them to break through stages in their training, but Daren required mana potions or crystals to reach the next realm of power. Of course, he didn’t have access to any of them at the moment.

Stepping out, he glanced at the image of his old self in the mirror. Thin, frail, scrawny. His body hadn’t grown after age twelve, and he looked more like a young teenager than an eighteen-year-old. People had made fun of him, bullied him, and even physically hurt him. It had only stopped after he used a growth spell on himself.

“I need to get out of the academy before the event strikes, but I can’t be expelled with no powers like last time,” he muttered to himself.

“Are you coming or not?” Nyxara shouted again. “I’m coming in.”

“If you don’t mind seeing my naked form, then be my guest.” Daren reached for his academy uniform. Maybe he should have killed her last night.

* * *

The classroom hadn’t changed since Daren had woken up there the previous morning. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating rows of students in bright-yellow uniforms who turned to stare at him with judgmental eyes. Their whispers followed him like trailing shadows.

The original Daren had indeed been a loser, but the students didn’t know who was back in his body. A snarl played at his lips as he walked to his desk. Nyxara’s footsteps came close behind him, her presence a constant reminder of his predicament.

As soon as Daren settled into his wooden chair, the aged wood groaning under his weight, a blond woman with hips wider than a chair strode in, her braids swaying behind her like pendulums as she moved with surprising speed. Her white robe waved in the air. Daren squinted. She was a powerful Wind Mage, and he didn’t have a recollection of her.

“We are here,” she announced, her voice resonating with an unusual strength that carried to every corner of the classroom. Her blue eyes sparkled with barely contained energy as she lifted the stack of papers she carried.

With a smile, she tossed the sheets into the air. A sudden gust of wind swept through the open window, catching the papers and directing them with impossible precision. They floated down one by one, landing perfectly centered on each student’s clean, polished desk.

The paper before Daren pulsed with a dim purple light, emanating a distinct tingle of mana that enticed him. Enchanted mana paper. This paper could hold rune inscriptions, and it contained more mana than it needed.

Daren’s eyes narrowed as he ran his fingers over the smooth surface. “Do we have a runes exam?” he asked, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

Nyxara pushed her glasses up, glaring at him through the slits of her eyes. Irritation leaked through her expression. “Did you hit your head, Moron? I told you about it last night when I took you to bed!” she snapped.

Daren rubbed his temples. “You can’t blame me for forgetting it when you slammed my head on the table.” He snorted. “I might have lost my memories when you assaulted me, lady.”

“It’s Nyxara,” she corrected sternly, her voice low.

The new teacher coughed hard. “You two, do you want to get kicked out of the exam?” she warned, her voice carrying a hint of authority.

Daren looked down. “Who is she?” he whispered.

“Miss Wallheart,” Nyxara whispered harshly. “Don’t you dare comment on her looks, or you’ll be herding sheep for the whole first semester.” She pinched him hard on the arm, her fingers digging into his skin.

It almost drew a cry out of him. There would be a red mark under his uniform later. Tonight, he would end this annoyance permanently, just as he had ended countless others in his past life—one quick slice, silent and efficient. It was decided.

“I want everyone to carve a simple Wind Rune on the practice paper,” Miss Wallheart boomed. “If you can achieve a ten percent success rate, you will pass this exam. If you think ten percent is higher than what you can do, then you are welcome to walk out of the room as you won’t be passing this exam.”

The room was filled with the nervous shuffling of students adjusting their papers. Daren shook his head in disappointment. Even the servants working for him could carve those.

“A simple Wind Rune,” he mumbled, barely audible to those around him. Every auxiliary thing was divided into Bronze, Silver, Gold, and further grades, and the rune the teacher had taught them was only a Bronze Grade rune.

“You can’t even conjure mana, and yet you dare to say a simple Wind Rune will be easy?” Nyxara frowned, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Daren chuckled softly. Agreed—he couldn’t conjure mana as he had no useful Mana Portal, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to carve a simple rune like this. Smiling, he picked up his rune-carving tool, feeling the cold metal in his hand. It had been decades since he’d had to carve a rune by himself. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and relaxed his head, letting the tension drain from his shoulders.

“Look at his audacity. He even dares to sleep because he can’t carve the rune,” someone whispered behind him, followed by a chorus of muffled laughter.

“Moron, wake up,” Nyxara hissed, jabbing him with a sharp object. The sudden pain shot through his arm, drawing a cry from him. He jerked upright, rubbing the sore spot where she’d poked him.

“Daren Morin, are you eager to get out of this exam?” Miss Wallheart’s voice cut through the low hum of the classroom, her blond braids swaying as she stepped through the rows of students and halted in front of him.

Her imposing presence attracted everyone’s attention to Daren, their eyes like knives. They wanted Daren to fail—to make a fool of himself. They were waiting for him to be kicked out of the class. But Daren wouldn’t let them have their fun.

“Miss Wallheart.” Daren reluctantly stood up, shooting a glare at Nyxara, who acted like an innocent kid. The pain in his arm still lingered—an embarrassing moment for an evil lord from the past.

“I’m waiting.” Miss Wallheart’s eyes bored into him, a piercing gaze that felt like it could crack open his skull and expose the thoughts within. Despite his two hundred years of life, he had little recollection of this teacher. Rune carving had not been a subject he’d held in high regard during his time at the academy.

He sighed, the heavy weight of his past misfortunes settling on his shoulders. “Please forgive me. I’ll carve the rune right away and walk out of the exam.”

A scoff escaped Miss Wallheart’s lips as she pushed her finger into his chest. “As if you can, Daren.”

He met her gaze, his pride wounded but not broken. “And what if I can do it?”

His voice was steady. The classroom fell silent, the other students watching intently as the tension between teacher and student thickened.

“Oh, son. You can do shit, but not this. Rune carving is not as simple as those spells you work on—the little sparks and tiny fires. This is real, complicated magic, and that’s why I expect only ten percent of you to carve ten percent of the rune.”

“And what if I can carve the rune perfectly, Miss Wallheart?” Daren’s voice was calm, but his eyes burned with challenge. A spark of rage ignited within him. Despite being reborn in a weakened state, he refused to simply accept his circumstances.

She arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “If you do, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“And if I want your life?” The words were a remnant of his former power and the carnage he had once wrought. Though his abilities had diminished, the desire to threaten and destroy still burned in his heart.

The room froze. Whispers died in an instant as every head turned to Daren. His words hung heavily in the air, dripping with a menace that didn’t belong in a classroom.

Miss Wallheart’s smirk faltered just for a moment. Then she leaned closer, her blue eyes boring into his. “Then I hope you’ve brought more than empty threats, Mr. Morin. Show me what you’ve got.”

4 THE BET

Miss Wallheart stared at Daren, her breath drawn in and her eyes narrowing as if trying to pierce his skull to understand his thoughts. Her fingers tightened around her wand, knuckles whitening. But she was merely a Wind Mage, not a Mind Mage, and his thoughts remained safely locked away.

“Of course I’m joking, miss.” Daren chuckled, breaking the deadly silence in the classroom. He licked his lips, wetting them with his tongue. If this had been Mr. Woolins’s class, he could have asked for a chocolate drink. The rich, sweet taste from earlier still lingered on his tongue, making him crave another cup.

“But I’m not joking, Mr. Daren Morin,” Miss Wallheart said, jabbing the hard tip of her wand against his chest with each syllable. “If you can carve the rune on this paper, I will give you whatever you ask, given I’ve the authority for it.”

She leaned in, her blond braids swinging forward as her stale breath hit him squarely in the face. As a Wind Mage, she could have easily gotten rid of the bad breath, but she didn’t—a clear sign someone had pissed her off. Daren shifted in his seat and looked around, gauging the reaction from the whole class. Their wide eyes and frozen postures showed they were still holding their breaths. These kinds of confrontations were clearly too high-level for the stupid first years to process.

“I want to access the Familiar Prison and contract with a familiar,” he said after a brief silence, his voice steady and clear in the quiet classroom.

The entire class gasped in shock, the sound like a sudden gust of wind through dry leaves. Miss Wallheart’s face contorted with a whirlwind of emotions, her lips pressing tightly as she tried to process Daren’s request. She took a step closer.

“Why does a first year need access to the prison?” she asked suspiciously.

Daren met her gaze without flinching. “I want to contract with a familiar. I can’t generate mana, and I need a way to do it. Isn’t that a sufficient reason?” he asked in a steady voice.

There were three ways for him to generate mana: an artificial Mana Portal, which was impossible for now; external mana potions, a costly and unreliable method; and a familiar who could provide him with mana. The last was a low-level method everyone looked down upon, but he had little choice here.

Or he could build a sigil by himself. But he would avoid that as much as he could.

Miss Wallheart’s frown deepened, her lips pressing into a thin line. She folded her arms, her fingers tapping against her elbow as if she were calculating something. “Why prison? Why not the menagerie?” she asked, her tone laden with doubt as if she could smell something fishy in Daren’s request.

“Miss, do you think the academy will allow a first-year student to contract with a level-three-and-above familiar? My only hope is to find a low-level one and get out of this predicament. But if you can’t help, then let’s forget we even discussed this. Just treat it as a joke from my side.”

Daren gave a smug smile that he knew would piss off Miss Wallheart even more. She seemed like a woman who didn’t tolerate nonsense, and by raising this issue publicly, he was testing her patience. But this was the key to getting her to agree to his extravagant request.

Miss Wallheart’s eyes narrowed, her braids moving as she shifted her weight to one hip. “Why wouldn’t I be able to do this? It’s just, I need to file an application and see if there are a few low-level familiars trapped inside. If there are, then I’ll allow it,” she said, her voice tinged with curiosity. “But, kid, I’m interested—how do you know about the contract and stuff?” She glanced around the room, her gaze sharp. “Is this taught in class already? Beast manipulation is a second-year class, isn’t it?”

A tall guy with a self-proclaimed air of authority stood up, his eyes gleaming with a sense of importance. “Yes, miss. It’s a second-year class.”

Val Krakon. How could that bastard stay down when it came to Daren?

“Miss Wallheart, it’s obvious what’s happening here,” Val Krakon continued, his voice rising with allegations. He’s been consorting with Dark Mages. How else would a first-year know about the Familiar Prison? I shall ask Miss Wallheart to arrest him and execute him right away.”

Daren chuckled. The bastard just couldn’t stop, could he? If one made a list of villains in the first year, Val Krakon would be the top name. In the next couple of years, he would be joining the Dark Mages. At least, that was what Daren had heard in the future.

Miss Wallheart’s lips curved into a smile as she turned abruptly to face him, her eyes narrowing. “Why are you laughing, Daren? His accusation is not baseless,” she chided

Daren’s laughter grew harder. “Miss. A cripple like me who can’t even cultivate mana is trying to free a criminal from the low-level prison. Doesn’t it sound absurd to you?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, touching the long damp hair. Thanks to Nyxara’s constant nagging in the morning, he hadn’t been able to dry his hair. A warming spell could have helped it perfectly.

“Yet you didn’t say how you know about this.”

Daren shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “I overheard some seniors talking about it,” he replied, his eyes meeting hers with a hint of defiance. He could feel the cool metal of the chair’s armrest against his fingers. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

Miss Wallheart chuckled as she turned away. She wasn’t laughing at her own mistake but just testing him, and Daren knew that very well. His hundred years of experience helped him read this woman like a blank paper.

“Anyway, it will only happen if you pass the test, and you can’t cultivate any mana. So if you pass, then I file an application, and if you fail, I expel you from my class. You are welcome to learn some other, more important subject, like scratching your arms in the foundry or dirtying your hands in the Alchemy Department.”

The classroom fell silent, but a few eyes darted to Daren, their glances curious and judgmental. They all wanted to see him fail and then laugh at him. But they would fail that day. Miserably.

“There was a better way to get out of her class, you moron,” Nyxara hissed, leaning closer. She swung her arm to slap his back, but Daren’s hand shot out and gripped her wrist firmly.

“One more time, and I swear I’ll kill you tonight while you’re sleeping,” he said venomously, his voice low enough that only she could hear. His eyes bored into hers, cold and unyielding.

Nyxara’s face paled, and a bead of sweat trickled down her temple. She snatched her arm away and turned her gaze to the front, fidgeting nervously with the edge of her sleeve. “You are impossible.” A low growl slipped out of her mouth.

“Don’t bother me while I’m working.” A surge of determination washed over him. It was time to show what he could do with this exam.

A mere Wind Rune. Daren smirked, picking up the rune-carving tool. He’d see how they handled a little surprise.

5 FIRST LAW OF MAGIC

The paper pulsed faintly in Daren’s hands, its glow rhythmic, like a heartbeat. To most, it looked like ordinary parchment sold in the market to write down alchemy formulas, complete with yellowed edges and slight creases, but to him, it was a lifeline.

Anticipation coating his tongue with the sweet, electric taste of mana, he brushed his fingers over the rough paper. The surface felt like sandpaper against his skin, each tiny groove holding traces of power that pulsed. Around the edges of the paper, the air current moved in an erratic manner, rippling and twisting as if caught in an invisible dance. Something disturbed it—something called mana.

A general paper would crumble if one used it to practice runes, so rune carvers required mana-infused papers. However, the brute who’d made this paper had infused too much pure mana into this—so much that the paper practically hummed with excess energy. He glanced toward the front of the classroom, where Miss Wallheart stood with her blond braids swaying as she wrote on the board. She must have been the brute responsible.

“Miss Wallheart, you have a fine test for practice papers. Ten marks to your foresight,” he whispered in his mind, watching her broad figure cast shadows on the board.

She had raised the difficulty of the test ten times by infusing too much mana into the paper. She wanted to either punish students or make her subject look more difficult than it could ever be—generic tactics, but they wouldn’t work on an evil lord like him.

“Why are you looking at the paper like you’re watching your girlfriend?” Nyxara asked, tapping her metal rune-carving tool on the wooden table with a rhythmic clink.

“Did I not warn you about disturbing me?” Daren’s eyes remained fixed on the paper, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“I just wake you up from your weird ways, Moron. You’ve been staring at that paper for the last ten minutes, and you only have fifty minutes left now,” she whispered, her voice raspy, like sandpaper scratching metal.

Daren chuckled softly, his gaze drifting to Miss Wallheart, who stood on the podium, her keen eyes scanning the room. Her hips, wider than the chair behind her, made it impossible for her to sit comfortably. It was an unusual feature.

“Do you want some help, Moron?” Nyxara asked, her tone softening as she leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear.

“No need.” Daren tapped on the metal rune-carving tool once before picking it up. It was a shit tool. The nib was broken, and one would fail to carve any tier-two rune using it, but he had to carve a simple Wind Rune, which he could do in his sleep. If he had access to mana.

And the paper held the key to his problem. Mana cultivation had some rules. Mana could never be created or destroyed—it could be transferred or contained. Someone had transferred ambient mana into the paper—albeit too much of it—and it had begun corroding the paper. This would interfere with the rune carving, and most of the students would fail. If Miss Wallheart had only used ten percent of the mana currently stuffed into the paper, this would be an excellent practice paper. The extra ninety percent acted like a devil, the excess mana making it impossible to carve the rune into the paper.

A glance at the class showed most of the students were frustrated, their nostrils flaring, and some were even rubbing the nib of the carving tool on the wooden surface, their faces set in determined scowls. They were fucking ruining the tool. No wonder he’d gotten a broken one.

Daren grabbed the carving tool and scratched the edge of the paper, where he could see the mana leaking with his bare eyes. The paper glowed with a telltale shimmer of excess energy. A simple scratch unleashed the mana stored, and it flew out like a gust of wind, making a soft whoosh as it dissipated.

The air around him felt cooler instantly, and the scent of ozone lingered for a moment before fading away. Daren’s fingers tingled from the released mana, a sensation not entirely unpleasant but distracting enough to make him rub his fingertips together. He glanced over at Miss Wallheart, who had walked down and was moving through the students. She seemed oblivious to the frustration bubbling among them, or perhaps she was simply choosing to ignore it.

Daren moved his finger slightly, attempting to block the mana flow. However, mana couldn’t truly be halted. According to the second rule of mana, it always flowed from a mana-rich stream to a lower one. The only exception was that one needed to trigger the flow; otherwise, millions of mortals would perish from the mana infusion. Fortunately for them, mana didn’t hurt them, nor did it pass through their bodies.

But Daren wasn’t a mere mortal. He possessed meridians. Though dry and nearly burned out, they were still capable of containing mana. He took a deep breath, feeling the familiar tingle in his fingers.

For most, this effort would be futile, but Daren had spent years studying ancient scriptures on mana manipulation. Taming this small amount of mana was no challenge for him. He gave his meridians and the flow of his blood a subtle nudge, and the mana began to stream into his meridians and toward his Mana Portal.

The sensation of the mana flow was like the first ray of sun breaking through after a long, dark night. It moved through his meridians with the intensity of a wild beast. After two centuries spent cultivating mana, Daren knew exactly how to tame this wild energy.

First things first—Daren directed most of the mana toward his fried-up meridian ends, feeling the warm, tingling sensation as they began to heal. Not a lot of healing was needed; the issue was the lack of mana. With a steady source, his meridians would naturally repair themselves in about ten days. Unfortunately, he couldn’t cultivate mana on his own, so external help was necessary.

“Are you losing your paper potency? Wait, I’ll call Miss Wallheart,” Nyxara said, her voice laced with concern as she leaned closer, her eyes scanning him.

“Shut up, Nyxara. Let me work on this one by myself,” he hissed back, irritation flaring.

He shot her a sharp look, wanting her to back off. She was really annoying. Just stay in your own lane, girl, he thought.

With a little nudge from his blood, Daren guided the mana toward his Mana Portal, where the Deconstruct Spell Circle was etched. The sensation was like a cool stream of water flowing into a parched landscape. He couldn’t store all the mana; some of it was needed for rune carving. However, the amount he managed to store would suffice for a few activations of his Spell Circle.

Grabbing the carving tool, Daren steadied his hand. The S curve of the Wind Rune wasn’t complex, but it demanded precision—each stroke had to mimic the flow of real wind. Most students struggled, their tools scratching uselessly against the mana-saturated paper. But Daren wasn’t most students. And who could do it better than he in this class? Well, maybe Miss Wallheart could do it better for now, but once he found a familiar, he would surpass her any day.

Channeling the mana he had coaxed from the paper, Daren guided the tool with practiced ease. The line glowed faintly, the energy settling as the rune took shape. Three minutes later, the rune flashed blue before settling into the paper. A surge of satisfaction coursed through him as he leaned back in his chair, relaxed. Now he could use the paper to cast a simple wind attack, using the rune. It would only work for a few days, after which the paper would crumble.

“Did you…?” Nyxara’s eyes widened with astonishment as the rune flashed.

“I told you, it’s just a Wind Rune,” Daren replied as he stood up, brushing off the small shavings from his fingers. “Miss Wallheart, I’ve carved the rune. Please check and make the application.”

His voice quivered, his eyes already catching the sight of a familiar perched on his shoulder, its ethereal form assisting him in channeling the mana he needed. The future seemed nearer than he’d believed. The class turned silent, their eyes fixed on Daren, anticipation hanging in the air.

“What a joke. Do you take us for fools, Daren?” Val Krakon chuckled, his small beard shaking with each laugh.

Daren straightened, brushing the remaining paper shavings from his hands. “I don’t have to take you for a fool, Val. You are a fool. You couldn’t even finish the first curve, and yet you have the audacity to laugh.”

Val’s face reddened as he gripped the carving tool, pointing it at Daren. “You—” he began, but the words caught in his throat.

“You don’t trust me, right?” Daren asked, his eyes locking onto Val’s with a piercing gaze.

He knew people like Val Krakon—quick to anger, always ready for a fight at the slightest provocation. Daren, too, wanted a fight. They were easy to get from people like Val.

“Of course. I don’t trust a cripple,” Val spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You are cheating, and I will prove it.”

Daren’s expression remained calm as he turned to Miss Wallheart, who stood at the front of the class. “Miss, would it be a problem if I tried this out on Val? Please give me your permission.”

Miss Wallheart frowned, her eyes narrowing. The room became quiet, the only sound the rustling of papers and the distant chirping of birds outside the window.

“Miss, please let him do it. I will prove he cheated. Then you can expel him,” Val interjected, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as he looked at Miss Wallheart.

Miss Wallheart glanced between the two boys, her lips pressed into a thin line. After a tense moment, she gave a curt nod of approval. “I’m allowing this for demonstration purposes, kids. So don’t make a fool out of yourself.” She stared at Daren, maybe hoping he would give up.

“Come, Daren. Show me what you’ve got,” Val snickered, walking toward the podium.

Daren walked to the podium, his footsteps scuffing softly in the now-silent room. A couple of students hastily cleared the desk, pushing papers and books aside to make space for the quick duel. The air was thick with anticipation, and everyone focused on the unfolding scene. They were only going to use a simple rune, so no one bothered setting up wards or making more space.

“Are you ready to fail, Daren?” Val chuckled, his teeth flashing whiter than ever while he rubbed his knuckles menacingly, a clear signal that he intended to beat Daren up later if things didn’t go his way.

Daren squared his shoulders, meeting Val’s gaze with unwavering determination. “Are you ready, Val? Don’t blame me when my rune smacks you against the wall behind you,” he warned, his voice steady.

The room rippled with laughter, including a rare, amused smile from Miss Wallheart. She leaned on a desk, the wood cracking under her weight.

“I’ve warned you, so you can’t blame me for not warning you,” Daren reiterated firmly.

He then placed his hand on the rune paper, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingers. With a deep breath, he pushed a tiny amount of mana he’d stored in his Mana Portal into the rune paper. The air crackled with energy, a low hum resonating through the room as the rune began to glow.

The S rune pulsed with blinding white light, causing students to shield their eyes. A violent gale erupted from the paper, scattering loose papers and sending chairs scraping across the floor before slamming into Val’s chest with the force of a battering ram. Val’s tall frame lifted off the ground, his small beard whipping in the wind. His expression transformed from confusion to terror, eyes wide with betrayal as he sailed backward through the air. The sickening crack of his impact against the stone wall made several students gasp.

“Daren, what the hell did you do to him?” Miss Wallheart’s braids whipped around her face as she sprang into action.

Her fingers traced precise patterns in the air, summoning a counter cyclone that cut through the chaotic winds still pouring from the rune. The opposing forces created a low, whistling howl. With her careful manipulation of the air currents, her winds lifted Val’s limp form and drew him toward her, his boots dragging across the floor.

She pulled a crystal from her bag and ran it over Val’s body with practiced movements. The device hummed softly before displaying green indicators. Her shoulders visibly relaxed, though her voice remained sharp with anger.

“Why did you do it? Attacking a first-year student like this. This will get you expelled.” Miss Wallheart’s gaze burned into Daren, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Daren smirked, his lips curling with a hint of arrogance. “I did nothing, miss. I warned him that my magic would throw him against the wall, but he didn’t listen. His ego hurt him more than my simple rune.”

He spoke each word deliberately, the weight of his two hundred years evident in his tone. His eyes locked onto Miss Wallheart’s with a defiant intensity, and he crossed his arms. The room felt charged, with the students ready to burst into a discussion at any time. Daren stood firm, prepared to take anything coming at him.

He was done taking shit. If he got expelled for this, so be it.

6 MEETING THE PRINCIPAL

Daren slouched on the plush leather sofa outside the principal’s office, drumming his fingers against the armrest. The scent of old wood and polish wafted through the air, easing him into the sofa. Being summoned by the principal wasn’t exactly what he’d planned after waking up in the body of his young self.

But who cared? He straightened his shoulders. Fear had never been part of his vocabulary in his first life, and it wouldn’t be in this one either. He scoffed quietly, watching dust motes dance in the sunbeam streaming through a nearby window.

He glanced at the towering door ahead. “What’s the worst they can do—expel me?”

The thought didn’t faze him. His plans didn’t hinge on the academy. Waksania and the Dark Guild’s underground branch offered plenty of opportunities for someone like him. But the academy had one disadvantage he couldn’t ignore: the mana-rich ley line it sat on. Crossing the mana storms surrounding it, without some serious power, would be suicide.

In fact, he had every plan to get out of the academy on his own before the year’s end, when half the academy would vanish mysteriously. No one would know what happened, not even the few teachers who survived. He didn’t want to find it out by himself.

Time went on, but the huge door remained shut—as shut as the academy’s dungeons. They were renowned far and wide, and after the academy’s fall, many mages were eager to breach and loot them. However, they’d disappeared with the academy.

He got up and paced back and forth, his boots echoing softly against the polished marble floor. If he got expelled, he would regret not raiding those dungeons to find a free familiar. If he had some money, he could do those two things first and then buy a ticket to the teleportation formation that would jump him across the mana storm.

“This isn’t a bad option. The academy would foot my bill for the teleportation formation, and then I could go to Waksania directly.” A smile played on his lips as he slumped into the sofa once more, the warm leather hugging his form, making him comfortable.

Colin Woolins emerged from the dimly lit corridor, his pleasant smile barely visible in the shadows. “Come with me, child.” He placed a reassuring hand on Daren’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. As they approached the massive wooden door at the end of the corridor, Colin paused and turned to Daren. “Before we go in, I want you to know I’m proud of your breakthrough. Using mana in the paper was an excellent idea. It’s like a slap in their faces.” He grinned and patted Daren’s back playfully.

“Whose faces?” Daren asked, his forehead creasing with confusion.

“No one’s,” Colin replied with a sheepish smile, his eyes twinkling as he pushed the giant door open with an easy shove.

“Don’t we have to knock?” Daren’s frown deepened, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

Although he’d never met the principal, he’d heard stories about the man’s formidable powers. According to the rumors, the principal was a structuralist who valued processes and order above all else. Daren had always wondered what it would be like to duel with someone so disciplined.

Colin chuckled softly, the sound bouncing off the high stone walls of the spacious hallway. “He is all knowing. If he wasn’t willing to see us, we couldn’t have opened the door,” he said with a knowing look. “Now, don’t lie in front of him. If you lie, he will know, and I won’t be able to save you from his punishment. No one can.”

Daren’s face scrunched up in concern. “Did you say he can detect lies?”

“Yes,” Colin replied, nodding seriously. “He has a Spell Circle specializing in…”

He shook his head as they moved through the massive door. A staircase materialized next to them, hovering in midair. Daren’s jaw tightened as they stepped onto the floating staircase. The air buzzed faintly, the edges of the steps glowing with an eerie light.

“A Dimensional Corridor?” he thought, racking his brain for the memory, but none came to him.

His grip on the rail tightened as they ascended, the staircase gliding through the void with unnerving smoothness. Colin walked ahead, his knuckles white as he clung to the railing. As Daren glanced around, the darkness gnawed at him like a puzzle that needed solving. Dimensional Corridor. Why hadn’t he known about such an opportunity?

“Why are you smiling?” Colin asked.

“Nothing. Just enjoying the floating staircase. Our academy should have more of these.”

“There are some in the library. If you like them so much, go to the second level,” Colin said, gripping the handrail more tightly. He seemed afraid of falling—funny for a mage like him.

The staircase moved on its own, gliding smoothly through the air. Daren tightened his grip on the handrail, his eyes darting to the faintly glowing edges of the steps. After a minute of silent, tense travel, the staircase connected with another door leading to a floating room. It looked as if someone had torn apart a giant room and left it to drift in this ethereal void. Or perhaps someone had destroyed everything attached to the room, creating this eerie Dimensional Corridor.

The door swung open quietly at their approach, its ancient hinges showing no sign of wear. Colin stepped through, his signet ring catching the ethereal light as he gestured around them.

“This is all high-level magic, and even I don’t have much of an idea about it. So if he is in the mood, you might get the answers,” he said, his voice dropping to an almost reverent whisper.

Daren smiled. The air tasted electric—like mana. Every Dimensional Corridor carried a lot of mana, and he could feel his meridians healing up rapidly. It was a natural effect, and he loved it already.

Inside, the space stretched, vast and imposing, easily five times the size of their regular classrooms. Towering bookshelves lined every wall from floor to ceiling, their dark wood gleaming with generations of careful maintenance. The familiar musty scent of aged paper and leather bindings filled the air, but something else lingered beneath it—a subtle charge that made the hair on the back of Daren’s neck stand up. This wasn’t the academy’s main library. He remembered that ten-story building clearly from his past life.

Colin’s breath quickened with barely contained excitement. “This is the principal’s private library, and each book is more precious than our lives.”

The rest of the chamber held a scattered arrangement of plush leather couches, their deep-burgundy leather worn smooth from use. At the room’s heart stood a massive table that could have served an entire classroom, its polished surface reflecting the ambient light. In its exact center, a crystal ball no larger than a fist sat alone, its surface neither completely transparent nor fully opaque, seeming to pulse with a life of its own.

When they approached the table, a chair creaked and swiveled out of the darkness, revealing an old man’s face attached to four short limbs. It was a bizarre sight at first, but Daren knew familiars could take on many forms. He had encountered uglier ones before.

“A familiar.” Daren frowned. “Our principal is a familiar?”

“Of course not, young man,” the creature replied, its voice surprisingly clear and authoritative. “I’m just his representative. The principal is currently fighting a war far away and doesn’t have time to attend to the daily workings of the academy. So he sent me, his first familiar, to manage this place.”

He tapped the crystal ball with a wand, and a scene from Daren’s class appeared, showing the moment he had cast the Wind Rune. “You have excellent precision, young man. I like it,” the familiar continued, his eyes gleaming with interest. “It’s rare to meet a first-year rune carver with such potential. How about you try learning it more deeply?”

“Thank you.” Daren nodded.

“You can call me Princy.”

“Princy?”

“Yes, he calls me that. So you can call me Princy as well.”

Daren shrugged. “Then thank you, Princy. But I have no intention of learning rune carving. It’s an overlooked branch of magic that has zero potential in my eyes. Even in my…” He hesitated, his voice trailing off.

Princy’s eyes narrowed with interest. “Go ahead.”

Daren clenched his fists subtly then relaxed. “Nothing. I don’t want to lie.”

“So you won’t just speak up. That’s a clever tactic. Something I can’t fault,” Princy said with a nod of approval. He tapped on the crystal ball once more. The mist inside swirled, revealing a scene where three dragons were attacking a floating city. “This is Zelta—a city well-placed in the Depths of the North.”

The scene drew Daren in, his eyes widening with intrigue. He had never ventured to the Depths of the North; his missions had always taken him to the Helms of the East. He leaned in closer, the glow from the crystal ball casting a soft light on his face.

The three dragons unleashed a relentless assault on the city, their scales shimmering in the light as they hurled fireballs and cast powerful fire spells. A divine weapon, forged from pure fire, joined the onslaught, yet the ward protecting the city held firm. The magical barrier flickered with energy but remained intact, deflecting each fiery attack.

Daren’s mind raced, his breath catching as he watched the dragons’ futile efforts. The roar of the dragons echoed faintly from the crystal ball, filling the room with a sense of urgency and chaos. The scent of distant smoke seemed to linger, adding to the tension of the unfolding scene.

“Why are we seeing this, sir?” Colin asked, adjusting his glasses with a puzzled expression.

“The ward is made by a rune carver. Do you understand the potential of a rune carver now, young man?” Princy responded, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in, emphasizing his point.

“Are you telling me the truth?” Daren asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. He ran a hand through his long hair, his fingers trembling. In his two hundred years of experience, runes had always seemed like a trivial magical branch, something for those with less mana and potential.

“Of course. I don’t lie,” Princy replied, his smile widening awkwardly, the limbs attached to the back of his head twitching. “So, tell me, do you want to change your thoughts? I will grant you a tier-five familiar to fulfill your mana needs instantly.”

“Why me?” Daren whispered. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if trying to summon some hidden power. “I am just a mere mage who can’t even cast a simple spell. I can’t even cultivate mana.”

“Oh, don’t put yourself down just because you can’t generate mana. This is indeed a blessing for you,” Princy said with a hint of genuine reassurance. He leaned closer, his eyes flickering with curiosity. His limbs floated at the base of his head. “This way, you can focus on the rune carvings. And as for your question—I have never seen anyone without wind affinity carve the perfect Wind Rune like this. Can you show it to me once more?”

Daren gulped, feeling a nervous tickle in his stomach. Damn it. He had overdone it. His heart pounded in his chest as he hesitated. It wasn’t a perfect rune; it was a clever trick. He had used his knowledge to carve the rune, relying on a memory-extraction device someone had created. The device implanted the target’s experience into the host’s mind, but the process was fatal for the target. Soon it had gone out of favor when someone discovered the Memory Implanting spell. However, that spell only worked on midlevel mages and hadn’t proven as useful as it had initially sounded.

“Princy, I can do it if you give me some mana to work with,” Daren said. “But let me tell you one thing. I can only carve perfect runes because these are simple runes, and anyone could do it if that old woman hadn’t tampered with the paper.”

“You are lying.” Princy’s voice was cold and unyielding.

He floated above the table, his form casting a shadow over the crystal, which gleamed eerily in the dim light. A wand appeared in Princy’s front limb. The atmosphere turned tense. A cold trickle of sweat ran down Daren’s lower back. His shirt clung to him uncomfortably.

“I hate liars. I kill liars.” Princy’s voice came out like a sharp knife.

The wand in his front limb grew red, as if a death spell would burst out of it. Anytime now, death would come calling—again.

7 THE CHOICE

The wand’s glow intensified, casting harsh shadows across the table as it hovered inches from Daren’s face. The magical energy crackled, making the air feel thick and electric.

Sweat trickled down Daren’s spine. His heart beat steadily despite the threat—he found dark humor in the possibility of dying again so soon after his first death at his friend’s hands. The situation felt absurd, almost laughable. Surely, if some greater power had granted him another chance at life, it wouldn’t snatch it away this quickly.

He squared his shoulders, lifting his chin. If the choice came down to begging for his life or facing death with dignity, he’d already made up his mind.

“Mr. Princy.” Colin Woolins pushed himself up from his chair, his signet ring catching the wand’s light as he raised his hands in a placating gesture. “He is just a student, and students lie.” The professor’s robe rustled as he nervously rubbed his thighs. “Please, forgive him.”

“I’m not lying.” Daren kept his voice level, though his shoulders remained rigid. Death was an old acquaintance now—he’d faced it before with the same composure, even as his best friend’s death spell had torn through his heart.

“How?” Princy demanded, his wand unwavering.

“You can ask her to bring her papers, and I can prove it to you,” Daren said, meeting Princy’s gaze steadily.

“But you lied. You lied about your emotions about Miss Wallheart. Use the real words from your heart.” Princy waved his wand, ready to launch a spell.

Daren chuckled, the sound dry and humorless. “That old hag had played with the papers to show her importance, and that messed up the students. Is that enough of my frustration, Princy? Or are you going to bully a student just because you have the principal backing you?” He spoke in a low voice but with an edge that couldn’t be blunted.

“Now, those are your real emotions.” Princy returned to his chair, his four limbs folding up as he settled into it.

Daren snorted, his lips curling in disdain. He glanced around the principal’s office, taking in the ambience of crackling mana, disappointed with how things had unfolded. If he’d been at his peak, he wouldn’t have tolerated this little ugly familiar.

Princy’s expression softened. “Please forgive me. I’m just tied to the compulsion. Every familiar has a compulsion, and staying with truth is mine.”

Daren stared back, his gaze unwavering and stern, not hiding his anger. If this hadn’t been the Dimensional Corridor, and if it hadn’t had a positive effect on his mana meridians, he would have walked out of this room without a second thought.

“Can you show me your skills once more?” Princy asked. A bottle of mana potion, along with a piece of parchment and a new rune carving tool, materialized on the table.

Daren frowned, crossing his arms. “I wouldn’t want to after your little stunt, Princy.”

Colin’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Daren Morin, do it if you don’t want both of us to die.” His eyes were hard behind his glasses.

Daren’s lips curled into a smirk. “Only if you offer me a glass of chocolate drink.”

With a wave of Colin’s hand, a glass of rich chocolate drink appeared before Daren. He wrapped his fingers around the cool glass, bringing it to his lips. The smooth, creamy texture rolled over his tongue, and he savored the heavenly taste, feeling a momentary escape from his frustrations. This was the third thing he wouldn’t want to leave the academy for.

“Fine. Only for you, teacher.” Daren set the empty glass down with a soft thud and picked up the carving tool.

The cold metal felt sturdy in his hand, grounding him in the present moment. He glanced at the parchment, noting its high quality compared to the rough sheets Miss Wallheart usually provided. The paper had a pleasant smell, and its smooth texture was a small comfort amid the chaos.

First, he drank the mana, feeling its warm, invigorating energy flow through him. He directed most of it to his second Mana Portal, which lacked a Spell Circle. Most mages had at least two Mana Portals, and he was no exception. The second Mana Portal would obtain a Spell Circle when they broke through into a higher realm.

After absorbing all the mana, he directed some of it toward the carving tool, feeling the subtle vibrations of power pulsing through the cold metal. He began carving the Wind Rune, an elegant S curve that danced on the parchment. Simple and efficient. The high-quality paper and the abundant mana in his meridians made the process easier, and he finished it in just two minutes. The rune flashed with a dim blue light before settling on the paper, casting a soft glow at him as he focused on it.

“See, it’s the perfect rune. Although it’s a mere elemental rune, it’s picture-perfect.” Princy cheered up, his two front limbs shooting into the air with excitement.

“It is indeed.” Colin nodded like a puppet controlled by Princy, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose with each enthusiastic bob.

“Do you know what a perfect rune and an imperfect rune mean?” Princy asked, his tiny, beady eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“I don’t exactly know, but I guess it’s because I mimicked the natural flow of energy.” The memories Daren had obtained from the memory extractor only included information on low-level runes and basic carving rules. They didn’t delve into the deeper philosophy or principles behind the runes.

“Absolutely, and who in the first year understands that?” Princy’s voice was rising with excitement, enthusiasm palpable. “If you pursue this path, you can carve compound runes, complex runes, tiered runes, and layered runes. You can even delve into wards and whatnot. Daren, I ask you to consider my request once more,” he implored, his eyes wide and earnest.

Colin, standing beside Daren, nudged him gently with his elbow—not as strongly as Nyxara’s attacks.

“I’m sorry, Princy, but I have no interest in it,” Daren said, his tone unwavering.

His decision was clear. He’d spent too long on a dark path in his past life, and this time, he wanted to forge a different destiny. And if he had to choose another path, it would be inscriptions as he had a lot of knowledge and practice in that field.

Securing a familiar was just the beginning; Daren had ambitions that reached far beyond the confines of this initial step. He wanted to explore uncharted territories—to push the boundaries of his potential and craft a new legacy, one that would not be overshadowed by the mistakes of his previous life.

“Fair enough, young man. Let’s get to the things we are here for.” Princy had turned formal, in stark contrast to his earlier tone.

Daren nodded, unfazed. If Princy didn’t like his attitude, so be it. He had never followed someone else’s path in his past life, and this life wouldn’t be any different in that way.

“Now, tell me. Did you attempt to kill Val Krakon, or did you have the intention to kill him when you unleashed the Wind Rune on him?” Princy’s eyes seemed to pierce into Daren’s soul.

“Nope. I didn’t want to kill him, but I wanted to teach that jerk a lesson. He has been a bully for the past half a year, and he deserved that,” Daren answered firmly. He knew lying was pointless with Princy.

“You are telling the truth, so I will fine you one thousand Arcane Points for having a harmful disposition in the class.”

“When did we start punishing students for such things?” Daren asked, his gaze unwavering. He leaned forward, his hands slapping the edge of the table rhythmically. “Where were you when he tripped me, bullied me, and even kicked me in the gut for the past half a year? Did you not see how he locked me in the bathroom all night?” He let his past life’s frustration slip into his tone.

“I went over it and fined him ten thousand points.”

Daren’s fingers drummed faster on the table. “Why not when he did those things to me?”

“No one brought it to my attention. I act only when someone brings things to my attention.”

“So you won’t act even if someone kills on the academy campus?”

Princy’s expression didn’t waver. “Such a big thing would come to my attention. Now, tell me, Mr. Daren Morin. Are you planning to kill someone in the academy?” He spoke with the coldness of an inquisitor.

Daren’s pulse quickened. He knew Princy could see through any lie.

“Of course not.” Daren leaned back in his chair, forcing a smile. “I don’t have that big of a grudge against anyone in the academy.” This was the truth. He didn’t have a grudge yet.

“Good to know,” Princy said, his voice returning to its usual calm. “Take this talisman. Call me if you see any crime happening on the campus.” He tossed him a small button. “To the second thing. Miss Wallheart’s application. She wants to allow you into the prison of familiars.”

Daren nodded.

“Do you know what kind of criminals are imprisoned there?”

“I believe in familiars, and they are not innately criminal. If I can find one with a relatively mild compulsion who can bond with me, I should be able to get it on the correct path.” These were wild familiars thrown into the prison for harming humans, and Daren could definitely find one to help him with the mana issue.

“It’s good to see a good-hearted student like you, but I can only allow it if you have another teacher vouch for you.”

“I can vouch for him,” Colin said, smiling.

“Other than a home teacher,” Princy said dismissively.

Daren rubbed his chin. This was complicated, but he could work through it. Well, he had to. There was no other option.

“Thank you, Princy, for your time.” Daren rose from his seat, smoothing out his shirt. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

“One more thing, Daren,” Princy said, floating just above his chair. His many limbs twitched. “I have my eye on you, so you’d better not disappoint me.”

Daren turned, locking eyes with Princy. “Are you compelled to say the truth, Princy, like you are compelled to hear the truth?”

“I prefer not to answer that question.”

Daren chuckled softly. “So you are being a hypocrite.”

“You could say that,” Princy replied with a flat expression. “We are done here.”

A moment later, they stepped through the floating staircase, its steps swaying under their feet, and entered the long corridor leading away from the principal’s office. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of old parchment and polished wood.

“That was quite bold of you, child.” Colin patted Daren’s back, his signet ring cold against Daren’s shoulder. They waved goodbye at a fork in the corridor, one path leading to the teachers’ accommodation and the other to the student houses. “One more thing. Take this.” Colin retrieved a ring from his pocket. “This ring is special. It can allow you to connect with me if you find any bullying in the campus. Don’t lose it.”

Daren’s mind flashed. The ring really was special. It had an inscription that he could use for more than just contacting Colin.

“Thank you, teacher.” Daren nodded. A few minutes later, he opened the door to his room.

Daren froze. His breath caught in his throat as he saw blood splattered across the floor, the scent of it pungent. The entire place looked like a bull had rampaged through it, with furniture overturned and walls scratched. In the corner, Nyxara lay, her still body in stark contrast to the chaos around her.

8 THE HIDDEN SPELL CIRCLE

Evening light slanted through the open door, casting long shadows across the floor as Daren stood rigid, scanning his violated home. A cold draft whispered through the space, making the disturbing scene before him feel even more sinister.

The ground floor lay devastated as if a frenzied beast had torn through every room. Upended furniture, shredded clothes, and spilled bags created a maze of destruction. Women’s personal items—hairbrushes, cosmetics, and torn clothing—were strewn carelessly about. In the center of the chaos, Nyxara lay on a mound of scattered clothes, surrounded by small pool of blood. Her pristine white dress was stained with it, and a small stream trickled down her finger.

At first glance, she appeared lifeless, but Daren’s trained senses detected otherwise. The subtle amount of mana pulsed from her flat form like a faint heartbeat, barely perceptible but present.

Daren raised his arm in a deliberate motion, extending his awareness as he released a thin veil of mana. To an observer, the gesture might have looked like he was trying to wave away the thick, metallic stench of blood. The mana particles moved through the air, reaching every nook and corner, confirming that only two of them—he and Nyxara—remained in the entire house. The ambusher was long gone, leaving them an unwanted gift.

Taking careful steps, Daren approached Nyxara’s prone form. A shard of broken glass crunched beneath his leather shoe, the sound unnaturally loud in the deathly quiet room.

“Get up—you’re not fooling me,” Daren growled as he squatted down beside Nyxara. He examined the blood smeared on her finger, its dark hue contrasting sharply with her pale skin. “This is a bird’s blood.”

His past life had acquainted him well with the sight and texture of blood, and this was unmistakably from some beast, likely a Wild Golden Crow.

Nyxara remained motionless, her chest barely rising with shallow breaths.

Daren’s patience was wearing thin. His eyes hardened. “If you don’t get up, I will cut your arm to draw real blood. Don’t play dead with me, lady.”

When she still didn’t respond, he rose to his feet with a disgruntled sigh. The room’s silence was heavy, broken only by the soft creak of wooden floorboards as he crossed to the kitchen. It was untouched by the chaos. He rummaged through a drawer, the clinking of metal on metal loud in the stillness, and selected a sharp knife. The blade glinted, jolting Nyxara into motion. She sprang up, her eyes wide with fear.

“Don’t hurt me.” Her words tumbled out as she scrambled upright, brushing at her dress with trembling hands. “I’m fine.”

Daren watched her closely, the knife still in his grip. “Why play a prank? Next time, I will cut you and draw blood,” he said, his voice steady and cold.

He scanned the staircase leading to the upper floor, where he lived. Some of his belongings, the heavier ones, had been carelessly strewn across the steps. A torn sheet hung crookedly on the wall, patched together with a hastily scrawled message.

He took a quick step back to read the message clearly. “Daren Morin. Next time it will be your skin attached to the wall.” He turned to Nyxara, his expression as calm as a frozen lake. “Did you see who they were?”

Nyxara’s eyes widened with fear. “I didn’t. I only saw four people come and hurl wind spells. They destroyed everything,” she stammered. “Their faces were covered in black masks, so I couldn’t really know them, but I thin⁠—”

Daren stepped forward swiftly and covered her mouth, shaking his head. “Why did you play a prank on me?” he asked again.

Nyxara’s eyes darted around, looking for an escape, but Daren’s grip held her in place. The light cast long shadows on the walls, adding to the tension in the room. The air was thick with the smell of dust and the metallic scent of blood, making it hard to breathe. He let her go.

“It was a setup for the Disciplinary Committee, but you came earlier and easily picked it apart. I guess there’s no sense in carrying this out.” Nyxara retrieved her glasses, which had been neatly hidden behind a nearby chair. She carefully placed them back on her face and adjusted them. “If we don’t show any real injury, I bet that the committee won’t do anything.”

“Are you hurt? Did you try stopping them?” Daren began to tidy up the mess on the floor. He moved methodically, first pushing the sofa back to its original spot. The sofa’s covers were torn, but the cushions beneath seemed intact—a relief, considering that the damage could be easily fixed with a little money and effort.

“I didn’t,” Nyxara admitted, her voice subdued as she gathered her scattered clothes and stuffed them into the wooden wardrobe. She had a larger wardrobe than his. Its polished surface reflected the dim light.

“You were scared, or did you come late?” Daren asked.

“I’m just an Invisibility Mage. How am I supposed to fight four elementary mages?” Nyxara asked defensively. “When I came, I saw spells flying everywhere, so I used my magic and hid near the door.” Her hands shook as she picked up some debris from the floor. “I believe one of them, a girl, had reached the Peak stage of the Realm of Awakening. She might have awakened her second Spell Circle.”

“I doubt that. Mostly, it will only awaken once she advances into the Realm of Harmony,” Daren said, picking up hangers scattered across the floor and handing them to Nyxara. Mages progressed through realms as they advanced: first was the Realm of Awakening, followed by the Realm of Harmony and then the Realm of Synergy.

The room felt empty after they’d picked up most of the things.

“What do you know?” Nyxara snorted. “There are all sorts of miracles.”

“Miracles don’t happen in the academy!” Daren snapped as he straightened a chair and set it back in its place. He glanced around the room, noting the dust and broken glasses on the floor. “Have you reached the Advancement stage in your mana cultivation?” Each realm was divided into Foundation, Advancement, and Peak stages, with each stage offering a bit more power and a larger capacity for mana storage.

“No. I’m not good at mana cultivation,” she admitted, lowering her head. Her fingers traced the edge of a broken mirror, the glass shards glittering.

“Did you feel your blood boil when you saw them destroying your things?” Daren asked, his tone softer now. He picked up a few of her dresses, their delicate cloth torn and singed. He handed them to her gently, his eyes meeting hers with a hint of understanding.

“Not my butterfly dress.” She grabbed it from his hand and held it close to her heart, tears rolling down her cheeks. The fabric, once vibrant with colors, was now marred with rips and burns. “This was my mum’s gift to me, and those bastards ruined it.” She moved through the torn pieces, her fingers brushing against the remnants of her cherished belongings.

“There should be a Cloth Mage in the market who can fix it,” Daren said, picking up the last of cushions from the floor before putting them back on the sofa. With cushions in place, one wouldn’t even notice the torn fabric.

“It’s not about fixing it, Moron.” Her voice cracked, frustration mingling with her sorrow.

“Don’t call me that.” Daren glared at her, his eyes narrowing, a cold intensity emanating from him.

She stepped back, shuddering. “I’m sorry. I’m just emotionally drained. Can we talk tomorrow?” Her voice had softened.

Daren scanned the room and nodded as most of the things seemed to be back in place. Nyxara could sweep up the dust and broken glasses.

“Give me a few days, and I will pay for your damage,” he said calmly, turning toward the staircase. He had a lot to do, and cleaning his own room would be a good start for the evening.

As he took the first step, a knock rang through the house, making him pause. He opened the front door. Two people in Disciplinary Committee uniforms stood outside the door, their stern faces peering in.

“Daren Morin and Nyxara Tusslewood. I’ve received a complaint that you faced an attack from an unknown enemy,” the taller one of the duo stated firmly.

Daren turned to Nyxara, who nodded.

“She did make the complaint, but it was a mistake, gentlemen.” Daren stepped down and approached the duo standing in the doorway.

The shorter one glanced around the room, taking in the scattered debris and broken glasses. “I see some mess. What really happened here?”

“We had a fight, and I’m not good at keeping my anger in check,” Daren said with a chuckle. “Please forgive us for wasting your precious time, but there is nothing to be checked here.”

The shorter one stepped closer, narrowing the distance between Daren and the doorframe. “Miss Nyxara, you should speak up as you were the one who complained.”

Nyxara looked at Daren, her eyes questioning.

Daren shook his head subtly, signaling her to not push the matter further.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen. It was my fault. I was angry with him, and you know…” Nyxara trailed off, her voice wavering as she struggled to maintain the lie. She shifted uncomfortably, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

“If it was just a lover’s spat, then we don’t have anything to do here.” The tall one sighed, visibly relaxing. He scanned the room one last time. “But if you do it again, we will cut your Arcane Points for wasting academy resources,” he added coldly.

“Please forgive us, gentlemen,” Daren said with apologetic smile.

The two academy officials exchanged a brief look before turning and leaving. Daren closed the door gently behind them, the quiet click of the bolt marking the tense silence. He let out a sigh and turned and walked toward the stairs, his footsteps muffled on the worn wooden floor.

“Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” Nyxara asked, her arms crossed tightly, her eyes narrowing behind her large glasses. “I know they won’t do anything, but we should have at least filed the complaint for future issues.” She took a step closer, her voice rising.

Daren paused midstep, glancing back at her, his brow furrowing with concern. He moved closer. Placing a finger to his lips, he guided her to a shadowy corner of the room and picked up a piece of paper that was lying around.

“Pour your mana where I point,” he wrote. He then indicated a small, almost imperceptible mark on the wall.

Nyxara frowned, a skeptical look crossing her face, but she complied, channeling a stream of mana into the spot Daren had pointed to. The wall remained unchanged, but Daren continued, pointing to another spot, then another. In the span of ten seconds, he’d directed her to thirteen different points. Each time, her mana had seeped into the wall with a light hum. The room felt charged, the air growing heavier with each infusion of energy.

Suddenly, the wall flickered, and a glowing Spell Circle materialized, dust motes swirling in the illuminated air. The circle cast a soft, eerie light that danced across the room and up the staircase.

“Someone has set up a monitoring ward in the room, and every word we say is recorded,” he wrote on the paper.

Nyxara shuddered, her face draining of color.

9 DECONSTRUCT

The road to the Alchemy Department stretched ahead, flanked by lush fields of glowing herbs. The morning sun bathed the path in golden light, and the shimmering Mana Shields above the fields pulsed in a serene rhythm of protection.

Daren’s gaze swept over the peaceful scenery, but it did little to calm his restless mind. He tugged at his damp collar, the chill from his ice-cold shower still clinging to his skin. He’d spent a sleepless night spent brooding over the monitoring ward and the attack on their house.

“Who do you think did that?” Nyxara’s voice cut through his thoughts, her breath uneven as she hurried to keep pace with him.

Daren ignored her. His nerves were on the edge. He wasn’t in a good mood that day.

“Answer me, Daren.” Nyxara grabbed his sleeve, yanking it back with enough force to tear the seams.

The academy uniform might have been made of quality material, but he couldn’t afford to replace it if she damaged it. A third set would be outside his budget.

“Stop following me.” Daren’s frown deepened as he jerked his arm free from her grip and quickened his stride. His leather shoes kicked up small clouds of dust as they scraped against the scattered pebbles on the road.

“I want to talk. I need answers.”

“We’ll talk after the class. I’ve got to get to the Alchemy Department before morning classes,” he growled through clenched teeth, his jaw tight. Nyxara was becoming a nuisance, and if she hadn’t already suffered because of him, he would have ended her persistence permanently.

“No, we’ll be busy, and this is the only time.” She grabbed his hand with surprising strength, yanking it hard enough that his joints protested with shooting pain.

Fuck. This body was so fragile. Daren wished he had awakened in a stronger body. Even this morning, after the cold shower, the icy water had sent him into a violent sneezing fit that left his chest aching. His current physical form felt like a poorly constructed house of cards ready to collapse at the slightest pressure.

Daren paused, muscles tensing as he wrenched his hand from her iron grasp. “Come on, Nyxara. Why are you hounding me like a dog? If you’re going to die from overexertion, then go back. I don’t want to answer questions about your corpse.”

Nyxara doubled over, hands pressed against her knees as she patted her chest, struggling to draw breath into her burning lungs. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the morning chill. It was clear that both he and she needed intense physical training if they hoped to survive the first year. Once he acquired a familiar, he would prioritize strengthening his weak body. It would be a long time before he could try the growth spell on himself, and he couldn’t wait until then. The truth was undeniable—no matter how much magical power he accumulated in the future, physical fitness would remain crucial to his survival.

“I’m not good at running, and you are like a thief running from a dog. That’s why I chose you—because you had the closest house to the classrooms,” Nyxara panted, wiping sweat from her brow.

Daren glanced back at her, his eyes narrowing with impatience. “Get to the point, Nyxara. I don’t have time for you.”

Nyxara’s voice trembled, but she held his gaze. “Tell me, why are they monitoring us? What are you hiding?”

“I don’t know,” Daren replied curtly.

He’d spread the mana dust after witnessing the destruction in the house and then had found the anomaly near the wall. Daren had wanted to investigate it himself but knew it would drain too much of his precious mana. Every drop had to be conserved. But why would someone set up a monitoring ward in their house?

“I didn’t even see them,” he said.

Nyxara’s grasp tightened on his arm, her knuckles white. “I did, and I know who the girl is. It’s Vella Krakon, Val Krakon’s big sister.”

“Oh, he has a senior sister. That makes things interesting.”

“And that’s some high-level magic. How do you know about it?” she demanded, her eyes wide with curiosity and fear. “Please walk slowly. My heart will give out if you continue running.”

Daren shook off her grip, his jaw set with determination. “I need to find the alchemy teacher, so I don’t have time for this.” He quickened his pace.

Nyxara stumbled after him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “You still didn’t tell me how you know about the high-level magic!” she called, desperation creeping into her voice.

“I told you I know more than you know,” Daren said firmly.

Nyxara kept silent but continued following him, her footsteps crunching on the gravel path. “My answer is yes,” she finally said after they entered a lush field of fresh alchemy herbs.

The scent of fresh alchemic herbs eased his nostrils with their soothing aroma. He recognized a few of them. Their vibrant colors and distinct shapes caught his eye.

“Yes to what?” He paused, scanning the vast area covered in herbs.

The academy seemed to be investing a lot of effort in cultivating these plants, something he had no memory of from his past life. Back then, his concerns had been limited to hiding from bullies and sneaking glances at a woman he could barely remember anymore. A small flower growing near the root of a common herb caught his attention. Its delicate petals and unusual hue stood out against the greenery. He knelt down, brushing the soft petals gently with his fingers. He remembered a similar herb from the darkness of the east. The memory was vivid, tied to his knowledge of dark herbalism. Only a few—the truly desperate or ambitious—became dark herbalists. Digging graves wasn’t everyone’s comfort zone.

Alchemy was a vast area of knowledge, and he had only known some basic information about it, mostly from the memories he’d extracted from an alchemist in his previous life. The scents of various low-level potions and their formulas still lingered in his mind. Fortunately, he’d awakened with most of his memories intact, and the fuzzy ones were clearing up slowly.

“You asked me if my blood boiled when those people destroyed our house. I want to take revenge, but my magic is useless for battle,” Nyxara said.

“Who said that?” Daren brushed his fingers against a bush in the corner, feeling the rough texture of its leaves. The bush exuded a rich mana pressure, almost humming with energy. “Invisibility is not a support job. It’s as deadly as one can think of. Its only limitation is your imagination, lady.”

“Nyxara,” she corrected gently, her eyes narrowing as she drew closer to him.

“I know a mage who destroyed an entire city with an Invisibility Spell Circle,” Daren added.

In his past life, a simple conflict had escalated into a massacre. A Dark Mage had slit the throats of an entire royal family, using an Invisibility Spell Circle as his main tool. The memory was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.

“Don’t underestimate any Spell Circle, lady.”

“Nyxara,” she corrected again.

“Do you want to take revenge?”

“I do, but I don’t have any offensive spells, nor can I turn invisible for more than a few seconds,” Nyxara said, clenching her fists in frustration.

“It can be improved.” Daren quickened his pace toward the Alchemy Department.

The large dome-shaped building stood proudly at the edge of the valley, its glass exterior gleaming in the sunlight. Inside, rows of precious herbs thrived in a meticulously controlled environment. He had seen such environments before, and they required a lot of mana to maintain. It seemed like the academy had spent a lot of money on the Alchemy Department. A smaller building stood adjacent to the dome, likely serving as an office. Its stone walls contrasted sharply with the glass dome, giving it a solid, grounded appearance.

“Go back,” Daren instructed firmly. “We’ll discuss it later. I have something important to do here.”

Nyxara hesitated. Then she continued to follow him.

Whatever.

Ahead, two people stood outside the small building, engrossed in conversation. Their animated gestures suggested a heated debate, making them an ideal starting point for Daren’s mission. He approached them with purpose, his tall figure casting a long shadow.

“Hello, seniors.” Daren forced a smile as he stood next to the duo. One had a chubby round face, and the other stood tall, with a mustache merging into his slicked-back hair making him look more like a goon than a student.

“Come back on Thursday. We don’t sell pills midweek,” the chubby one muttered, not even glancing at Daren.

“I’m not here to buy pills,” Daren replied evenly. “I need to meet the teacher.” All he needed was to get the teacher to sign a letter for him, and he would get a familiar.

The tall one’s eyes narrowed, his thin mustache twitching as he stepped closer. “Why do you want to meet the teacher?”

Daren met his gaze without flinching. “That’s something I’ll only discuss with him.”

The tension thickened, the air charged with hostility. Daren’s grip on his sleeve tightened. His instincts prickled as the tall man leaned in.

“You think you’re better than us, huh?” the tall one sneered, his voice low and menacing.

“I’ve some important information that I can only discuss with him,” Daren said, annoyed.

“Motherfucker, tell us what you want,” the tall one said.

Before Daren could respond, the chubby one swung his fist.

The punch exploded against Daren’s nose. Pain. Blood. The metallic taste of failure as he stumbled backward, dust clouding around his feet.

Damn, it hurt. Daren stumbled backward, trying to grasp the chubby one for support, but all his hand found was the man’s pouch.

“Why did you hit him?”

“This bastard is here again. He said to tell the information to a male, and we only have one male teacher who is the Dominator. Fuck. He’s the one!” the chubby one shouted.

“That bastard.” The tall one kicked Daren in his gut.

As the kick got close, Daren gasped, his breath catching in his throat. Why the hell was he facing two brutes with a weak body like his? Daren’s vision blurred, but his mind grew more focused. His grip on the knife tucked at his side tightened.

Enough. Today, he might just kill someone. It felt like a decade since he’d killed someone.

As the tall one lunged forward, his boot aimed at Daren’s gut, Daren sidestepped with a fluid motion, drawing the knife in a single, swift arc. The blade clanged against the shimmering Mana Shield encasing the man’s body, sending a jolt up Daren’s arm.

A smirk curled Daren’s lips as he activated his Deconstruct Spell Circle for the first time in this life. The Mana Shield enlarged in front of him, the nodes of the spell visible to him. Mana poured out of his fingers, jabbing into the small spell form that made the Mana Shield, slipping into the nodes and destroying them one by one.

The shield around the tall guy’s body flickered, crackling like shattered glass. The knife passed through it easily. It took time to think about it all, but it happened in the blink of an eye.

The knife plunged into the man’s gut. Warm blood seeped over the metal and onto Daren’s finger. The scent of blood mingled with the dusty air. The thrill of killing—he could taste the sweetness of it once again.

10 ILLUSION

The illusion lifted from Daren’s vision like morning fog dissipating, his proud smile fading as reality settled in. Where the bodies of his victims should have been, a towering woman stood, her chest level with his head. Her presence commanded the clearing, making the area around them less relevant.

Some people had that presence, and the T’Lara race especially had it. Despite his knowledge of that race, her sheer size still gave him pause. Warm blood trickled steadily from his nose, running down his chin. Behind the woman, he spotted the two he thought he’d killed, wrapped in green vines and sleeping like babies.

“Eyes up, kid.” The woman’s deep voice resonated through the clearing. Daren craned his neck upward, muscles straining to meet her gaze.

A sweet, intoxicating aroma wafted around him, simultaneously calming his mind and setting his nerve endings ablaze. His thoughts sharpened with sudden clarity. This was no ordinary scent.

Drug. The realization hit him like a physical blow. She had somehow drugged him, forcing those hallucinations. Not a Spell Circle, as he’d initially suspected, but clever alchemy at work.

Daren’s boots scraped against the ground as he retreated a step, his fingers weaving through the air to create a protective film of mana around his body. His mind raced with possibilities. To drug him so subtly, either this woman was a high-level magician, or he had blundered straight into her carefully laid trap.

“Interesting. You quelled my potion so fast. Not bad, lad.” She stepped forward, her movements fluid and predatory, her index finger reaching toward him like a serpent testing the air.

Her pale-maroon eyes—characteristic of the reclusive T’Lara mountain folk—caught what little light filtered through the trees, giving them an unsettling gleam. Those eyes marked her as one of the few who’d escaped the towering peaks that the T’Lara called home. Sky-reaching prison, others called it.

Daren stepped back instinctively, his boots crunching on dried leaves. The sickly-sweet scent of the drug still lingered in his nostrils, mixing with the earthy smell of disturbed soil. He pieced it together—she’d used the vines as a delivery system, somehow feeding the drug into him.

This failure left a really bad taste on the back of his tongue. He was still too weak. Something had to change as quickly as possible.

“However, you have a violent nature that my drug discovered. Not good for a kid at your age.” The woman’s voice carried a clinical detachment, like a healer delivering an unwelcome diagnosis.

A vine, thick as his wrist, erupted from the soil with a wet cracking sound. It wrapped around his arm with crushing force, wrenching the knife from his trembling fingers. Daren strained against the vine, muscles burning with effort.

Deconstruct—he almost cast the spell. But even if he could deconstruct her spell, he wouldn’t be able to do anything. She was too powerful for him.

Something whistled through the air behind him. A sharp crack followed, and pain exploded across his backside. He screamed. Another vine, as thick as a bullwhip, lashed him repeatedly with methodical precision.

Each strike felt like a scorching brand. Warmth trickled down his legs, and with growing horror, he realized he hadn’t pissed his pants. It was his blood.

“Why?” he asked, meeting the woman’s gaze.

Her oval face held classical beauty, but it was cold, like a marble statue. Those wicked eyes studied him with predatory interest while her thin lips twisted into a cruel smile that never reached those unnatural eyes. She was enjoying his pain.

The woman’s eyes gleamed with sadistic delight. “It’s just a punishment, lad. You tried to kill two students, and anyone would be begging for mercy.”

Daren’s breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to remain standing. He touched his bleeding nose with his free hand, wincing. “Does this look like mercy to you? Those bastards attacked me without a reason, and I only retaliated.”

“Retaliated with a knife. If they hadn’t had a Mana Shield protecting them, you would have murdered one of them today.” The giant woman’s maroon eyes sparkled with a dangerous intensity. “Why do you even carry the knife?”

“Teacher, I can answer that.” Nyxara stepped forward, her movements hesitant yet determined. Her eyes darted nervously between Daren and the imposing woman.

Daren noticed the green robe draped over the woman’s tall frame, with the teacher’s medallion pinned at her shapely chest glinting. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He had already made the worst possible first impression on a teacher.

“Are you with him?” the giant teacher asked, her frown deepening.

“Yes,” Nyxara answered, stepping closer to Daren. “I’m his housemate, and we had a break-in yesterday.” She glanced at Daren, her hand brushing against his arm as if to offer silent support. “He must be carrying the knife because he is afraid.”

The teacher’s maroon eyes narrowed, scrutinizing them both. “Did you report it to the Disciplinary Committee?”

“We did,” Nyxara replied, her voice wavering. “But then we retracted it. I didn’t think it was worth the effort as nothing was lost.” She bit her lip, her eyes dropping to the ground.

“Fair enough,” the teacher said, the edge in her voice softening just a bit. “I’ll look into this more. And for your punishment…” She stared at Daren, her gaze piercing, making him feel as if she could see right through him. “I think a broken nose is sufficient, and those two will be working the collector’s job for a month for attacking an innocent student.” Without another word, she turned on her heel, the green robe swaying with her movements, and headed toward the stone building next to the glass dome.

Daren gulped down the humiliation and spoke, his voice barely steady. “Teacher, I want your help.”

The teacher turned and gazed at him as if looking at a confused puppy. “I forgot to ask—why are you here, and why do you want to meet him?”

“Meet whom?” Daren’s confusion deepened, his eyes narrowing.

“Dominator.”

“Who is he?”

“You weren’t here to complain about something?” she asked with a mix of impatience and curiosity.

Daren shook his head, his brows furrowed. “I wanted to meet a teacher.”

“I’m here. Tell me, then.” She stepped forward, standing just a few inches away from him. “Let me heal you a little. Say ‘aaaah…’”

“Aaaah?” he echoed uncertainly.

“Moron, open your mouth,” Nyxara said, jabbing him with her elbow.

Damn this lady. When he opened his mouth, a small tablet shot from the teacher’s fingers and down his throat, settling in his stomach with a strange warmth. A soothing energy spread through his body, easing the sharp pain in his nose and the dull ache in his rear. Though his injuries remained, he could feel his blood circulation improving and, with it, the promise of faster natural healing.

“Thank you, teacher,” he murmured.

“Now, tell me the reason. Quickly. I have classes to teach,” she said, her eyes fixed on him.

Her intimidating tactics wouldn’t work on him. “I want a letter from you, or any teacher of the academy,” Daren said, his voice cracking. His lips were dry, and he ran his tongue across them in vain. The pill had left a heavy, muddy taste at the back of his tongue, and he desperately needed water.

“What letter? Do you want to take a leave of absence from the academy? Go to the Administration Department. They will hand you one,” she replied curtly, crossing her arms.

Damn it. She hadn’t even let him complete his request.

“No, it’s not that,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I want to recruit a familiar, and Princy—I mean, the principal’s familiar—asked me to get two letters of recommendation. I got one from Miss Wallheart, and I hope you can give me the second one.”

“She gave you a letter of recommendation?” The teacher’s eyes widened in disbelief as if he’d claimed to have tamed a dragon.

“He won it in a bet, teacher,” Nyxara added, her tone sublime.

“What bet?” The teacher’s gaze shifted to Nyxara, her curiosity piqued.

“He defeated Miss Wallheart in a small competition. It was nothing major, but it was a win for himself,” Nyxara said.

“Excellent. That woman has so much stuffed inside, and it needed to be pushed out somehow. I can tease her tonight about this when we drink.” The giant teacher chuckled, and her face broke into a satisfied smile.

“Teacher, can you please give me a letter?” Daren asked. This was his chance. He could use the rivalry between the two teachers to his benefit, and Nyxara had done an excellent job keeping the story simple yet effective.

“Of course not.” The teacher shook her head, her braids swaying. “You are not in my class, so I can’t give you any recommendation. And I don’t even want to do it for a violent student.”

Daren’s shoulders slumped. Was there something wrong with her? He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to argue.

“Ma’am, please. He can’t cultivate mana, so he needs a familiar to pass the year-end exams.” Nyxara stepped closer. “We have a dueling match next month, and if he can’t even generate mana, we will be kicked to the last position.”

The teacher paused, glancing at Daren. This time, her stern gaze softened, a hint of pity creeping into her eyes.

“No means no,” she said firmly but not unkindly. She turned away, dismissing them with a finality that left the air heavy and still.

Daren was dismayed. First, he’d been denied the pure thrill of killing some stupid people, and now this stupid woman had rejected him just because he’d tried to kill her student. Couldn’t she see they’d attacked him first? According to the laws of the Helms of the East, every target had a right to kill the attacker. This place was too backward. If only he had his peak powers, he wouldn’t have to beg to a useless mage like this woman.

“Perhaps…” the teacher said, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

“Ma’am, please,” Nyxara pleaded as she made a puppy face, her eyes wide and imploring.

Daren clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tightening. It was one thing to ask for help, but Nyxara’s begging grated on his nerves. He believed in taking what was rightfully his without resorting to such desperate actions. Why the heck was she begging on his behalf? He wouldn’t accept anything that way. If he deserved it, he would snatch it, and if he didn’t, he would earn it.

The teacher’s eyes flicked to Daren, assessing him. “If you can earn a place in my class, then I will consider giving you a letter.”

She pulled a short book out of the air. With a casual flick, she tossed it toward Daren. He caught it.

“That’s the portion you missed in the last six months. If you can participate in the test happening this weekend, I will consider this. Show this book to the invigilator, and they will allow you to sit for the exam.”

Daren stared at the book, feeling its rough, worn cover under his fingertips. “I…”

A hand smacked his head hard and pulled him away. Nyxara had gone overboard. Daren glanced at the book, and his eyes widened. He’d never thought she would ask him to take a test on such a fascinating subject.

This was going to be interesting. Very, very interesting.

11 MR. ASHI

Daren pushed through the heavy metal door of the academy and stepped onto the cobblestone street, the sudden transition making him blink. The air felt cold, and refreshing. He felt like he was entering a new world.

The modern, magical architecture of the academy, with its shining spires and enchanted walls, gave way to weathered stone buildings and timber-framed houses that seemed to belong to a different era. The air, no longer crisp with mana, was thick with the smell of earth. Daren’s nose caught the inviting aroma of fresh bread from nearby bakeries, mingling with the smoky scent from chimneys.

“I’ve missed this feeling.” Daren smiled. The academy could get stuffy sometimes. Here, he could experience the reality of the world.

The academy stood proudly at a mana ley line fork, nestled in the gap between the branches. The strong magical currents had made it possible not only to build the prestigious institution but also to support the busy city that had grown around it. The founder had wanted to keep the academy and the city free from any political ties or alliances with other kingdoms of the Dragons of the South.

Reality turned out to be different. While the academy had stayed neutral within its enchanted walls, the surrounding city had long since sworn loyalty to the Kingdom of Nostarion. The kingdom’s deep-blue banners now flew from many buildings, fluttering in the breeze.

Daren walked away from the gates, looking for the cab. As he moved farther, the snow found its way onto the streets. A small application of mana changed the color of his nose and cheeks, a subtle difference that could go far if things became difficult.

After he’d walked a few hundred meters, his chest became irritated by the cold. Finally he saw a cab standing at the corner. An old driver sat on the front, wrapped in winter coats.

“If only I was in the Helms of the East, I wouldn’t have to suffer this cold,” Daren muttered, quickening his pace.

Each step crunched against the freshly fallen snow, sending chills through his frail frame. Inside the academy, mana enhancements governed everything—temperature, water, food, and more—but out here, the biting coldness gripped his body, making him shiver uncontrollably.

The Kingdom of Nostarion stretched across a wide area, surrounded by an impenetrable sea. Twelve stone statues stood watch over the teleportation formations that linked it to other continents. Long ago, as the legends told, twelve powerful dragons had guarded the celestial continent. But those stories seemed like a distant memory, holding little significance in the present day.

As Daren reached the cab, the driver climbed down with deliberate slowness. “Dear sir, where do you want to go?” the cabman asked. His wise old eyes matched his gray beard, which peeked out from beneath the layers of coats.

Daren rubbed his palms together, feeling the rough fabric of his gloves against his skin. The cold seeped through every piece of clothing, making his joints ache. As a magician, he could use mana to expel the cold, but with limited mana, he didn’t prefer that option. The biting wind nipped at his cheeks, reddening his skin and making his breath visible in the frigid air.

“Take me to the North Slums,” Daren replied in a strained voice.

“Slums, sir? You want to get to the slums?” the old cabman asked, his wrinkled face deepening with concern.

“Yes. Is there any issue? Don’t you go there?” Daren’s tone was curt, his patience waning as he shifted from one foot to the other to keep warm.

“I do, but it’s unusual for a young magician to visit those places. I know a better place, actually, where you can wrap yourself in warm bodies,” the cabman suggested, a sly grin briefly breaking through his otherwise serious expression.

Daren snorted. “I’m not visiting a brothel, so let’s get down to business. Are you going or not? I will give you a lumen for the return journey.”

He patted his money pocket. Normally, it would cost him half a lumen—the currency of the kingdom—but the place he wanted to visit wouldn’t let him hire a cab for the way back, so he would just spend upfront.

The cabman hesitated then nodded slowly. “All right, sir. Hop in, and we’ll be on our way.”

He opened the door of the cab, and Daren climbed inside, the warmth of the enclosed space providing immediate, although limited, relief from the biting cold. The horses snorted softly as the cabman tightened his reins, and the journey began. Through the glass window, Daren watched the city unfold. The lonely roads soon gave way to bustling streets teeming with life. Vendors shouted their wares, and children darted through the crowds. The vibrant energy was palpable, but as the cab entered the slums, a stark contrast emerged. The joy of the busy streets faded, replaced by the harsh reality of poverty. Beggars with outstretched hands, ragged children, and weary men and women lined the streets, going about their daily struggles. The air was thick with the smell of uncollected garbage and the occasional whiff of something cooking over an open flame.

Daren’s stomach turned at the familiar sights and scents, memories of his own time in the slums flooding back. He had spent a few grueling years here after being expelled from the academy, and the resentment he felt for this place had never diminished. If he’d had any other choice, he would have avoided it at all costs, but the man he needed to see lived in the slums.

“Stop at the north gate,” Daren said.

The cab trundled along for a few more minutes before coming to a halt. Daren pushed open the door and stepped out, the chill of the air hitting him again. He turned back to the cabman, reaching into his pocket.

“Stay here, and don’t go messing around,” he said, tossing half a coin to the driver. “The rest will be paid once we go back.”

The cabman caught the coin with a nod and pocketed it swiftly. “Understood, sir,” he replied, settling back into his seat to wait.

A pair of rough-looking figures shuffled toward Daren through the mist, their tattered coats held together by mismatched patches. The shorter one gripped a rusty knife, its blade catching what little light filtered through the clouds.

“Gentlemen, if I see you near me or my cab, you won’t live to see tomorrow.” Daren peeled off his leather glove with deliberate slowness. A blue flame flickered to life at the tip of his index finger, casting eerie shadows in front of his face.

The spell barely drew on his mana reserves, but its effect was immediate. Terror crossed the weathered faces of the two men as they stumbled backward, boots scraping against the cobblestones. They turned and fled into the fog.

“Thank you, young mage, but I can protect myself.” The cab driver patted the old scabbard of a sword mounted beside his seat, the leather grip well worn.

“Very well. We shall meet in an hour,” Daren said, turning down a narrow street.

He picked his way through the debris-strewn alley. His fine boots were soon caked with mud. The houses leaned inward, creating deep shadows even in daylight. Daren’s boots left clear prints in the accumulated grime as he made his way to a particular shade-darkened doorway.

The road to Mr. Ashi’s house felt familiar. In his previous life, he had walked this road a hundred times and had even lived in an empty warehouse, which most people avoided for the ghostly voices it emitted at night. He’d known there wasn’t any ghost.

As he approached the old house, he retrieved a black mask and pushed it onto his face. From here onward, he had to take things cautiously.

“Mr. Ashi, are you inside?” Daren rapped his knuckles against the weathered wood.

“Who’s there?” The door creaked open a few inches, and a woman’s face appeared in the gap. Her unwashed hair hung in dark tangles, obscuring most of her features, but her eyes were impossible to miss—one gray as storm clouds, the other gleaming like molten gold.

“Is your father inside?” Daren asked, squinting to see past the small gap in the doorway. Based on her distinctive eyes, he guessed the woman was Mr. Ashi’s daughter.

“I don’t have a father. What do you want?” she replied impatiently. “Tell me quickly. I’ve some work to do.”

“I want to meet Mr. Ashi. Tell him I bring a gift of Dornwood Plant for him.”

Without warning, a hand darted out from the shadows and gripped Daren’s collar with surprising strength. He was yanked inside, stumbling, as the door slammed shut behind him. The sudden shift from the dim street to the pitch-black interior disoriented him. Before he could react, a cold blade pressed against his throat, its icy touch sending a shiver down his spine.

12 MAKING A DEAL WITH THE VOID RIFT MAGE

The room assaulted his senses with the pungent mix of unwashed body and damp floor. Mold clung to the corners like forgotten memories. The familiar scents transported Daren back to his previous life, when he’d spent countless hours hunched over Spell Circles with Mr. Ashi, trying to unlock their arcane secrets.

Mr. Ashi was a mad scientist, brilliant and unpredictable. Something fundamental had shifted in this rebirth, though. Daren tried to reconcile his memories with the current situation. Mr. Ashi hadn’t had a daughter—or if he had, Daren had never known about her. The woman’s denial of having a father only deepened the mystery. But those eyes—that distinctive golden iris that seemed to pierce through darkness itself—couldn’t possibly exist in two unrelated people.

“Who are you, and how do you know I need that plant?” The blade pressed harder against his throat, drawing blood that trickled down his neck in a warm tickle, in stark contrast to the cold steel threatening his life.

Daren’s tongue caught the taste of copper as he maintained eye contact with those haunting golden and gray eyes through the darkness. The woman’s proximity brought with it that unmistakable scent of death that had always surrounded Mr. Ashi, making his stomach turn.

“Where is Mr. Ashi?” His voice came out steadier than he felt.

“There is no Mr. Ashi.” The woman leaned closer, her dead-flesh-scent growing stronger as she invaded his space. “My name is Ashini, and no one calls me Mr. Ashi.” Her breath ghosted across his face, carrying the sickly-sweet undertone he remembered so well.

Daren’s frown deepened. The golden eyes, the smell of decay… it couldn’t be a coincidence. Was Ashini… Mr. Ashi? The pieces began falling into place as an impossible theory took shape in his mind.

“Are you suffering from the Myrth of the Dead?” Daren asked, the bitter taste of the unknown on his tongue.

“How did you know that?” Ashini’s voice was sharp, her dagger flashing in the dim light before it pierced his skin.

Daren winced, feeling the cold bite of the rusted metal. Quickly, he applied a thin layer of mana around his neck to ward off potential infection. Despite being magicians, they were still susceptible to common diseases before entering the next realm.

“I know many things,” Daren replied, his voice steady as he slowly pushed the knife away with a firm hand. “But the important thing is that I can give you a constant supply if you agree to do business with me.” His eyes locked onto hers, trying to read her reaction.

“Do you really have the Dornwood?” she asked, stepping back as a tremor ran through her voice. Her eyes widened, the gold and gray orbs reflecting hope and desperation.

Daren nodded, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. If he wasn’t wrong, Mr. Ashi was indeed Ashini. According to the timeline, he had met her after he was expelled. In fact, he’d stayed in the slums for a year before their paths crossed. So technically, he would meet her in two years if events unfolded as they had before. The realization brought a strange sense of déjà vu. He swallowed hard, hoping he could change their fates.

A thin film of mana covered Daren’s eyes as he studied Ashini in the darkness, taking in details he’d missed before. “I do,” he said, his gaze methodical and searching.

His previous assumptions about Mr. Ashi’s identity crystallized as he observed her. The layers of grime and soot coating her face had masked her feminine features in his previous life, and her body type had done the rest. Ashini’s figure was rail thin, her loose dress hanging straight down without curves to catch the fabric. Her long hair, matted and unkempt, was the only obvious feminine trait besides the delicate structure of her face.

She shifted uneasily under his scrutiny, her fingers twisting the worn fabric of her dress. “What do you want in return?” Her voice hardened as she added, “I won’t offer my body.”

“I don’t need your body,” Daren replied, keeping his tone measured and professional. The musty air of the room hung heavily between them. “Instead, I want a steady supply of mana cores that you are going to harvest.”

Ashini stiffened, her mismatched eyes narrowing. “Mana cores?” she whispered. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you are experimenting on the dead magicians, and I also know you have a dungeon below this place.” Daren maintained his calm demeanor as he continued. “I want a steady supply of mana cores once you harness them from the dead wanderers of the dungeon.”

Ashini’s eyes flashed with rage as she lunged forward, her knife glinting. Her dress billowed behind her with the sudden movement. Daren pivoted smoothly to the side, his finger igniting with a thin, precise flame of mana that lit up his surroundings.

“If you don’t get a steady supply of Dornwood, you won’t survive for long. Choose wisely, Ashini.” His words cut through the tension-filled air.

She snorted, her mismatched eyes tight with defiance. “You know too much to stay alive. And as for the Dornwood, I can get it myself. Void Rift Summon.” The air crackled and warped as a shimmering magical circle materialized before her, its edges pulsing with dark energy. Through the distortion, she pulled a sword wreathed in dancing flames. “And I hate dealing with people who wear masks.”

“Deconstruct.” Daren chuckled, his fingers tracing a precise pattern in the air.

A Spell Circle materialized in front of him—a copy of Ashini’s Spell Circle. He tapped on the nodes, and Ashini’s rift collapsed with a sharp crack. The flaming sword disappeared with it, though a shattered piece of it dropped onto the floor.

“How…?” she cried in panic.

Daren laughed under the mask. He knew her abilities well. As a Void Rift Mage, she could tear holes in reality. Through one such rift, she had discovered the small dungeon beneath her room. Though the dungeon’s true entrance lay far away, at the edge of the continent, it remained a deadly attraction for adventurers. Despite the notorious likelihood of death, countless young magicians, drawn by the promise of powerful magical items, risked their lives within its depths.

“You—how did you destroy my Void Rift?” Her voice cracked with fear and confusion.

Daren bit into his lower lip to remain awake. The cast of Deconstruct had taken a lot from him, and a quarter of his low mana supply had vanished. If she chose to use more Void Rift spells, he would be done for. But he couldn’t show this to her. Thanks to the mask, his sweat remained hidden, trickling down his face in unseen rivulets.

“I know many things, Ashini, and doing business with me will only be beneficial for you.” Daren forced an arrogant, all-knowing chuckle, though his body ached with exhaustion.

“I…” She struggled to find words, her hands shaking, the shattered piece of her flaming sword still flickering on the floor.

“I know you don’t have a word to say.” Daren didn’t let his advantage falter and pressed on, stepping closer, his voice low and persuasive. “This will be all new to you, but if you help me, I will show you a way to advance your Void Rifts to a level where you will be able to retrieve live people. You won’t be limited to hoping the people will die on the nodes you can connect to.”

Ashini’s eyes widened, the gray one reflecting uncertainty while the golden one held a hint of curiosity. The scent of burned metal filled the air. Daren watched her carefully, concealing his labored breathing, knowing that her decision would seal both their fates. This was important because he didn’t want to live in this city after the academy’s fall, and he couldn’t just get expelled, because he had to try to invade the Dimensional Corridor and then run away. Ashini would be a key to this.

“Can you really do that?” Her eyes held a flicker of hope mingled with skepticism.

Ashini could conjure Void Rifts to faraway places and retrieve items through them, but she had limits. These rifts could only be opened at specific nodes and locations.

Daren nodded, sensing her hesitation. He knew a way to turn her power into something lethal, but that was a conversation for another time.

“I don’t have a way to remove their mana cores yet,” she admitted, “but I’m close to the discovery.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there. Right now, I want a piece of weapon from you in exchange for this supply of Dornwood.” Daren reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a small pouch, and tossed it to her.

She caught the pouch and clutched it tightly, her gray eye glinting with determination. These seeds were invaluable to her; without them, she couldn’t cure her disease. In the academy, Dornwood was common, but for Ashini, who lived in the slums and spent her days madly experimenting on the dead bodies of magicians, it was a scarce and precious commodity.

“If you know everything about me, do you have a way to provide me with the mana potions so I can accelerate my research?” Ashini’s voice trembled, revealing her desperation.

Daren smirked and made a low, almost menacing sound. “If I had access to mana potions, would I be seeking low-quality mana cores?”

“Damn it,” she muttered. She opened the pouch and counted the seeds. “There are only five.”

“And I want a simple dagger and a Void Rift on my bracelet,” Daren said, tossing her the bracelet he had worn on his left hand. With a Void Rift built inside the bracelet, he could store simple things.

“A cold dagger would work for you?” she asked, staring into his eyes.

She conjured a Void Rift with a practiced flick of her wrist. The air rippled as she retrieved a couple of daggers through it. The rift’s cold air entered the room, and she shivered.

“Yes, cold is nice,” Daren replied, nodding thoughtfully.

He could already envision the utility of such a weapon. Cold slowed down opponents without the flashiness of fire. He could pierce someone’s heart nerve and freeze them to death, leaving no trace common folk would notice.

“What’s your name? At least show me your face.”

Daren laughed, pushing the mask back into place. “You can call me Mr. Mask.”

She snorted, her eyes narrowing. “Come back in a week with more Dornwood Seeds, and I’ll have the bracelet ready.” With a quick motion, she tossed him the dagger.

Daren caught it effortlessly with a mana-coated palm, a simple yet effective technique for handling enchanted weapons. “I’ll send someone on the errand. I know you need one seed each week, so that’s enough for five weeks. Don’t try to hoard them and get rid of me.”

With a smug smile playing on his lips, he turned and walked out of the shabby room, the wooden floorboards creaking under his weight. The cold air hit him hard as he stepped outside, but it carried a refreshing crispness that cleared his mind. He took a deep breath, savoring the chill.

Before he moved away, he attached a small crystal to Ashini’s house door. It connected with his ring—gifted by Colin—and the crystal he’d stolen from the academy fools. It was time to kill someone, and he had the perfect weapon for the job. As he emerged from the dark alley and approached the waiting cab, he removed his mask and applied a bit of mana to his face, restoring color to his nose and cheeks.

“Shall we head back, sir?” the cab driver asked, straightening up.

“No, we should stop at the mayor’s palace first. I’ve got some work there,” Daren replied calmly, hopping into the cab.

13 KILLING

Daren slipped the black mask over his face, the supple leather cold and familiar against his skin. His boots made no sound as he crept along the shadowed perimeter of the mayor’s palace, staying close to the weathered stone walls. Even in this city cut off by the swirling mana storms, the mayor maintained his dominance through display of his palace, which was second in height only to the looming academy.

Sunlight glinted off the polished stone walls that stretched fifteen feet into the afternoon sky, their weathered surfaces hinting at decades of standing guard. Three towers punctuated the fortresslike structure, where alert sentries paced back and forth, their boots scraping against the stone walkways. The palace sprawled across the grounds like a sleeping giant, its windows dark except for the occasional flicker of lamplight from within.

If Daren wanted to kill someone inside the palace, he would need to spend considerable time planning the operation. The place functioned more like a well-guarded prison than a mayor’s place. However, he didn’t plan to kill anyone within those walls. Instead, his target was small-fry—Dongra, the fat man who ran a teahouse behind the palace, a weathered wooden structure that huddled in the shadow of the grand stone edifice. He was a strange man with a strange name, whose very existence made Daren clench his jaw.

Dongra had made his previous life miserable, and if things proceeded the same way—which Daren was determined to prevent—he couldn’t risk letting Dongra remain alive. The memory of those events made his fingers curl into tight fists. Daren pressed himself against the cool stone of the palace wall as he made his way toward the other side, his boots silent on the packed earth. The afternoon sun cast long shadows that provided perfect cover for his movements. Dongra had to die, and today presented the perfect opportunity. The bitter taste of remembrance filled his mouth as he recalled how Dongra had forced him out of his rented house, driving him back to the squalor of the slums.

Perhaps in the grand plan of destiny, Dongra’s actions might seem trivial, but the man’s actions had cost Daren dearly. His throat tightened as he thought of his friend—her sacrifice allowing him to teleport out of the city with his life intact while she remained behind to face the consequences. Daren’s heart grew heavy as he slipped into the dark alley, untouched by the guards’ patrols. The smell of damp stone filled his nostrils as the shadows swallowed him whole.

“Parina, I hope you will live a peaceful life in this timeline,” he whispered softly.

His eyes were fixed on the small teahouse built close to the towering wall. The polished Ink Wood gleamed under the faint light of afternoon blocked by the walls, giving the establishment an air of quiet elegance that seemed out of place. He remembered the teahouse differently—less refined, more rugged. Back then, he hadn’t known the value of Ink Wood.

How could a goon own an Ink Wood teahouse? He scrutinized the building. The delicate lanterns hanging by the entrance swayed gently in the breeze, casting dancing shadows on the cobblestone path. The subtle scent of jasmine tea wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the damp stone.

Wait. There was more to this than met the eye. Dongra, the underground dealer of alchemical drugs and illicit weapons, owned a teahouse next to mayor’s palace. The mayor had to know about the shady dealings happening in his backyard.

Unless… the mayor supported Dongra. Things seemed to be far more complicated than he’d anticipated. In his two hundred years of experience, he had learned to read the clues, and currently, his gut sense told him to not engage with Dongra blindly.

After removing his mask, Daren applied a thin layer of mana to his face, slightly darkening his skin to match that of a weathered traveler. The sensation was cool and tingling, and he could feel the magic subtly altering his appearance. He flipped his coat inside out, revealing the worn-out internal fabric. This simple change wouldn’t transform him from a magician into a beggar, but it would help him blend in as a poor man.

He moved away from the palace wall and slipped into the nearest tavern on a nearby street. The heavy scent of cheap ale and unwashed bodies hit him immediately, an unpleasant reminder of past hardships. The wooden floor groaned under his boots, and the dim light cast long shadows that danced as patrons moved about.

After showing a lumen on the counter and ordering a cheap ale, Daren made his way to a small table in the corner. The wood was sticky under his fingers as he pulled out a chair to sit down. He settled in, waiting for his drink and a waiter.

The chatter in the tavern was a low hum, a comforting background noise that promised anonymity. Conversations overlapped, creating a soothing murmur that was almost like music. Places like these were ideal for meetings; no one would bother him. The poor people came here to wash out their exhaustion or bury their sorrows. And some, like Daren, came to seek out information.

A waiter in a dark-red shirt and trousers, which had likely turned darker after numerous shifts in the old tavern, carried Daren’s drink to him with a fake smile. “Good afternoon, sir. Here’s your drink.”

The waiter placed the drink on the scratched wooden surface. The cheap brown ale filled the wooden mug to the brim, sloshing over the edge and adding another stain to the already mottled table.

“Thank you, but I have a question.” Daren tapped the coin pouch tied to his waist, the clink of coins drawing the waiter’s attention.

“Always happy to help our patrons. Please.” The waiter leaned in closer, the wooden tray now clamped securely between his arm and side, his eyes scanning the room briefly as if to ensure no one was eavesdropping.

“I want information,” Daren said, lowering his voice. “And I want someone who can give it to me for the right price.” He met the waiter’s gaze.

The waiter’s shoulders tensed as his eyes flicked to the shadowy corners of the room. “If it’s general, I can help you, patron.” His tone turned smooth, losing the jolliness he’d displayed a moment before. “But if you need something confidential, I can take you to the right person.”

“Nothing confidential.” Daren leaned forward, his fingers lightly tapping the table’s edge. “I just need information about the teahouse next to the mayor’s palace. How can one own the teahouse near the palace? Is that place available for the right price?”

The waiter’s tense shoulders eased up, and he swirled the plate on his fingers with a practiced efficiency, the polished metal edges catching the light from the lanterns.

“Only this much. The cost of an ale will do, sir.” He gave a smug smile of earning easy money.

Daren reached into his pouch and pushed a small metal piece, equivalent to one-tenth of a lumen, across the table. The coin made a soft clink as it hit the wooden surface.

“That place is owned by an influential person named Dongra,” the waiter confided, leaning in. “He has ties with the mayor’s son—real ties—so the mayor allows him to do business there. I think the guards even look after his teahouse. If you want to set up something near the walls, you won’t get permission.”

Daren’s eyes narrowed. So it was something fishy. As expected—things didn’t seem to be exactly like he remembered from his past life. Maybe he’d been naive before, or perhaps things had changed more than he’d realized.

He pushed back his chair, the legs scraping against the floor, and stood up.

“Sir, your…” the waiter’s voice held a hint of confusion.

“You can drink it,” Daren replied without turning around, fully aware the waiter might sell the drink to someone else.

It didn’t really matter to him. He had the information he needed, and killing Dongra would have to wait. In his current condition, he couldn’t risk doing anything that might draw the mayor’s wrath. Only a day remained until the weekend, and he had an important decision to make—perhaps one of the most crucial of his new life.

14 PLANS

Nyxara turned invisible just as Daren knocked on the door before entering the house. The soft knock echoed through the quiet room, unlike his previous habit of barging in unannounced. She still remembered those awkward encounters, which had forced her to abandon her habit of sleeping in her underwear after two mortifying incidents.

Nyxara glanced at her reflection in the mirror, which was now just a shimmer of light. She sighed, tugging at the collar of her pajamas. She despised sleeping in full clothes. If only the Invisibility spell could last all night, she could enjoy her sweet sleep under the stars, feeling the cool breeze on her skin.

But that wasn’t what mattered now. What puzzled her was Daren’s changed behavior. Recently, he had transformed into a peculiar mix of a gentleman and a menace. He knocked before entering but wielded knives and spells like a dangerous man. He’d gone against two seniors with a simple knife. The timid Moron she knew was missing in action.

“Why are you just entering now?” Nyxara asked, watching as Daren took his first step onto the creaky wooden stairs. She longed for the privacy of the upper floors but had chosen the ground floor for its proximity to the kitchen, a place where she found solace despite the lack of personal space.

“Are you my wife?” Daren retorted, brushing snow from his loose hair.

The snowflakes melted quickly in the warmth of the house, leaving his dark strands damp. The academy grounds were free of snow, so he must have ventured out—a rare occurrence for Daren Morin, affectionately known as Moron by everyone.

“No,” Nyxara replied, still cloaked in her Invisibility spell.

“Then why should I answer you?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You have an exam tomorrow. I thought you’d be studying hard by now. I even prepared hot tea to help keep you awake,” she said, a note of concern in her voice.

“I don’t need to study.” Daren shrugged, his casual demeanor at odds with the urgency she felt.

Nyxara gave a barely audible sigh. “I thought you’d be eager to study, especially with the spurt of growth you’ve shown in the last few days.”

“Spurt of growth?” Daren turned to face her, his brows arching in surprise.

“You’re acting more mature, like someone your age,” Nyxara said, hoping her words would reach him and drill themselves into his brain and make some sense to this moron.

He chuckled. “You have a unique perspective on things, lady.”

“Nyxara,” she corrected firmly. The way he called her ‘lady’ had always grated on her nerves.

“Come with me.” Daren stepped down from the stairs and moved toward the door, the evening light casting long shadows across the room.

Nyxara hesitated, glancing back at corner of the main room where he’d shown her an invisible monitoring ward. It was a constant reminder that someone was monitoring them. With a sigh, she decided to follow Daren.

He stood on the porch, gazing at the sprawling buildings that housed the other students. The campus was alive with activity; most students were either heading to the library or practicing their spells in small, scattered groups. Nyxara preferred to spend her holidays in the comfort of her own quarters, sipping tea and losing herself in the latest novel delivered from the library.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked as she stepped closer.

She noticed his attire—a brown jacket that barely concealed his mismatched gray shirt and pants. The outfit was in stark contrast to her neatly pressed pajamas. Daren turned to face her fully, his eyes searching hers. Without warning, he grabbed her shoulders gently but firmly, positioning her directly in front of him at arm’s length.

The touch startled her, and she could feel the warmth of his hands seeping through her robe. Nyxara shuddered, but she relaxed when she sensed no sexuality in his gesture. It was merely one person touching another. Being a girl, she knew touches well enough to understand a bad one.

“Cast your Invisibility spell in front of me,” he said, looking pensively at her.

“What?”

“Invisibility spell, lady. Do it quickly. I’ve got to go to the training room.”

“What are you training?”

“My body. I need to get a stronger body.”

“Are you really walking a soldier’s path?”

Nyxara frowned. One could always walk the soldier’s path for physical training. With a little magic, a soldier could enlist in the army and wage war on the front lines. A soldier was more than a mortal but less than a real magician. Only failed people who had no advancement in their mage path walked this path. She, too, had plans for it, but not at the moment.

“It’s none of your concern. Are you going to cast the spell or not?” he asked, irritated.

Biting her lower lip, she focused and cast the Invisibility spell on herself. She felt the familiar tingle as mana flowed through her meridian and entered her Spell Circle. In the blink of an eye, she vanished from his sight.

He reached out and tapped on something in front of him, his fingers brushing against her now-invisible form. His touch was light, almost curious. Was he trying to be mysterious or playing a prank on her?

“Third node is defective. Route your mana through the fourth node instead and take a one-four-five-seven route. Only use ten percent of the mana required.”

Nyxara became visible again. “What did you say?” she asked, confused.

“Are you dumb or deaf?” he snapped.

“Neither, Moron.” She smacked his arm, a clap filling the air. He gave her an intense look, and she quickly pulled her hand back, feeling the weight of his gaze.

“One-four-five-seven and ten percent mana. Do it and check your improvement. Don’t do it and go to hell. I don’t have time to waste on you.”

Nyxara frowned as he walked away, his footsteps echoing down the stone corridor. What was wrong with him? Why had he sputtered nonsense numbers?

Wait… Nyxara stared inwardly at her Spell Circle, a shimmering, intricate pattern that floated just behind her closed eyelids. Each mage awakened a primary Spell Circle at the age of twelve, and hers had emerged as the Invisibility Spell Circle carved onto her Mana Portal by nature itself, an unchangeable signature of her magical identity. Each Spell Circle had twelve nodes, and based on the mage’s abilities, one could use different nodes to cast a spell. Once a spell evolved with a realm upgrade, a mage could increase the number of nodes they could use to cast new spells. Before that, they had to settle on their primary four nodes.

After a realm upgrade, she would add new nodes to the same primary nodes. That was for the future, though. The nodes she had learned to use from her previous teacher were one, five, three, and seven, which allowed her to maintain the Invisibility spell the longest—for five minutes.

Did he want her to use the one, four five, seven nodes to cast the Invisibility spell? According to her teacher’s knowledge, any other nodes would reduce her spell time by half. She shook her head, her brow furrowing deeper. Why would he suggest something that seemed so counterproductive?

Nyxara glanced back at the path where Daren had disappeared. What should she do?

Taking a deep breath, she decided to give it a try. She rerouted her mana, feeling it flow through her veins like a warm stream. As she reached the fourth node, she hesitated for a moment then pushed forward. The nodes lit up in sequence—one, four, five, seven—each one vibrating with energy. She could feel the familiar tingle of magic enveloping her, the spell taking shape.

Well, it didn’t hurt to try new nodes. It only hurt when one did it wantonly or added the fifth node. She could safely perform the quick activity—and with ten percent of the mana required for the actual spell.

Nyxara held her breath, feeling the anticipation build. She waited to see if the change would make any difference. Soon, the world dissolved into ethereal light, and the familiar feeling of invisibility washed over her.

Okay—she could turn invisible. Fair enough.

She stayed still, feeling the cool air brush against her skin. She began counting the seconds, her lips moving silently with each number. When she reached sixty, she nodded to herself, reassured.

As the count moved beyond three hundred, she shuddered, a chill running down her spine. The world around her remained undisturbed, her form still hidden. When it moved past five hundred, her breaths became shallow and rapid. She felt a strain in her chest and gasped as her invisibility shattered like fragile glass.

“This is impossible.” She took a deep, steadying breath, glancing at her mana reserve. She had only used ten percent of the original spell cast, and that was merely around one percent of her entire mana pool.

What the hell? How had she made a twofold improvement in her spell time? It had to be a joke, right? If not, then Daren Morin had performed a miracle she’d never thought someone like him would be capable of.

* * *

Ashini sat on a cold metal chair, its frame adorned with bones that glimmered with an eerie glow. These were no ordinary bones; they were enchanted to produce fire mana, a necessary aid to keep the Myrth of the Dead in check. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against one of the bone decorations, the subtle warmth seeping into her skin, offering momentary comfort.

How had he known about her research into mana cores? He thought she hadn’t solved the issue yet, but she had. In fact, she’d been doing the final experiments before he arrived.

“Who are you?” she muttered, annoyed.

She rubbed the surface of a shiny plate with a bit of spit, trying to clear it, but the metal remained stubbornly dark. The tracking ward she had meticulously planted on the Mask had vanished as soon as he entered the academy grounds.

Her mind raced, piecing together the fragments she knew. He had to be from the Arcane Academy. Only that institution produced Dornwood Seeds, the very seeds she needed to survive. She clenched her jaw, the realization sinking in deeper. The academy had always been a place of secrets and power, and now it held another mystery she was determined to unravel.

Ashini’s fingers traced the lifeless mana core on the table beside her, frowning. Another failed experiment, the result of her distracted thoughts. She was so close to a breakthrough.

“No, he can’t be a teacher,” she murmured, her eyes narrowing in the darkness. “Teachers are too closely monitored by the principal. This has to be a student—a powerful one.” A sly smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she tapped a slender finger against the carved bracelet on the table. “Very well, Mask. When you return for this, I’ll make sure you’re begging for my mercy.”

Chuckling softly, she gestured, and a shimmering Void Rift opened, through which she retrieved her intricate carving tools. Whoever this mysterious Mask was, Ashini would uncover his secrets, no matter the cost. She would track him down and ensure that he had no choice but to submit to her will.

15 SOLDIER’S PATH

The cobblestones echoed beneath Daren’s feet as Nyxara’s words haunted him—soldier’s path. Two hundred years of living had taught him the weight of those two simple words. They had so much stigma attached to them that Nyxara wouldn’t even understand, but he had lived for two hundred years and he knew what those words meant.

The world was divided into four distinct classes: magicians, mortals, drags, and half magicians, also known as soldiers. Magicians, also known as mages, awakened a Spell Circle and cultivated mana. Mortals possessed Mana Portals but lacked Spell Circles. Drags awakened nothing. Soldiers were born with Mana Portals and awakened Spell Circles but couldn’t cultivate mana.

Daren paused, letting the mana-infused air fill his heart. Pirana had been a drag in his past life, unable to do anything, yet she’d left a mark on him. Mortals revered magicians while magicians treated mortals as tools. Both treated drags as disposable waste. A drag had saved him from desperation in his previous life. This time, with his knowledge of the future, it would be different.

Soldiers occupied a peculiar middle ground. Some people viewed them as failed mages, burdening them with social stigma. Even low-level magicians in the Realm of Harmony looked down on them, as the soldiers’ path was limited to this realm. They couldn’t advance beyond the Realm of Harmony and thus remained in an ambiguous social class that was neither powerful nor entirely powerless.

Yet soldiers were a quarter of the population of the world. There was even research happening to help them advance beyond the Realm of Harmony. The wars were rarely fought by mortals but by soldiers. Every academy had special equipment to train soldiers. The academies helped the soldiers to imbue their physical bodies with mana, turning them into killing machines.

Daren took a different path, entering the soldiers’ zone. “Pirana, I shall find you next time,” he muttered as he watched a small tree growing in a desolate corner.

The path changed from cobblestone to gravel, like the path of this life would change for him. Pirana was a fabulous woman, and he ought to find her again. She was an excellent cook. Her meat chops, tender and seasoned to perfection, had a way of making him feel at home. The aroma of her rich, savory cooking lingered in his mind, a reminder of simpler, happier times.

A guy sitting in a chair outside of the main building stopped Daren. “Are you a new student, fella?”

His muscles bulged with every inch of his exposed skin, glistening with sweat. The evident effect of soldier’s training made his presence imposing. It was a rudimentary tactic that would change in the future.

“Yes and no. I joined the mage branch,” Daren replied, his voice steady but his hands fidgeting with the hem of his coat.

“Go to the fifth counter to register as a soldier,” the guy said before turning away. His job seemed to be helping others, although his demeanor showed no enthusiasm.

“I don’t want to register as a soldier,” Daren said, rubbing his palms together.

He should have tossed the coat into the room before coming here. The academy building was stiflingly warm. He felt sweat trickling down his back and was sure he would lose a pound or two if he continued sweating like a pig.

“Then why are you here?” the guy asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I want to use the training facility.”

“You can’t do that without registering as a soldier. This is reserved for the real people who want to walk their destined path rather than the bullheads who think through their Spell Circles,” the guy answered, his nose flaring with disdain. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, clearly dismissing Daren’s request.

“I understand your deep-seated hatred, but the facility is open to all students.” Daren wiped the sweat from his forehead, feeling the heat cling to his skin. “If you refuse to let me use it, I can always ask the principal for help.”

He sympathized with the young man’s irritation. The world wasn’t an easy place for soldiers. But that didn’t mean he would back down.

“You can go in,” a familiar voice said behind him.

Daren turned to see Colin Woolins, his homeroom teacher, standing at the end of the path, a thick book clutched in one hand. Colin’s receding hairline glistened with sweat, and he adjusted his glasses, nodding at Daren.

“Teacher Colin, he’s not here to register as a soldier,” the bulky guy protested. “He just wants to check out the facility and then mock the soldiers to his friends. I’ve seen many like him. They sometimes break things inside.” He crossed his arms again, his expression hardening.

Mr. Woolins walked closer, his footsteps crunching on the gravel path. As he approached, his crooked nose became more prominent. “What is your name, young man?” he asked calmly.

“Torin Bools, sir,” the bulky guy replied, bowing lightly.

“Teacher.” Daren nodded at Mr. Woolins.

“Come—I’ll take you inside so things will be easier,” Mr. Woolins said, placing a reassuring hand on Daren’s shoulder. Together, they ascended the stone steps, their footsteps echoing in the corridor. Mr. Woolins led Daren to a large wooden desk, where he swiftly registered Daren’s name as a volunteer user. “If you come here for ten days and still want to continue, I’ll help you register for six months.”

Mr. Woolins’s pen scratched across the paper as he signed the form. The smell of ink wafted in the air—something rare in the world of mages, who signed using their mana.

“Thank you, teacher,” Daren said sincerely.

He hadn’t known he would need a teacher’s recommendation to use some facilities. Damn—why did everyone require a recommendation? Couldn’t they just let people do what they wanted?

Daren shook off his frustration and examined the map of the facilities displayed on the wall. The intricate layout was marked with various training areas and modules. His eyes settled on the Body Strengthening Module first. He’d heard it enhanced skin and muscle by administering a minute dose of mana to the body. Mages often disdained its use, preferring to spend their time learning new spells and practicing spell casting.

Determined, Daren made his way to the Body Strengthening Module and entered. The hum of mana-infused machinery filled the air. The room was lined with sleek metallic equipment, and the smell of oil and mana lingered.

“Why are you here?” Mr. Woolins asked, sitting back in a chair, his signet ring glinting under the harsh overhead lights.

Daren shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over an empty chair. The fabric rustled softly as it settled. He stared at the teacher for a moment before removing his shirt and trousers as well. The mechanical construct would need him almost naked.

“Are you really giving up on the mage path?” Mr. Woolins’s voice held an edge of concern. He eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

Daren checked the construct casually, making sure it had enough mana. With his experience, a glance could tell many things.

“I still believe the rune path will be good for you,” Mr. Woolins continued, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. “And this machine will make you bulky like the guy outside. Bools—doesn’t that sound like bull? What a fitting name for his bulky frame.”

Daren forced a smile, trying to hide his irritation. Mr. Woolins had a point. The mana infusion from the machines could make one bulky and rigid. But there were ways around it, such as taking smaller doses or spreading the mana to different parts of the body.

“It’s a crude method, so think about it again,” Mr. Woolins urged, leaning forward. “You have a natural affinity with runes, and it would be a waste not to explore that path.”

“I’m not going to abandon the mage path, Mr. Woolins,” Daren said firmly as he ascended the steps, the metal cool under his hands. “I have a Spell Circle; I’m just unable to use it for now. Once I figure out how to activate it, I’ll be back on the mage path.”

He turned his back to the gleaming construct. There was more to the answer. The academy’s fall was near—but he couldn’t tell that to Mr. Woolins. He just had to get powerful before the year’s end and get the fuck out of this place. And if he wanted to choose another path, he would just use his expertise to walk the inscription path.

“That’s a good thought process, but why are you using these crude methods rather than finding a way to get that recommendation?” Mr. Woolins shifted in the chair before putting the book he carried down on another chair. “Maybe you’ll find a way to advance to the Realm of Harmony, using the familiar, and gain a secondary Spell Circle, which will help you cultivate mana.”

“Yes, that’s the plan,” Daren said evenly as he picked a vial from the construct. “I have talked with a teacher from the Alchemy Department. It will be done next week.” He uncapped the vial and squeezed out a thick, shimmering gel. “And for this…” Daren applied the Mana Conductive Gel on his biceps, forearms, shoulders, and everywhere else except his private parts. The cool gel tingled against his skin, seeping into his muscles. “The academy is providing these things for free, so why not use them? At least they’ll make my fragile body a bit stronger.”

Mr. Woolins sighed, watching Daren’s careful application. “I understand you want to walk both paths and switch when one leads to a dead end, but promise me you will consider the rune path as well.”

“I will, Mr. Woolins. If it comes to that, I will consider the rune path,” Daren said, mostly to get rid of Mr. Woolins. He wanted to start his training.

“Fair enough. I’ll leave you alone. This machinery is painful but safe.” He turned and walked out, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

Daren sighed in relief, his shoulders easing. Finally, he could start his real training. With a little bit of mana remaining inside his Mana Portal, Daren approached the needles that would soon pierce his skin. He took a deep breath, feeling the cool metal under his fingertips. The needles were designed to inject just enough mana to dull the pain and create a superficial sense of empowerment, but Daren had a different plan.

He carefully altered the spell array behind the needles, his mana moving deftly over the nodes. By moderating the needles, he would draw an overload of mana and channel it to temper his internal organs. It was a technique he had mastered in his previous life, using his own mana. The process would be excruciating and drawn out, but the benefits were invaluable.

As he made the final adjustments, Daren felt a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. The needles gleamed in the sterile light, ready to begin their work. He braced himself, knowing this was going to be a turning point.

Taking a deep breath, he initiated the procedure. The first needle entered his skin, sending a jolt of pain through his body. He gritted his teeth, focusing on the flow of mana. Each needle that followed intensified the pain, but Daren remained resolute.

He could feel the mana coursing through him, altering his internal structure bit by bit. Sweat trickled down his face, and his muscles trembled under the strain. The room seemed to close in around him as the process dragged on, each second stretching into an eternity.

Despite the agony, Daren’s determination never wavered. He knew how crucial this was for his future. The pain would forge his future path. This was going to change his life, for better or worse, and he was willing to embrace the challenge.

16 ALCHEMY TEST

A beautiful morning it was, with rays of amber sunlight filtering through wispy clouds and dancing across the rippling waters of the unending sea. Daren reclined in his favorite cushioned chair inside his glass dome, savoring how the crystalline walls offered an unobstructed panorama of the Turbulent Black Sea churning below.

Massive waves, their dark crests tipped with white foam, slammed against the Mage Tower’s foundation with thunderous echoes that reverberated through the structure—a testament to the decade he’d spent perfecting its construction. The Mythic Gold Stones gleamed with an inner light, their enchanted surfaces easily deflecting the sea’s relentless assault without so much as a scratch.

Steam curled invitingly from the cup of chocolate drink in his hand, its rich aroma filling the air with sweet notes he’d painstakingly recreated through countless experiments. The warmth of the cup seeped into his palms as he watched nature’s display, feeling utterly at peace in this sanctuary he’d built between sea and sky.

He’d forgotten who had invented the chocolate drink. It was someone from the Arcane Academy—a pebble in the sea of his two-hundred-years life. Next year, he would turn two hundred, and he planned to invite all the Dark Lords to celebrate it. Who could refuse the summons of an evil lord like him?

Next, he would be attacking the Dragons of the South. It was time for the Helms of the East to rise again and take what belonged to them.

“Lord, may I join you?” a familiar voice asked.

He turned back to see his best friend. “How many times did I⁠—”

Something shook the entire tower, as if a spear of the gods had hit it. But that was impossible.

“Moron, wake up.” Nyxara slapped his cheeks.

“You…” Daren tried to cast a spell to send her flying back, but he had no mana inside his mana core. Why…? How…?

“Daren, get up, or I will slap you!” Nyxara shouted, her voice piercing through the remnants of his dream.

She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him vigorously. Startled, Daren sat up abruptly, his forehead colliding with Nyxara’s. She winced and stepped back while Daren tumbled off the bed, groaning.

“What the hell, Nyxara? Why would you wake⁠—”

A blast of cold air from the open window hit Daren, sending a shiver down his spine and raising goose bumps on his arms. “I’m late. Damn!” He shoved Nyxara aside and dashed into the bathroom, the chill of the tiled floor biting at his bare feet.

“There’s still thirty minutes!” Nyxara called. “I’ve left a cake for you on the messy table. Eat something before you go for the exam.”

Daren splashed cold water on his face, the shock of it snapping him to full wakefulness. He rubbed his eyes and stared at his reflection in the mirror, the exhaustion evident in his pale, drawn face. The reality of his vulnerability settled in—without mana, he couldn’t set up protective wards. He was defenseless.

What if Nyxara wanted to stab him? It would be so easy to kill him.

The realization that he had to get stronger or die was a rude awakening. After his reincarnation, the stakes were high. He couldn’t just take a breather and enjoy his life like he used to do in his Mage Tower.

Well, not everything looked grim and gloomy. He leaned closer to the mirror. Nothing had changed on the surface—his disheveled brown hair, the dark circles under his eyes—but he could feel a raw power deep within him, simmering just under his skin. A day’s session in the soldier facility had given him an advantage beyond anything his past self could have achieved. The advance knowledge he had gained was invaluable.

But why was he dreaming of his old life? Was it a premonition or a warning?

“Leave it,” he muttered to himself.

He turned the faucet, letting the cold water gush over his aching hands. The chill seeped into his bones, soothing his knotted muscles. He needed it. An exam awaited him, and the result would determine whether he could obtain a familiar.

The cold water washed over him, grounding him to the current reality. Whatever the past held or the future promised was irrelevant. He had to live in the present and cut through his enemies so they wouldn’t bite him in the new future.

“Let’s do this.”

He stepped out of the bathroom, water droplets clinging to his skin, and grabbed the academy robe. The bright-yellow fabric felt rough but familiar against his fingers. After pulling it on, he stuffed a half piece of cake into his mouth. If Nyxara wanted to kill him, she would probably stab him, not poison him. And the cake tasted good—a sweet burst of vanilla and cream. The girl wasn’t all bad. Maybe he shouldn’t kill her. Yet.

Five minutes later, Daren sprinted over the cobblestone path, his footsteps thudding in the crisp morning air. He took a sharp turn at the fork, dashed through the alchemy farm, where the scent of herbs and potions lingered, and finally reached the stone building next to the glass dome. A few students were already there, taking out their quills and ink bottles, the scratch of nibs on parchment filling the air.

Fuck. He’d totally forgotten the quill and ink bottle. He wasn’t an evil lord who could sign things with mana.

“Anyone have an extra quill and ink bottle?” he asked, scanning the group with a hint of desperation.

“Are you really here without ink and quill, man? How can you be so irresponsible?” A girl snorted, shaking her head in disdain as she adjusted her own neatly arranged supplies.

A fat guy smirked. “You look fresh. Go back and come next time. It’s a recurring thing. Don’t worry.”

“Mor—Daren.” Nyxara’s huffing voice emerged from behind, her breath visible in the cool air as she caught up to him.

When he turned back, he saw her bowing, her hands resting on her knees as she took slow, drawn-out breaths. Her cheeks were flushed from the exertion, and the faintest wisp of steam rose from her breath in the cool morning air.

“You’re following me now?”

“You forgot your ink and quill, so I came running. But how did you get here so fast?” Nyxara panted, sweat dripping from her chin.

“Why are you helping me?” Daren asked, frowning. The sudden shift from adversary to ally seemed suspicious.

Nyxara met his gaze, a small, genuine smile curving her lips. “Because you helped me yesterday. My spell has improved, and I ought to help you back.” Her eyes sparkled with gratitude.

Daren nodded slowly, the tightness in his shoulders easing. He reached for the small bag she had brought, his fingers brushing against the rough fabric. “Thanks.”

The T’Lara teacher strode into the classroom with a wide smile. “So, you two are already here?” She was an absolute giant, her head nearly brushing the ceiling, and her long, powerful arms could easily reach the overhead lights. “Take a seat, and we shall start in a couple of minutes.”

She gestured with a grand wave of her hand, her presence commanding immediate attention. Daren turned and sat on an empty bench, the worn wood creaking under his weight. He glanced at the eight other students scattered around the room, their bright-yellow uniforms standing out against the drab stone walls. According to Nyxara, this test took place every month. Many students kept retrying, drawn by the high demand and lucrative pay that came with being an alchemist. But the path was steep. The academy’s alchemy branch had stringent requirements, including a tree-type Spell Circle—vines, herb growth, or anything related to trees.

A short guy on the next bench leaned over, adjusting his glasses with a nervous twitch. “What is your Spell Circle?” he asked, his curiosity tinged with anxiety.

Daren turned his head, meeting the guy’s eyes briefly. “What’s yours?”

“I’ve got an Herb Disintegration Spell Circle. I can reduce a mountain of herbs to dust in a second once I reach a higher realm,” the short guy said with a hint of pride as he adjusted his glasses again, the lenses catching the light. “Come on—tell me. It’s fine even if it’s a low-level Spell Circle.”

“I don’t have a Spell Circle,” Daren answered calmly, ignoring the arrogance of the kid.

“What? Why are you here, then?” the short guy asked in disbelief, his glasses slipping down his nose. He quickly pushed them back up.

Daren leaned back casually, crossing his arms. “To admire the teacher’s beauty. Look how beautiful she is, like a giraffe.”

The short guy choked on his breath and coughed violently. “Beautiful teacher?” he repeated, his face turning red from the sudden fit.

“What’s going on there?” a stern voice asked. The teacher’s brows furrowed as she looked in their direction, her gaze piercing like a dagger.

Daren turned his head toward her. “Nothing. I just told him you look beautiful, and he had this reaction,” he replied calmly.

The T’Lara teacher gave the short guy a strange look, her eyes narrowing. “Shorty, do you think I’m not beautiful?” she asked, twirling a lock of her hair with a finger.

The short guy turned even paler. “No, teacher. You are beautiful,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Daren raised an eyebrow and looked at the teacher. He turned back to the short guy. “Then why did you have a fit of coughing?” he asked, his tone accusatory. “Teacher, I think he’s lying. He doesn’t consider you beautiful.”

“No, teacher. He called you a giraffe.”

“Yes, I said she is more beautiful than a giraffe.” Daren nodded sincerely.

“See? He’s calling you an ugly animal, teacher.” The shorty smiled arrogantly, his fingers tapping impatiently against his thigh.

“You. What did you call the giraffe?” The teacher arched her neck, her body quivering.

“Ugly. Why? Do you like giraffes?” The shorty seemed a bit confused.

A vine, thick and green, slithered silently behind the shorty. In an instant, it wrapped around his neck, lifting him off the floor. He gasped, eyes wide with shock, as the vine tossed him out of the class with a swift, powerful motion.

“Don’t show me your face again, or I will kill you,” the teacher said, her eyes blazing with fury. The room crackled with tension. “You knew it.” The teacher slammed her arm on the table. “You know we T’Lara worship giraffe god, so you tricked that boy.”

Daren shrugged. Of course he’d known that, but he wouldn’t agree with her accusation. He just didn’t like the guy.

“Don’t try to be overly smart, Daren!” she roared. “If you can’t pass the test, you can forget about getting a recommendation or attending this test once more. I’m giving you a warning!”

Everyone tensed. Daren felt a few vines swaying, ready to strike at any time.

17 SURPRISE TEST

“Are we doing this now?” Daren asked calmly, tilting his head back to meet the giant teacher’s stern gaze. The muscles in his neck strained from the awkward angle, but he planted his feet firmly on the wooden floor, refusing to step back.

“Let’s start. Today the passing condition is eighty out of one hundred.” She pivoted on her heel and strode to the podium with heavy footsteps.

“What? But, teacher, the passing marks are sixty!” a girl cried from the back row, clutching the edge of her desk so hard her knuckles turned white.

“It’s eighty now!” Her voice boomed within the stone walls.

The air grew thick with tension as the students swiveled in their seats, fixing Daren with piercing glares. If looks could kill, Daren would be dead a thousand times over.

“The test is simple. You have a hundred questions, ranging from herb names to simple concoction recipes. But I don’t like it anymore, so we are going to switch the way we perform the exam.” The teacher pressed her palm against the smooth wooden desk before sitting on it. For someone of her height, it acted as a chair rather than a table. “How about I make you brew some alchemy potions?”

Daren grimaced. That would be troublesome. Potions—he had no idea how they worked.

A tall guy with one patched eye stood up from the back bench. He had a composed demeanor, and a smooth, shaved face—too smooth, actually. “Teacher, we aren’t alchemists. Please give us a test that measures our capabilities.”

“You’re right. I can’t make you concoct real potions. There would be too much trouble if things go wrong.” The teacher rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Then how about you make them in a simulated environment? This way, you can get unlimited herbs and unlimited tries but with a time limit.”

“What do you mean by simulation, teacher?” the eye-patch guy asked.

Daren felt a twinge of excitement in his bones. Was she going to take them to the Battle Simulation Chamber? The academy had that, and he wanted to visit it before he ran away, because he wouldn’t get a chance to test the facility for a long time after that. His heart beat a little faster, anticipation tingling in his fingertips.

“Just a simple artifact,” the teacher replied, her eyes holding a hint of mischief. She conjured an intricately carved crystal. “This is a Simulation Crystal.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thickening with anticipation as the students leaned forward to get a better look. The crystal pulsed with a soft blue light before projecting a crisp image into the air. A stunning array of herbs and trees appeared, their details so sharp they seemed almost tangible. The scent of pine and fresh earth filled the room, heightening the illusion.

Wait—that wasn’t a Simulation Crystal. “Isn’t that a Slithering Image Crystal?” Daren muttered, his eyes widening as he recalled information on the artifact.

The Slithering Image Crystal caught the sunlight streaming through the windows, its facets throwing rainbow specks across the walls. He knew that the sand used in its creation was rarer than gold or precious gems, a treasure from across the sea. The air seemed to shimmer with magic as the crystal displayed its wonders.

But why did she have one of those? The academy wouldn’t give such a rare artifact to a novice mage like her. Or was there a secret hoard behind the Dimensional Corridor?

No, that made no sense. Daren pressed his lips together, annoyance running through him. Why was she wasting such a good item?

“What is a Simulation Crystal, teacher?” someone asked.

“It allows you all to perform simulations with your mana,” the teacher explained patiently. She held up the crystal for everyone to see. “You imagine one thing with your mana, and it will appear in your hand.” She tapped on the crystal lightly with her fingertip. “Red Neck Carp.”

In an instant, a carp materialized in her hand, its scales shimmering like a real, living fish. Daren’s jaw tightened as he watched her. The Myrith Desert Sand inside that crystal was being used up to create these illusions. He couldn’t understand why she would waste such a precious resource. Either she was oblivious to its true value, or she had wealth beyond imagination and didn’t care. The former seemed more likely.

“Teacher, what is the actual use of that crystal?” Daren asked, trying to confirm his understanding of her.

“It’s a fun thing, isn’t it?” The teacher laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I found it during an excursion. It can bring things to life if I imagine them. Isn’t that a wonderful thing to try? Now, you will choose some items and make a potion out of them.”

He wanted to strangle her to death for using the crystal as a mere tool of simulation. It was a blatant crime. That artifact wasn’t a toy for kids to play with.

“However, it can only create things I know,” she added, her voice softening. “So there is a catch to this thing.”

Fuck. That crystal was bonded to her, and she knew nothing about it. When a magician reached a higher level than the Realm of Harmony, they had to fulfill multiple conditions to advance further, one of them being evolving their Spell Circle. If done recklessly, it could be life-threatening, but with this crystal, one could try it without any harm.

This was a gold mine for high-level magicians. And she used it like a plaything.

He clenched his fists tighter, his nails digging into his palms. If only he had some mana, he could deconstruct her spell and convert the ownership. Or at least learn some things from the artifact. The thought gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Teacher, do we have to use mana to retrieve things?” Daren asked, striving to keep his voice and expression even and betray none of the turmoil within.

The teacher turned to face him, her gaze steady. “Yes,” she replied, nodding.

“Then I must say you are making things difficult for me on purpose, and I must talk with Princy about it,” Daren said tightly.

The little whispers in the classroom died instantly. The teacher frowned.

“Earlier, you increased the exam’s passing marks,” Daren continued, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t refuse, thinking it might be necessary for the exam. But then you introduced something I can’t even act upon.”

“What nonsense, Daren Morin. Have you lost your mind?” the teacher barked, her nostrils flaring.

Daren took a step forward, his fists still tight at his sides. “Well, I can’t cultivate mana, and you clearly know it, yet you want me to use mana,” he said, his voice dropping but each word cutting through the air like a blade. “So how does that not mean designing a test that I can’t even attempt?”

A flicker of doubt crossed her eyes. “I didn’t…” The authority in her voice wavered.

“Please, teacher, don’t say you didn’t know.” Daren stepped forward, closing the distance until he was just a foot away from her. His fists unclenched slightly, but his knuckles remained white. “I already informed you about my bet with Miss Wallheart, so you’re aware of my conditions. My weakness.”

“I…” she stammered, her eyes darting away from his intense gaze.

“Please, teacher. Play fair.” Daren’s tone had softened, though the firmness remained. “I’m a powerless student who can’t even cultivate mana while you are a mighty teacher who can fling people out of the exam room on a whim.”

The room fell into a deadly silence.

“You can very well throw me out,” Daren continued. “But please allow me to leave with dignity. I beg you, teacher. Please.”

The teacher’s face shifted through multiple emotions—confusion, frustration, and a flicker of vulnerability. She was not having a good time, and Daren enjoyed that. She must have known he was manipulating the conversation. She might be thinking of him as a sly bastard, and he didn’t care. Two centuries of life had taught him better than to let a fresh-faced academy teacher outmaneuver him. The corners of his mouth twitched as he maintained the facade of an earnest student.

The eye-patched guy stepped forward. “Mr. Morin, I think you are taking things too far,” he said, attempting to sound authoritative.

“And who are you? Trying to be a brave knight or a clueless fool?” Daren retorted, narrowing his eyes as he assessed the guy.

“I…”

“Stop it, Sylva. Take this, Daren. This should be enough for you to use mana!” the teacher snapped, a frown creasing her brow.

She didn’t seem happy, and the things Daren planned to do would only make her more unhappy. A potion bottle came flying toward him, and Daren picked it up with his right hand. If he hadn’t been in a tense situation, he would have laughed like a madman.

Finally. Finally, he’d gotten his hands on a mana potion. With this, he could really shine in the next few days.

18 PHILA’S SURPRISE

Phila shuddered at the audacity of the kid. If she’d been back in her own town, she would have slapped this kid to the ground and taught him a lesson he’d never forget. But Princy had instructed her to just watch him, so she restrained herself, her lips pressed into a tight line.

The boy’s boldness had caught her off guard. She’d never expected him to outplay her like this. First, he targeted her weak point—the revered giraffe god—and manipulated her to throw the irrelevant kid out. Then, with an infuriating smirk, he humiliated her in front of the other kids without lifting a finger. The other students watched with wide eyes, whispering among themselves, as Phila felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Her heart had skipped a beat at his cunning words, anger and vulnerability washing over her.

When was the last time she’d felt so down? These kids—how did they learn so many new ways to tackle a teacher like her? She was getting old after all. Wallheart was right—this kid was no joke. He’d even outwitted that sly, fat woman and manipulated her into giving him a recommendation.

“Wait…” She almost jumped in fear—the kid gulped the mana potion as if drinking one of Colin’s chocolate drinks. That thing tasted awesome, but the mana—the kid was going to fry his insides.

“I’m fine.” Daren smiled back at her, his eyes shining like two pearls in the dark night.

“I don’t think so.” She waved her hand, and her third Spell Circle sprang to life.

A thick vine appeared around his head and gently pierced his neck to drain the excess mana. But she got nothing. The kid had no mana in his system, not even a trace.

“Where is the mana?” Phila narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together.

Daren smiled at her, shrugging, as he gently pushed the vine away. “I’m fine, teacher. It’s nothing.”

Phila stepped back, her tall frame making it impossible to sit comfortably in the regular chairs provided for the classroom. She opted to lean against the sturdy wooden table instead, her presence dominating the room. The same was true for Wallheart. Regular chairs were essentially useless for the two of them.

“I’m ready, teacher. We can start,” Daren said, his voice steady and filled with confidence.

Phila snorted, shaking her head. This kid. Did he think he was the reincarnation of an alchemy god or something? Alchemy was her domain, and she was going to ensure that he understood that today.

“Kids, I’m going to show you herbs in batches of ten, and you have to identify them. We’ll go through a hundred herbs, and you’ll pass if you can correctly identify eighty of them,” Phila announced firmly.

“Eighty, ma’am?” someone said in disbelief from the back of the room.

“Come back next time if you fail this time.” Phila gave them a sweet smile, though inside, she felt weary from the repeated attempts. These students had been trying for three months, and she was tired of giving up her weekends. “If any of you win this challenge, then you will move on to the next one, where you will concoct the potion. Let’s do this.”

She stepped down from the table, her shoes clicking on the stone floor, and tapped on the Simulation Crystal. It was a pretty little thing she enjoyed playing with sometimes, and today she had the perfect opportunity to trick these kids with it. How wonderful.

“First batch, go.” She conjured ten new plants, deliberately selecting ones not covered in the last few months’ syllabus. Their vibrant colors and unusual shapes flashed into existence, casting soft shadows in the dim classroom light. She was sure they would all fail.

“Darn White Fenguran,” Daren said, squinting at the first plant. “Then there is this Silki Pan Mushroom. Starfall Bloom, Seawater Ivy…” He continued, accurately naming all ten plants with confidence.

Phila’s eyes widened. “How did you know all the plants?” she asked, suspicious. Had she made a mistake?

“Teacher, don’t you expect me to know all these plants? Was there an issue with these plants? Or were they not part of the first-year syllabi? Are you playing to make us lose or to give us a fair chance of winning?”

She froze. This kid. She couldn’t play word games with him.

“Of course I don’t want you to fail, but I’m surprised that you got all ten right. This is kind of…”

“Amazing, isn’t it? I’m amazing, teacher. You can ask Miss Wallheart. I nailed her exam, and I will nail this one as well.” Daren gave a condescending smile.

A shiver ran down her spine. Why did she have a feeling of meeting a monster in the guise of an eighteen-year-old kid?

* * *

She’d thought she could play with Daren by showing him advanced plants. The plants’ vibrant colors and peculiar shapes cast dancing shadows on the classroom walls—herbs that shouldn’t appear until second or third year. How naive of her.

“He’s going to lose badly,” a student whispered, the words carrying across the classroom’s stone floor.

Daren’s eyes swept over his classmates, taking in their anxious faces and fidgeting hands. What a disappointing bunch. After three months of studying, they were still stumbling over basic herb identification.

Daren turned toward the crystal, whose surface gleamed with projected images. The scent of the losers’ expectations filled the air.

“Falfal Ivy, Wallslipping Grass…” The names rolled off his tongue effortlessly as each herb appeared. Though these herbs were considered rare, the memories he’d taken from that low-level alchemist served him well, each plant’s characteristics crystal clear in his mind.

“Let’s move on to the third batch,” the teacher announced, her maroon eyes betraying her unease as she drummed her thin fingers against her desk.

Daren drew in a deep breath, savoring the fresh air along with the expectations of the other students. His confidence swelled with each inhalation.

“Thousand Sharp Grass…” he replied, his voice measured.

The vast catalogue of herb names stored in his stolen memories stretched out before him like an endless garden. He could play this game the whole day.

Fourth batch.

Fifth batch.

Sixth batch.

Seventh batch.

Things took a turn after that. The challenge intensified, and Daren began struggling to recall a few names as the teacher escalated the difficulty. The plants and herbs seemed out of context and unfamiliar even to the alchemist whose memories he had extracted. They must have been high-level herbs beyond his current knowledge.

This could be a problem. Daren quickly counted and realized he only needed five more accurate names to pass the exam with a score of eighty. His heart pounded in his chest, and he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.

But would she let him win? If the teacher continued to present high-level plants that neither he nor the alchemist recognized, his chances of passing would be jeopardized.

The tenth batch began, and Daren only needed two more names. Each plant she displayed looked like it was from another world, its bizarre shape and color challenging his memory. He squinted, trying to focus on the intricate details.

It only became harder as the time went on. The ninety-sixth plant was Hell Mushroom Rot. Daren’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the twisted, gnarled fungus whose cap was a sickly shade of gray.

Why had she shown him this plant? This was a dark herb that grew on living men’s brains. He hesitated, weighing the consequences of revealing its name. Only the most experienced alchemists were privy to this knowledge, and uttering it could raise unwanted questions.

“I don’t know this one,” he said, shaking his head.

The next specimen was equally unsettling. Daren recalled witnessing a ritual where this plant, with its delicate, heart-shaped petals, had been used to harness the dark energies of the Helms of the East. It grew on the hearts of virgin girls, and one had to let it grow while the girl went through her monthly periods. Even he, the evil lord, had despised that scene.

“Pass,” Daren said, his voice turning bitter.

“Daren, only three names are remaining, and you need two more points to pass this exam.” The teacher chuckled, her gaze filled with mocking amusement. She stood with her hands resting on the desk, fingers tapping rhythmically.

“Teacher, are you really showing the plants from the book you gave me? I don’t recall seeing any of these.”

“Of course I am,” she replied, rubbing her neck. “Some are hybrid plants that you can easily guess the names of if you have worked with the original plants. Don’t forget—this is an exam, and I’m not going to ask you what questions you want beforehand.”

The classroom fell into a deadly silence. The only sound was the rustle of paper as the other students shifted nervously. Everyone was holding their breath as if worried about their own fates.

Daren narrowed his eyes, a steely determination setting in. If the teacher wanted to play dirty, he had no reason to hold back any longer. His fingers tingled as he prepared to channel a bit of his mana, feeling the familiar surge of energy coursing through him. It would cost him a bit of mana, but why not?

“Fine, let’s proceed. Deconstruct.” Daren summoned the mana she had gifted him, feeling its warmth surge through his fingertips as he prepared to deconstruct the spell she had cast on the crystal.

A small circle materialized in front of him, glowing with an ethereal light. He tapped on the circle, his fingers moving swiftly as he altered the nodes. He intercepted her commands, changing the names she had sent to the crystal.

It all happened in the blink of an eye, but the simple action drained him. His chest tightened painfully, and he fought to keep his breathing steady. If he hadn’t strengthened his internal organs, he might have coughed them out. Instead, he only coughed up some blood, the warm liquid splattering onto the cold floor.

“What—already coughing blood to mask your loss?” the teacher asked sarcastically.

Daren looked up, feeling the blood trickle from the corner of his mouth. The metallic taste coated his tongue. It tasted like victory.

“It’s Red Hull Mushroom, teacher,” he said, his voice steady despite the pain.

“Wait, it’s not…” As she turned toward the image displayed over the crystal, her face contorted into a deep frown, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Next,” she commanded, her voice crisp and impatient.

“White Brok Herb,” Daren said before he coughed more blood. Her spell was too powerful for him, and using Deconstruct had taken too heavy a toll.

“Wait, I didn’t send those names. What did you do?” the teacher said, her voice rising, causing a few students to glance up nervously. The tension was palpable, almost suffocating.

Daren looked up, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Teacher, don’t play unfair. Just accept your loss.”

He smirked in triumph and defiance. How dare she try to outwit him, an evil lord from the future?

The T’Lara teacher’s hands shook as she patted her chest as if trying to steady her breathing. Her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “I don’t know how you won, Daren Morin, but the next exam will be impossible. Let’s see if you can concoct a potion on your own,” she hissed.

The threat hung in the air, a promise of the challenges yet to come. Daren snorted inwardly. The woman was cunning, and she would never let him win this round.

That was why he always had a backup. He’d already activated it at the seventh round. But he wasn’t sure if it had arrived. His win would depend on the backup.

19 PHILA’S SHOCK

Phila gritted her teeth so hard a student looked up at her suspiciously, his eyes narrowing, as if he had heard the tight grinding. Ignoring his gaze, she fixed her attention on Daren Morin. How had he managed to pass the exam when she’d done everything in her power to ensure his failure?

Something odd had happened. Somehow, he had swapped the last few herb names with simple ones, bypassing her intricate traps. But how? This made little sense.

She shifted her weight on the wooden table, which groaned under the strain. She frowned in irritation, glancing at the worn surface. The academy was as stingy as a miserly landlord when it came to furniture. They really should have replaced all the old pieces with sturdy stone ones like the ones from her hometown.

However, the matter ahead of her was more pressing. Daren Morin—how had he changed the names of the things she’d sent to the Simulation Crystal? It was impossible. The crystal only listened to her command because of their bonding.

“Teacher, shouldn’t you let the other students take their exam first?” Daren Morin asked, his voice laced with mockery.

Phila narrowed her eyes as she met his gaze. This boy, with his infuriatingly smug expression, was a thorn in her side. She did have to conduct the exam for the others first, but she wouldn’t let them pass easily. Not while he was watching her with that taunting gaze.

“No, let’s continue with you. You have shown such bright results that I want to see more,” she said, smirking. “I want you to concoct a potion from the herbs you have already identified, but I will tell you which potion.”

She crossed her arms, feeling the familiar weight of authority settling over her. This kid might have won by a fluke of fortune, but she wouldn’t let him win again. This was her playground. She was the head teacher in the Alchemy Department, and things happened by her rules.

Daren’s face remained impassive, but Phila noticed his fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of the table, a subtle tell of his nervousness.

“But—” he began.

“No ‘but,’ Daren Morin.” She had him now. And if she didn’t want this kid to pass the exam, he would not pass the exam. No matter what happened. “I want you to concoct Red Hound…”

A familiar, dangerous voice cut through her thoughts. “Stop it, Phila. You have done enough damage to the students. You can’t be playing with such a rare crystal and invert the rules set by the academy.” The voice echoed in her mind, though the students remained oblivious.

“Princy,” she muttered, her confidence faltering.

“Yes. I’m watching you, and the crystal you’re playing with is a rare artifact only known to the principal. If he were here, he would have slapped you into the ground for using it,” Princy said coldly.

“I just…”

“Declare everyone a winner. You will be guiding them personally this year. That’s your punishment for changing the rules set by the academy and daring to put the names of dark herbs on the list!” Princy’s voice boomed in her mind like thunder.

Phila looked down, her face flushed with shame. No wonder the names of the herbs had changed. Princy wanted them to change, and that familiar of the principal could do things she couldn’t even dream of.

But what was this artifact he’d mentioned? Was the crystal really that precious?

“Okay, all. You all pass the exam. Daren Morin, I will send the recommendation to your house later tonight.” Her voice was strained. “Go back and enjoy a beautiful evening and report to the department tomorrow.”

But she wasn’t done with him. After picking up her crystal, she walked briskly out of the classroom. She was in big trouble, and she hoped Princy wouldn’t punish her too severely.

* * *

Daren slumped on the wooden bench, the rough, splintered texture hitting his ass a little harder than he’d anticipated. He gripped the edge of the seat with his fingers as sweat trickled down his neck. The drumming of his heart echoed so loudly in his ears it nearly drowned out the chatter of his classmates. With a few more minutes of this tension, he would have been forced to give up any pretense of composure.

If he hadn’t called Princy, the teacher would have made his life worse. And losing wasn’t an option. Too much was at stake.

“What happened to teacher Phila? Why was she so irritated today?” a girl with frizzy hair from two rows ahead asked, her voice cranky as she twisted in her seat to face the others.

An enthusiastic guy with bright eyes jumped up from his seat. “Why do you care? We passed the exam, and we are students of the Alchemy Department now. Let’s party tonight. I’m visiting the city. Who’s with me?”

His reaction lightened the tense mood. Excitement spread through the room as remaining students cheered up. Daren inhaled deeply, letting the cold air of the classroom ease the tightness in his muscles. His shoulders gradually relaxed as he steadied his breathing. Despite him having the confidence of a two-hundred-year-old evil lord, this fragile body betrayed him at every turn, refusing to mask the physical signs of stress.

Wait.

“What was her name?” Daren looked up, frowning as he tried to recall a memory.

“Whose name?”

The question hung in the air, causing a few curious heads to turn.

“Teacher’s name?”

“Phila. Teacher Phila,” a girl replied, her brows knitting in mild confusion.

Daren’s heart skipped a beat. Princess Phila? He shuddered involuntarily. That name echoed in his mind multiple times, dredging up memories from his days in the slums. She had single-handedly opened up a mana storm, reconnecting the city to the outside world when the teleportation formation vanished along with half the academy. She had escaped the academy’s fate.

Whatever. Why would he care? He would be out of the city well before that happened.

The two Deconstructs had taken a large toll on him. He had already consumed a quarter of the mana potion, and he needed most of it to soothe his meridians and prepare for the next dose of body strengthening. The residual taste of the bitter potion lingered, a grim reminder of his limitations.

“What recommendation letter was she talking about?” the eye-patched guy asked, his voice low but insistent, as he moved close to him.

“As if I would tell you.” Daren pushed himself to his feet and shoved the guy with his shoulder as he passed.

The aftertaste of the mana potion still clung to his tongue, but he ignored it. He needed to heal and then make his way to the Familiar Prison beneath the academy. Securing a familiar was the next crucial step in his carefully planned path to success.

His first step had been contacting Ashini, the mad scientist whose knowledge and connections were invaluable. The second step was injecting himself with the Body Strengthening Module, a painful but necessary enhancement. Obtaining a familiar would be the third step, solidifying his power and resources.

He could feel the anticipation building within him. Good times were coming, and he was ready to seize them.

20 UNSEEN DANGERS

“Why?” Phila sat in the principal’s office, biting her nails. She glanced around the dimly lit office, where shelves crammed with ancient tomes reached up to the vaulted ceiling. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and a hint of smoky incense. “What is so special about him, Princy, that you pulled me out in the middle of the exam and made me sit here?”

“It was your mistake, Phila. How dare you use a dark herb in a kid’s exam?” Princy asked from across the cluttered desk. The principal’s familiar hovered effortlessly, a disembodied head with four spindly limbs protruding from its back. Though it lacked visible eyes, its gaze felt piercing.

“They are eighteen-year-old students, not kids anymore.” She leaned forward, placing her left palm on the desk. The cool surface steadied her but did little to calm the frustration boiling inside her.

Princy’s limbs twitched, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls lined with dusty portraits. “And you are a hundred and thirty. For a T’Lara princess, anyone under fifty is still a kid.”

She bit into her index finger, the sharp taste of blood surprising her as she broke the skin. “We’re not talking about my heritage. Are you really taking my crystal?”

“Yes. I have heard about such an artifact, and I need some time to study it.”

“It’s just a Simulation Crystal. But somehow, that kid tampered with it. I don’t know how, but he did,” she said, her voice wavering.

“That, I’m not sure of. I don’t have enough evidence to come to that conclusion. But I’m positive there is something strange going on with him.”

“He’s just a kid with a good tongue,” she shot back, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk, each tap resonating in the quiet room.

Princy’s eyes seemed to narrow, though it was hard to tell with a head like his. “I don’t lie, Phila. My compulsion forces me to speak the truth.”

“How did you find out about the exam? Was it Wallheart?”

“He triggered the talisman I gave to him,” Princy said calmly, his limbs twitching in a peculiar rhythm as he continued to work on a document. The scratching of the quill filled the silence.

“Fucking prick. How dare he call you to tell a tale about me? I should teach him a lesson—like, tie him to a tree and slap his little tushy with a thick vine.” Phila’s mind roused at the thought of a little punishment. She liked it.

“Don’t make me put you in a dungeon for a crime again,” Princy replied coldly, not even looking up from his work.

Phila felt a flash of defiance. “I only tied one student to the Deathly Tree for one night, and you put me in the dungeon for the whole month. Is that what you call a fair punishment, Princy?”

“I want you to accompany him to the Familiar Prison and help him subdue a familiar,” Princy continued.

“Damn it, Princy.” She got up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly. Slapping the table hard, she caused a few papers to flutter to the floor. “He humiliated me in front of the entire class, and you want me to help him tie a little criminal to his tail? I don’t accept it.” She felt angry and incredulous, her chest heaving with each breath.

“This is not a request, Phila. It’s an order. You’re skilled at taming those little pests, and I want him to have the familiar that suits him the best.”

Phila crossed her arms. “Anyone can do it. Ask Wallheart to move her fat ass sometimes. Wait, it won’t go through the door of the prison, so ask Colin or the Dominator.” She rolled her eyes. “And why do you even want to give him a familiar? When did we start giving soldier-class people a familiar to become a borrowed mage?”

“He earned it, Phila. And there’s something about him that makes me want to give him a chance—something important, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“What’s so special about a kid with soldier-class potential? You are reading too much into this, Princy.”

Princy hesitated. “There was a disturbance in the mana ley line a few days ago, and the kid has been acting weird ever since then. I have checked his records. He was just a dumb kid who couldn’t even raise his voice before, but now…”

Phila froze. “Disturbance in the mana ley line? What do you mean?” she asked quietly, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

“Someone passed through without triggering our traps.”

Phila’s mind raced, the implications of such a breach sending chills down her spine. She swallowed hard, her throat dry. “That’s not possible. The traps are foolproof.”

“That’s what we thought,” Princy replied. “But it happened. And I need you to figure out if this boy is connected to it.”

Phila took a deep breath, her fingers twitching as she conjured mana into them. She felt the familiar tingle of its magic grounding her. “This is dangerous. We should look outside the academy to find who did it. I don’t think the kid has anything to do with it,” she said, trying not to betray her worry.

“Maybe not. But someone who can pass through the mana ley line without triggering our traps is powerful enough to destroy our academy,” he said coldly. “The principal made it clear that we are not to be bothered with such events. Probing such entities would only bring harm to our academy.”

Phila rubbed her chin thoughtfully, the memory of a similar disaster in her small kingdom surfacing. The destruction had been swift and unforgiving, leaving scars that ran deep.

“Fair enough. I will accompany him,” she said, a smug smile playing on her lips.

She wasn’t done with that kid, and she would make sure he got a healthy dose of familiars before he could tame even one with her help. This was going to be fun.

21 INTO THE FAMILIAR PRISON

The last thing Daren wanted to do was follow the teacher into the dungeon. And at five in the morning. And when the teacher was Phila, it really pissed him off.

Daren clenched his fists briefly before shoving them into his pockets. All he could do was curse her under his breath and maintain a smile. Phila’s eyes darkened with mild irritation, but she said nothing. Anyway, he would forgive her if she led him toward the familiar prison. The result would take him closer to his goal, so he could totally forget about her annoying nature.

They walked over a cobblestone path, which smelled damp and earthy. The scent of moss and wet stone lingered in the cool air. The path forked from the Administrative Department building, leading into a cave-like structure. He paused at the mouth of the cave.

“Come, don’t get scared.” Teacher Phila smirked.

Magical torches lit up the walls, their flickering flames casting shadows that danced over the brown path ahead. If not for the torches, he would have suspected teacher Phila was planning to silence him. Forever.

“Listen, kid.” Phila’s smile didn’t reach her maroon eyes. “When I say touch a familiar, you touch it. No questions. Got it?”

Her thin lips curled in a fake smile. He could read the venomous intent behind it. Damn it. She was setting him up. Why would he touch a familiar without fearing retaliation? Familiars weren’t like little kids who could be appeased with candy. A nasty familiar might shock him to death if not subdued in advance.

They advanced for five minutes, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls, before the torches abruptly shut off. He rubbed his palms together, feeling the roughness of his skin as he followed the teacher into the dark corridor. A dim red crystal hung from the ceiling, casting a glow that barely illuminated the path ahead.

“These are Magic-Suppressing Crystals,” she said, her eyes glinting in the reddish light. “They will suppress familiars inside.”

Daren nodded. “Okay.” He’d known that already, but he couldn’t say it. The weird woman might take offense.

She adjusted her robe. “We’re heading into the dungeon now. Don’t wander around, or I can’t guarantee your safety. Don’t come crying afterward about your hand being burned off or your tongue rolling into your mouth.”

Daren snorted inwardly. She was openly threatening him. How naive.

She stopped and turned to face him. “Do you know we are under the academy?” she asked, her tone probing.

“Yes, teacher. I know.” He’d never been to this place, but he’d heard enough about it. He looked around, taking in the damp stone walls.

“How do you know so much about familiars?”

“I read books and listen to my seniors,” Daren said.

The cold intensified as they walked deeper into the silent corridor. The chill seeped through his clothes. Just opening his mouth left a cold, muddy taste at the edge of his tongue.

“You have too many secrets, kid. I want to open you up and search for them, but let’s do that some other day.”

Daren grimaced. This woman might have had an ulterior motive in following him. He had to be cautious around her.

Suddenly, he felt a hum of mana in the air. Before he could guess the source, he entered a completely new world—a world of familiars. He froze, his heart pounding in his ribcage. Finally. He could taste the success in the mana-filled environment.

Across the wall of mana-suppression glass, multiple familiars roamed around in their respective cages. Each creature moved restlessly, some pacing, others slinking into the shadows. One of them would become his familiar tonight.

“Those are familiars. Low-level criminals.” Teacher Phila snorted.

Daren narrowed his eyes, staring at the first familiar in the cage. It was a small, rat-like creature that looked at him with puppy eyes filled with a sense of injustice. Its tiny body shivered, and it pressed itself against the cage bars.

However, the name tag outside said otherwise: Three-Teeth Rat Familiar. Caught while stealing from the mayor’s kitchen. This rat can run like a lightning bolt and sneak away before you blink.

“This rat specializes in lightning and conjures lightning mana. It won’t be useful for you,” Teacher Phila said.

Daren smiled faintly. She was right about it not being useful to him, but she misunderstood something important. The rat didn’t produce lightning mana; it converted raw mana into lightning. There was a difference. Some familiars could produce attributed mana, but this wasn’t one of them.

Daren stepped forward, his gaze shifting to the second cage. Inside, a lionlike creature prowled, its two tails flicking like restless serpents.

Two-Tailed Cat—Caught while killing a human’s pet for food. It can cast shadow skills from one tail and light skills from the other tail. Beware of its shrewdness.

Daren stared at the creature as it paced, its eyes glinting with a predatory intelligence. He could almost feel the tension in its lean muscles, which seemed ready to strike at any moment. It smashed itself against the glass, showing its violent nature.

“You need a familiar with pure mana,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “With pure mana, you can use it to cast most of the common spells. If you choose one with attributed mana, you’ll be stuck with only one type of spell.”

Daren nodded. Mana and spells. Humans had Spell Circles, which specialized in, but weren’t limited to, one type of spell. Common spells, such as fire, tracking, and utility spells, could be cast with raw mana. The academy had a class dedicated to these common spells for first-year students.

“I understand,” he said, glancing around the room filled with cages. “But let’s look at others.”

Familiars were a kind of species that emerged out of the mana storms, their origins shrouded in mystery. They generally took the shape of a beast, though some took the form of humans. Those were hunted down and killed.

Daren moved forward, his footsteps echoing softly in the dimly lit corridor. There was a light rustle of straw from the cages lining the walls. He glanced at a Mirror Wing Snake, its scales shimmering under the torches and rage visible in its white eyes. Next came an Ember Hair Fox, its fur glowing with a warm, unnatural light. Many intriguing creatures were housed in the prison, but none captured his interest.

Then he stopped at a cage, peering inside. “Moss Whisperer Moth,” he read aloud, noting the delicate, iridescent wings of the familiar.

It was a pure mana familiar, capable of communicating with animals and plants. This ability made it highly sought-after for contracts. However, it didn’t suit his needs.

Teacher Phila stepped closer, her towering figure looming over him. “Wait. Put your hands inside the cage. See if the familiar wants to bond with you,” she instructed, her tone brooking no argument.

“I don’t want this one. Let’s see others.” Daren turned and continued down the corridor, his shoulders set with determination.

Phila’s hand shot out, grabbing his arm. “Wait there, kid. How dare you defy me?” Her voice shook with barely contained fury. “I’m here to help you bond with a familiar, and yet you are being an ungrateful brat.”

“Teacher Phila, it was never someone else’s choice to make for me. I’m capable of choosing my own familiar, and I don’t really need your help!” Daren snapped.

His eyes narrowed as he faced her, frustration simmering. If this mage thought she could ruin his familiar selection, she was sorely mistaken. He wouldn’t let anyone mess with this important decision. Familiars had many uses, and many of them appeared in this world with unique spells humans couldn’t possess. Some rare familiars were auctioned in the market for such spells. But this moth—or any of the other familiars he had seen—wasn’t one of them.

She tightened her grip around his arm, her sheer force pressing into his skin. “Don’t blame me for teaching you a lesson if you dare disobey me again.

“Are we going to do that again, teacher? The last time you tried that, it didn’t end well.”

Phila’s thin lips curved into a tight smile. “Do you know Princy can’t monitor this place as it has multiple layers of mana suppression stones? So tell me how you changed my name in the Simulation Crystal, or you can say goodbye to selecting any familiar,” she said, her voice laced with venom.

22 SETTING THE PRISON ON FIRE

Daren squinted, staring into teacher Phila’s maroon eyes. Her shoulders were squared and her chin lifted with the practiced poise of nobility that seemed out of place in these dank corridors. The naive mage thought highly of herself and acted like a queen of this place.

“Did you say Princy isn’t watching us?” His gaze darted along the dark corridor, lingering on the dim purple mana-suppressing crystals that cast eerie shadows on the walls. Along with the mana-suppression glass, those crystals acted as a deterrent to the low-level familiars inside.

The air hummed with contained magical energy. The cages didn’t harm the familiars, as they’d been captured for low-level crimes and would be released in the mana storm after being locked up for a few months—or years—to tame their hostile natures.

Phila leaned forward, her breath visible in the chilled air. “Are you afraid finally?” She curled her thin lips into a wicked smile, like a predator savoring its prey.

Daren rubbed his palms together, trying to generate some warmth in the biting-cold air. The friction did little to ward off the chill that seeped into his bones. “Are you sure you want to do this, Phila?”

Phila’s eyes flashed with anger. “How dare you call me by my name?”

A vine shot up from the floor and wrapped around him tightly. It squeezed him with relentless force, like a serpent constricting its victim. But he wouldn’t spill a single drop of blood here. Instead, she would.

Smirking, he placed his free hand on the cage that housed the Moss Whisperer Moth. “Deconstruct.”

The mana-suppression glass shattered, cascading to the floor in a flurry of sparkling shards. The mana-suppression crystals hanging from the ceiling followed suit. The sound of the shattering glass echoed sharply in the room.

For a brief moment, the Moss Whisperer Moth seemed stunned, its delicate wings quivering. Then it chirped a happy tune that resonated in the air.

“You…” Phila muttered.

Her eyes narrowed as she raised one hand, and a vine sprouted from the floor and shot toward the moth. But as the vine reached out, the moth emitted a piercing squeak so intense that it sent Phila staggering back, clutching her ears.

The Moss Whisperer Moth was renowned for two things: its ability to communicate with plants and its potent sound attack. Phila, with her Spell Circle specializing in vines and plants, was particularly vulnerable to this defense mechanism. The moth’s attack left her vines writhing in agony, and their movements became erratic. The pain wouldn’t kill her, but it would give Daren time to escape.

Seizing the opportunity, Daren freed himself from the vine’s grip. He dashed to the other side of the room, shattering more glass prisons with swift, deliberate strikes. Each broken prison released another familiar, which joined the chaos in the room.

One of them—a Dirty Dash Slime—released a foul-smelling cloud upon its release, the stench spreading rapidly through the dungeon, making everyone dizzy and nauseated. Even Daren had to cover his nose and stumble away, trying to escape the overwhelming smell. However, the stink remained on his tongue like glue. He might not enjoy anything for the next few days. A worthy sacrifice for his freedom.

After releasing the enraged familiars, he moved forward with measured steps, his boots crunching on scattered glass. Behind him, he could sense the chaos intensifying as more familiars joined the battle against Phila. To add to the fuel, he waved her a deliberate, mocking goodbye.

Phila hissed back, her maroon eyes blazing with fury.

Well, she deserved it. Who dared to threaten an evil lord like him? Unable to kill her, he could only teach her a bloody lesson.

He continued walking and glanced over his shoulder. As expected, Phila was in the midst of a chaotic battle with dozens of low-level familiars swarming her. If she wanted to, she could easily kill them with a single blow. But the morality of a teacher wouldn’t let her do that.

A morality that Daren lacked. Morality that set the world on fire for foolish reasons.

“I’m going to find you and punish you, little pest!” Phila shouted when their eyes locked. “I won’t stop until your ass bleeds a gallon of blood.”

Daren smirked, turning away. “We’ll see,” he muttered, his footsteps thudding through the corridor as he put more distance between them.

“We’ll see your mother, Moron!” Phila shouted.

Daren’s eyes narrowed. “Still underestimating me?”

He tapped on another glass enclosure, releasing a Wind Scaled Python. The serpent hissed and slithered out, causing a gust of wind to swirl around it. Daren swiftly ducked behind the glass, using the disturbance to conceal himself from the familiar.

“Damn it, kid. I’m going to kill you tonight.”

Daren smirked, moving forward with a silent grace before stopping at a large glass cage. Inside, a salamander with shiny, iridescent scales blinked slowly, its eyes gleaming. Daren leaned closer, his breath fogging up the glass as he peered in.

“A salamander with shiny scales. Are you the one from my memories?” he mumbled as he stared in the salamander’s eyes. He glanced down at the nameplate on the cage, brushing off the dust to read the inscription.

Shiny-Scaled Salamander. Caught while sneaking into a human woman’s bath. Its shiny scales create a mirage effect, making it undetectable in light. Beware of its perversion.

Daren chuckled, shaking his head. “Not you,” he said, moving on.

He had hoped it was a Mirror-Scaled Salamander—a rare find capable of converting light to mana and possessing several invaluable skills. Disappointment filled his heart as he moved forward toward a few remaining glass cages. If he couldn’t find a suitable familiar, he might be in serious trouble—the kind that couldn’t be shrugged off. Though he knew he wouldn’t find a rare familiar from the Top Ten Familiars list here—that much was certain.

The next step would prove him completely wrong.

The cage looked empty at first glance, but as he squinted, he noticed a palm-length spider hanging in the corner by ordinary webs. Had they caught a common spider by mistake, or had the cage been empty long enough for a spider to make the cage its home?

Daren read the nameplate.

White Crystal Spider. Caught while wrapping a dead human in its webs, presumably to eat later. Beware of its tiny size.

Smiling, Daren walked forward but froze in his tracks. The White Crystal Spider was a big spider that lived in the forest and was known for its preference for the white sap secreted by certain trees under the full moon and its love for human meat.

His pulse quickened as fragments of memory surfaced—the ritual in the dark forest, the missing corpse, the discovery of these deadly familiars. This couldn’t be a White Crystal Spider. If this wasn’t truly a White Crystal Spider, then perhaps…

Daren’s fingers trembled against the cool glass. With a quick Deconstruct cast, the cage shattered with a crack, sending crystalline shards scattering across the wooden shelf. The spider remained motionless in its web, deceptively ordinary in appearance. One would see no difference between the familiar and a common spider found at the edges of a room.

Sweat beaded on Daren’s palms as he extended his hand toward the web. The silk strands swayed with his approaching movement. If his suspicions were correct, this seemingly mundane spider could be worth more than all the other specimens combined.

His fingertips inched closer, ready to confirm what his instincts were screaming.

23 CRYSTAL HEART SPIDER

Daren slowly extended his hands toward the spiderwebs. They were deceptively ordinary looking, delicate as threads of grass. As his shaking fingertips brushed against them, he could smell the dust that had settled in the corners of the prison cage.

The moment his fingers touched the thread, a current passed into his skin and moved toward his brain. “Ah, the scent of pure, raw mana.”

Daren chuckled softly, letting the current flow toward his neck. When it attempted to enter his head, he skillfully redirected it toward his Mana Portal. The threads vanished as more and more current surged into him, like a tap turned on full blast. The current transformed into pure mana, which he quickly circulated and pushed into his fried-up meridians. After a few such sessions, he would recover his meridians completely.

The spider opened its tiny emerald eyes and glared at him. “Bad human. How dare you destroy my perfectly crafted maze of webs? I was about to finish it in two years, but you destroyed it for a drop of mana. Impudent human. I will fry the human’s brain and then add his head to my collection. But then I will need two heads. One would disturb the balance.”

Normally, a familiar could only speak with its contract through their bond, but Daren could hear it because it hadn’t reached higher levels of power, and it could only speak through waves of mana. Daren frowned, his eyes narrowing.

“A compulsion of perfection?” he asked thoughtfully.

Taming a familiar with such a compulsion would be nearly impossible. Familiars driven by perfection would rather die than contract with anyone less powerful than the gods. It was a lost cause.

“Human got it wrong,” the spider said, its tone dripping with condescension. “It’s not compulsion of perfection but compulsion of perfect patterns. Human won’t understand it. Humans rarely understand. Like the one who captured this spider. He couldn’t understand that he captured an emperor of spiders—the Crystal Heart Spider.”

The spider’s rambling grated on Daren’s nerves, and he considered interrupting it. But he didn’t. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. The spider didn’t seem to comprehend Daren’s supreme ways. Under different circumstances, Daren would have silenced the familiar without hesitation and contracted with it by some dark means. But he couldn’t do that, so he had to take this one step at a time.

“This spider looks cute,” Daren rumbled, forcing a puppy-eyed look. He leaned closer, his breath warm against the spider’s tiny form. “It’s a unique one. I want to bring it away for Nyxara.” He rubbed his chin as if in deep contemplation. “A contract perhaps?”

“Human. Impudent human. Go away. Emperor will not contract with a human.”

Daren knit his eyebrows in mock concern. “But the vile woman wants to kill him. She said she found this spider ugly, but I like it. Look at the crystal-like shapes all over its legs and that tiny mana it provides. I want to save it. But that woman will kill it.” Daren shook his head slowly, feigning disappointment.

The spider’s many eyes glimmered with anger and confusion. “Why would they kill me? This emperor?” The spider shuddered, its legs tapping a nervous rhythm in the air.

Daren smiled inwardly. Taming a familiar could be done in multiple ways, but force and contract were the two best methods. Either he could force the familiar and subdue it, or he could communicate and form a pact. He had to choose his approach carefully.

“Damn it. How can I save this little one? It looks so cute, and Nyxara will like it.”

The first option, subduing, would leave the familiar unhappy. There would be consequences, like partial cooperation or betrayal at a critical moment. The second option, preferred by everyone, was to form a conditional contract between human and familiar, resulting in perfect synchronization. The good thing about that was it could be improved upon.

The spider’s eyes blinked in unison. “Human, I don’t believe you. No one would want to kill a cute emperor like me.”

Phila’s voice boomed through the air as she wrapped her vines around the shadow fox. “I’ll kill you, Daren.”

She was coming at him, her heavy footsteps shaking the ground. It was working for his benefit. Good.

Daren glanced back at the spider, his expression twisted into a mask of concern. “The vile woman is getting closer. What should I do? If I bring it away like this, the woman will notice it and kill it. I have to find a way, but I don’t know.”

The spider’s legs twitched anxiously. “The woman is powerful. The emperor is only at a low level. Human, take me away.” Its voice echoed through mana waves, carrying a hint of desperation.

“Spider, cutie. Can you hear me?” Daren whispered, urgent and hushed. He crouched low, his eyes darting around for any sign of Phila.

“I can hear you, human, but unfortunately, you can’t hear me. Damn it.” The spider’s voice rumbled within its small body, the words lost on the wind. “If I could collect a male and a female head, it would make a perfect collector pattern.”

“Spider, it’s important. If you can hear me, shoot a crystal out toward me, and if you can’t, then goodbye.” Daren’s eyes fixed on the spider.

“Damn it. The human wants one of my precious crystals. I won’t give it to him,” the spider muttered to itself, its legs twitching in agitation.

A vine whistled through the air behind Daren. He dropped, the attack missing him by inches and splintering the broken cage instead. The sharp crack echoed around them.

Daren smiled inwardly. Sometimes, Phila was more like a friend than a foe. Her timing was impeccable.

“Human, that woman is really trying to kill me. Take this crystal.” A small crystal shot out from the spider’s body, glinting in the dim light.

Daren caught it deftly and felt a surge of mana as he absorbed it. The crystal’s unique energy confirmed the spider’s identity—Crystal Heart Spider, a rare familiar ranked eighth on the Sought-After Familiars list.

“Good, you can hear me.” Daren clapped his hands and smiled to show his happiness.

“Are you laughing at me, Moron?” Phila’s voice was sharp with irritation.

She sent another attack, but with so many familiars engaging her, her vine spell only scratched at the cage. Daren ducked as another vine lashed out near him.

“Come on, human, do something.” The spider shuddered, its tiny legs trembling. “The woman is evil. She broke a semigood pattern of broken glass. Why would she break the pattern?”

Daren’s irritation grew. The spider talked too much.

“Spider, listen. You can only survive if you form a pact with me. If you can listen and agree, shoot two crystals at me.”

The spider’s many eyes widened in disbelief. “Two?” it shouted, its voice high-pitched. “This human is going crazy. I only have five stored after the last two years. He already took one.”

Daren remained resolute. “It seems you can’t hear. Then I can only pray for your afterlife, spider. You were a cute spider. Rest in…”

The spider sighed. “I can.”

With a resigned twitch, it shot two crystals toward Daren, who caught them deftly. He absorbed the crystals quickly, feeling a surge of mana. The energy was incredible, like the taste of raw, tingling mana, and smelled of life and fresh rain. Daren’s senses were heightened, and he felt the power coursing through him. He was close to his goal.

“Okay, so let’s form a contract,” Daren said evenly. “It will be easy. I will protect you and feed you some crystals or soil or whatever cheaper option you eat, and in return, you will give me mana and crystals. Once every day. That’s done, then.”

The spider snorted, its tiny legs twitching. “What an evil human. Wanting to form a contract with this emperor.”

Phila stood nearby, her maroon eyes narrowing. “Daren, just wait there. I’m coming to get you.” She sent two vines hurtling toward him, smashing half of the cage into splinters. The air filled with the scent of crushed wood and earth.

“Damn it. I agree,” the spider said, its voice edged with frustration.

Daren’s hands trembled. “If you agree, shoot two crystals at me and send a thread. I will share my mana. Do it fast, or else we both die. The woman is dangerous. She eats spiders for breakfast and humans for dinner. Quickly.”

“Damn it. Human is the messiest form,” the spider muttered. “Even his eyes aren’t in perfect symmetry. Once I kill him, I will arrange his eyes in symmetry.”

“Are you doing it or not?” Daren demanded, looking around nervously.

With a resigned sigh, the spider shot two crystals toward Daren and released a fine web thread. Daren caught the crystals and felt the cool, silky thread in his fingers. He connected with his mana, feeling the bond solidify between them. Finally, he would have his own familiar. This was turning out to be more fun than he had anticipated.

“I’ve got you, Daren Morin. It’s time to die.”

Phila appeared next to him, suspended in midair by thick, writhing vines. Her maroon eyes blazed with determination. The vines coiled around the familiars on the floor, binding them tightly. She looked damn dangerous, her presence exuding a lethal aura.

24 PHILA’S PUNISHMENT

Phila glared at Daren, her maroon eyes narrowing as he leaned casually against the unbroken section of the cage. A smug smile danced on his lips, irritating her further.

“Damn you, Daren Morin. I’m going to kill you today.”

He tilted his head. The confidence radiating from him was palpable. A confidence she vowed to break that day.

“Teacher Phila, if you kill me, then how are you going to stay alive? Don’t you want to take revenge for your city?” His voice carried a boldness that sent a shiver of fear and anger down her spine.

With a swift motion, she controlled her Spell Circle, and a thick vine shot out of the floor and coiled tightly around his neck like a noose. “How do you know about my past? Give me a single reason not to kill you, Daren Morin.”

“It’s easy.” He smirked despite the vine constricting like a thick rope ready to snuff out his life. “I heard it from others. People have ears, teacher Phila, and I have a damn good pair of them.”

Fury surged through her as she shoved him back against the jagged remnants of the cage. She pushed harder until a shard of glass sliced into his back, drawing a gasp from him as a small pool of blood began to spread beneath him. The metallic scent in the air mingled with the tension that crackled between them.

“You talk too much. Tell me, how did you deactivate the mana-suppression glass and crystals in this place?” Phila crossed her arms, studying him carefully. He could be a deceptive kid, and she wouldn’t let him lie to her face.

“Simple,” Daren replied nonchalantly. “My Spell Circle is Nullify. I can nullify magic within a small radius.”

“What?” Phila’s voice quavered, the shiver from her spine seeping into her legs. Nullify. What a peculiar Spell Circle.

“I didn’t know it at the time, but somehow, I saw a dream, and I just knew what my Spell Circle was,” Daren continued casually as if he were discussing the weather rather than the nature of his abilities.

Phila shifted uneasily, her fingers twitching at her sides. That tone of his unsettled her deeply. This kid, despite his youthful appearance, spoke with the wisdom of someone who had lived for a long time. Each of his words resonated with a chilling truth.

He was dangerous, she realized. The fact gnawed at her insides. Yet she couldn’t pinpoint why he stirred such unease within her.

But he was right about one thing. She couldn’t kill him—not yet. Her thirst for revenge clashed with the need to punish and break this kid.

With a decisive breath, she made her choice. She straightened her posture, resolve hardening in her chest. She would take him to Princy. The familiar’s judgment would determine Daren’s fate.

* * *

A presence crept into his mind. The consciousness of the Crystal Heart Spider was burrowing into his flesh, carving out a space to call its own. Until this integration with the familiar finished, he would be frozen like a dead tree.

Agony rippled through his body like a thousand needles piercing his flesh. Phila had done a good job by pushing him on the broken glass and drawing blood from him, a much-needed pain inducement to integrate the Crystal Heart Spider. A jolt from his muscles sent a bout of pain coursing through him, making him cry out softly. The sharp sting was relentless, seeping into every nerve.

“I will push through it. Pain is neither the end nor the beginning. It’s just a means to an end,” Daren said under his shallow breath. He couldn’t afford to pass out; if he did, there was a chance he might not wake up. The special integration process required him to remain conscious or be healed by a proficient healer.

But the sleep would be so good… his thoughts blurred, and his mind went into a numb drive.

Vines crawled over him, jolting him awake from a random trance. Their rough texture scratched against his skin, grounding him in the present. They were moving somewhere, and he could smell the cold, damp air of the dungeon shifting into the fresh chill of the evening winds.

“Remain awake,” Daren muttered to himself. He couldn’t move his body, and the vines wrapping around him made him completely immobile.

“I will let you have some air. Otherwise, you might die.” Phila chuckled.

A crack opened in the net of vines right above his eyes and nose, letting in a sliver of light and giving him a blurry view of the outside. Daren understood her. He had hurt her ego, and she wanted to take revenge by humiliating him, carrying him like a dead body without caring about the shocks and swings of the vine cocoon. And he was thankful to her for once, despite the discomfort and ragged taunts—the jagged ride kept him awake.

Phila glanced at him from above, her lips curled in a smirk. “Are you enjoying this, Daren Morin?” she asked, her voice tinged with arrogance.

Daren took a slow breath. “Thank you, Phila,” he whispered, his voice coming out hollow. “I appreciate the effort.”

Phila’s eyes narrowed. “Damn you, kid.” She gave the cocoon a giant swing, and the world twisted in front of his eyes. If he’d eaten breakfast that morning, he might have thrown it up.

“Stop, stop!” Daren cried, his voice strained with desperation. Each plea only made her swing the cocoon more rapidly, causing the world to whirl around him in dizzying circles.

He smiled inwardly. Poking her temper had done the job. He had anticipated this reaction. T’Lara were known for their fiery temperaments, and Phila was no exception. The only reason she hadn’t killed him was because she wanted her revenge. In his previous life, she had endured exile, suppressing her rage despite being humiliated, until she rose to power and destroyed her enemies. The tale of her rise had been a hot topic for a long time.

If he revealed the news that he’d scored a Crystal Heart Spider, it would become a hot topic for sure. These little things were godsent—the best maze breakers out there. Of course, he had to nurture it before it could become useful.

“This is no fun. You’re not begging. So I will let Princy decide your punishment. I bet he’ll kick you out of the academy. Your lies are going to be exposed soon, Daren Morin,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery as she swung him back and forth.

Daren grimaced, an ache radiating through his body. The process of familiar integration was excruciating. He could feel the foreign energy swirling around him, carving a space in his flesh where his mana core would eventually form. It literally modified his body, creating a dimensional void within him.

Many had died attempting this. He would have faced a similar fate if he hadn’t undergone body strengthening through mana in the soldier’s path. Had he not prepared himself, he would have chosen a far less agonizing route.

“Now you’re crying.” She laughed tauntingly. “I guess you’re afraid of Princy, so you’re crying like a baby. An eighteen-year-old baby. You lost respect today, Daren Morin.”

Phila snorted, and her laughter intensified. If she’d seen the smile on his face, she would have killed him then and there. Thank god she had wrapped him in the vine cocoon.

“Phila, what is going on?” Princy’s called from outside. “Why have you carried him like a prisoner?”

Phila adjusted her grip on the cocoon. “Princy, you have to punish him.”

The swinging had stopped. They must have reached the principal’s office.

“Why?” Princy asked coldly.

“Because he deserves it,” Phila insisted. “I say you should just toss him out of the academy. Last time someone tried to kill another person, didn’t you expel them?”

“If he has tried to kill someone else, then I will expel him,” Princy replied. His words hung like a death sentence, leaving no way out for Daren.

25 PRINCY’S JUDGMENT

Daren gasped, the thick, rotting-leaf scent of the vines flooding his lungs. The earthy stench mingled with the tang of blood coated his tongue. Dark spots danced at the edges of his vision as consciousness threatened to slip away.

He growled, trying to remain awake. If he passed out, he would be done for.

And he wasn’t a loser. He’d been a fighter in his previous life, and he would be one in this life too. Two centuries of survival had taught him that much.

Collecting his strength, he forced a thin stream of mana into his neck muscles, wrenching his head toward the jagged opening above his eyes. The thorny edge jabbed into the tender skin just below his eyes, sending a wave of searing pain coursing through him. A guttural cry escaped his lips, raw and primal.

“You should have thought about this while trying to kill me, Daren Morin,” Phila said, a cruel chuckle lacing her words. The air around her thrummed with a dark energy.

“Phila, he’s crying because he is integrating with his familiar. He just inflicted an injury upon himself,” Princy said, his sharp voice cutting through the air like a knife.

“Integrating?” Phila asked.

“Indeed. The integration process has begun. Your allegations are… premature.” Princy floated past above Daren, giving him a glimpse of his twitching limbs. “I sent you to look after him, and that meant helping him build an external cocoon, not putting him through death’s door. Now I wonder who is trying to kill whom.”

A heavy silence settled in the principal’s office, broken only by the rustling of Princy’s legs. Daren wished he could see Phila’s expression.

“How did he do that? And why?” Phila’s voice held a rare note of uncertainty.

“You should have asked him, but it seems you just dragged him, inflicting your moral punishments, without understanding the situation.”

“I didn’t ask him… but anyway, it doesn’t matter. You have to punish him severely. That nasty kid let all the familiars loose and overwhelmed me. I had to fight with my blood and sweat to subdue them and call upon the administrative committee to build new cages.”

Princy exhaled a slow, deliberate breath. “So that’s why you’re saying he tried to kill you?”

“Of course,” she answered arrogantly.

“Do you really feel he tried to kill you, Phila? Can he really do that?”

Phila didn’t answer.

“Those were low-level familiars, and what if you kill a few? In fact, if you’d had my permission, you would have killed them without flinching. Isn’t that true, Phila?”

“Yes. I can’t lie. I would have killed him if I’d had a chance,” she growled.

At her words, the vines that held Daren suspended vanished. He fell from a few feet, landed hard, and bounced off the stone floor like a metal coin.

“How did he break the cages, and what familiar did he contract with?” Princy hovered through the air, stopping right above Daren’s head.

With vines gone from around his mouth, Daren could finally see the pursed lips of Phila and an odd place where Princy’s legs were attached to his head. He looked weird. Why had he taken such a shape?

“He was with the White Crystal Spider, but why would he contract with a spider familiar? They’re useless,” Phila said, her eyes filled with curiosity. “And this brat has a Nullify Spell Circle. He dreamed about his Spell Circle and awakened it somehow. I don’t trust him. You should ask him the questions, Princy.”

“Is she telling the truth, Daren? I know you can talk.”

“No,” Daren said, his voice sounding like it came from a long, hollow pipe. “I contracted with a Crystal Heart Spider.”

A pin-drop silence filled the principal’s office.

“Can you repeat that, kid?” Phila asked, her breath coming out ragged.

“Crystal Heart Spider. It seems it can generate tiny mana crystals,” Daren answered, his voice strained as pain coursed through him like a venomous snake. Despite the agony, he had survived the first stage. If he could endure it for another hour, the integration would be complete.

Phila’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s impossible. We can’t have a Crystal Heart Spider imprisoned in our dungeon.” She glanced at Princy, seeking confirmation.

“He’s telling the truth, Phila.” Princy’s compulsion allowed him to detect lies. Compulsion was a strange thing. It added trouble for familiars, but it also gave them unique abilities. “It is a Crystal Heart Spider. This is shocking. I must report it to the principal.”

Princy returned to his desk and began scribbling furiously on a stack of papers. Daren remained silent about the Nullify Spell Circle. He hadn’t technically lied, but the truth might come out eventually. He decided to deal with that problem when it arose.

“Damn it. He integrated the spider. We can’t even extract it.” Phila let out a chuckle, shaking her head. “Good one, kid. Good one. You played a good one.”

“He is a student of the academy, Phila, so there’s nothing wrong about what he did. Now, heal him so he can really integrate with the spider.” The principal’s voice carried a tone of finality.

Phila sighed. “Fine. I will heal him.”

She flicked her wrist, and a vine sprouted next to Daren. It moved with a gentle yet purposeful grace, piercing his neck. Instead of pain, a warm, soothing energy rushed into him, easing the tension and mending his wounds.

Daren closed his eyes, feeling the healing energy seep into his body. He let go of everything and embraced the silence, a rare sense of calm washing over him. For a moment, he didn’t care about the dangers that might come. He’d been holding on for too long, and even an evil lord like him needed a peaceful moment.

As he drifted into the quiet, a realization struck him struck him. Princy wasn’t a priest. If he’d truly wanted to help, he would have asked Phila to heal Daren as soon as they arrived. Instead, he’d waited until things turned in Daren’s favor.

There was no free lunch in this world. Princy’s approval would only free him up to loot the school’s Dimensional Corridor without guilt. The weight of that final thought lingered, but Daren allowed himself to rest, the healing energy cradling him in its gentle embrace.

26 COOL DOWN

Daren’s eyes fluttered open to find Nyxara’s face inches from his own, her amber eyes magnified behind her glasses like twin suns floating in storm clouds. Her closeness brought a wave of floral perfume, and he felt the slight pressure of her elbow resting on his thigh.

“Fuck off, Nyxara! That’s creepy.” Daren pushed her face away and scrambled up from his bed. The sudden movement made his head spin. “How did I reach here?”

His gaze swept across his bedroom, noting that everything was in precise order, from the aligned books on his shelf to the perfectly straight corner of his rug. His eyes widened as he looked down at himself. “Why the hell did you… change my clothes?”

The familiar softness of his white shirt and pale-yellow night pants wrapped him like a comfortable embrace, in stark contrast to his previous battle-worn attire. The cotton felt soothing against his skin, but that comfort only heightened his unease about how he’d gotten into the clothing.

“Did you…?”

Nyxara’s nose wrinkled as she shook her head. Her silken hair swayed with the movement, falling in neat waves over her pink pajamas. The garment looked freshly pressed and pristine except for a single loose thread dangling from one sleeve.

“No. I didn’t.” Her lips twisted as though she was tasting something bitter.

“Then… don’t tell me the giant barbarian changed my clothes.” Daren hugged himself, a shiver running down his legs.

She nodded, and the chill permeated into his flesh, creeping into his bones.

“Damn it.” Daren rubbed his temples, wiping the sweat from his skin. “That creepy⁠—”

“Mind your language, Daren Morin,” Phila said, her voice cutting through his words like a whip. “I’ve no interest in your frail, bony body. My vines did it for me. I don’t need to make my eyes dirty by looking at you.” She stepped through the door, her maroon eyes glaring at him as if he’d stolen something precious from her.

Daren swallowed hard. “Thank you, teacher.”

He bowed lightly, but the respect didn’t make it to his eyes. He couldn’t believe her vines could have changed his clothes without her overseeing them. Damn it.

“You’re alive and in good condition, so I’ll head out. Report to the alchemy class tomorrow.” She turned, ducked to avoid hitting her head on the doorframe, and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

“You did it.” Nyxara perked up, her glasses slipping down to the tip of her nose. “You passed the alchemy test and also got a familiar. That thing is quite cute. Now, get ready for the class on common spells and wards. Mr. Woolins is teaching it, and you don’t want to miss it.” She walked out before he could respond.

“Wait. Did you rearrange my room?” He recalled he had left it untidy and dusty, and now it looked fresh and new.

Nyxara paused in the doorway. “No. I’m not your maid to clean your stuff. Didn’t you do it yourself?”

Daren didn’t answer. He got out of bed, feeling the cool floor under his feet, and walked to the bathroom. The cold water might bring him the stability he needed after all the adventure he had been through. But there was still a lot to do, and this was just the start.

* * *

Daren walked into the classroom, the morning sunlight streaming through tall windows and casting long shadows across the wooden benches. Nyxara followed close behind, her footsteps echoing his like a pair of soldiers walking in silence. For once, he had helped her out of pity, but she’ acted as if she’d found a mentor and watched him reverently. Her gaze was disturbing.

The familiar scent of old books filled the air. The students’ quiet chatter died down as they entered, replaced by pointed whispers and sideways glances. Daren spotted an empty bench in the last row and headed toward it. Around him, faces turned—some wearing masks of false sympathy, others barely concealing their disdain. Val, hunched over his notes in the second row, shot him a vicious glare.

Nyxara’s hand touched Daren’s sleeve midway down the aisle, her grip gentle but insistent.

“What?” Daren frowned, pausing midstep. His eyes darted to her hand and then to her face.

She adjusted her glasses with her left index finger, her stance firm as she stopped at the seventh row. “This bench is assigned to us. We should sit there,” she said, gesturing.

Daren studied the two girls in dark outfits sitting on the seventh bench. Their faces were arrogant and held an open invitation to anyone who dared to challenge them. They were twins. One smelled faintly of smoke, like a lingering fire, and the other had an earthy scent, like muddy water after a rainy day.

Twin magic. Their forms of magic would complement each other if allowed to grow.

“Samantha and Waqim, please leave the seat. This is assigned to us.” Nyxara placed her hands on her waist. She wasn’t rude or overly polite.

“Shhh. Go away,” one twin replied. A mocking glint sparkled in her teal eyes, which mirrored the defiant expression of her sister beside her.

Daren took a step closer. He remained unyielding but calm. “This is our seat, ladies, so please vacate it,” he said flatly.

They were just kids, and he had no desire to fight over a trivial bench, but he wouldn’t back down if someone dared to take what was his.

“Mr. Moron, just because you accidentally blasted Val with a fluke doesn’t mean you can act like a big shot,” Waqim, the second twin, sneered. “Put your tail between your legs and go back, or else…” Her long ponytail swayed as she shook her head in disdain.

Daren leaned forward, placing his palm on the desk, closing the distance between them to mere inches. “Or else what, Waqim? Are you going to hit me with your spell?” He blew a light puff of air into her face, a challenge laced with amusement.

Waqim’s eyes darted nervously, and she instinctively pulled her head back, her body tense. “You asked for it,” she said, her voice shaky but defiant.

She extended her finger, her breath quickening. “Water Jet,” she whispered.

In an instant, a stream of shimmering blue mana formed at her fingertip. It gathered speed as it shot toward Daren.

“Nullify,” Daren replied coolly as he activated his Deconstruct spell.

The Water Jet dissolved midflight, vanishing without a trace. He considered reversing it, sending the water back to splash across her face, but he held back, knowing he needed to keep his true abilities hidden. In his past life, he had mastered the art of deconstructing a thousand spells simultaneously, twisting their very essence. Nullifying a basic spell like this felt effortless. With the mana crystals he’d gotten from the Crystal Heart Spider, he could dismantle dozens of spells with ease.

Waqim’s irritation bubbled over. “You—what happened to my spell?” she cried, disbelief etched across her features.

“Nothing,” Daren replied, maintaining his calm demeanor. “I, too, have a Spell Circle now. Wanna try again?” He leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Fireball,” Samantha muttered, her eyes narrowing in concentration. A small flame flickered to life on her fingertip. With a flick of her wrist, she hurtled the fireball at Daren.

Daren raised his index finger calmly. “Nullify,” he commanded, and the fireball vanished into thin air. He looked at the twins sternly. “Now, if you don’t move, I will slap your asses out of this place. And don’t try me; I am much stronger than you.”

Before he could react, a punch came at him from the side, aimed directly at his chin. The guy sitting next to the duo had thrown it with all his might. Daren smirked, effortlessly ducking the punch. In a fluid motion, he sent his own fist crashing into the guy’s face. His knuckles connected with the guy’s nose, and he felt the warm, sticky sensation of blood coating his hand.

“You bastard!” the guy cried, clutching his nose. He stumbled backward, colliding with his partner, and they fell to the floor in a tangled heap.

“Students, what’s going on? Why are you brawling inside my classroom?” Mr. Woolins asked, silencing the commotion instantly as his presence commanded the room.

Daren straightened up, brushing off his sleeves and nodding at the teacher.

“Sir, save us!” Samantha cried. “He’s punching people.”

Mr. Woolins’s brows furrowed in concern. His signet ring caught the light streaming in from the large window, casting tiny reflections around the room. “Daren, what is happening? Why did you punch him?”

Before Daren could respond, Nyxara stepped forward, her eyes blazing with indignation. “Teacher Colin, they stole our bench and refused to vacate it. They even hurled spells at us—Fireball and Water Jet. Daren just acted in defense.”

Mr. Woolins turned his gaze to the accused students, his crooked nose twitching as he assessed the situation. “Did you two do that?” he asked, his expression hardening.

Samantha rose from her seat, her face flushed with anger. “No, teacher. She’s lying. Ask anyone,” she said, her voice trembling with fury. “This vile guy said he would spank us and get us out of these seats, so we refused. Then he started hitting people when they complained. Look at Mathew. Daren Morin broke his nose.”

Mr. Woolins glanced over at Mathew, who was still clutching his bloody nose, trying to stem the flow with a crumpled handkerchief. “Daren, what’s going on?” he asked, moving closer.

Waqim looked around, her eyes pleading for support. “Ask anyone, sir.”

Val stood up, a smirk playing in his eyes. “Yes, sir. He did that,” he confirmed, his tone almost mocking.

Another student rose. “Yes, sir, he did that,” he repeated, and a few more students nodded, their faces full of mockery.

Mr. Woolins’s eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting to Daren. “Daren Morin, what is your answer to this?” he asked sternly.

Daren chuckled softly. The class had unity, and he liked that. But they were unified against the wrong person. Taking on an evil lord—they could have done much better than that. Well, they’d poked the bear, so he had to respond.

“I concede. This is what happened, and to prove it I, will…” He moved behind Samantha with a swift, fluid motion. Without warning, Daren kicked Samantha’s ass with such force that she hurled over the bench and her flipped down awkwardly. Her legs shot into the air, and her head became wedged between two benches, her eyes wide with shock and pain.

The class fell into a stunned silence. Everyone’s gaze was fixed on Daren, the tension in the room growing thicker with each passing second. A palpable sense of dread hung in the air as they waited, breathless, for the next course of punishment for Daren.

27 CONFESSION?

Mr. Woolins walked to Daren, shaking his head. Waqim moved first, helping Samantha got back to her feet. Samantha shook, and she tried to say something, but her face twitched in pain. She grabbed her rear before stepping away from Daren.

Daren sneered. He’d imbued the slap with just enough mana to ensure a vibrant, lasting impression, like a particularly memorable signature on a peace treaty—one that guaranteed the other party wouldn’t forget who was in charge. If they dared to mess with him, he wouldn’t mind messing with their bodies and minds.

“You two, you will clean the E section of the library for the whole day.” Colin adjusted his glasses over his nose. “I heard you contracted with a familiar, Daren. Congrats,” he said, turning toward the door of the class. “And I’m treating you with leniency as it’s your first mistake. Next time you hit a student, I will make you scrub the floors without using magic. Got it?”

“But, teacher, I did nothing,” Nyxara complained.

“You two are together. Now go, or I’ll make you scrub toilets without magic.”

The duo rushed away. The third punishment would drown them in smell and filth, and Daren would never do that. But he lingered at the door.

“What are you doing?” Nyxara pushed him out.

“Is this the right time to ask for his chocolate drink?” Daren rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the need to taste the heavenly drink.

“Are you stupid, Mor… Morin?” Nyxara elbowed him out the door. “Don’t even ask him. He has already reduced your punishment for the unwarranted violence back there.”

“He hit me first.” Daren frowned.

Back in the Helms of the East, such an attack would have warranted a death match, but here, he could only break his opponent’s nose and not wrench out their guts. He was going to have to adjust his standards. Sometimes, he felt that coming back here was a regression of his bloodthirsty ways. He might blunt his killing intent if he lived in this protected environment for long.

“And you broke his nose, but slapping Samantha was unnecessary.” Nyxara gave him disapproving look, her fingers drumming against her arm.

“And you were fine about her accusation of spanking? If she dared to say it, then what’s wrong with showing the reality of it?” Daren’s jaw tightened. He hated the softness in Nyxara’s gaze.

She wiped her glasses with deliberate slowness, looking pensive. “I didn’t like it. She was in the wrong. But it wouldn’t have held up if we’d asked for the Image Spell Array recordings. That would have easily proved her lie. By punishing her, you are in the wrong.” Nyxara put her glasses back on and moved forward, her steps echoing in the empty corridor.

“No, you’re wrong, Nyxara. If you let others suppress you in everything, then you will remain bound by the shackles of the old fragile nature of humanity.” Daren’s voice grew harder, more intense. “If your every thought is about keeping things bottled up, you’ll turn into a meek zombie in no time. Is that what you want—to live your life walking on eggshells, afraid of your own shadow?”

Nyxara didn’t reply for a few moments while they walked on the road leading out of the classroom buildings. “Maybe you’re right,” she finally said. “I’m just afraid of everything around me.”

“You don’t need to be,” Daren said, feeling a pang of sympathy for her. It was unlike him—he’d always ruled with an iron hand. But being at the academy had softened him. He looked at her earnest face and sighed. “Tell me more about the spell array for recording us. Is it placed everywhere?”

Daren now understood how Princy had seen his work. It must have been the Image Spell Array, which could capture everything happening in the classroom.

Nyxara brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Every class, and any important place, has that. Did you not read the guidebook?”

Daren rolled his eyes. He thought of reminding her that he’d toppled empires without the aid of a pamphlet but decided against that. “Who reads that thing?”

Nyxara shook her head. “That’s true. I bet those twins haven’t read it. Otherwise they wouldn’t have accused you.” She moved toward a fork in the road and away from the path to the student residence houses.

Daren followed her, the cool breeze rustling the leaves above them. “I bet no one in the class other than you has read it.”

He chuckled as they walked into the administrative-building zone. The imposing structures loomed ahead, their stone facades catching the late-afternoon sun. From here, he could see the fork to the soldier zone and briefly considered skipping the manual work and rushing toward the facility. But he chose not to, as he depended on Colin to renew his usage for the mana strengthening module.

In his previous life, Daren had visited the library a couple of times, but he didn’t have a vibrant memory of this place. And he knew why. Those stairs were hell to maneuver, and he’d hated them. Without mana to strengthen his limbs, jumping across the stairs had proved impossible. But this time, it would be different.

“Daren, I want you to hug me when we reach the library,” she said as they walked on the small path that led toward a giant building made of glittering stones.

Daren froze. “And why would I do that with you? Are you getting some weird thoughts, girl, just because I taught you some trivial things?”

She stared at him like a puppy, her eyes scaring him to the core. If she confessed her love to him, then he would have to kill her. Right away.

28 LIBRARY

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Nyxara’s voice cracked, her small frame trembling against the academy wall. “What the hell do you mean by those words, Daren Morin?”

The afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows from the oak tree across the worn cobblestone path. Heat radiated from the stones, making the air shimmer.

Daren tugged at his collar and frowned. “You asked me to hug you. What other meaning is there?” He smoothed the sleeve of his bright-yellow uniform, the garish fabric almost painful to look at in the harsh sunlight.

“You moron.” Nyxara’s hands shot up in exasperation. “I asked you to hug me because you won’t be able to jump over the stairs. It requires that you know a little mana strengthening, which you don’t.”

Daren’s fingers twitched with the urge to grab her shoulders and pin her against the rough bark for calling him a moron. He forced his hands to relax. She spoke the truth. And it was an embarrassing truth.

A brittle leaf drifted down and landed on Nyxara’s small nose just below her glasses. She wiped it off her face with an irritated gesture.

“Did you forget I already got a familiar?” Daren crossed his arms, adopting a confident stance. “Although I can’t generate mana by myself, my familiar can generate it for me.”

The lie tasted bitter in his mouth. His Crystal Heart Spider wasn’t producing any mana yet—it needed time to settle, and several crystal feedings, before it could begin mana generation. He flexed his fingers, feeling the dormant mana still stored in his body. It was more than enough to strengthen his legs for jumping those stupid stairs.

“Let’s go in.” Frowning, she turned and walked toward the tallest glass building.

An old man stood outside the library, his weathered face partially hidden under a brown leather mask. He checked their identity cards with a slow nod and waved them in. The doors opened with a soft hiss, revealing a platform surrounded by floating stairs. The stairs ascended and descended in a seemingly random pattern, each leading to a different section of the vast library.

Daren and Nyxara stood on the platform, watching the stairs glide past. The smell of old parchment and ink wafted through the air, mingling with the occasional musty odor of ancient tomes.

“We have to jump fifty feet,” Nyxara said, scanning the floating steps and the line of around twenty students waiting for their stair.

“I know. I can do it.” Daren hated this. In his previous life, he’d had to rely on others to reach different levels because he couldn’t generate mana himself.

He flexed his legs, letting the mana trickle toward them. Mana could be used to strengthen a body part, allowing for feats like running faster or jumping higher. However, continuous use could lead to muscle fatigue and longer recovery times.

But the limitations wouldn’t apply to him now, as he’d already begun infusing his body with mana through the Soldier Class facility. The air felt stiff, and every stair that floated by the platform brought a new layer of dust or a different scent. Daren took a deep breath, bracing himself for the jump.

“Are you sure about this? If you miss, death awaits you.” Nyxara glanced at Daren, her eyes wide with worry.

Daren nodded, staring intently at the warning sign. His fingers traced the rough edges of the wooden post, feeling the splinters prick his skin. “I don’t get it. Why waste so much mana on a Levitation Spell Array?” he muttered.

He shook his head. Levitation magic required a lot of mana, even for those who’d awakened the corresponding Spell Circle. If a portion of this mana had been available to him, he could have done wonders.

“Ours will come after the third one.” Nyxara shifted her focus to the continuously moving stairs, her eyes tracking their rhythm.

A couple ahead of them jumped onto the stair before them, raising a cloud of dust on the platform, along with the stale scent of old stone and earth. The stair seemed to have been unused for a long time.

“Someone is going into the secret section,” Nyxara said, sounding surprised. Her gaze followed the couple disappearing into the shadows.

“How do you know so much about it?” Daren asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I used to come here all the time when I was a child.” Nyxara adjusted her footing then jumped forward, her figure disappearing into the dim light.

Daren pressed his leather shoe against the stone platform and leaped into the air, darting toward the descending staircase. The musty air rushed past him as he soared. He felt a gravitational pull from the staircase as he hovered above the topmost step then landed with a thud on the worn wooden surface. The staircase had twenty narrow, creaking steps.

Nyxara glanced back at him. “Let’s go.”

She ran down the worn stairs, her feet barely touching each step. Daren followed her closely. They stopped on the lowest stair, watching the darkness and other floating stairs drift by them.

“Why did you come here as a child?” Daren asked. The stair floated to the left, slowly aligning with another platform. They would only have ten seconds to jump onto it.

Nyxara glanced at him, her expression barely changing. “My mother was a teacher,” she said, her voice steady.

“Was a teacher?”

“Yes, she died.” Nyxara’s eyes held a hint of sorrow. “Princy told me she sacrificed herself for the greater good of the academy, and that’s how I got admission despite having a weak Spell Circle.”

“You don’t have a weak Spell Circle,” Daren said as they jumped onto the next platform, the wooden surface groaning under their weight. “What about your father?”

Nyxara looked down briefly. “I don’t know,” she said calmly, but Daren could sense the deep pain hidden beneath her words.

“Even I know nothing about my parents,” Daren replied, his voice softening. “I was left outside of a church.” A heavy sigh escaped his lips.

As they continued to move, Daren’s mind wandered to his past. Later in his life, he’d thought about asking his diviner girlfriend to find out about his bloodline heritage, but if his parents had abandoned him as a worthless infant, why would he care to find them? He’d ended up killing her for cheating on him.

“I’m sorry,” Nyxara said.

“It’s nothing. It really doesn’t bother me.”

He glanced around as they walked, his mind drifting back to his childhood. He had spent years in an orphanage before running away. An academy teacher had found him due to his latent manifestation of power. Unfortunately, they could never determine what his Spell Circle did, and it took him years to figure it out on his own.

“What did your mother teach?” Daren asked.

“Gateway Magic,” she replied, her words tinged with pride and sorrow.

“No wonder,” Daren muttered, nodding slowly. “No wonder your mother died. It’s a forbidden magic.” Gateway Magic was a special type of magic, similar to the Void Rifts Ashini could create but without an output node. It could open gateways into faraway places or even new worlds, often with devastating results. He remembered a tragic story that had circulated among mages.

“One kid awakened Gateway Magic,” he began somberly. “He accidentally opened a gateway into the world of worms. The town was destroyed in one night by tiny worms. They weren’t very powerful individually, but millions of them filled the town, devouring everything in their path. After that incident, Gateway Magic became forbidden. Only a few could practice it without severe consequences.”

Nyxara shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “I read the story too. I hope my mother didn’t do something like that.”

“I bet she didn’t. The academy allowed her to use it, so they must have had a reason not to be worried. Only a select few can study Gateway Magic, and I bet your mother was one of them.”

“Come on—don’t miss the stair,” Nyxara muttered before jumping forward.

They jumped onto the next staircase. It led them to another platform. After ten minutes of hopping and moving around, they finally appeared in section E.

Daren’s eyes widened as he took in the sight. “What the hell? That old fatty wants us to clean this thing?”

The room stretched out for at least a mile and was filled with old, dirty books stacked haphazardly on shelves. Dust hung in the air, tickling their noses with every breath. Sweat trickled down Daren’s lower back as he cursed the fat man with all his might.

Then he frowned. Something was odd about this place, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. The air felt thicker, almost charged, and the faint scent of mold mingled with something metallic.

29 SECRET OF THE LIBRARY

Daren brushed his finger over a dirt-covered book, feeling the deeply carved letters beneath the grime. The embossed title emerged as he cleared away years of dust: History of the Helms of the East.

Memories stirred as he held the familiar tome. This was the same book he’d discovered in his previous life, after his desperate escape from the Dragons of the South led to an accidental teleportation to the Helms. Those early days of survival had pushed him to devour every scrap of knowledge about his new surroundings. What had begun as a harsh and unforgiving realm had become the crucible that forged him.

The scent of aged paper filled his nostrils as he turned the pages, searching for something that tugged at his consciousness. A bitter shadow of remembrance lingered just beyond his grasp.

Nyxara’s voice cut through his thoughts as she worked nearby, her cloth making soft swishing sounds against leather bindings. “Helms of the East. People say it’s the den of criminals.”

“It’s not.” Daren’s shoulders tensed defensively. The book pressed firmly against his palm as he gripped it tighter. “It has more to offer. You should visit it one day.”

A visible tremor ran through Nyxara’s body. “And why would I? I’ll graduate as Soldier Class and then just live a peaceful life.”

“You want to become a soldier?” Daren set the book down on the wooden shelf with deliberate care, his brow furrowing.

“Given my feeble Spell Circle, those are my only options.” She picked up the book he’d just placed back and dusted it with a soft cloth. “I’d be expelled from the academy before long if I stayed as a mage. Your path is the same, Daren. It’s fine to dream big, but we can’t forget reality while chasing our ambitions.”

“I know about my own path, but you shouldn’t treat your Spell Circle as feeble or fragile.” Daren leaned against the shelf, his eyes narrowing.

“Thank you for believing in me, Daren.” She nodded, her fingers tracing the book’s worn spine. “But I know my own limitations.”

Daren sighed and moved around the shelf, spreading a thin layer of mana around him. He could cover a hundred-foot area without depleting the mana in his body too much. As he moved, he read the book titles, scanning them for any anomalies. The wooden floor creaked softly beneath his boots, and the scent of dust and old paper filled the air. He touched one of the books gently, feeling the rough texture of its cover. Another familiar book—Familiars and the Mana Storms: A primer.

After finishing a shelf, he found nothing peculiar. Only the books on history and ancient spell casting lay there, and there was nothing wrong with them. Had he sensed it wrong?

Nyxara sneezed as she picked up a book from the top, a cloud of dust pouring over her. She waved her hand to clear the air, the particles shimmering.

“Use magic. Why are you using a cloth?” Daren frowned, though his thoughts were more focused on the unsettling feeling he’d had experienced moments earlier than on Nyxara’s cleaning strategy. There was something wrong about these books, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.

Nyxara shook her head, holding the book close to her as if cradling a child. “You can’t use magic on these books. My mother said it deteriorates them further. The real reason behind their deterioration is the magic contained within them.”

Daren almost laughed. He had never heard such a theory, but then again, he hadn’t encountered everything in his two hundred years of life. Whatever kind of magic had affected these books, he was definitely unaware of it.

But he’d learned to trust his gut sense, and he knew there was something wrong about this room. He needed to find out what it was, using his mana sense. It was going to be tiresome, but he couldn’t just forget about it and walk away. He closed his eyes briefly, focusing on the faint hum of mana.

Wait… the dust. Daren moved swiftly and reached where Nyxara stood, pinching her nose as she wiped the dust from the specific shelf. A fine layer of dust clung to every surface.

He recalled a moment from his past life when a student had discovered an artifact hidden in the library. The student’s breakthrough was remarkable. He’d reached the Realm of Harmony in one go and dominated the year-end exams. Though the student and the artifact vanished along with the academy, it had remained a topic of conversation for months. Maybe he could find the same artifact in this room…

Nyxara sneezed again, struggling to balance the books in one hand while covering her nose with the other.

“You’ll get sick. Go clean the other side. I’ll take care of this,” he offered.

Nyxara looked up at him, her eyes watery from the dust. “No, I’m fine. It’s just dust.”

“Go. I can’t see you sneezing like this continuously.” Daren placed a hand on her back and gently pushed her toward the other side.

She hesitated, looking back at him. “Do you mean it, Daren?”

“Of course. We’re roommates.” Daren forced a smile. It made him cringe to act like a savior to a damsel in trouble, but he didn’t care. He needed the shelf to himself, and he would get it by any means.

Nyxara’s shoulders relaxed, and she gave him a small nod. “You’ve changed, Daren Morin, and I like your current way of doing things. Thanks. I really needed a friend after…”

Tears began to roll down her cheeks, making his stomach churn. “Calm down, and for God’s sake, don’t cry!” he said loudly.

The sight of tears always threw him off balance. He could kill a person in a jiffy, but if a girl cried in front of him, he didn’t know what to do. When his cheating girlfriend had cried, he’d put a hole in her heart.

But Nyxara wasn’t his girlfriend. She hadn’t betrayed him. He sighed, feeling the frustration build. He could kill her for being annoying and bullying, but he didn’t feel like it.

“Just go there and clean that shelf.” He pushed her away gently and turned toward the dust-filled shelf she’d been cleaning.

The layer of grime was thick, and he could smell the mustiness. It had something he needed, and he didn’t need a crying woman around him. Definitely not.

As Nyxara walked away, he focused on the books. A few titles caught his eye, such as History of Spell Circle and Introduction to Mana Portal, but this wasn’t the time for leisurely reading.

He brushed a thick layer of dust from the books, letting it slide onto the floor in a soft, gray cloud. He checked for any sense of oddity. Technically, these books shouldn’t gather this much dust while other books had only a thin layer.

After wiping the dust from dozens of books, he finally found the oddity that had irked him when he’d entered this place. Desert Tribe of the North - A History of the Mages of the North.

On the surface, it was an unremarkable book, but it had gathered all the dust in this place like a sponge soaking up water. The book had magic. Someone had cast a spell on it.

Dust.

He breathed in then put a simple blowing spell on the book. It used little mana. His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled sharply. The dust flew away, clearing the entire shelf of books in one single blow.

With shaking fingers, he opened the book to a picture of a large, muscular man with golden chains on his neck, arms, and thighs. The man wore a golden-colored waistcloth and gazed directly outward. His blue eyes seemed to pierce beyond the page and peek into the mind of the viewer.

Daren quickly flipped through the pages, his fingertips brushing over the aged paper. He couldn’t find any items placed inside the book. That only meant someone had hidden something in it.

“Deconstruct.” Daren activated his Spell Circle, and a spell board appeared in front of him. He reached out, but it disintegrated before he could touch it. “As expected, this is a high-level Invisibility spell. Beyond my current capacity,” he muttered.

Deconstruct was a marvelous Spell Circle, but most of its abilities only awakened at higher levels—a goal that seemed out of reach for the moment. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Dust went into his hair, but he didn’t care.

“Daren, why are you doing this?” Nyxara shouted, breaking his concentration.

Turning, he saw her standing there, covered in dust. Her uniform, face, and even hair were coated in a thick layer of it. She looked like a baker’s apprentice who’d taken a face-first dive into a flour barrel.

“What happened?” he asked, his eyes widening.

Nyxara glared at him, her eyes blazing. “You bastard. Did you use a spell to blow the dust toward me? Your tears were nothing but a prank. I knew it. An evil guy couldn’t turn into a softy suddenly.” She blew out, sending a thin layer of dust toward him.

Daren’s mind lit up with a sudden thought. “Nyxara, thank God you’re here,” he said, stepping closer. “Come on—remove your clothes quickly.”

Anticipation rode through his heart. Finally, he could solve the mystery.

30 NYXARA’S REJECTION

Nyxara stepped back, her expression shifting to one of disbelief. “What the hell is wrong with you, Daren Morin?” Her voice rang out, sharp and accusatory, as her arms instinctively crossed over her chest, creating a barrier between them.

The dust from her hair floated down, glittering like tiny stars falling from a dark sky, and settled on the floor beneath her. Her amber eyes, usually so vibrant, were clouded with hurt, the depth of her feelings laid bare.

“I asked you to…” Daren bit his lip, the gritty taste of dust mingling with the tang of his own irritation. The flavor reminded him of the earthy remnants of failed potions and the weight of his mistakes. “Sorry. I mean go behind the shelf, get naked, and cast invisibility on this book. It’s important. Trust me—I wouldn’t ask it otherwise.”

He cursed himself internally. How could he have asked her to do that? The irony stung—he had chastised her for wanting a simple embrace, and now he was requesting something far more outrageous.

“No. I’m not getting naked, and if you try to force me, I’ll use all the mana and burst along with you,” she replied.

A fierce fire sparked in her eyes, and Daren felt a chill run down his spine. The intensity of her resolve suggested she might actually follow through on her threat. Frustration bubbled inside him. Why couldn’t she understand a simple thing? If he could, he would… but that would be inappropriate with his current powers, so he had to do things diplomatically.

Taking a deep breath, he shifted his focus. “Look carefully.”

He lifted the book, whose cover was worn and cracked. With a swift motion, he cast the Deconstruct spell. An invisible ripple emanated from the book, spreading outward like a soft wave. The dust that had settled on its surface sparkled briefly, illuminating the hidden magic beneath.

Nyxara instinctively stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the book as if it might reveal its secrets at any moment. “Invisibility magic. I can feel it,” she murmured. The air seemed to hum with latent energy. “But why do you want me to get naked and cast ‘invisibility’ on this?” She frowned deeply, lines of worry etched in her forehead.

Daren sighed, glancing at the worn pages of the book. “Do you recall Mr. Woolins talking about two uses of every Spell Circle?”

“Yes.” She nodded, her expression skeptical. “And you slept in the class, and then we just missed the entire topic.”

Daren shifted his weight. “Your primary Spell Circle is invisibility, and I told you it’s not a weak thing. Your spell will allow you to see through the invisibility of other things if you cast it naked.”

“No, I don’t believe you. You just want to see me naked.”

Daren raised his hands defensively. “I don’t.” He paused, choosing his words carefully, not wanting to tell her there was nothing to see in that sense. “Use nodes one, seven, five, four to cast the spell.”

“I know… wait. I’ve experienced this before, and my mother told me it was another use of my Invisibility Spell Circle. But…” She looked at him, confusion in her eyes. “My spell already has two uses. Turn invisible, and make everything that I touch invisible, including humans, but that only lasts for a few seconds.”

She wrung her hands.

“There is more than that to the Spell Circle, Nyxara,” Daren said calmly to keep her attention on him. “It’s not just a coin with two sides, and I know it can be used to detect invisible spells cast on other objects.”

Nyxara’s eyes widened as she took a step back. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s easy to test. Become invisible first and then remove your clothes so I can’t see you.” Daren’s frustration had reached his throat, threatening to burst out in the form of curses. He ground his teeth, holding it back.

Nyxara hesitated, clutching the fabric of her dress. “But how do you know this? And you fixed my incorrect nodes in the Spell Circle. Should I use a different node to cast the invisibility spell?”

Daren sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, the same primary nodes—one, seven, five, four. Just follow my instructions and you’ll see.”

“Give me a plausible reason for this. No one teaches this.”

Daren clenched his fists, wanting to pin Nyxara to the bookshelf. Memories of his darker days, when violence had been his first response, surfaced. The urge to resort to force bubbled beneath his skin, making his breath quicken.

“It’s basic, Nyxara. Spell Circles are not blank sheets. They have more than one usage, and by using the same nodes with different variables, you’d get a slightly different outcome. You keep the primary nodes the same but change their order.” Daren took a deep breath, trying to calm his rising anger. “Think about the four primary nodes as a recipe,” he explained, his voice steadying. “The same ingredients can make different dishes depending on how you combine them. When you arrange nodes in your Spell Circle, each one acts as a conduit for magical energy. By tweaking the flow between nodes or adjusting their alignment, you can branch the spell’s purpose without changing its fundamental structure.”

Nyxara’s eyes widened as she absorbed the explanation, her fingers loosening their grip on her dress. “Four primary nodes… so you mean I can cast twenty-four different spells?”

“No. There is a limit. Some combinations can kill you or turn you into a heretic.”

Nyxara’s eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me the truth?”

Daren nodded. “Yes. Don’t forget I fixed your primary nodes. There’s no harm in trying this right now. If it doesn’t work, you just get back into your clothes while remaining invisible.”

“That’s not written in any book. Why would they miss such a critical thing?”

“Because it can mess with Spell Circles. Right now you can try twenty-four variations and might get three to four different usages forking from the same power. But once you add the fifth node and perform a wrong combination, you might end up dead. So they don’t want you to try any random combination.”

Nyxara bit her lip, her fingers nervously tracing the hem of her robe. “But…”

“Try this, Nyxara. Don’t push me too much. I told you this is important.” Daren stiffened inside. It was getting difficult to keep his hands tied behind his back and not strangle this annoying girl.

Nyxara’s eyes widened with unease. “One last question. Why do you want me to get naked? How do I believe you don’t have any ulterior motives?”

Daren rubbed his temples. “Your mother should have taught you this, but I guess I’ll do the honors.” He grabbed her neck and pushed her against the shelf, sending books tumbling to the floor. “If you don’t do it, then I’ll tear away your clothes and force you to turn invisible.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. Nyxara gasped, struggling to catch her breath. If she still rejected him, then he wouldn’t mind killing her. Done and dusted.

31 NYXARA’S FEAR

Nyxara’s lungs screamed for air as Daren’s murderous gaze pierced her. His eyes, once familiar, now held an otherworldly darkness that froze her blood. Her throat constricted.

“I’ll do it,” she managed, the words barely a whisper against her lips.

Daren released his grip. She slumped down against the shelf, old books jabbing into her back through the academy uniform now coated in library dust. She pressed her palms against her sides, doubling over to gulp in air. The musty taste of old books filled her mouth with each desperate breath.

Her chest continued to heave violently as she steadied herself. The raw fury in Daren’s eyes made her insides twist with a primal fear she’d never known before, one that made her feel close to losing control over her bladder. Not even watching her mother’s death had terrified her this deeply.

She lifted her gaze. While he wore the same crisp academy uniform as always, his demeanor had transformed since that day he’d awakened in class. The change went beyond physical appearance. Something fundamental had shifted within him, but the nature of that change eluded her understanding. She didn’t believe he wanted to see her naked. He was anything but a pervert.

“Why—” She caught herself, teeth sinking into her lower lip. The possibility that he might kill her or force her to strip made her reconsider questioning him. Better to comply on her own terms.

She stood up, her breath still ragged as she tried to steady herself. With trembling hands, she reached for the book resting in his palm, her fingers brushing against his for a brief moment before she pulled it away. She slipped behind two tall shelves, glancing back to ensure that he couldn’t see her. The space between the shelves was dim, the air cool and quiet.

To test her theory, she focused intently and cast an Invisibility spell on herself while gripping the book tightly, but nothing happened. Frustrated, she tried again, this time using the new node combination while still fully clothed. A ripple of energy coursed through the book, which she could feel resonating with her but couldn’t really grasp.

There was merit in his words. Resolutely, she turned invisible, letting her clothes drop to the floor in a silent heap. Even her underwear slipped away, leaving her feeling exposed yet oddly empowered. She then cast the Invisibility spell on the book.

A radiant light covered the book, and she saw through it. The spell used on the book revealed itself like a curtain lifting, displaying an intricate design carved with mana. It was a magnificent display, mesmerizing in its complexity.

She leaned closer, her eyes tracing the delicate lines and curves. “An intricate design pattern. It’s so beautiful,” she muttered before realizing he had stepped close to her.

She leaped back, instinctively covering her chest. “You bastard…”

He held up his hands defensively. “I can’t see you, Nyxara, so don’t make a mess out of this.”

His words calmed her racing heart. “How did you know the book had a spell cast on it?” she asked but then realized the futility of the question. Daren had changed, and he knew things he hadn’t known previously.

“Just a hunch.” He smiled, looking dangerously handsome. “Tell me, how many orange nodes are you seeing?”

Nyxara took a deep breath, focusing on the design again. He couldn’t see her, so she allowed herself to take her time exploring the patterns. The intricate lines seemed to glow under her scrutiny.

“Five. Four at the corners and one in the middle,” she said, rubbing her belly. The cold air sent a shiver down her stomach.

“As expected—the Five-Node Invisibility spell,” he said thoughtfully. “How should we break it?”

Nyxara furrowed her brow. “Daren, why did it work only when I was naked? I need to understand the logic.” It was her deep need. She always liked to explore things.

He leaned back. “It’s simple, lady.”

“Nyxara,” she snapped, glaring. She hated it when he called her lady.

He chuckled softly—a sound devoid of the menace that had almost made her piss her pants. “Isn’t it simple? Distraction. When you are using your spell on the clothes, you are casting a wide net. The wider the net, the more mana you require.”

She nodded, absorbing his words. The more things she had to make invisible, the more mana she needed, and she couldn’t sustain it for long.

“It’s the Principle of Relativity Mr. Woolins taught us. The clothes are not a part of your body, so you’re distracted when casting a spell on them. That’s why wands and staves are more potent the more they remain in the wielder’s hand.”

A lightbulb went off in her mind. He was right. Mr. Woolins had mentioned power manifestation working best on the things they had used the most. It was in the first week’s class about mages and in the spells primer.

“That’s why the manifestation of power mostly happens on the things that are close to you,” she said.

No wonder she’d made her teddy invisible when she was ten. The memory of her mother’s knowing smile surfaced. That was how her mother had known she would awaken an Invisibility Spell Circle once she went through awakening.

She sighed softly. “I cried for days when I made my teddy invisible and couldn’t find it anymore.”

Daren’s face contorted, a flicker of sadness passing over his features. “If you want to achieve the same relativity with clothes, start wearing a body-fitting suit all the time,” he said casually, though his eyes remained somber as if a memory haunted him.

Now she was curious. How had he manifested his powers? “So, how are you going to break this spell? It’s beyond my capability.”

“That’s the issue.” Daren rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze fixed to the floor. “I can’t use Nullify, as it would undo your Invisibility spell.”

“You have a Spell Circle?” Nyxara felt like lightning had struck her out of the blue.

Daren nodded. “Of course I have a Spell Circle. I can nullify others’ magic. I can, in fact, nullify the spell cast on the book, but I need to borrow your spell. But of course, you are naked, and you would make a fuss if I happened to see you naked.”

Nyxara took a deep breath, the scent of old books filling her lungs. A Nullify Spell Circle. She had heard about that from her mother; it was a rare and powerful tool with countless uses.

She ran her fingers over the book’s worn cover. “What is inside this book?” she asked, curiosity bubbling up inside her.

There was something hidden within its pages, yet here the book was, in the common section. Normally, any book with spells or hidden magic would be placed in the restricted section of the library. Either this was a prank, or they had stumbled upon something valuable.

“I don’t know, but aren’t you curious?” he asked. “It can’t be harmful; otherwise, the teachers would have detected it. The library is riddled with detection systems.”

The library had an array of evil-detection systems. She knew about them because her mother visited it frequently. She pondered this for a few moments.

“Let’s do it. I will wear my chemise so you can’t see me, but you shouldn’t take a peek at me. Promise me that,” she said.

“Chemise—that would work.” He turned away from her.

She quickly slipped on her chemise and then cast an area Invisibility spell over the two of them, including the book. The intricate pattern lit up once more, bringing a smile to Daren’s lips.

“Fantastic.” He closed his eyes and tapped into the air, right above the orange nodes of the spell on the book.

Although she couldn’t see it, she felt his spell working on the book’s spell and undoing it. So he really had a Nullify Spell Circle. That meant they might rank a few places higher in next week’s midsemester duel. She didn’t mind being last, but it would be a shame to her mother’s name.

Suddenly, the wind picked up speed in the E section, and dust gathered from all sides, turning into a storm that headed straight toward them.

She gasped. “What’s that thing?”

“A trap left in the spell. I had to brute force my way through, so I triggered the trap.”

“Is that dangerous?”

“It can kill us,” he said, furrowing his brows.

32 PLANNING REVENGE

Nyxara shuddered. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Her fingers twisted into the hem of her white chemise.

The dust storm advanced between the towering bookshelves with predatory intent, its howl echoing through the library. Ancient books shuddered against their wooden homes as the wind passed, only the glimmer of protective enchantments keeping them secured.

“I’ve got this.” He raised his palm, feeling the last dregs of mana pulse beneath his skin as he prepared the Deconstruct spell.

The invisibility enchantment he’d discovered earlier seemed simple enough—clearly, he’d grown complacent in his assessment. Maybe he’d underestimated the original caster or overestimated himself. And both were dangerous things.

He grimaced. Some evil lord he’d turned out to be—decades of unchallenged rule had left him soft, complacent. Pathetic.

The dust tornado compressed and expanded, writhing in the dim library. Mana symbols materialized within its spinning mass, their pale-blue glow revealing the telltale signatures of a destructive enchantment. Daren’s stomach tightened—the patterns matched perfectly with a Dust Blade spell.

“What spell is this?” Nyxara’s voice was barely audible over the storm’s roar. Her words seemed to echo from somewhere distant and dark, carrying the unmistakable tremor of fear.

“Dust Blade. The internal tornado would possess sharp blades that can pierce our skin easily. Without a shield spell, we are toast,” Daren said, his voice steady. No point in hiding things from her. If they died here, at least she would have a knowing death.

Nyxara grabbed his palm, her fingers shaking. She seemed to have forgotten about her half nudity. Through her warm touch, he could feel fear crawling under her skin like a worm under a dead body.

“Why are you so calm? Let’s run.” She turned and tried to pull him away with her.

Daren held his ground. “Calm down. The thing we want is at the center of the tornado,” he said, stopping her in her tracks.

Nyxara glanced at her hands, her eyes widening with confusion. “When did the book fly away?”

“The moment I nullified the spell.” He gritted his teeth as he pushed more mana into his Deconstruct spell. A faint blue glow flickered around his hands, but he still couldn’t see the Spell Circle or spell board. He had to push his spell harder than before.

His forehead damp with sweat, he cursed under his breath. Damn it. He was almost on the verge of using all his mana. It had better be worth it, or he’d end up depleted for a long time.

A shimmering mana board materialized in front of him. He peered intently through the haze of magic. It was a Dust Illusion spell.

Fuck. Someone had played with them. The caster had used a high-level illusion spell that looked like Dust Blade to make the user flee.

Shaking his head, he stepped forward into the swirling dust tornado. The dust whirled around him, but he enveloped himself in a very thin layer of mana, causing the particles to slide off without settling on him.

Reaching forward, he grabbed the book firmly. As he shut it, the tornado dissipated, and the dust cloud settled, forming a thick layer on the floor. A putrid scent permeated the air, maybe from the dust or something else.

“What the hell?” Nyxara shouted. When Daren turned, he saw her standing there, covered in dust. Her two amber eyes glared at him through the grime, making her look like someone had played a prank and dumped a basket of flour on her head.

“We did it,” Daren said, relieved. He opened the book again, his nerves taut, ready for another trap. But none came, and what he saw brought a smile to his lips.

“Is that a Breakthrough Crystal?” Nyxara cupped her mouth. Her lips twisted in disgust as they made contact with the gritty residue accumulated over months or years.

“Yes, indeed, a Breakthrough Crystal.” Daren scanned the thumb-sized pink crystal nestled inside the book. He’d seen many of these in his past life, but this one seemed special. The first one in his new life—and the first one he wouldn’t be able to use.

Nyxara’s eyes lit up like stars in the dark night. “Really?”

Daren nodded. “Yes, it is. It can help you break through a couple of small stages in the Realm of Awakening,” he said, brushing his fingers against the rough crystal. “There are pills as well. Like Minor Breakthrough Pill, but those are rare.”

This might not be the artifact he recalled from his memories. The guy he remembered broke through directly into the Realm of Harmony. Was it a different artifact?

“So it’s a real thing. I just can’t believe we found one,” Nyxara mumbled dreamily as she traced the edges of the crystal with her finger.

Daren shook his head. “Come on. It’s not like you can’t buy these outside.”

She looked up, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Where can you buy these things?”

“In auctions. They aren’t that rare. In fact, there would be a few in the…” He bit his lip, stopping himself. He shouldn’t tell her about the year-end auction he knew about. He had to be careful.

“You don’t know, right?” She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Anyway, use it and break through. I’ll watch over you,” she said, her posture revealing her reluctance.

Daren stepped closer, placing the crystal gently into her hands. “You use it,” he insisted. “But it might only take you to the Peak stage of Awakening, so absorb as much as you can.”

Nyxara hesitated, biting her lip. “Should I?”

“Just do it, lady,” Daren urged with a hint of impatience. “I don’t have time for your fuss, and if you don’t want to do it, I’ll just feed this to my familiar.”

“I…”

Daren called upon the Crystal Heart Spider. Its tiny legs skittered across his palm. He almost fed it the crystal before Nyxara snatched it from his hand.

“I’ll use it,” she declared.

Daren nodded approvingly. “That’s more like it.”

He pocketed the spider, feeling its slight weight settle against his side. He knew he could use the crystal for his own breakthrough, but patience was key. Achieving success in the Soldier Class facility first would create a solid foundation for his future endeavors.

In his past life, he had struggled to gain the optimal benefits from his mana cultivation, often acting impulsively. This time, he was determined to walk a different path. A path that would lead him to absolute power.

“It’s useless for me. Just use it,” he reiterated.

Nyxara moved toward an empty wall. “That tornado has cleaned this space for us.” She sighed, her eyes scanning the pristine area. She looked perplexed but resolved, ready to embrace the challenge ahead.

“It has indeed. Take your time, and I’ll go through some books.”

Daren moved to a shelf lined with now-clean books and selected one that detailed the academy’s history. The leather cover creaked as he opened it. “Once you break through, we can have some fun.”

Nyxara’s brows furrowed. “Fun? What kind of fun?”

Daren gulped and shut the book. “We’ll teach a lesson to the people who dared to mess with our house. Don’t you want revenge? I’ll get us some.” He chuckled, just like he’d done when he’d killed people in his last life. Finally, he could have some fun.

33 NYXARA’S BREAKTHROUGH

Daren leaned against the rough stone wall, mesmerized by the intricate patterns of mana swirling around Nyxara. She sat cross-legged in her chemise, her breathing steady in meditation. In her excitement, the poor girl had forgotten about putting on her clothes. Her dust-covered garments lay nearby, too grimy to be comfortable.

The Mana Circle danced around her like a living constellation, each point of light pulsing with potential. As with all breakthrough moments, her Spell Circle had risen to float, its patterns clear to those who, like Daren, possessed the Deconstruct spell. Through it, he could read the depth of her magical capacity like a familiar text.

A growl from Daren’s stomach made him run his tongue over his dry lips, his thoughts drifting to Ashini and the bracelet being enchanted. A personal dimensional space would solve so many of his cravings—with it, he could carry spicy ale, sweet fruits, or better yet, that chocolate drink. His mouth watered at the memory of Colin’s signature beverage. The teacher would make an excellent supplier—willing or otherwise. Even though Daren had memorized the formula from his past life, something about Colin’s version carried a richness he couldn’t replicate.

Nyxara shuddered as her Spell Circle expanded in the air, glowing faintly. Her fingers twitched, and her brows furrowed in concentration. The influx of mana might be too much for her fragile body to handle. If Daren had his way, he would have forced her to go through the Soldier Class training sooner rather than later.

He watched her intently, curious about her Spell Sigil—the core of one’s Spell Circle that only turned visible during a breakthrough. In this current breakthrough, her Spell Sigil wouldn’t undergo a dramatic transformation, but she would still receive some enhancements.

Unlike her, he hadn’t even awakened his Spell Sigil. But he could awaken it by himself in the next breakthrough. He would have to think about that.

Nyxara might have great potential, and he wanted to see it with his own eyes. Her primary Spell Sigil was a flower. Every primary Spell Circle had a sigil that would get upgraded during a breakthrough. Her Spell Sigil had no petals, but soon it would.

Nyxara’s breathing became shallow as the Spell Circle continued to expand, its edges shimmering with a soft luminescence. The air around her grew warmer, charged with the energy she was channeling. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she clenched her jaw in determination.

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he observed the intricate patterns forming within her Spell Circle. Each line and curve seemed to pulse with life, a testament to her growing power. If he concentrated enough, could even hear the hum of mana flowing toward her.

Finally, as the Spell Circle reached its maximum size, a single petal began to form on her flower sigil. Nyxara gasped, her eyes shut. She’d done it—she had broken through.

He couldn’t help but smile, a rare expression for him. Nyxara’s potential was indeed extraordinary, and this was just the beginning. How many petals she would eventually gain was still a mystery, but he was confident that her journey was far from over.

Mana was pulled from their surroundings and entered into her Spell Circle, which hovered in the air. If he wanted, he could tamper with her breakthrough, rearrange some nodes, and turn her into a cripple. He wouldn’t. Although annoying, she was a good girl, and he had no need to cripple her.

Unless she continued to annoy him.

He crossed his arms and watched closely. Mana swirled around her Spell Circle, forming three petals for her Spell Sigil. The petals glowed in three distinct colors—gray, red, and blue—lighting up the floor like a half-cut rainbow.

He raised an eyebrow. This was interesting.

Then everything became silent, like a deep, dark night in the desert without wind. Her face lit up with a smile that infected him as well.

“Should I call you a pervert for staring at me like that?” she asked mischievously.

He looked away. “It’s your fault. I didn’t say you don’t need clothes for your breakthrough.”

“I was excited, and you’ve looked at me anyway. I have nothing to hide. Anyway, thanks for your generosity, and here is your crystal.” She tossed him the thumb-sized crystal, which he quickly pushed into his spider’s mouth.

The lazy spider munched it cheerfully. He could feel its excitement through the link he shared. Soon, it would generate web threads for him and a mana crystal too.

“Test your invisibility now,” Daren said, tapping his fingers on the dusty table.

“Now?” Nyxara asked, her voice wavering.

“Yes. Try remaining in that state as long as possible.”

Nyxara took a deep breath and vanished. A moment later, her dust-filled clothes disappeared, too, as if swallowed by the air. Daren sat, pretending to read through the pages of an ancient tome. He scanned the text, but his senses focused on his surroundings.

Fifteen minutes later, Nyxara reappeared right next to him, clutching a book to her chest. Glistening tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She hugged him tightly, her thin arms around his neck, as she sobbed, her body trembling.

Daren gulped hard, feeling the warmth of her tears on his neck. This closeness was uncomfortable, making him stiffen.

“What the hell are you two doing here, fucking around in the library?” The familiar, uninvited voice cut through the air, dripping with hatred and killing intent.

Daren tensed. Was she going to attack them? He shifted, bracing himself for whatever was to come.

34 REVENGE PLAN

Nyxara rose shakily, her fingers trembling as she smoothed her dress and dabbed at her wet cheeks. “Miss Wallheart,” she whispered.

The academy uniform strained against Miss Wallheart’s frame as she squeezed through the doorway. Her blond braids swayed with each heavy step, and her eyes locked onto Daren with the intensity of a hawk spotting prey. He guessed a tailor had draped tent fabric around a barrel to create her uniform, which did a remarkable job of concealing her deformations.

“Colin sent you to clean the section, and here you are, fucking around.” The words carried an edge.

Daren’s lips curled into a smirk. He lifted his arm with deliberate slowness, channeling a basic wind spell that sent the scattered dust particles swirling and merging with the larger pile from his earlier illusion spell.

“See, Miss Wallheart? It’s collected. I just need to put it to some good use.” He met her gaze steadily, his fingers tingling with unused mana. The temptation to send the dirt cascading over her pressed uniform and perfectly arranged braids almost took him over. The thought of her spluttering and choking on the dust brought a dark satisfaction to his mind.

Miss Wallheart flicked her fingers, and the dust vanished. The air felt cleaner immediately. She raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp.

“I see you got a familiar and already mastered the common spells, Daren Morin. So we can start with the advanced rune carving next week.” She shifted her stance, her stern eyes never leaving his.

Daren’s frown deepened as he crossed his arms. “Advanced rune crafting?” he asked in disbelief. He had no intention of studying rune crafting or even alchemy. His focus was solely on finishing his mana strengthening, uncovering the secret of the Dimensional Corridor, and escaping this place before the year-end event.

Miss Wallheart’s expression remained unreadable as she clasped her hands behind her back. “Yes. Every teacher can choose a student for advanced studies, and before Phila could get to you, I chose you for advanced rune crafting. Do you prefer to go with her or have an extra lesson with me once a week?”

Daren’s heart skipped a beat. Phila. That woman was dangerous. He would prefer Miss Wallheart’s stern but predictable demeanor anytime.

“Of course it’s you, teacher.” Daren forced himself to smile. “I prefer rune crafting anytime, and while we’re at it, can you remove my name from alchemy classes as well?”

Spending any time with Phila seemed unnecessary. When it came to the seeds he required for Ashini, he had his ways of getting them. Especially after helping Nyxara to break through. All help came with a price, and Nyxara should be ready to pay it.

Miss Wallheart’s eyes narrowed. “Consider it done.” She moved into the second row and picked up a book from the floor. It was the same one that had held the Breakthrough Crystal. “Although I appreciate your talent, Daren, I don’t appreciate you doing messy work. Why is a book lying on the floor?”

Nyxara stepped forward. “Miss Wallheart, that’s my bad. Please forgive me this time,” she said tremulously.

“Stay there, kid. You’re messing up the cleaned section.” Miss Wallheart raised her finger, and a small whirlwind formed around Nyxara. The tornado swirled gently, sucking all the dust from her uniform. The soft hum of wind filled the room. In just a moment, Nyxara had shifted from a messy young woman into a slightly dusty one, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Thank you, Miss Wallheart.” Nyxara bowed her head.

“Now, get out of the library, and if you want to make out, choose some other places. Don’t sully the library.”

“We weren’t making out, teacher.” Nyxara rushed out of the door with red cheeks.

“She’s saying the truth.” Daren walked out with steady steps. Making out with Nyxara? Not even in his dreams.

* * *

Daren stopped when they reached the first-year student houses. The sun hadn’t settled in the west yet, so the air was still warm, and students were in their classes. Other than a couple of students who had skipped class, he couldn’t find anyone around the area. It was the perfect time for their plan.

“Nyxara, you said Val Krakon’s sister messed up our house that day, right?” He glanced around to ensure that no one could hear them.

Nyxara nodded, her eyes narrowing. “Yes. She’s a second-year student. I asked around and found out that she is very protective of her brother. Your little stunt put him in the infirmary for a couple of days, so she went to our place to mess with us. However, she did it when we weren’t around, as she feared teachers might punish her if she harmed you.”

Daren frowned, considering her words. “Then how did you find out about her involvement?” he asked, licking his lips and still tasting dust.

He would have to clean himself after going back to his room. A refreshing cold shower would be awesome after the warm evening. But before that, he planned on taking a second trip to the Soldier Class facility. He had already assimilated his previous gains, and had some mana in his body. It would be a few days before he could speak with the familiar and actually plan something, but he could still retrieve mana from its webs.

“She left a message for you the other day,” Nyxara said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “But you were missing, so the messenger came to me.”

Daren raised an eyebrow. “And you’re telling me this now?”

She hesitated, glancing at the floor. “I didn’t want to increase the conflict. Was she the one who placed the monitoring ward in our room?”

“No. A mere second year is not capable of that. That ward is far too advanced for her.” He pondered for a moment, the thoughts racing. It must have been one of the teachers who placed it in their house, but who? “Let’s do this. It’s time we pay them a visit.”

“You want to take revenge on her?” She looked up at him with curiosity.

A slow smile spread across Daren’s face as he chuckled. “Yes, but we will do it through her brother.”

“How?”

Daren leaned in closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “With your Invisibility spell, lady. You can stay invisible for fifteen minutes now, and you just need to place one thing in Val’s room.”

“What thing? I’m not doing anything illegal.”

Daren snorted and summoned his familiar, the Crystal Heart Spider. The tiny creature crawled onto his palm, its legs moving with a mechanical precision. Daren knew the spider was perfect for the task at hand, despite the fact that its feces, a substance known as Mana Chaos, had unpredictable and often chaotic effects.

“Take this spider with you,” Daren said, placing the creature gently into Nyxara’s hand. “When it starts dropping poop, place it on Val’s bed. Retrieve it once it’s done. But make sure you don’t touch the poop. Not even a brush of your finger.”

Nyxara’s eyes widened in horror. “What the hell, Daren? You want me to prank him with a spider’s poop?” She shuddered. “And how much poop can this tiny thing produce?”

Daren chuckled, feeling mischievous. “Don’t you worry about that. It might look like a small quantity, but what it does will shake Val’s core for an entire week. Trust me on this. Just place it on his bed when its color turns red.”

His lips spread into a wicked smile as he imagined Val’s reaction. Daren couldn’t kill him, but he could make his life hell. Val would have the week of his life.

35 SHADOW LIBRARIAN—DISCOVERY OF A SECRET PASSAGE

Miss Wallheart moved purposefully along the shelf, her fingers trailing over the spines of the books, searching for the elusive History of Labanasia. It was a text she needed for the second years next semester for a subject that Princy had thrust upon her without warning. She grimaced. History was not her passion. However, after facing the unwavering gaze of the familiar, she’d had little choice but to familiarize herself with the material.

While coming here, she had stumbled upon Daren Morin and Nyxara Tusslewood locking lips. How impudent, she thought with a huff.

Anyway, she didn’t care what those two did. It wasn’t a new thing in the academy, and everyone was an adult. They could mess around with each other or even with their familiars. She didn’t care.

“Where the hell is the book?” she muttered, scanning the second shelf, which was filled with books about the Helms of the East.

She moved to the third shelf, which was stocked with history books about the Forgotten Realm. The fourth shelf contained volumes on the history of the Dragons of the South. And so she went until finally, on the seventeenth shelf, she found the book she’d come for: History of Labanasia, a forgotten city that gave birth to the first demon lord–level character.

When had someone arranged the books in the correct order around here?

Pausing, she looked at the book in her hand. According to the order, it belonged on shelf nineteen. She shrugged, walked over to the nineteenth shelf, and slid the book into an empty spot.

The entire section shook. A film of mana spread through the air, shimmering as it accumulated at a single point on the wall next to the final shelf—the twentieth. The ruckus—she felt it in her core as if a beast had opened its mouth and sucked all the mana from the section.

What the hell was this thing? Taking a deep breath, she moved toward the door that had appeared in the wall. A footstep followed behind her. She turned to see two masked men entering the library through the door. They wore dark-red robes, and their attire concealed every inch of skin.

“Shadow Librarians, what brings you here?” she asked, a feeling of dread creeping over her. These two individuals were said to be as powerful as the vice principal. They managed the library and its secrets, protected people from falling into the void below the library, and always looked after the floating stairs.

“Someone has opened a secret corridor that was undiscovered before,” one of the Shadow Librarians said, his voice echoing softly in the vast section.

“Teacher Wallheart, what did you do to open it?” the other one asked, stepping closer.

“I…” She glanced nervously at the nineteenth shelf, feeling the weight of their gaze. “I just placed the book into the empty slot.”

“Just that?” The librarian pulled the book out, and the door vanished from the wall with a faint shimmer.

“An Arcane Puzzle. No wonder no one found out about this. Who would have thought the founder would leave such a puzzle in this section?” The other Shadow Librarian’s words were laced with amusement, his eyes glinting behind the mask.

“What puzzle, sir?” Miss Wallheart asked, curiosity sparking within her.

“Forgive us, teacher Wallheart, but we can’t speak about this,” one of them replied. “Please return, and keep this a secret. Until the vice principal or Princy explores the secret space, this section will be closed off for students and teachers.”

“Can I take that book?” She pointed at another shelf, her finger trembling.

“No. We need all the books here,” the Shadow Librarian said firmly.

Miss Wallheart’s expression tightened. “What the…?”

She turned abruptly, her braids swaying, and walked toward the door. Confusion and frustration churned in her mind. She needed that book, and now there was this unexpected obstacle.

As she stepped out of the door, the cool air of the hallway brushed against her face, bringing a moment of clarity. A thought crossed her mind. Were those two students responsible for the puzzle opening?

She shook her head. No, that couldn’t be possible, right?

* * *

The hooded figure stepped into the dimly lit chamber beneath the teahouse, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Seated behind a cluttered table, the fat teahouse owner meticulously counted a stack of mortal currency, his pudgy fingers moving with surprising dexterity. This was his favorite pastime, the rhythmic clink of coins a soothing melody.

Behind his back, people, said he would sell his wife if someone offered enough. They were right. Too bad his wife was dead.

“Come, sit. My men told me you need a few people.” The fat man waved his hand, and the hooded figure sat on the chair with an elegance that a rough man who had come to hire killers would normally lack.

“Yes. Three people at the Realm of Harmony.”

The teahouse owner resumed tapping the gold coins. “Who do you want to kill?” he asked, eyes fixed on the glittering pile. Only nobles dealt in such currency—cultivators preferred the higher denominations. But he couldn’t resist the allure of the shiny coins, even if it was a mistake to shy away from the more practical bank notes.

The hooded figure’s hands shook. “A student from the academy.”

The tapping stopped, and the teahouse owner lifted his gaze, his brow furrowed. “That’s a tall ask, lady.”

The hooded figure leaned forward, her voice strained with urgency. “Are you doing it or not?”

The teahouse owner paused his rhythmic tapping on the gold coins, the soft clinks fading into an uneasy silence. He lifted his gaze and considered the request. “Dongra does everything for money.” He resumed counting, the coins clinking together. “Three mana potions.”

Killing a student was a tall order, but the teahouse owner knew the academy was short-staffed. Rumor had it the principal was away. People died by the dozen, and the lack of manpower meant not every incident would be thoroughly investigated.

The hooded figure reached into a large sack, spilling dozens of glowing mana cores across the tabletop. “I don’t have mana potions, but I do have these cores.”

Dongra picked up one of the pulsing orbs, examining it closely. “Useless. Wait…” He rolled the core between his fingers, feeling the raw mana within. “How did you retrieve these from live humans?”

The hooded woman sat upright. “I didn’t.” She watched as Dongra rolled the pulsing mana core between his thick fingers. “I retrieved them from dead people and patched them. Each one is worth a quarter of a mana potion.” Her eyes narrowed behind the shadowy cowl. “And don’t even think of getting the technique from me, because you don’t have the required Spell Circle for it.”

Dongra’s mind gleamed with greed as he pulled a serrated knife from beneath the table. In one swift motion, he stabbed the core. Blue liquid oozed from the puncture. He brought the dripping blade to his lips, savoring the raw mana as it hit his tongue. A shudder of pleasure ran through him. Cultivating mana was one thing, but tasting it directly was an addictive delight he rarely indulged in.

“Real mana. Interesting.” Dongra furrowed his brow in thought. “Woman, how about making a trade?”

He licked the last drops from the knife, savoring the potent flavor. No wonder people got addicted to this stuff. It was better than the drugs sold on the market. However, drinking mana potions just to get that feeling didn’t fit with his business practice.

The hooded figure rose from her seat, the motion fluid and graceful. “If you kill this person, then we can discuss it.” Without another word, she turned and headed for the exit.

Dongra watched her go, a sly grin spreading across his face. “I’ll keep the remaining cores as a gift from you.”

He chuckled—a shameless, self-indulgent sound. That night, he would enjoy most of these cores himself. But of course, he would keep twelve intact as payment for the kill.

36 START OF THE TORTURE

Val Krakon walked into his room on the second floor. The last class had been impossible. Miss Wallheart was impossible. She’d come late to the class and then forced them to practice runes on a common paper. One hundred times.

Who did that?

That fat ass thought everyone in the class attended it because they loved runes. Fuck’s sake. No one cared about the old side branch of magic. It was the easiest subject to get good scores in, so everyone took the class. No one cared about those runes. Once he reached second year, he would tear apart the book and never open it again.

He was about to dive onto the bed when he spotted something sticky on his cushion. “What the hell? Grazen, did you do this?” He shouted.

“What? I’m in the bathroom!” Grazen, his roommate, shouted from downstairs.

“What is this thing?” He moved toward it.

When he was very close, someone kicked him from behind. He fell flat onto the sticky thing, and it entered his skin.

“Who’s there?” He jumped back, looking around. No one was in the room.

Frowning, he rubbed his butt. Someone had kicked him. Was it Grazen? His Spell Circle was speed, and he did things like this.

But he was in the bathroom. Val went downstairs to check and found Grazen singing in the bathroom. That meant he was using the toilet. He had this nasty habit of spending hours on the toilet, singing. Fuck, the guy had the worst possible voice a human could have.

So who had kicked him? Was there someone in the house? It had to be someone with an Invisibility Spell Circle.

“Nyxara Tusslewood. You bitch.”

Cursing, he went to the main table, picked up the communication crystal his sister had left him, and poured mana into it. The crystal burst in his hand, burning it slightly.

“What the hell? Why did it burst?”

“What’s that smell?” Grazen walked out of the bathroom, half-naked. “Did you fart, Val? Why is it smelling so bad?”

“What the fuck? I didn’t fart, and you were on the toilet, for fuck’s sake. It must be your own shit you smelled.” Val shook his head. If Grazen hadn’t been a teacher’s son, Val would have kicked his ass by now.

“Fuck, you smell like shit, man.” Grazen picked up a shirt from the table. “Take a shower. I’ll use someone else’s toilet. People can’t even let me shit in peace these days.” He walked out with a frown.

Val rubbed his nose and smelled himself, but he smelled nice—clean, like soap. Was it the sticky thing? What was that thing? He decided to take a bath just to be safe.

37 TRAINING AND FAINTING

Under the shadows of the ancient trees that stood like silent sentinels, Daren made his way toward the Soldier Class facility. The usual guard was absent that day, and the clerk at the reception merely offered an uninterested nod as Daren passed. Apparently, no one cared who used the facility. A huge mistake. Or perhaps it was just the weekend vibe.

On his way over, he hadn’t seen a single soul training in the other buildings. Everyone seemed to be busy outside the academy, indulging in food or sex, which he had no interest in. The greenhorns had no worldviews or life plans, nor did the current world have an enemy to face. An enemy would have forced them to form goals for their lives.

Once the actual demons arrived, things would change. Too bad the academy would be long gone by that time. In his previous life, the academy had dwindled to a small school, and by the time the demons arrived, no one remembered anything about the Arcane Academy of the Dragons of the South.

After entering the dimly lit room, Daren stripped down to his underwear. The air was cool against his skin as he opened the vial of Mana Conductive Gel. He scooped out a handful and smeared it onto his muscles. The cold gel clung to his skin like glue, sending shivers through his body as it eased his nerve endings. The metallic smell, mixed with the earthy scent of Green Wind Herb, filled his nostrils. The herb’s numbing effect would help the mana, via the gel, seep into his skin more effectively.

That day, Daren planned to go deeper into strengthening his internal organs and targeting his tendons. Normally, one would only focus on one type of organ per realm, but he had a different plan. He wasn’t a normal person, and he wouldn’t follow the same path as the others.

Taking a deep breath, Daren approached the construct in the corner. He poured some of his own mana onto the needles, watching as they glowed faintly. He carefully pushed his own mana into the spell array behind the needles, adjusting it to meet his needs. The construct groaned under the strain of his mana, its worn parts creaking ominously.

The smell of gel and sweat hung heavily around the construct. Someone had either done a sloppy job of cleaning or simply didn’t care. Ignoring the unpleasant odor, Daren positioned himself under the construct, ready to begin his intense training session. If he’d had control of this academy, he would have mandated that everyone undergo mana strengthening in the first semester even before they were allowed to cast a simple fire spell.

The needles jabbed into his skin, sending a sting up his arm. A stream of mana flowed into his muscles then coursed through his internal organs. This time, he had pushed more mana into himself.

Pain tore through his body, making him feel as if he were on the brink of destruction. His body was too fragile, and he might have used too much mana this time. Should he lower the flow?

No way. He would die rather than succumb to a weak mentality. With gritted teeth, he endured the pain. His fragile body had always been a barrier, one of the reasons he’d struggled to reach where he was before his death. Even then, he hadn’t been able to achieve that one breakthrough. If he’d been at the peak of the world’s power, he wouldn’t have died.

A needle shuddered, and he opened his eyes. With a thought, he changed the output from the needle to half. It was overdrawing on the artificial mana core the academy used for mana supply. If he took too much, someone would notice his little modifications. That was the last thing he wanted.

Resting his head back, he let his mind wander to his previous thoughts. The hard surface of the chair pressed against his spine, a reminder of the discomfort he was willing to endure.

This was good. Being reborn in the past was good. Only a few people got to redo their lives.

But why had he gotten the chance? Was it because of the Time Demon Core he possessed? That seemed the most plausible cause of his rebirth. He’d found the core inside one of the demon lords he had slain. At the time, he hadn’t realized it held the power of time.

After that, he’d spent years researching it, meticulously unraveling the intricate inscription patterns. When he finally understood its true nature, he was astounded by the core’s potential. He had wanted to integrate it with himself, following the principles laid out by Ashi. But before he could do that, his life had been cut short due to a betrayal by a trusted friend—a friend he’d cherished and always kept nearby.

This time it would be different. He would cut off the problem at its root when he left this continent. He would ensure that the friend he’d once cherished died in his mother’s womb.

A small spider emerged from his chest, its eyes glinting with curiosity. The tiny creature was oddly endearing. Nyxara had not wanted to hand it over after coming out of Val’s room. Naive girl. She had no idea what the spider could do with her.

Anyway, he would take his final revenge in the future. For the moment, he had grudges to settle, an artificial mana core to form, and a city to escape before venturing into the open world of the Dragons of South.

He adjusted the needle’s output as it shuddered, reducing the flow of mana. A couple of hours had already passed, and he was still strengthening his internal organs. The academy allowed four hours inside the construct. Maybe strengthening tendons would have to wait for a few days. He would need the academy teachers to come and fill the mana core back up before he could return.

He focused on his current priorities. The first goal of acquiring a familiar was complete. Now he had to wait for the spider to integrate fully with him so he could communicate with it and plan the next steps. The second goal, of enhancing his body to the Realm of Harmony using mana strengthening, was in progress and would take a few intense sessions. A few months maybe. But once his internal organ strengthening was finished, he could start with his mana cultivation. By that time, the tiny spider would have produced a few Mana Crystals that he could use.

But for mana cultivation to happen, he would need to feed the spider. On his next visit to the city, he would do that. But he would need money to buy crystals from the market. Crystals sold for a lot of coins.

He could always inscribe a couple of spell scrolls and sell them in the market. He’d spent decades mastering inscriptions, and not using that skill to earn money would be a waste of knowledge. But it would require mana, and he lacked mana.

What would be the best way to acquire mana quickly? Ashini. He would have to visit her soon and get mana cores and a bracelet from her.

A sharp pain echoed through his internal organs. He winced and clutched his side, feeling the impurities being expelled as his organs neared complete strengthening. With the mana inside him, he could sense just how much impurity his frail body held. It was overwhelming. He would need to use every bit of strength to push it away.

Damn it. Why was this happening now? He needed a lot of mana to push all the impurities into his internal organs—mana he didn’t have. The single mana crystal he had wouldn’t be sufficient.

He clenched his fists, feeling the cold sweat on his palms. Fuck. He had to deplete the mana core attached to the construct.

He took a deep breath and glanced around the dimly lit room. Well, what could he do? The academy might punish him for doing this, but who cared?

With a thin thread of mana, he brought the first two needles back to full peak. He let the mana flow into him, uncontrolled. The pain was intense, like the mana was tearing apart his entire being. His muscles tensed, and he stifled a scream, feeling the heat radiate from his core. Anyone else would have passed out from this much pain, but he wasn’t just anyone.

“I’m an evil lord. This pain can’t defeat me!” he shouted, letting rage take over him.

When it wasn’t sufficient, he bit into his lower lip, pushing his teeth deep into his flesh until he tasted blood. He had overestimated his body. He should have taken it a little slower, but he couldn’t stop what he’d already begun. And fuck that thought. He could do this ten times, and if it wasn’t sufficient, then a hundred times.

The agony continued, leaving him in an unbearable amount of pain. It was so overwhelming that even he, an evil lord who had gone through hundreds of life-threatening battles, almost lost consciousness.

“A few more seconds. Just hang on,” he muttered, his voice strained. Warm blood leaked from all of his orifices, and he could feel things turning dull.

Suddenly, the entire construct shuddered, and the mana entering him came to a halt. The needles lifted from his skin, and he fell forward, black blood oozing from every pore. It soon formed a pool around him, dark and viscous. From an outsider’s perspective, it might look like he had drowned in his own black blood.

He could hear footsteps approaching before he lost consciousness. Was it help or punishment?

38 WHO IS AN EVIL LORD?

Daren’s eyelids fluttered open to find Nyxara perched at his bedside, her eyes red. He instantly felt warmth at seeing her concern. She wore a simple white dress, and it had some creases, which had never happened before. The Nyxara he knew always wore a pristine dress with every inch of the fabric pressed.

Was he that important to her? Maybe he needed to change his opinion about her.

Colin occupied a wooden chair several feet away, the furniture groaning under his weight as he chewed his lip. His signet ring caught the afternoon light as his fingers drummed against the armrest.

Daren exhaled softly and fixed his gaze on the infirmary’s clean ceiling. The familiar space brought a strange comfort, both from his previous life and his current one. Sharp herbal scents mingled with the distinct sweetness of healing potions, creating that unmistakable infirmary atmosphere. Usually, these medicinal odors made his nose wrinkle, but after the brutal conditions of the Soldier Class facility, they felt almost welcoming.

He took stock of his body with a quick assessment, releasing a deep breath as the realization settled over him. The first milestone was complete—he had reached the Peak stage of the Realm of Awakening in Mana Body Strengthening. His muscles held a new density, a quiet power that hadn’t been there before.

Like the mage realms, soldier realms were divided into the Realm of Awakening, the Realm of Harmony, and the Realm of Synergy. People said the Mana Body Strengthening stopped there, but he believed otherwise. The method of strengthening their bodies these people used was too orthodox, and he had experimented with a few and read through ancient records. The one he followed had the highest benefits.

He had reached the Peak stage, and his five internal organs had gained a faint blue sheen. That also meant he could break through into the Realm of Synergy anytime. Fantastic.

“You were reckless, Daren,” Colin said, breaking the silence.

Nyxara coughed to gain Daren’s attention. Daren smiled at her. This girl kept shocking him.

“It paid off, Colin. You know what I’ve achieved. Can you give me a glass of chocolate milk?” Daren got up and stretched. His bones creaked under his skin, energy oozing through his entire body. With his internal organs gaining the blue sheen, he had a faster healing rate than any common person or even a mage. Only soldier class people in the Realm of Harmony could match his healing at his current stage.

Nyxara tapped on Daren’s shoulder, her eyes wide. She slowly shook her head in disbelief.

Colin adjusted his glasses. “You’re back to calling me by my name, kid. Is this place cursed? You keep forgetting you are a student and I’m a teacher,” he said, shaking his head.

Daren smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, teacher Colin. But can I have a chocolate drink, please?” He thought about his previous life. He had more than a hundred years of experience over Colin, but he kept that to himself.

Colin reached for a clean glass and filled it with chocolate drink. He handed it to Daren. “I don’t know if I should call you a fool or give you an award for bravery.”

Daren took the glass and brought it to his lips. “Both are inaccurate. It was a calculated risk.” He gulped down the chocolate drink in one go, savoring the rich, creamy taste. The heavenly flavor lingered on his lips like honey on butter. It was divine.

He extended the glass forward, his fingers holding the cool surface. “One more, please.”

Colin took the glass, and the sound of liquid pouring into it filled the room. “Calculated risk? You destroyed a mana core—a construct—and drowned in the pool of your impurities. Tell me, how was it a calculated risk?”

Daren accepted the glass, feeling its warmth in his hands. “Of course, I knew help would come once the construct stopped working.”

He chuckled lightly, but it felt strained. He hadn’t thought things would turn out this way, but he had it under control. Even if people hadn’t come to save him, his breakthrough would have triggered the healing, and he would be fine. Disoriented, but fine.

Colin’s eyes gleamed as he adjusted his glasses. “The academy thinks the construct malfunctioned, but I’ve scanned you, and you achieved your goal,” he said, a mysterious smile playing on his lips.

Daren frowned, his grip tightening around the glass. “I never said I was responsible for it.” This fat man—why was he helping him?

Colin leaned in, his gaze intense. “I don’t get one thing. Explain it to me, kid.”

Daren nodded slowly. The things he had done weren’t earth-shattering secrets, and he doubted the old hags at the academy would ever put their mages through such training, even if he did share them.

Colin’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Why did you keep shouting ‘I’m an evil lord’ even after passing out?”

Daren’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest, but he quickly regained control. He took a steadying breath. Nyxara shifted her weight and helped him get up from his bed.

“That’s what I imagined, to keep myself from falling unconscious before the process finished,” he said, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Ironic, isn’t it, teacher? Sometimes calling yourself a bad name does prove to be useful.”

“Teacher, please let him take some rest. Although he looks fine, I bet he has a concussion.” Nyxara stepped forward, picked the empty glass from Daren’s hand, and placed it on the table. Her fingers brushed against his, cool against his warm skin.

Daren frowned. What was she trying to do?

“Yes, I will excuse myself.” Colin stared at him, his eyes narrowing, before walking out of the room. The soft click of the door closing echoed in the silence.

“What was that for, Nyxara?” Daren asked, irritated.

“We need to talk.” Nyxara sat on the bed across from him, adjusting her glasses despite them already sitting perfectly on the bridge of her nose. “Tell me, what did your spider poop?”

“Why are you asking that?” Daren’s frown deepened.

“Val Krakon is poisoned and about to die.”

“Fuck! Did he eat that poop or what?” Daren asked, his voice rising in alarm.

The Mana Chaos wasn’t supposed to be eaten. It reacted violently if ingested. He ran a hand through his hair. But why the hell would someone eat an unknown sticky thing?

Nyxara’s breath hitched. She pushed her glasses up her nose with a trembling hand, leaving a smudge on the lens.

“What did you do?” Daren asked.

“I screwed up.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I kicked him when he didn’t touch the poop, and he fell face-first on the poop,” she whispered. She hugged herself, looking at Daren with wide eyes.

39 RUNESMITHING

Daren frowned, staring at the girl sitting across the bed with teary eyes, her shoulders shaking.

“So, you aren’t crying because I fainted in a pool of black blood?” He took a deep breath.

She shook her head, droplets falling onto her lap.

Daren licked his lips, savoring the last of the chocolate drink. The sweet taste contrasted sharply with the bitter realization settling in his stomach. Her white dress had accumulated so many creases, and now he knew why. She was afraid of the punishment for killing a student. This damn girl.

She leaned forward and grabbed his arm, her fingers ice-cold against his skin. “What should we do? He’s about to die.”

Daren yanked his arm back, the sudden movement making the bed creak. “You killed him. It’s none of my concern.”

Turning away, he grabbed a glass of water and drank it, letting the coldness ease his fried nerves. The glass clinked against his teeth. It had been ages since he’d felt this kind of embarrassment—or any emotion—toward a female.

“You asked me to do it,” she said accusatorily.

Daren arched his brow, the pungent smell of antiseptic herbs from the infirmary making his nose twitch. “Did I ask you to kick him face-first on the spider’s poop?”

He couldn’t decide what annoyed him more, the herbs or the girl. The scent of medicinal plants was heavy, mixing with the lingering sweetness of chocolate on his tongue.

“But…” She bit her nails, her eyes darting nervously around the room. “I…” Color drained from her face, and she clutched the bedsheet tightly.

Daren laughed, shaking his head. “Calm down. He’ll be fine. Just ask someone to make him vomit. The effects will last longer than normal, but he won’t die.” Mana Chaos wasn’t lethal unless swallowed in pounds. Even if Val didn’t vomit, he would just remain unconscious for days.

“Are you sure?” She gazed at him through her glasses, her eyes wide with worry.

Daren shrugged, dismissing her concern. If she didn’t want to believe him, she could go to hell.

“I’ll be back,” she said, getting up from the bed.

“Wait a moment,” Daren called, stopping her. “Tell me where I can find Miss Wallheart.”

“She must be in the Rune Workshop,” Nyxara replied, looking confused.

“Meet me in the Soldier Class practice room in the evening,” Daren said.

“Why?”

Daren leaned against the bedpost, eyeing her closely. “We have the midsemester duel in a couple of days, don’t we?”

“Yes. What about it?” Nyxara furrowed her brow.

“Don’t you want to win it? If we win, we can get mana potions as a reward, and we need them,” he said firmly.

“Win…” She paused, her gaze darting around the room as if searching for an answer in the shadows. “Us?”

“Damn it, lady.” Daren straightened up, his patience wearing thin. “If we want to win, we have to train. You have to train.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you there,” she said before turning and heading out of the room.

He couldn’t stand being in the infirmary any longer. The antiseptic smell clung to his clothes, and the sterile white walls annoyed him. He needed fresh air and, more importantly, money for his next goal. Miss Wallheart should be able to help him.

After changing his clothes, Daren walked out of the infirmary. The nurse at the reception desk looked up from her paperwork, her eyes narrowing.

“You’re not supposed to leave yet,” she said sternly.

Daren flashed a confident smile. “I’m fine, really. Just need some air,” he said, bluffing his way out easily. Convincing a twenty-year-old nurse wasn’t exactly a challenge.

The warm afternoon sun hit his face like a gentle caress, washing away the sterile prison of antiseptic smells and white walls. Freedom had never tasted sweeter. He took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air and the scent of blooming flowers carried on the breeze. His footsteps scuffed softly on the cobblestone paths as he made his way to the administrative section.

The academy’s grounds sprawled out before him, each department housed in its own dedicated building within the administrative area. It was a labyrinth of knowledge, with some departments, like alchemy, boasting multiple buildings and separate sections. Runesmithing, on the other hand, had only one building and a couple of teachers, at least from what Daren knew.

As he walked toward the runesmithing building, he couldn’t help but glance at the impressive three-building section dedicated to inscriptions. The subject was reserved for second-year students. Too bad he’d be out of the academy by then. However, with his knowledge of inscriptions, he could already teach any class in the academy.

As he placed his foot on the first stair of the runesmithing building, a giant figure landed in front of him with a resounding thud. The impact forced him to step back, stirring the dust around them.

Daren strained his neck to look up at the T’Lara giant in the academy uniform. “Teacher Phila.”

She snorted. “We meet again.”

Daren kept his voice cordial despite his distaste. “What can I do for you, teacher Phila?”

“Why were you absent from the classes?” she demanded, stepping down the staircase. Her shadow loomed over him like a beast ready to pounce on its prey.

“I’ve no intention of joining the Alchemy Department. I thought Miss Wallheart had already sorted that out for me.” Daren channeled some mana to enhance his voice and directed it toward the building. If this woman decided to drag him to the Alchemy Department, he wouldn’t have many options for escape.

Phila snorted again. “She’s not inside. She won’t come out.” She crossed her arms, her maroon eyes narrowing. “Now, you have to come with me, little demon, and let me study that spider of yours.”

Daren’s frown deepened as he clenched his fists. This vile barbarian. Why was she always trying to oppose him?

“If you insist, teacher Phila. But I was about to hand the rune symbol for the Wind Panther Slash rune to teacher Wallheart,” he said. “But it seems like I am already forgetting about it. What can we do?” He shook his head, turning reluctantly to follow teacher Phila.

“Wait.” Miss Wallheart appeared in the doorway with unnatural swiftness, her giant hip barely managing to come out of the door. “What rune did you bring me?”

Daren’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Ahh, Miss Wallheart. I thought you were out doing something important. How did I miss you going through the door?” He glared at her.

Phila snorted. “Your tongue is vile, kid. And you, Wallheart. Didn’t you agree to let me play with him a little? Why are you coming out like a dog coming for its master?”

“Shut up, Phila.” Miss Wallheart’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “You might be a princess in your land, but this is the academy, and I’m senior to you. Now, shut the fuck up or scram. Don’t disturb my student.”

Phila’s maroon eyes narrowed as she placed her hands on her hips, towering over Miss Wallheart even though Miss Wallheart stood on the fifth stair. The tension crackled between them, almost palpable.

“Your student?” Phila’s voice dripped with disdain, her posture unyielding. “Say it again.”

Miss Wallheart’s braids shifted as she straightened up. “I’ve applied for his removal from the Alchemy Department after selecting him for advanced runesmithing,” she said firmly. “If you have any grievances, then seek Princy, who agreed to it readily.”

Phila’s gaze shifted between Miss Wallheart and Daren. She stomped her feet then turned on her heel and walked away, her ragged breaths audible even from a distance. Miss Wallheart watched her go before turning her attention back to Daren.

“Forget about her. Come inside, student Daren.” She beckoned him with a gesture. “I have a stack of Pomegranate Fresh Wine stored in my office. How about we drink it while discussing the Wind Rune?”

Her face bore a smile so sweet it almost seemed to drip honey. But behind that mask, a vicious hunter lay low—a hunter Daren would willingly work with.

40 RUNE COLLECTOR

Daren followed Miss Wallheart into her second-floor office, his footsteps muffled by scattered papers that covered nearly every inch of floor space. The room resembled an alchemist’s laboratory more than a teacher’s office, with boards scrawled with chalk markings and towering stacks of leather-bound books creating narrow pathways through the chaos.

Daren hopped over a precarious pile of books blocking the doorway and landed with a soft thud. He glanced back at the obstacle, puzzled. How had Miss Wallheart crossed it? He hadn’t seen her floating over it.

Miss Wallheart swept her arm across the cluttered space. “This is my office,” she said proudly.

Was he supposed to like her office?

The air buzzed with residual mana, making the hairs on Daren’s arms stand up. In one corner, a partially charred piece of wood released thick gray smoke that spiraled up toward a chimney beside the large window on the north wall. The room remained surprisingly breathable, thanks to Miss Wallheart’s wind magic directing the smoke and ash away from the living space. However, a glass jar of water on one of the tables told a different story. The water looked muddy and might kill someone. He wouldn’t dare sniff it let alone drink it.

Miss Wallheart strode to a blackboard. Her chalk scratched the surface as she began sketching a rune.

“Give me the rune,” she said, her fingers dancing across the board in precise movements, creating line after line of the Wild Fire Rune.

She paused deliberately just before completing the final stroke. Daren scanned the room for somewhere to sit, but both wooden chairs disappeared beneath mountainous stacks of books. A thick blanket of dust coated the chairs’ visible edges, suggesting they had supported nothing but books in months, perhaps years.

“I’m waiting, child.” She turned toward him.

Daren almost commented on her looks but decided against it, knowing her reputation.

He cleared his throat. “Waiting for what?”

He moved a stack of books from a wooden chair and placed them on a heap already cluttering the table. As he slid into the chair, his arms brushed against the dust on the chair arms, leaving faint dirty streaks on his sleeves. The room smelled like chalk dust and ash, a making his nose twitch. Sitting there, looking at all the mess, he felt suffocated. If not for the magic-enhanced chimney, this room would have turned into a gas chamber.

“Wind Panther Slash. Didn’t you say you would gift me the rune? As a filial student, it’s your duty to gift your teacher, and this is an appropriate gift.” A self-praising smile played on her lips, but she seemed more like a predator about to rob him of something precious.

Daren crossed his arms. “I’m no filial student.” He snorted. “I just said that to get your attention.” If this woman could play with him, then he could play ten times harder.

Miss Wallheart crushed the chalk in her palm, letting the dust fly toward the chimney. “Kid, you realize that lying to a teacher is not a good idea, right? I can punish you for this.”

Daren shrugged. “I can still give it to you, but if you want it for free, then forget about it.”

Miss Wallheart’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you have it on you. Stop bluffing,” she with a mocking smile.

Sneering, Daren got up and walked to the board. He picked up a piece of chalk and began drawing the Wind Panther Slash rune. The chalk made a soft scraping sound with each stroke. Halfway through the diagram, he stopped abruptly.

Miss Wallheart’s voice quavered. “Why did you stop? Continue.” Her breath came out ragged, and she looked like a kid staring at candy.

Daren stepped away and went back to his chair. He sat down with a smirk.

Miss Wallheart moved closer to the board, her dazed eyes scanning the incomplete diagram. “This isn’t a common foundation pattern. This must have been invented in the Forbidden Empire era. You have to complete this, child. This is too much for me to handle.” Patting her chest, she walked to a big chair behind a table and slumped into it. “Come on, complete it. I can’t wait to see it.”

“I can’t. First, you know your board won’t handle it. Second, I can’t give it to you for free. What can you offer me for a Silver Grade rune, teacher Wallheart?” He crossed his right leg over his left and leaned back in the chair, letting the firm back support him.

Miss Wallheart’s eyes grew wide with excitement. “A Silver Grade rune. No wonder the second circle crosses with the hexagon. A simple Bronze Grade rune wouldn’t have that complexity,” she said, her voice tinged with admiration. “What does it do? Tell me more.”

“It allows you to store a Silver Panther Slash attack in the object it is carved into. But you need a Silver Panther in the first place to harness the power of their wind magic. It’s useless currently.” The Silver Panther was a mana beast rarely found in the Dragons of the South.

Miss Wallheart’s lips pressed into a determined line. “I want it,” she said, her voice unyielding.

Daren sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. This academy’s knowledge of runes was too limited. They seemed to only know about the Bronze Grade runes. There were many more grades beyond Bronze and Silver, but it seemed like the academy didn’t focus on this branch of magic. The lack of investment was evident in the number of teachers and the size of the buildings allotted to the Runesmithing Department. He wondered if they even had a single Silver Grade inscription in their archives. And Princy wanted him to walk the path of runes and get taught by the current academy teachers. What a futile desire.

“It’s important. You won’t understand it,” she pleaded.

Daren stared at the woman. She seemed desperate for runes. It could work in his favor. Using the memories of his previous life, he could take out dozens of Bronze, Silver, and Gold grade runes. But he would do that only if she had something equally good to trade.

He leaned forward. “What would you trade for it?”

“Brat, don’t look down on me just now. I haven’t shown you any of my personal collection.” She waved her fingers, and a book appeared on the pile of books in front of him. She had a dimensional artifact.

Daren opened the book and was immediately taken aback. The pages felt smooth under his fingertips, and the faint scent of aged parchment wafted up to meet him. The book was divided into three distinct sections: one for Bronze, one for Silver, and one for Gold. Each page featured the name of a rune and a half-finished diagram below it, clear enough to verify the rune’s authenticity. As he scanned the pages, he counted fifty Bronze, twenty Silver, and five Gold runes.

He paused, feeling a twinge of awe. He had underestimated her collection.

Miss Wallheart leaned back. “If you really have the Wind Panther Slash, then you can trade it for one of the runes you don’t have,” she said, snorting.

Daren’s brow furrowed as he looked up. “If you have this many runes, why does the academy only have one building for runesmithing?” he asked, the burning question slipping out.

Miss Wallheart shifted in her chair. “Why does it matter? More buildings don’t mean more mastery in their auxiliary arts,” she snapped. She crossed her arms. “Don’t look down on the Runesmithing Department because of the number of teachers or the students’ interest. The academy has many more runes, but I can’t trade them. That’s why I’m showing you my personal collection, which I can trade with.”

Daren licked his lips, feeling a twinge of regret. He had really misjudged this woman. If she had collected so many runes for her personal collection, she must possess a wealth of knowledge worth respecting.

He hesitated. “But…”

Miss Wallheart’s expression hardened. “You have touched a sore topic, kid. People forgot about runesmithing after the Forbidden Empire fell to the calamities.” Her voice was tinged with sadness. “Students just want to learn flashy spells and work on their Primary Spell Circle. I can’t just go shouting at them about the importance of runesmithing.”

She was right. People had their own choices, which one should respect. Daren closed the book gently, his fingers brushing the worn leather cover. Although he’d spotted a few runes he didn’t recognize, he had no real interest in trading runes.

“I’ll take a pass,” he said, handing the book back.

Miss Wallheart’s eyebrows knit in irritation. “Why? I can find more if you don’t fancy them. Karim should have a few more than I have, and he’s an avid collector as well.”

Daren shook his head firmly. “Teacher Wallheart, I can give you this rune for free, but I need your help with something else.”

Miss Wallheart narrowed her eyes. “What do you need?”

“I need a Void Crystal,” Daren replied, his voice steady. “I can trade five runes for one crystal. Five Silver Grade runes.”

Her eyes widened. “Impossible. Don’t try to act smart in front of me, Daren Morin. It’s not possible.”

Daren remained unfazed. “Then the trade’s off-limits, teacher Wallheart.”

The tension in the room thickened. They locked eyes, neither willing to back down. The silence between them grew heavy with unspoken defiance.

41 MAKING A DEAL

The silent tug of war between Daren and Miss Wallheart continued for a full minute as they stared at each other. She finally sighed and pulled her gaze away, her shoulders dropping.

Miss Wallheart straightened up in her chair. “Void Crystals are illegal, Daren Morin. By asking about them, you are committing a crime,” she said, her voice sharp with accusation. “If I tell Princy, he will put you in the prison.”

Daren sighed, noting how the conversation remained civil despite its dangerous undertones. The real swords had never been drawn. Daren had expected more resistance on such a sensitive topic.

“Indeed, it is illegal.” Daren tapped absently on the wooden table and instantly regretted it as a small cloud of dust flew around. The scent of dust and chalk assaulted his nostrils, making him cough.

“Do you need water?”

“No.” Daren shook his head, waving away the dust particles dancing in the afternoon light. “Anyway, you also know I can’t use the crystal to make Mana Bombs.” He rested his hand on his uniform, inadvertently smearing it with the table’s dirt.

Miss Wallheart’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Let’s go to Princy. He can vouch for my intention,” Daren said, a small, confident smirk playing on his lips.

He had no intention of making Mana Bombs using the Void Crystal. If he wanted to destroy something, he could just make Void Bombs with his inscriptions. Why would he waste time compressing mana into those tiny crystals?

“Then why do you need them? They are forbidden items, so no one in the market sells them.”

Daren’s smile widened. Coming here wasn’t a waste of time. He felt a sense of satisfaction as he prepared his response.

“Teacher Wallheart. You are a respected teacher, and I bet the academy has those crystals stored for research purposes. I just need a tiny piece—a finger-length piece for five Silver Grade runes. I don’t think I’m duping you with my offer.” He leaned back, relaxing into his chair, still smiling. Talking with her felt good.

Miss Wallheart shifted in her chair, the wooden legs groaning. The chair looked old, and if it had supported her for years, the wood used must have been super strong. Ironwood, most probably. Ironwood could be used to carve inscriptions.

She rubbed her fluffy chin for a few seconds. “Why?”

Daren summoned his spider. The palm-length creature jumped down and scurried toward a pile of books in the corner. Its tiny legs moved with surprising agility.

“You want it for your familiar? You want to use the crystal’s self-regenerating property,” she said, watching the spider with a strange interest.

Daren nodded, relieved. She’d understood quickly. Talking with smart people always brought quick results.

“I just need it to feed my crystal-eating spider. I need it for mana generation, and this is the cheapest solution.” He paused, watching the spider inspect the books and then pick one with its front legs. Void Crystals could grow by themselves if left alone. If they were cut at regular intervals, they could grow into giant mansions in a few months.

Miss Wallheart considered his words carefully, tapping her fingers on the table. “It’s not impossible to get special permission for research reasons, but how do you know about them or the runes?” She waved her hand, and a tea set appeared on the table. She poured two cups of tea, the steam rising with a comforting aroma.

“I hope you didn’t make it from that water.”

Daren glanced cautiously at the muddy water jar in the corner. The murky liquid looked thick and uninviting. There, he saw his spider moving a book around toward a shelf, its tiny legs maneuvering with precise movements. What the hell was it doing?

Miss Wallheart shook her head, her braids swaying gently. “No. I made it from clear water alchemists use,” she replied, setting the teapot down. “Phila is my friend, if you don’t know. So tell me, how do you have so much knowledge about these things?”

Daren tapped on a less dirty book. “Books. My orphanage had a huge library, and I spent my years reading them. There was a book of runes I found interest in, and I practiced them.”

He lied smoothly, recalling how, when he was expelled from the academy, he’d found out the orphanage was destroyed by a beast attack. Even if anyone tried to look for clues, they wouldn’t find them there.

Miss Wallheart raised an eyebrow, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. “Interesting theory. Hard to believe. But I can’t pry open your brain and see what’s really going on there.”

She could. Daren had seen some mages do that to understand more about the brain. Ashi was one of them. He sighed at the thought and took a sip of the tea, the warm liquid easing his tension. When he’d lived with Ashi, he had seen enough horror. He wondered why he had never thought of Ashi as a girl. They’d lived in a single house, and he’d never suspected it.

“Do we have a deal then, teacher Wallheart?” Daren asked, shaking the thought about Ashi away.

“I will make an application and talk with Princy. If he agrees, then we will make a deal.”

“Fair enough.” Daren got up, brushing imaginary dust off his robe.

Miss Wallheart’s frown deepened. “Where are you going? While you’re here, we should go through our advanced rune classes.”

“I don’t need those,” Daren said flatly.

He walked to a bunch of practice papers lying in the corner. He could feel the mana oozing out of them, but he now had enough mana that he wouldn’t take it from such papers. In the corner, he found a metal rune-carving tool and began carving the rune with his own mana. This time, he aimed to carve a Silver Grade rune.

Miss Wallheart’s eyes narrowed. “What are you carving?”

“Fire tornado. I don’t have enough mana to charge it. Should I leave it to you, teacher?” Daren asked, glancing at Miss Wallheart.

“Are you really carving a Silver Grade rune?” she asked, stepping closer.

Daren nodded, his focus unwavering.

“I will take care of the mana. As long as you carve the rune and supply the initial mana, I will consider that you have finished the advanced rune classes.”

Daren paused, looking up from his work. “Do you teach Silver Grade runes in these advanced classes?”

“Yes. We do,” she replied with a forced smile.

Daren noticed her lips quivering, betraying her lie. Whatever. He would just show the rune once and be done. “I’ll give it a try. It’s not that difficult. I just need to focus on the mouth of the bird.”

Daren’s fingers deftly began to draw the intricate diagram. A bird spitting out fire took shape on the paper, each stroke deliberate and precise. The true complexity lay in the bird’s mouth, where the actual rune symbol resided. Carving runes demanded an acute memory for various symbols, their placement, and the line weights, akin to mastering the art of drawing. In contrast, inscriptions were simpler to scribe but required a profound understanding of the spells they represented.

He worked with focused intensity, the silence punctuated by the light scratching of his quill on the paper. The room was filled with the slight scent of ink and the subtle hum of magic as he infused each line with his mana. His brow furrowed with concentration, beads of sweat forming despite the cool air. After Daren had spent fifteen minutes and some of his mana, the bird seemed to come alive—not in the literal sense, but anyone looking would see the bird poised, ready to leap off the paper with lifelike energy.

Daren wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Here it is. Shall I leave now?”

Miss Wallheart took the paper, scanning it carefully. She nodded with grudging respect.

Smiling to himself, Daren exited the runesmithing building. He had an appointment with Nyxara, and he didn’t want to miss it. The cool breeze outside was a refreshing change, and he quickened his pace, eager to start their training.

* * *

Ten minutes after Daren left, Miss Wallheart hurried into the principal’s office. She could no longer contain her excitement. An eighteen-year-old student had managed to carve a Silver Grade rune. It had never happened in her lifetime, and Princy needed to know.

“Why are you here?” Princy asked, one of his legs signing paperwork with swift, practiced motions.

“See this,” Miss Wallheart said, placing the paper on the desk. “A rune carved by the kid in less than half an hour.”

Princy paused his work and reached for the paper, his eyes gleaming with interest. “This,” he murmured, examining the rune closely. “I was talking about this. Look at the aura radiating from the rune. Even without sufficient mana, I bet this rune will work.”

A soft green glow emanated from Princy’s limb as he channeled mana into the rune. The paper trembled beneath his touch. The rune activated with a hiss, its lines blazing silver. A fire bird burst forth, its wings trailing sparks through the air. The creature opened its beak and released a sphere of flame that spun faster and faster into the air.

Heat pressed against the walls as the flame transformed into a spiraling inferno. The tornado expanded rapidly, its orange light reflecting off the polished surfaces of Princy’s office. Documents on the desk fluttered upward, caught in the sudden rush of superheated air.

In the space of a heartbeat, the fiery vortex filled the room from floor to ceiling, its roar drowning out all other sounds. The temperature spiked so quickly that sweat beaded instantly on Miss Wallheart’s forehead. She almost tumbled from her chair, but she knew Princy wouldn’t let the office burn.

The fire tornado died down as quickly as it had begun, leaving the office looking as old and ancient as ever. The air still shimmered with residual heat, and the faint scent of smoke lingered.

Princy hovered closer to the table. “Interesting. There is a hint of truth present in this rune,” he said, his eyes gleaming.

Miss Wallheart wiped the sweat from her forehead, her heart still racing. She understood only half of what Princy said, but his excitement was palpable. She had never seen the familiar this enthusiastic.

Princy turned his piercing gaze to her. “When did you carve your first Silver Grade rune, Wilma?”

Miss Wallheart shuddered, taken aback. No one knew her first name, and she never allowed herself to think about it. Yet this familiar knew. She felt exposed.

“I’m a crap runesmith. It took me forty years to carve my first Silver Grade rune,” she admitted sadly. After coming to the academy, she had always felt like this—depressed and alone. People just didn’t like runes here.

“Go back and think of a way to get him to spend more time on this. If he can carve a Gold Grade rune by the time principal comes back, the principal would be happy.”

Miss Wallheart got up and turned away, her heart filled with jealousy.

42 INTRUDER IN TRAINING

Nyxara shifted nervously, her gaze darting to the door as she waited for Daren. He had assured her they could win the midyear dueling competition. If that happened, she would finally have a chance to enter the Document Department and uncover what had happened to her mother.

After pacing for a minute, Nyxara sat in one of the stone chairs in the corner of the room. The chairs were the only furniture in the otherwise empty space, which felt like it was closing in on her. She hated empty and lonely places.

Tracing the rough-textured chair with her fingers, she mumbled, “Can you really make us win?” The stone felt cool to the touch. The academy claimed no student could damage these chairs, but she could feel the marks of countless spells on the polished surface. “We have to win, Daren. With you, I believe we might have a chance.”

Her words sounded more like a plea than anything else. In just two weeks, Daren had shown her so many miracles, small but significant, that she had started to believe they could really win the tournament. Every winner and first runner-up in the tournament got a chance to train with their favorite teacher, anyone they chose—even the principal, if he happened to be at the academy. But from her mother, she knew the principal hardly ever stayed here.

The metal door’s clang made Nyxara jump. Instead of Daren, a tall girl swept in, her spine ruler straight, moving with the grace that screamed “noble birth.” Golden hair fell in soft waves past her ears, catching the room’s light. The second-year badge shone on her crisp uniform.

She paused and stared at Nyxara before moving toward her. Her features carried the unmistakable refinement of nobility—full lips and an elegant, upturned nose that spoke of careful nourishing. With a light tap-scrape rhythm, she approached Nyxara, her leather shoes marking each purposeful step against the weathered stone floor. The scent of expensive perfume drifted forward, subtle but distinctly floral.

“Excuse me, but we have booked this training room for the evening,” Nyxara said after spending a few seconds looking at the confident girl. The girl’s presence made Nyxara’s stomach flutter with nerves and awe.

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “Are you Nyxara Tusslewood?” she asked, crossing her arms over her full-shaped chest.

Something about her seemed familiar, but Nyxara couldn’t quite place it. Maybe they had crossed paths during the induction ceremony.

“Are you here to meet me?” Nyxara asked.

The girl’s calm demeanor shifted in an instant. “So, you’re the bitch who poisoned my brother.” She charged forward, her hand swinging toward Nyxara’s face.

Nyxara shuddered and instinctively vanished, her Invisibility spell activating just in time. She rematerialized a few steps back, her heart pounding. Why had the girl attacked her? Then Nyxara realized who the girl was. Her eyes widened.

“You’re Val’s sister. You attacked my house!” Nyxara shouted as she darted away from the crazy girl.

“Show up. Mist Domain.” The girl’s face twisted with concentration as a thin barrier of mist filled the entire training room. The mist swirled around the room, creeping like fingers through the air, until it brushed against Nyxara. “Found you.”

The girl lunged through the mist, her elbow pulled back, ready to strike. Nyxara’s heart pounded. She knew the girl was out for blood. If Nyxara was caught, the best-case scenario would be an Arcane Points deduction for the girl, but Nyxara might lose a tooth or two.

Nyxara leaped to her right, narrowly avoiding the blow. The girl’s fist cut through the air, the mist dispersing around it. Val’s sister was fast—too fast in the water. Her Spell Circle must be water related.

Nyxara’s frustration simmered. Why didn’t she have a cool elemental Spell Circle? All she had was this stupid invisibility, which felt useless at the moment. Nyxara’s mind raced as she tried to think of a plan. She needed to outsmart the girl, and fast.

“You can’t run for long, girl. I’m going to thrash you today,” Val’s sister said.

“Why are you attacking me? You’ll be punished for attacking another student,” Nyxara said, edging toward the door. She nearly collided with a figure standing in her way.

“Why aren’t you fighting back?” Daren asked, standing in the metal doorframe like a mountain, his face full of disappointment.

“She’s Val’s sister and is powerful.” Nyxara jumped around Daren and stopped behind him. His clothes were dirty, and she could smell the dust lingering on him. Where had he come from?

“And how does that matter?” Daren looked over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “You have an Invisibility Spell Circle. You should be able to hit her.”

Nyxara patted her chest, letting her breath settle. “She’s powerful, and she detected me with the mist. How can I sneak up on her? All I have is this stupid…”

She bit her lip, her lips quivering. Multiple times, he’d mentioned that she had a powerful Spell Circle. In her eighteen years, he was the only one who had said that. Even her mother never said Nyxara had a powerful Spell Circle.

Daren stepped closer, his voice firm. “Make yourself invisible to everything, Nyxara. You have already reached the Peak stage of the Realm of Awakening. Don’t hold back your magic. Let it flow.”

Nyxara froze, her heart racing. Could she really do that?

Let it flow. The words echoed in her mind. Could it work if she covered more area around her? Earlier, she couldn’t manage it, but with more mana and control, maybe she could.

Taking a deep breath, Nyxara closed her eyes and focused. She activated her Spell Circle, feeling the familiar surge of energy. Slowly, a three-foot area around her turned invisible, cloaking her in a shroud of nothingness. It was her own Spell Circle size.

“But she can still find me with her mist,” she said in a barely audible whisper.

Daren shook his head, his expression stern. “You are acting stupid. You’re only using light reflection to turn invisible, and that’s not true invisibility. Look at me.” He took a step back and, with a swift motion, activated his spell. His form vanished, and only his clothes hung in midair.

Nyxara’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait, what…?” She almost lost her footing. Her heart pounded in her chest. “How did you do that?” Her glasses almost fell off her nose so she pushed them back up.

Val’s sister, who had been observing quietly, now stepped forward. Her eyes narrowed, piercing the space where Daren had stood. “Who are you?” she demanded, suspicion lacing her voice. “And how can you use someone else’s Spell Circle?”

Daren reappeared, shaking his head in frustration. “If a second-year student doesn’t know this simple refractive light spell, then I’m disappointed in this academy. What are they even teaching students?” He crossed his arms, his expression stern.

Nyxara glanced at the floor, feeling a mix of shame and confusion. “But that’s not part of the syllabus,” she murmured, her fingers catching the hem of her uniform.

“I thought your mother or some teacher would have taught you how to turn invisible for real. It’s such a waste,” Daren said, his sharp gaze burning into Nyxara.

“But no one said it to me,” Nyxara replied whispered. She felt wronged, her heart sinking. It wasn’t her fault that nobody had taught this to her.

“We’ll deal with it later.” He turned to face Val’s sister, his eyes narrowing. “Who are you, and why are you here?”

Val’s sister straightened, her posture defiant. “First, tell me who you are?”

“Daren Morin,” he replied.

“Vella Krakon,” the girl answered, her tone dripping with rudeness and hostility. “She poisoned my brother, so I’m here to take revenge. Don’t get between us. I will first beat her up and then beat you up for injuring my brother.” She clenched her fists, her anger reflected through every action of her.

“As if you can beat me up.” Daren snorted, a smirk playing on his lips.

“He told me you’re an insolent piece of garbage. I get to see it today.” Vella dashed toward Daren, her elbow pulled back for an attack, a thin layer of mana shimmering around her fist.

Damn. That would hurt. “Daren, watch out!” Nyxara shouted as she stepped back instinctively.

Daren stood like a pillar, unmoved. When Vella’s fist came at him, he raised his palm and caught it effortlessly. He’d caught a senior’s fist attack—and lightly imbued with mana too. Impossible.

Vella tried to yank her fist away, but Daren held on to it, his grip firm yet unyielding. “Let it go!” Vella shouted, her eyes burning with rage.

Her golden hair bobbed as she struggled to free her hand. Daren pulled back, yanking Vella. In the blink of an eye, she flew toward him, crashing into him headfirst.

No. He moved a fraction, and instead of hitting him, she flew toward the wall and crashed into it with a resounding thud. Those reflexes were unbelievable.

Vella stumbled to her feet, her head swaying lightly. She took a breath or two to steady herself. “Damn it, bastard.” She glared at Daren, her eyes blazing. “I’m going to crush you under my spell. Water Splash.”

Her eyes turned a deep, dangerous red. A water wave materialized in front of her, charging toward Daren with a relentless force. This was no ordinary spell. It was a specialized spell from her Water Heart Spell Circle, one that few mages could wield.

The wave surged forward, its power evident in the way it distorted the air. For a second-year student, she was able to pack a surprisingly heavy punch with her spell, enough to stun even experienced mages. Hell, with her, this wasn’t a duel anymore—this was attempted murder.

43 SHOWING VELLA HER PLACE

The air crackled with mana as Vella thrust her arms forward. Blue energy coursed through her limbs, making her muscles tremble. Her knees buckled, forcing her to the floor as she struggled to maintain the massive water spell surging from her hands.

Daren stood motionless, observing the approaching wall of water. Disappointment flashed through his mind. His lip curled. How could they teach her such a useless spell? Any mage wielding a Water Heart Spell Circle deserved better.

He shook his head in frustration. He seriously questioned what the academy was teaching its students. If this was the level of instruction, he was glad he’d been expelled in his previous life. Anything would be better than receiving such inadequate training.

If he’d been guiding her, he would have forbidden her from learning any weak spells until she reached the Realm of Harmony and learned to control her mana flow properly.

By the time the wave reached him, it had lost half of its momentum, diminishing from a threatening surge to a warning wave. Vella kneeled with shaking arms, her face flushed from exertion. She couldn’t maintain the mana drain the spell put on her. Sweat trickled down her temples, dampening wisps of her golden hair.

The weakened wave closed on Daren, water droplets scattering across his face like a summer rain. He noted the pleasant warmth of the water, neither scalding nor chilled. At least she had kept it clean, free from the murky impurities that often plagued novice Water Mages.

“Daren, it will hurt!” Nyxara shouted, her voice quavering with panic.

“Deconstruct.” A Spell Circle appeared in front of him, its glowing nodes mirroring those in Vella’s spell. Her Spell Circle was peculiar—the nodes were widely wrong. What a waste of mana.

With a focused thought, he rearranged the nodes and collapsed the spell before the wave could wet his clothes. The wave vanished, dissipating into motes of mana that shimmered.

Vella’s eyes widened in shock. “What did you do?” she asked, flopping onto her ass. Sweat ran down her cheeks, and her face turned pale—a sign of her drained mana.

Daren stared at the dissipated Spell Circle, his eyes tracing the fading glow, as he calculated the correct order of the nodes. He rearranged the nodes in his mind, trying to maintain a perfect balance of the power and mana.

He sighed softly, thinking about how someone might call his ability a cheat. They wouldn’t understand the years he had spent learning this related spell of Deconstruct. When he’d first discovered his ability, he could only observe other Spell Circles, and that, too, only when a spell was aimed directly at him. It had taken years—and countless spells harming him—to learn how to manipulate the actual spell form.

He rubbed his arm absentmindedly, remembering the pain of those early days. To master the art of node shifting on a Spell Circle or spell board, he’d had to endure losing layers of his skin and suffering injuries before he finally learned to do it right.

“Thank God the memories came with my rebirth,” he muttered to himself, feeling a wave of relief. He was grateful he didn’t have to spend years relearning those painful lessons.

“That’s impossible,” Vella mumbled, her shoulders slumping. She stared at the ground, her fingers twitching.

Daren shook his head slowly. “Did no one teach you how to use your Water Spell Heart? It’s such a rare talent, and you’re wasting it on flashy spells like this. Such a pity.”

Water Spell Heart was a rare Spell Circle that allowed the wielder to cast unlimited powerful water spells. Some even called it a source of water spells. He could hardly believe she didn’t know how to harness its true potential.

In fact, Water Spell Heart was more of a cheat code than his own Deconstruct. While people like Nyxara could only perform spells related to invisibility, people like Vella could cast almost any kind of water spell. You name it—she could cast it. But it came with a big disadvantage.

Vella finally caught her breath, her eyes narrowing in anger as she looked up at him. “Don’t talk arrogantly as if you know everything.” She clenched her fists. “Is this how you hoodwinked the girl to poison my brother?”

“He’s stupid to eat things he shouldn’t have.” Daren chuckled. “Who eats something sticky lying on his bed? Would you do it if it were you?”

Vella’s face flushed, and her lips pressed into a thin line. She couldn’t refute him. She didn’t know about Nyxara’s kick on her brother’s ass. Daren sneered as he walked toward her, his boots scuffing softly on the stone floor.

“Miss Vella, a fair warning to you: stop messing with me or my people. If you don’t heed my warning, don’t blame me if I have to teach you a lesson you won’t forget for a lifetime.” His voice held a cold edge. He hoped she would understand and stay away.

Vella’s eyes flared with defiance. “What lesson? Do you know who you are talking to? I’m a prin⁠—”

Daren squatted next to her, his face inches from hers. He traced his finger over her chin, a mocking smile on his lips. “Vella, do you know what the trouble with your Water Spell Heart is?”

Vella’s anger boiled over. She tried to punch him while sitting, but Daren’s reflexes were quick. He caught her hand midair and twisted it, forcing a gasp of pain from her.

“Water Spell Heart is a rare Spell Circle,” he said, his grip tightening, “but it’s easy to corrupt someone who has it.”

“Stop bluffing.” Vella’s voice trembled as her gaze locked onto his.

“A little impure mana goes into your Spell Circle, and you won’t be able to use your Spell Circle for years.”

Vella frowned deeply. “You’re lying.”

Daren’s lips curved into a sinister smile. He raised his hand, and a small flame flickered to life on his fingertip. “Any impurity—like this fire.”

With deliberate slowness, he lowered his hand to her chest. The flame seared through her uniform, the smell of burning fabric mingling with the acrid scent of singed skin. Vella winced, a sharp pain radiating from where the fire touched.

Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear slowly and precisely, forcing her to hear every word. “If I let this mana drill into your Spell Circle and mess up your node structure, you won’t be able to move mana through your nodes. The water spells you’re so proud of would be impossible to cast. You will cry day and night, but until a high-level mage drills his own mana into your channels and cleanses my mana from you, you won’t be saved from the agony.”

Vella’s heart pounded in her chest—he could hear it from a few inches away.

“It’s so easy to corrupt you, Vella. Just one tap.” He pushed the hole in her cloth with his finger, letting the fire touch her soft skin. “I know your primary Spell Circle is in the left side of your chest, and I can hear it pulsing with mana.”

She shuddered, pulling herself away from him. Her eyes widened, and she shook even as she tried to mask her fear.

“If you want to play with fire, come to me. Otherwise, scram,” Daren said.

Vella yanked her hand back. The color drained from her face, leaving her skin ashen. She pressed her freed hand against her chest as if feeling the rapid thump of her heartbeat.

“How do you…?” Her voice quivered as she stumbled backward. She shuffled across the floor until her spine pressed against the cold stone of the training room wall. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her chest rose and fell in rapid bursts, each breath shakier than the last.

“I know many things. Enough to burn this fire into your fifth node.” Daren laughed, watching her with a chilling satisfaction. Seeing the fear crawl through her eyes made him feel at home. “Do you want to try me?”

Vella’s eyes widened until the whites showed all around her irises. Her breath caught in her throat, and she bolted from the room. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway as she fled, each step faster than the last. The door slammed behind her with enough force to send a sound wave through the training room.

Nyxara wiped sweat from her forehead and stepped closer. “What was that, Daren?”

Daren frowned, crossing his arms. “What?”

“You sounded like you would kill her in a jiffy. That was so cold. You never sounded scary like this before—even when you threatened to kill me.”

“And you would rather have her bullying you?” he asked.

“She was just bullying, not trying to kill us,” Nyxara replied, her voice softening.

“A bully is a killer, Nyxara. You’re too naive to understand that. That spell could have put you in the infirmary if I hadn’t nullified it.”

Daren shook his head, the weight of his past pressing down on him. It would be a waste to explain the brutal rules of this world to an eighteen-year-old. The world didn’t run on apathy. It ran on blood and violence, something he was struggling to keep under control.

He glanced at Nyxara, whose wide eyes reflected both fear and confusion. He couldn’t just start killing eighteen-year-old kids. “If you’re done spouting nonsense, let’s start with your basic education of Invisibility.”

Daren walked toward the stone chair, the sound of his boots loud in the silent room. This was going to be a long teaching session, and he was already fed up with it. He would prefer killing someone to teaching an eighteen-year-old girl.

44 VELLA’S INTEREST

Vella placed her palm on the cold, rough wall. The nausea hit her hard, and she felt the sour bile rising in her throat. She bent forward to throw up. That encounter with the devil had left her mind fuzzy and disoriented. It had taken every ounce of willpower to flee without stumbling over her own feet.

Was he watching her? She turned and glanced at the metal door of the training room. It stood, ominous and silent. No one watched her. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, feeling the dampness of sweat and tears. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Licking her dry, cracked lips, she glanced back at the metal door once more before rushing out of the long corridor. The guy gave her goose bumps. His fierce gaze—that intent to kill in his eyes—haunted her. When he’d touched her, she’d felt like a predator had touched her—a raw, wild feeling. He was like a god of crime.

She burst into the infirmary. After rushing into the special room, she sat on the couch next to her brother’s bed, her breathing heavy. The room was private, reserved for people of their noble status, a quiet sanctuary away from prying eyes.

Val blinked weakly, his sunken eyes widening as he took in her appearance. “Sister, what’s wrong with you? Your uniform is exposing your skin,” he mumbled.

His face was gaunt, the hollows in his cheeks more pronounced. In just two days, he had lost dozens of pounds. He looked like a skeleton, all because of that bitch—Nyxara.

She pulled a towel from the cabinet, her hands trembling. Wrapping it around her neck, she covered the tear in her uniform. The fabric felt rough against her skin.

“Did someone harass you? I will kill them!” Val screamed, though his voice was so weak it barely reached the door. He tried to sit up, but his frail body betrayed him, collapsing back onto the bed.

“Nobody harassed me. Calm down. I just had an accident.”

A chill ran through her core as she thought about Daren’s words. She adjusted the towel around her neck, feeling the fabric scratch her skin. That guy’s words. They’d been like venom dripping from a creature’s mouth.

“Brother, tell me one thing. Have you found something odd about Daren Morin in the past few days?”

Val looked at the ceiling, his eyes distant. “He was always an odd guy. He was a dud. I heard he had the guts to call you his future girlfriend, so I beat him black-and-blue, and then he lived like a rat.”

Vella arched her brows. This was new to her. “Oh. Did something like that happen again?”

“I don’t know,” Val admitted, his voice tinged with regret. “I heard from someone, and you know me. I reacted without thinking, and here we are with a rivalry that runs deep in our blood.”

Her mind raced. Had Daren really liked her and called her his future girlfriend?

“Has anything happened recently?” she asked.

The Daren Morin her brother described didn’t match the predator she’d just met. His words still echoed in her mind, and she felt a cold chill every time she recalled his dangerous eyes boring a hole through her brain and prying into her thoughts. He knew the secret of her Spell Circle. Only the elder of her family knew about that.

Her brother thought, scratching his head. “Yes. It started a couple weeks ago. Before that, he would have pissed in his pants if I touched him, but that day, he behaved like he would eat me alive. He also spent the night in the infirmary, and then he blasted me with his rune. It was all a fluke. He has no talent.”

“It wasn’t a fluke, my brother. That guy is a monster. Don’t mess with him,” Vella warned, leaning forward and staring intently at him.

Val narrowed his eyes as thought trying to see through her words. “Did you fight with him and lose?”

“Of course not—I was busy somewhere else. But stay away from him.” She got up, adjusting her uniform, and walked out. “Daren Morin,” she whispered, savoring the thrill it brought.

He was a dangerous guy, but she loved dangerous guys. Her heart raced at the thought of him. The way he moved, the quiet intensity in his eyes—everything about him fascinated her.

If he wanted to make her his future girlfriend, he would have to earn her permission first. She smiled to herself, imagining the power she held in this game. This was getting interesting. She felt a surge of excitement, her pulse quickening with anticipation.

45 CALL FROM THE OUTSIDE

Nyxara approached Daren, the color drained from her face after her confrontation with Vella. A shaft of moonlight pierced through the glass ceiling, bathing her features in a silvery sheen that emphasized her exhaustion. She stopped a few feet from him.

Daren shifted in the stone chair, crossing his legs. “Show me your Spell Circle again.”

His fingers absently traced the smooth depressions on the chair’s surface. The familiar texture made him pause, recognition dawning as he processed what he was touching. The realization hit him like a physical force. These chairs were crafted from White Monster Marble.

“Really, academy? White Monster Marble for training-room chairs?” White Monster Marble was practically mythical—the hide of a legendary beast transformed into stone through processes few understood.

“Did you say something?” Nyxara asked, looking confused.

“Wait. Pour some mana into this chair first.” Daren ran his palm across the chair’s cool surface, feeling the material’s natural resonance with magical energy. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. What a waste of the beast hide.

“Pour mana into the stone chair?” Nyxara stared at the chair, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Daren smirked, leaning back casually. “Just do it, and you’ll find out.”

Nyxara pushed her glasses back onto her nose, her gaze wavering.

“Just do it, lady,” Daren repeated, more firmly this time.

“Nyxara!” she snapped. Pursing her lips, Nyxara placed her palm on the chair’s edge. She hesitated for a moment then poured a little mana into it.

The chair groaned softly, absorbing the mana. It adjusted to Daren’s shape, becoming softer where his body touched and firmer in other areas, forming the shape of a reclining chair.

Nyxara jumped back, her face becoming paler. “What magic is this?”

“You don’t know the use of these stone chairs?” Daren chuckled. He leaned forward, tapping the armrest. “They’re made of White Monster Marble. If you pour a little mana into them, they shift around the user and become the most comfortable thing in the world. I had them…”

He bit his lip, remembering. His old office had been furnished with this rare material, and he’d loved how it smelled—the divine scent of comfort. Daren glanced around the room, realization dawning. As far as he knew, the beast hide was rare in the market. How had the academy gotten hold of so much that they could install it in all forty training rooms?

Nyxara shook her head slowly. “I didn’t know this. I bet no one knows this. We just wondered why they placed these chairs in the training room and why they’d survived so long.”

“They survived by absorbing mana from your spells.” Daren stood up, giving the chair a light pat. “Let’s see if we can steal one for our house.”

Nyxara pointed to the thick iron bolts embedded into the chair legs, which secured them to the stone floor. “We can’t. They’re heavy and bolted to the ground.”

“That can be changed. Anyway, show me your Spell Circle and how you’re using it to turn visible. Be slow and deliberate.”

Nyxara’s brow furrowed. “Can you see my Spell Circle?”

Daren shrugged.

Nyxara took a deep breath and activated her Spell Circle.

“Deconstruct,” Daren called out in his mind, letting the mana flow into his Spell Circle.

Nyxara’s form shimmered and vanished, turning invisible. A Spell Circle materialized in front of Daren, its intricate patterns glowing softly. He noticed that it had altered slightly since her last breakthrough. Her Spell Sigil, a delicate flower, remained closed at the center, while the surrounding nodes had rearranged themselves.

Daren leaned closer, examining the circle. “Channel your mana through node four once more,” he whispered as he continued to study the patterns.

Nullifying a spell was a straightforward task; collapsing a couple of nodes would suffice. However, understanding the structure and intricacies of higher-level spells required more effort. With his two hundred years of accumulated knowledge, analyzing an Invisibility Spell Circle presented no significant challenge.

A blue line appeared in Nyxara’s Spell Circle, moving through the nodes he’d already instructed her to use. The mana zigzagged through the nodes, each traversal drawing out a hidden power from the Mana Portal.

Daren watched intently. “You’re using less mana in your node four,” he noted, his voice firm but patient. “Did no one tell you to use only a limited amount of mana initially and increase the quantity when you push it into the third node in your sequence?”

“What did you say?” she asked, puzzled. Her form shimmered before turning visible again, and the Spell Circle in front of him shattered into fragments of light. The circle only remained while the spell was active.

“Don’t stop the spell when I’m talking,” Daren said, irritation bubbling inside him. It had been ages since he’d had to talk with a naive mage. “Use another mana channel to supply mana to your node four when your primary channel is pushing mana through it. You’re failing because you’re supplying less mana to your node four, and it lets only half of you shift to real invisibility.”

“Half shift, more mana channels… what are you talking about, Daren?” Nyxara frowned, her eyes full of confusion.

Daren sighed, rubbing his temples. “Do you have a stick somewhere?”

“A stick?” Nyxara’s frown deepened.

“Of course, a stick so I can demonstrate to you. Or do you want me to touch you everywhere to find out where you’re turning invisible and where not?” He arched an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

Nyxara’s cheeks turned a rosy hue. “I’ll get one from outside.” She turned and hurried out the door, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Daren sat back down and melted into the perfect softness of the stone chair. It cradled him, the cool surface feeling just right against his back. He could easily fall asleep here. He bet there were image-spell arrays installed inside the training room to keep him from stealing this chair. Good things should be with people who knew how to enjoy them. What could these greenhorn students possibly understand about that?

And he hadn’t even used the other functions of the monster’s hide. The massage and the mana-storage function would blow Nyxara’s mind if he showed them to her. He chuckled to himself.

A full minute later, Nyxara appeared with a thin stick in her hand. She was slightly out of breath, her cheeks still flushed from her earlier blush. When Daren grabbed the stick, it felt surprisingly heavy for its small size. It was smooth and cool to the touch and clearly well crafted.

“Good one. It’s made up of Thick Sickle Wood. Where did you find it?” Daren asked, turning the stick over in his hands.

Nyxara wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “I found it in the room for props and other material.”

“These people are filthy rich,” Daren said, shaking his head. He might just raid that room before running away from the academy. “Anyway, get invisible, and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Nyxara nodded and cast her Invisibility spell after a nod. The air rippled for a moment before she disappeared. Daren started poking her with the stick, trying to find the invisible portion on her body. For most of the places, the stick would adhere her skin before he pulled it back.

“Not there!” Nyxara shouted, her voice coming from next to his stick.

“Just bear with it,” Daren instructed, poking another spot. The stick slipped through, and his hand brushed against the rough fabric of her uniform.

“What the heck? Why…?” Nyxara’s voice shook with confusion.

Her reaction startled Daren. He pushed his mana into her Spell Circle to ensure that she remain invisible. “Are you fucking stupid?” he shouted, yanking the stick back. “Trying to turn visible when the stick is through you? Do you want to die?”

He scanned the surroundings quickly, the thought of almost killing a student in the academy flashing through his mind. Not that he felt there was anything wrong with it, but getting caught would cause a scandal. Nyxara turned visible, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Why are you scolding me so much?” she asked, her voice breaking. “You didn’t tell me about this.”

“Stop whining. Did you see what happened?” He pointed at the stick.

Nyxara nodded, wiping her tears away with trembling fingers. “My stomach was more than invisible. It wasn’t even there. I’ve never felt that before. How did it happen?”

“That’s what I meant when I said you are doing the Spell Circle in a half-hearted way. If you can push more mana into node four, your entire body will dematerialize, and most attacks will pass through you. Do you get it?”

Nyxara’s eyes widened. “Are you teaching me about Void Form?” she whispered, shuddering.

Daren frowned deeply. Where had this lady learned about Void Form? He narrowed his eyes, suspicion creeping into his mind. “It’s not Void Form. Void Form requires a Void Circle, and those who have it shift into another dimension. It’s entirely different.” He stepped closer. “When you turn invisible, you scatter yourself in the air, and that allows the attacks to pass through you.”

Nyxara tilted her head, her brows furrowing in confusion. “So I can do it as long as I pass my mana through some other channel, but what other channel?”

“Did they not teach you the Second Channel Cultivation Technique?”

“No.” Nyxara hesitated, running a hand through her hair. “Wait. I remember my mother saying something about it. They teach it in the second year.”

“Fools,” Daren muttered, shaking his head. The more he learned about the academy, the more disappointed he became. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I will impart the technique to you. Your task is to learn it in two days. If we want to win the duel, you have to learn to turn invisible completely.”

Nyxara nodded, determination flashing in her eyes.

Daren conjured a small mana fire on his finger, its ethereal blue glow casting shadows on the walls. He placed it gently on Nyxara’s temple, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his touch.

“Don’t resist. The knowledge will appear in your mind.” As he transferred the technique to her, a sudden jolt ran through the ring on his finger, disrupting his attention. He focused, sensing an unusual disturbance. “Ashini, what have you done? I didn’t expect you to do this so fast,” Daren muttered to himself.

He turned toward the city, his gaze piercing the distance. It was clear he had to make a trip outside. This new trouble needed to be dealt with immediately.

46 TRAILING

Daren dipped into the shallow stream, the cool water lapping at his skin as he sank rapidly. Mana pulsed around him in a protective cocoon, pushing the water away from his body. The gentle current tugged at his clothes while he swam beneath the surface, sunlight filtering through the clear water in wavering patterns.

After swimming underwater for a few minutes, he spotted the massive boulder—a natural barrier separating the water-circulation system from the hidden spring. Its weathered surface was covered in a thin layer of green algae.

Placing his palms on the damp, rough stone, he pulled himself up and rolled into the dark tunnel entrance. A cloud of dust swirled up around him, carrying the musty scent of long-abandoned passages, but the thin mana barrier surrounding his body deflected the particles. The pristine state of his academy uniform remained untouched—he wouldn’t risk sullying it as he had to get back in through the same route.

These tunnels predated the academy’s construction, their origins lost to time. They remained undiscovered due to their location beneath an old dungeon entrance tucked away behind the academy mountains, where the shallow streams discouraged exploration. In the aftermath of the academy’s destruction, Daren had ventured here once, searching for the dungeon entrance. He hadn’t been able to find it, nor had others—of course, he hadn’t been an evil lord at that time.

However, someone had found this tunnel system during one of the earlier excursions—an old piece of forgotten history that no one from the academy cared to check on. Daren would have avoided this route, as it required using mana to cover himself when he swam deep into the stream, but he had no way to walk out of the academy legally.

“They’re treating people like prisoners, locking them in during weekdays,” Daren said as he stepped through the dusty pathways, the air thick with particles that could easily provoke sneezes and other unpleasant reactions. He knew the threat, so he maintained a continuous barrier of mana around him.

The academy followed a strict no-city-visit rule on weekdays. The only thing working in Daren’s favor was the Crystal Heart Spider sitting on his shoulder. Its presence ensured that the Depth Dwellers—spider-type mana beasts that roamed these tunnels—didn’t come looking for him.

Daren adjusted his academy uniform, brushing off some imaginary dust. The crystal spider moved slightly, its tiny legs shifting on his shoulder. He glanced at the spider.

“Little friend, where the hell were you when I was teaching that woman some sense?” Daren rubbed the scaled back of the tiny spider, feeling the intricate patterns under his fingertips.

The spider had gone missing after his encounter with Miss Wallheart. As he thought about it, he remembered seeing the little guy moving a book in her office. What had it been trying to do?

The spider’s small body quivered, and then it tossed a crystal out of its mouth. Daren picked up the mana crystal, brushing his fingers over its rough surface. It weighed only a fraction of a pound, but it held more value than gold for him. This thing could help him cast a Realm of Synergy spell easily. He now had two mana crystals, and he could use them to break through into the Advancement stage.

Should he break through before going out? No, he first had to find out what had happened with Ashini.

A few minutes later, he stepped outside. The afternoon had given way to an early sunset, and the biting chill hit him hard in the face. His thin layer of mana offered little protection against the relentless cold.

The exit from the secret tunnel led him away from the magical metal gates, so he couldn’t detect the comforting scent of bread and pastries to ease his mood. Thank God, he spotted the same cab he had used before. The old man with a gray beard stood next to the horse, wiping it clean with slow, methodical strokes. His jacket had gained one more layer as the cold had only become harsher.

Using a little mana, Daren shifted the structure of his nose and lips to make himself look different from his normal self or the previous self. There were hundreds of students, so the cabdriver shouldn’t recognize him.

The old man smiled at him and tipped his hat. “Are you looking for a cab to the city, dear sir?”

“Yes, but to the North Slums.”

The cab driver frowned, his gray eyes narrowing a little as he considered the request.

“One lumen for the to-and-fro journey,” Daren said firmly.

“Fair enough, but can I ask you one thing, sir?” The old man adjusted his scarf, his breath visible in the icy air.

Daren nodded.

“Is there something special at the slums? I met a young magician going there a few days ago, and a man came asking about it the other day. I don’t get why everyone is interested in the slums. The women in those places aren’t hygienic. Unless…” He bit his lip then looked away. “Please forgive this old man.”

Daren gazed at the old man, who shifted nervously. He wasn’t offended by the man’s assumption that he might be visiting a brothel. People had needs, and Daren didn’t judge them for it. However, the mention of others heading to the slums piqued his interest.

Without saying anything, Daren climbed into the cab. The wooden seat creaked under his weight. The last time he’d ventured out, the cold had bitten into his skin, and it hadn’t even been the peak of winter. This time, despite the cold being harsher and more penetrating, he hardly felt it. The breakthrough in his Mana Body Strengthening had fortified his internal body significantly.

“Let’s go.” Daren handed the lumen to the cabdriver as the old man climbed up into the driver’s seat with deliberate care.

Despite his age, the driver handled the horses with impressive skill, steering them smoothly through the icy streets. The cab glided over the cobblestones. Daren barely felt any bumps in the road.

As they moved toward the city, Daren leaned forward. “Old sir, you mentioned someone asking about the slums. Can you tell me more about that?”

The old man straightened in his seat, his voice hesitant. “Dear sir, I shouldn’t be talking about others.”

Daren reached into his pocket and slipped another lumen toward the driver. The old man took it with a nod, his fingers trembling and cold. It was clear he drove the cab in winter for the extra money, and only academy students would pay him so generously.

The driver cleared his throat. “Thank you, sir, but I know little about that bulky man. He was asking if anyone was heading to the North Slums. You were the only one, so I remembered him.”

Daren frowned. “It wasn’t me, old sir.”

The old man chuckled. “Dear sir, your face is different, but the ring in your hand is the same. I can’t miss such a unique ring.”

Daren felt a pang of shame. Maybe he had become too complacent after ruling as an evil lord. Back then, when he ruled an entire region, he hadn’t had to care about anyone.

The ring gleamed in the dim light. “This ring.”

He cast a spell to make it vanish from his finger. It was the same light refractive spell he had displayed to Vella and Nyxara. He leaned forward in his seat.

“Tell me more, old man.” Daren had even changed his manner of talking with the old man, to hide his original identity, but it didn’t work.

The driver hesitated then spoke. “He had a distinct smell, sir, like the one from the taverns on the far east of the city. I think he was a Beast Hunter.”

“A mana Beast Hunter.” Daren frowned.

The city was surrounded by a mana ley line, making it susceptible to attacks by mana beasts and familiars. People who specialized in killing or capturing these creatures were called Beast Hunters. They were mages who either learned outside the academy or were trained by city clans. Sometimes, the mayor organized hunting parties, with his soldiers leading the charge.

“Yes, sir. I think so,” the old man said.

Daren spread his mana around the cab, covering a hundred meters, to check for any potential threats. He sensed no one following them.

“Anything else you can tell me, old man?” he asked.

The driver scratched his head thoughtfully. “Yes. The man spoke with someone else when I dropped him near the mayor’s mansion. The guy he talked to belonged to the Mercenary Guild. I know their official uniform.”

The Mercenary Guild. That made things more interesting. Daren had a rivalry with the head of the Mercenary Guild, but it wasn’t as big as his grudge against Dongra. He might have to just let it go.

The smell of hot buns drifted into the cab as they entered the city streets. The road was cleaned of ice in this area. The little bumps from the cobblestones ceased, and the ride became smoother.

Daren tensed as he sensed three people following them the moment they crossed into the city limits. Someone had marked the cab, and they were coming for him.

47 INFILTRATION

The cab’s wooden wheels clattered against the cobblestones, weaving between market goers and street vendors. The main thoroughfare stretched wide enough for two cabs to pass comfortably, its edges lined with wooden stalls and canvas awnings. Flickering torchlight from shop walls cast dancing shadows across the faces of evening shoppers, the warm glow mixing with the scent of cooking food from nearby vendors.

Daren gripped the metal support bar inside the cab, his other hand adjusting the thin fabric curtain. “Old man, just take the cab to the slums and then turn around.” He positioned himself near the cab’s edge, muscles tensing for the leap. “I’ll meet you in the market street in a few hours. You still have to get me back to the academy. If someone asks, you know how to answer them.”

“But, sir…” The driver’s concerned voice faded into the street noise as Daren launched himself from the moving cab during a sharp turn.

His boots hit the stone, and he smoothly sidestepped a startled couple. Within moments, he had disappeared into the crowd, just another shadow among the bustling masses of the evening market. In a few dozen steps, Daren spotted a cloth vendor’s stall. He quickly bought a common hoodie and trousers made of rough brown fabric. After moving to the back of the shop, he changed into the new clothes. The coarse material felt itchy against his skin. He packed his bright-yellow academy uniform into a sack and slung it over his shoulder. If he’d had the dimensional artifact, this could have been an easy affair.

The cab had moved slowly because of the traffic, so he caught up with it in a few seconds. As he scanned the crowd, he spotted the stalkers—a burly man in a black hood and a tall, thin girl with a scar running down her cheek. These amateurs might as well have worn signs announcing themselves as followers.

Daren kept his distance, trailing the duo with care. They moved so slowly that he had time to buy a sandwich from a street vendor, the warm bread and savory filling offering a brief comfort. He casually ate it as he followed them toward the slums, the bustling market gradually fading into quieter, more ominous streets.

As instructed, the old cab driver turned at the edge of the slums and then stopped at a common cab driver’s inn and went in. The two followers seemed startled, exchanging nervous glances as they searched the cab after the driver went into the inn. The scarred girl hesitated before stepping inside, presumably to inquire about the driver. Daren had already briefed the driver on what to say, ensuring that their cover would remain intact.

“These two morons. They don’t even have a little subtlety in their actions,” Daren mumbled as he hid in the shadows. If he was teaching Following People 101, these two would be his star examples of what not to do. Maybe he should offer them some pointers… after he was done with them, of course.

Now Daren had to wait and see what the two were going to do next. He leaned against the wall of a nearby building, his eyes never leaving the burly man. He didn’t have to wait long. The duo soon began moving toward the inner part of the city, their pace quickening with each step. Daren followed at a safe distance, weaving through the crowds that filled the busy streets. This was other side of the market, and it sold a lot of forged magical artifacts. Ninety-five percent of them were counterfeits.

After twenty minutes, the duo entered a small shop and disappeared. The sign above the door was faded, barely readable. Daren scanned them as they slipped into the house attached to the back of the shop.

Daren looked at the shop next to the first one. It sold common weapons. From there he could easily scan the area the duo had entered.

The smell of metal and oil hit him as he stepped inside. He moved toward the back, pretending to examine a row of swords. With a subtle gesture, he spread his mana around him, scanning through the walls and focusing on the duo’s direction. It was a simple scanning spell, easy to use and hard to detect unless someone had a higher mana cultivation. He felt a faint trace of their presence, confirming that they were still inside. Daren took a deep breath, considering his next move. For ten minutes, he scanned the other place and prepared a map of it.

“So, they have an underground place. Interesting.”

Daren picked up a knife and played with it in his hand. The blade felt cool and balanced, its fine craftsmanship evident in the way it glinted under the shop’s low lights. With an inscription, it could become a deadly weapon in a mage’s hand. In his early years of crime, he’d learned to use knives and daggers and become practiced in the throwing and slashing arts.

“If you don’t want to buy, then get out!” a young man sitting behind the counter shouted. His voice cut through the quiet hum of the shop. “Don’t waste our time.” He tapped the glass counter with an impatient hand, shooing Daren away.

The knife swirled between Daren’s fingers, the cool metal a familiar weight. With a swift flick of his wrist, the blade sliced through the air, embedding itself into the wooden wall next to the young man’s ear. A thin line of blood trickled down his earlobe. The young man’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth hanging open in stunned silence.

Daren stepped forward, his voice low and menacing. “Don’t fucking provoke people who are holding knives in their hands.” He paused, letting the words sink in before turning on his heel and leaving the shop. Of course, he took a few knives with him.

Outside, Daren took a deep breath, the cool air clearing his mind. For a moment, he had seriously considered killing the rude shopkeeper, but he hadn’t wanted to attract unnecessary attention from the authorities. He would probably get that chance in the next shop.

With his hoodie drawn tight and a menacing smile on his face, Daren stepped into the shop. The air inside was thick with the scent of dried herbs and decay, like a forgotten apothecary. Dusty shelves lined the walls, cluttered with broken-down items and mysterious jars.

It reminded Daren of his time working with a dark alchemist. Once, Daren had opened a dark alchemist’s jar of ingredients and found a rotten brain being devoured by snakelike insects inside. He’d thrown the jar in disgust, earning a sharp reprimand from the alchemist, who had even threatened to put Daren’s brain in the next jar if he messed things up again. That was long before Daren had become powerful. Back then, getting brains had been quite easy in the Helms of the East, so Daren hadn’t ended up as an experimentation subject.

An old man sat up, stopping whatever he was doing below the counter. “What do you want? Go away. The shop isn’t selling anything for a month.” He shooed Daren away.

Daren frowned. This street’s vendors had a nasty habit of shooing people away, and he didn’t like it. Without a second thought, a knife shot out of Daren’s hand, piercing the old man’s forehead and killing him instantly. Blood splattered across the counter, pooling on the worn wooden surface. He deserved to be dead. And even if he didn’t, Daren didn’t care.

48 THE DEN OF THUGS

Daren moved past the counter, his boots leaving prints in the dust. The old shopkeeper’s body sprawled across the glass display, blood still running down the sides in thick rivulets. The metallic tang in the air grew stronger with each passing minute.

Behind the counter, a young woman lay unconscious, her wrists bound with coarse rope. Her clothes were torn and askew, evidence of the violence she’d nearly endured. After another few minutes, Daren thought, the trauma would have been irreversible.

He exhaled slowly and turned toward the shop’s rear, careful to keep his footsteps silent on the worn floorboards. The girl would need to stay unconscious for the moment. Her screams or desperate pleas for help would only complicate matters, drawing unwanted attention to Daren’s work here.

A massive metal storage shelf stood wedged against the door leading to the attached house. Most would waste time trying to wrestle with its weight, but Daren observed the shelf’s construction with calculating eyes. The trap would work normally, but Daren saw through it in one glance.

He raised his hand toward the shelf. “Deconstruct.”

A faint blue rune lit up on the shelf, casting a soft glow on the nearby tools and crates. Daren accessed the Spell Circle used to hide the actual door next to the shelf. The shelf was a trap designed to mislead intruders. One needed a magical key to enter through the real door. Daren didn’t have the key, but he had Deconstruct.

The Spell Circle was intricate, etched with precision and care. It was clear this wasn’t the work of a Realm of Awakening Mage. Someone more advanced had cast it and even supplied it with a tiny artificial mana core cleverly concealed at the back. Breaking it would attract the caster’s attention.

Daren’s eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. Moving around the Spell Circle would be challenging. He would have to change the node structure, a task that would take hours. This would defeat the purpose, but he had to get in no matter what. Deconstruct was a very good Spell Circle to have, but it had its limitations. He couldn’t change every spell.

Anyway. Sighing, he made a decision. If he couldn’t avoid triggering the alarm, then so be it. He lifted the heavy metal shelf and felt the strain in his muscles as he placed it aside. The clanging echoed through the underground chamber, setting off the alarm.

Footsteps on the other side of the door grew closer. Daren pulled his elbow back, coating it with a thin layer of mana. Grunting, he pushed his strength behind his fist and smashed it through the fake door. The wood splintered, revealing a dark void beyond the shattered remains.

Daren kicked the other fragments of the door aside and stepped through, almost stumbling over a body lying on the floor. The stench of decay hit him, making his stomach churn.

“Fuck! Who keeps a dead person behind a secret door?” he muttered. “These people are really disgusting.”

“Who are you?” A tall guy with a sword emerged from a small opening in the floor, his blade glinting as it pointed directly at Daren. He wore a gray shirt, half-tucked into short orange-striped underwear, looking disheveled yet comedic, and he had a scar.

“I’m here to meet two friends.” Daren walked forward, totally ignoring the guy with the sword. If he didn’t attack, then Daren wouldn’t retaliate. The old guy outside had died because he would have raped the girl, which Daren hadn’t wanted to happen. Even the evil lord had his bottom line.

The tall guy’s eyes narrowed. “I asked who you are.” He swung his sword in a wide arc.

Daren raised his dagger and parried the attack. Metal clanged against metal, producing a couple of sparks in the darkness.

“Damn it, ant. You broke through into our lair, so you can only die.” The man pulled his arm back and stabbed the sword at Daren.

Daren again parried it with his knife. The guy couldn’t even be called an amateur in swordsmanship. A real swordsman would have already swung the sword a hundred times, overwhelming Daren. Well, these people did not do a good job at following a target, so he couldn’t expect them to excel in swordsmanship.

“Damn it. Who are you?” The guy’s arms shone with a thin layer of blue-tinted mana, and the sword hummed with power, sending vibrations through the air. Sweat dripped down his temples as he raised the sword over his head, muscles tensing with the effort. The blade whistled as he brought it down in a swift, desperate motion.

“I gave you a chance.” Daren stepped forward smoothly, his movements controlled. The dagger found its mark between the ribs, sinking into the tall guy’s heart with a soft, wet sound.

The guy’s eyes went blank as realization dawned on him. His fingers twitched and uncurled one by one. The sword slipped from his grasp and struck the floor with a hollow clank before his body crumpled beside it. A final breath escaped his lips.

“Amateur. Leaving yourself open like that is begging for death.” Daren wiped the dagger on his gray shirt, watching as dark red spread across the worn fabric.

A girl stepped out of the opening, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. “Damn it, Pat, what took you so long?” She froze, her gaze locking onto the lifeless body sprawled on the floor. Her face paled.

Daren raised the dagger to his chest, the metal catching the light. “Get out if you don’t want to die.”

The girl’s eyes filled with rage. “Damn you,” she cried, ducking back into the shadows of the hole in the floor.

Daren watched her retreat, thinking she was either clever or foolish to think she could bring help in time. He decided not to give them the chance and leapt into the hole. As he descended, the scent of damp earth filled his nostrils. He landed with a solid thud on the wooden floor below. The underground chamber was dimly lit, casting long shadows against the rough stone walls. He had scanned the room and counted six people. Two were already dead, leaving four more to deal with.

A sudden whoosh caught his attention. He sensed a fireball hurtling toward him, the air around it crackling from the intense heat. He could feel the temperature spike as the giant flame roared through the air.

What a fool.

49 FIREBALL

Fireball, one of the most common Spell Circles mages got when they awakened—so common that some academies would sigh in disappointment at yet another fire-wielding student showing up at their doors. They just rejected such mages.

Daren tracked the blazing sphere hurtling through the stale underground air. Orange light painted dancing shadows on the chamber walls as the spell closed in, its heat already prickling his skin.

Though basic and widespread, a fireball could reduce an unprepared victim to cinders in moments. The spell became truly dangerous once a mage reached the Realm of Synergy, where it could evolve into a relentless homing fireball.

His leather shoe scraped against the aged floorboard as he shifted his stance, eyes locked on the approaching flame. The damn moron had used a fireball while inside the underground chamber made of dry wooden beams and walls. Was he trying to fucking burn everyone to death? The confined space left no room for error.

“Deconstruct.” Daren’s fingers moved instinctively, touching specific points in the air where he knew his Spell Circle would materialize.

Fireball had been the first spell he’d learned to take apart in his previous life, its familiar patterns as clear to him as written words. He could even do some interesting things with this spell, like sending it back toward the caster. However, he had to tone it down as well. Otherwise, he might just become the fool himself and burn the entire chamber down.

“One-five-three-seven. Not bad, but if I change the five to three, it will just circle back toward you. Let’s reduce the power by half by changing seven to eight.” He chuckled as he rearranged the nodes, feeling the familiar hum of magic under his fingertips. Once, he’d sent a Fire Storm back toward enemy mages and burned them to ashes. It had felt so satisfactory to see their ashen faces.

The fireball, which had been hurtling toward him, veered off course. It sped toward the girl who had come searching for the dead Pat.

“What the hell?” The girl leaped to the side, her eyes wide with panic. Despite her quick reflexes, the fireball still struck her, igniting her clothes in a burst of flames. The acrid smell of burning fabric and hair filled the air.

“You, stop it!” she cried as her flesh burned rapidly.

“Damn it!” The burly guy who had followed Daren sprang into action. He grabbed a thick blanket and lunged toward the girl, trying desperately to smother the flames. The heat singed his hands as he fought to save her.

It was no use. The fireball’s magic was too potent. Within moments, the girl was consumed by the fire, leaving her charred body behind.

Daren nodded. “Good work.” The burly guy had successfully extinguished the flames. Daren had depended on that. If the guy hadn’t done it, Daren would have had to run out of the chamber.

“What did you do with my fireball?” the scarred tall guy roared. He unleashed three fireballs toward Daren, the flames crackling as they sliced through the air.

Daren smirked, unfazed. “And I thought you would have learned the lesson.”

He raised his hand, fingers dancing as he focused. One by one, he deconstructed the fireballs, watching as two simply vanished into wisps of smoke. The third, he redirected with accuracy, reducing the damage to a mere fraction before sending it hurtling toward the burly guy.

He only needed one of them alive to discover their motive for following him.

The burly guy was prepared this time. He swiftly raised his arm, and a translucent, shimmering shield appeared around it, catching the incoming fireball. The flames licked hungrily against the barrier, but the burly guy remained unharmed, his stance steady and resolute.

“Stop sending fireballs, you moron!” the burly guy shouted.

The scarred one halted, his expression morphing into one of disbelief as he stared wide-eyed at the burned body of the woman. “Martha…” He kneeled next to the girl, gently cradling her head in his arms. Her hair was singed, and the smell of burned flesh filled the air. “You fucking bastard, I’m going to kill you!”

His voice was raw with rage. He raised his arm while squatting down, channeling his mana into a giant fireball, its heat causing the air around him to shimmer. Amber images danced on the gray wooden beams. The guy was going to blow this place.

Daren glanced at the portable staircase, the only exit from the chamber. He might have to run if things got out of hand.

“Stop it, Balt.” Another guy stepped out of the shadows, his stance authoritative. He had a long beard that swayed as he walked. “Are you trying to burn this fucking place down?” He wore a fine leather jacket, much better than other thugs, who wore rough robes and shirts.

“But, boss, this…” Balt’s voice wavered, his eyes still locked on Daren.

“So what if he killed your woman? Find someone else. Is that too difficult?” the boss guy said, placing his palm firmly on Balt’s shoulder.

Balt’s face twisted with anger, but he retracted the spell he was building up and glared at Daren, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“Sir, may I know why you are here and killing people left and right?” the boss guy asked, his eyes narrowing.

Daren shrugged. “I just came to seek some answers, but your foolish people kept attacking, so I killed them.”

“She didn’t attack you, bastard,” Balt shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. “Why did you kill her?”

Daren’s gaze remained steady. “I gave her a chance to run away, but she chose to come down,” he answered calmly. “And for the old man—I just didn’t like him, so I killed him.”

The burly man shivered, his eyes darting nervously between Daren and the boss.

“Sir, there has to be some misunderstanding,” the boss guy said, forcing a smile onto his face as he adjusted his leather jacket. “Please ask your questions, and we will answer them to the best of our knowledge. Let’s make the big thing into something small and the small thing into nothing. We’ll just forget this ever happened.”

He was smart.

“You two—why were you following me?” Daren asked, fixing his gaze on the burly man.

The burly guy swallowed hard. “We… you’re an academy student.”

“I am,” Daren confirmed, stepping forward. “So tell me why you followed me. If you give me satisfactory answers, I may walk away without killing you all.”

The burly guy took a hesitant step back, his breath quickening.

The boss guy shifted uncomfortably, glancing nervously at his companions before speaking. “Sir. We were asked to follow you and collect information. We meant no harm, sir,” he said, his voice cracking. He wiped the sweat from his brow. “We are common goons who do things for money. We were promised one hundred lumen to follow anyone coming out of the academy and report it to the one who paid us.”

“And who paid you money?” Daren asked, taking another step closer.

The burly guy shook, his hands fidgeting. “We don’t have details. There’s an Information Council that pays us to track people.”

Daren rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Information Council,” he muttered.

The name was familiar, reminiscent of the Mercenary Guild, which collected and sold information on people. They had powerful backers in the right places, making them untouchable. If they had asked the goons to track him, it would be hard to get information about the person who had originally ordered it.

Daren stepped forward, closing the distance until only a foot remained between him and the boss man. The light cast long shadows on the grimy walls, adding to the tension.

“Well, you did the right thing by mentioning the Information Council,” Daren said, his voice low but menacing. “I would be a fool to go against them right now. But you forgot to hide the emblem in your shirt pocket.” He reached out, grabbed the boss guy’s neck, and squeezed it hard until his eyes bulged with fear and pain. “Now, tell me, who sent you for real?”

“Leave the boss, you damn bastard,” Balt snarled, his voice dripping with anger. He sent a fireball hurtling toward Daren from a dangerously close distance. “Let’s see how you handle this without burning the whole place down.”

Daren turned toward the scarred guy, his mind blazing with rage. The heat from the fireball singed the air around him, but Daren remained focused.

“You seek your death,” Daren said, staring deep into the scarred guy’s eyes. Well, Daren had no issue with giving him what he wanted.

50 FIRE IN THE HOLE

A silvery dagger materialized in Daren’s left hand, its blade radiating waves of intense cold. The air around the weapon crystallized, forming delicate frost patterns that danced across his skin.

The approaching fireball cast an orange glow across his face, its heat already reaching him. With a flick of his wrist, he launched the blade through the air. It cut through the spell, dispersing it into harmless sparks before finding its mark in Balt’s exposed throat.

Dark blood trickled from the wound, freezing midflow into crimson icicles. Balt’s blood froze before it hit the floor, a crimson icicle hanging from the wound in his throat. The frost spread like a spiderweb across his skin, turning his flesh brittle and pale. A final, rattling breath escaped his lips, a puff of frozen vapor that vanished into the cold air. Balt’s body crumbled, dissolving into a shower of ice crystals that scattered across the floor like pale-blue snow. The boss guy in Daren’s bear-grasp shuddered, his eyes rolling back as a sickly stream of vomit spilled from his lips.

“Fuck!” Daren quickly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the foul-smelling mess, though the mana barrier he had erected earlier protected him from any potential splatter.

With a swift motion, Daren tossed the unconscious boss guy into the growing puddle, the impact knocking the wind out of him. The rancid stench of the boss’s undigested breakfast now hung in the air. The burly man flopped onto his ass, his gaze darting between the incapacitated boss and the frozen form of Balt.

Daren pulled a chair from a corner and seated himself across from the burly man, keeping a safe distance from the vomit. Adjusting the mask covering his face, Daren leaned in and fixed the man with a piercing stare. “Tell me, who sent you?”

The burly man wiped sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. “Mathal. He got the order from the super boss, Dongra,” he sputtered.

Daren’s eyes narrowed. “Dongra?” he repeated, his frown deepening. “Isn’t he the guy who deals with illegal weapons and alchemy drugs? Why is he taking an interest in the academy?”

Daren leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the armrest. Dongra was on the list of people he had to kill in this new life, but his involvement in this matter made little sense. Dongra was a thug. A drug dealer. A jerk. But he would never go against the academy. In fact, no one from the kingdom would go against the academy for puny reasons, like killing a student. The action would only work against them if it were exposed.

“Someone bought his service. A woman, a mage. She offered him some deal to kill you,” the burly man said, his words tumbling out like a hurried cab on a bumpy street.

“A woman.” Daren’s mind flashed with names of a few enemies, and Phila was one of them. But her reputation made it unlikely. She wouldn’t hire city thugs to kill a student. If Phila really wanted him dead, she could do it without such associations.

That only left one person. Ashini. Only Ashini had a motive for killing him. She had even tried to kill him when they’d first met.

It all made sense now. The trigger he’d left at her house had warned him. It activated only when someone at the level of the Realm of Harmony entered, and she was far from reaching that level.

Dongra might have already reached it. Daren took a deep breath. It was wise not to attack him right away. Daren had to navigate this carefully and take things slowly. Haste might lead to troubles.

His eyes narrowed as he caught a slight movement in the corner of his vision. The boss guy shifted uneasily.

“Tell me. Has Dongra reached the Realm of Harmony?” Daren asked, staring in the burly guy’s eyes. “Tell me about his relationship with the mayor. Tell me everything you know.”

The man nodded, his face pale. “Yes, and…”

Without warning, he dropped dead. A finger-thick bug crawled out of his eye socket, its beady eyes locking onto Daren’s.

“A Parasitic Reinroch,” Daren muttered.

He reached down, grabbed the bug, and crushed it between his fingers. The insect’s exoskeleton cracked, releasing a foul odor. This rare Spell Circle allowed one to plant parasitic bugs in another’s body, which would be triggered under specific conditions.

Daren barely had time to process this when the boss guy let out a tortured scream. Two more bugs wriggled out from his eyes, their tiny legs twitching as they stared in Daren’s direction. Daren quickly summoned a thread of mana, directing it to squash the bugs. Their bodies crumpled under the pressure, but the message was clear. These bugs weren’t the real threat; the enemy controlling them was. And that enemy had already demonstrated their ruthlessness by killing two of their own men.

Defiance had only one result—death.

Daren’s lips curled into a sly grin. “So, you want to play?” He chuckled. “Let’s play, then.”

He strode confidently to the portable stair, the wood creaking as he climbed to the house above the chamber. He scanned the house with his mana and found what he was looking for and not looking for. A pot of cooking oil. Stacks of what looked like alchemy drugs. He had a nasty memory of drugs that put people in zombielike state. They city had lost thousands of people because of these drugs.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the oil across the floor, the liquid spreading out like dark ink. He then grabbed a torch from the wall and lit it, the flame flaring to life with a crackling sound.

“Let’s see how you explain the fire in one of your properties and the loss of drugs.” He approached the girl behind the counter and hoisted her effortlessly into his arms. Then he walked out of the shop front and tossed her toward the next shop owner, who stood gaping in shock.

“Get her to safety!” he barked and warned the man about the imminent blaze.

If they wanted to die even after a warning, he couldn’t help them. But before he could indulge that desire and kill a few of them, he knew he had to break through into his mage class first.

51 HASTY BREAKTHROUGH

Daren chose an old warehouse, just a block away from Ashini’s house in the slums, for his breakthrough. It was conveniently close, allowing him to visit her quickly once his work was done. He crept through a window at head height and landed silently on the cold concrete floor. The place was eerily familiar. Before moving into Mr. Ashi’s house, he’d spent months here, and nothing was different in this lifetime.

Shadows played tricks on his eyes, casting the junk scattered around in ominous shapes. The warehouse still had that unsettling atmosphere, avoided by most because of the strange noises it emitted at night—noises that Daren had grown accustomed to.

As he made his way deeper inside, his footsteps echoed softly—a reminder of the warehouse’s vast emptiness. Despite the eerie sounds that filled the night, he had never found any ghosts or creatures during his previous stay. The source of the noises remained a mystery. Maybe this time, with his mana and vast knowledge, he could scan the place and finally solve the mystery.

He cleared some space for himself and sat on the bare, rough ground. The place smelled of rot and mildew, the air thick with the scent of decay. In his previous life, he’d lived in worse conditions than this, so it didn’t bother him at all.

“Let’s break through first.” Daren retrieved the two mana crystals he had obtained from the Crystal Heart Spider, which lay on his shoulder and hissed when it spotted the mana crystals. Its hiss sounded like a complaint.

“Thanks for these, buddy.” He caressed the palm-length creature, feeling its rough, scaly texture under his fingertips. He could sense its distress through their bond, but Daren wouldn’t be doing anything about it.

The spider jumped off his shoulder and moved toward the objects in the corners of the warehouse. Was it angry with him, or had it found something interesting in the stale darkness? Well, a spider was a spider, and Daren wouldn’t judge it based on its behavior.

He returned to his breakthrough. A mage class was divided into realms, each representing a different stage of magical mastery. It all began with the Realm of Awakening, which every mage entered when their primary Spell Circle awakened. The journey then progressed to the Realm of Harmony, followed by the Realm of Synergy. Beyond these, more realms awaited, but those were challenges for the future.

A mage had a chance to awaken a secondary Mana Portal and a corresponding Spell Circle during a breakthrough, though this occurrence was rare within the first three realms. It was in the fourth realm that mages would certainly awaken their secondary Mana Portal.

He tapped his thigh rhythmically, scanning the mana crystals laid out before him. They glowed faintly in the dim light. These crystals were of the purest nature, even purer than mana potions. However, despite that, mana potions packed more power and could be crafted by humans, making them considerably more expensive.

When a mage awakened their primary Spell Circle, they entered the Foundation Stage and gained their unique Spell Sigil. Each realm was divided into three stages—Foundation, Advancement, and Peak. At present, he was in the Foundation stage. He had to reach at least the Peak stage to stand a chance against a mage from the Realm of Harmony.

A common mage could cultivate mana through breathing techniques or meditation exercises, but Daren couldn’t do such things. His primary Mana Circle, Deconstruct, didn’t allow him to cultivate mana. So he could only rely on external ways or awaken his second Spell Circle.

Why, he didn’t know. He had just accepted it after spending years spent trying to correct the issue. He’d found his own way to advance. He just needed sufficient mana to expand his Mana Portal.

Grabbing a mana crystal, Daren began absorbing the sweet, sweet mana. The crystal felt cool and smooth in his hand. As the mana flowed into his body, a gentle warmth spread through his veins, easing tension from his muscles. After working his way through Mana Body Strengthening, he had healed his internal mana channels, so the mana flowed through them like butter gliding on a hot pan.

When he performed body strengthening, he had to stop his Mana Portal from absorbing the mana he poured into the system. But now he just let it flow, feeling the energy surge and ripple throughout his entire being. His Mana Portal, at his heart, absorbed the mana like a hungry man stranded in the desert. It finished all the mana from the crystal in one big gulp.

Others would call him crazy if he told them he did this, as they had impurities in their mana channels and had to absorb mana slowly. Daren didn’t have any impurities in his mana channels. Deconstruct had cleared everything for him. Although he could not generate mana by himself, he could absorb as much mana as he wanted, and in the higher realms, he could even steal mana from others’ spells.

That would be fun. He smiled as he watched his Mana Portal expand slowly. It had gulped down the mana and was now working on its own magic to expand itself.

The sensation of the portal growing was like a balloon gently inflating within him. He placed a hand over his heart, feeling the warmth radiate from the center. The energy pulsed rhythmically, matching his heartbeat as it spread through his body.

The Mana Portal opened slightly, releasing a stream of strange mana that flowed into the Spell Circle. The energy strengthened the circle from the inside out, allowing it to expand and hold more mana. People referred to this unusual energy as Primal Mana.

The Mana Portal had remained an unsolvable mystery for millions of years. Primal Mana was the second piece of the unsolvable puzzle. It only appeared during breakthroughs and existed solely within the Mana Portal.

People had, of course, experimented with it. Mr. Ashi, or Ashini, had conducted numerous experiments in Daren’s previous life. He had even killed people during their breakthroughs in order to gather Primal Mana, but those efforts had led nowhere.

Anyway, Daren was at a crucial point, and he had to be careful for some time. He glanced at his Spell Circle, and as expected, he hadn’t formed a natural Spell Sigil. Every mage formed a Spell Sigil inside their Spell Circle when they broke through into the Advancement stage. Except Daren. Deconstruct Spell Circle remained a mystery even in his second life.

Crystal, his familiar, skittered across the room with a gentle clicking of tiny legs on the stone floor. The spider paused, its eyes reflecting the soft glow of mana emanating from Daren. It was moving something heavy on its body.

“Pairs or fours,” someone said, startling Daren. “Always better in pairs or fours. Arrange and place. This emperor ends up working for the human. The human is impudent and forced this emperor into the contract.”

Daren’s concentration broke. His Mana Portal quivered, and he lost the control of the expansion. Fuck. Was he going to fail?

52 BREAKTHROUGH TROUBLE

Daren cursed inwardly as he focused on the Mana Portal. Sweat trickled down his brow as he directed the Primal Mana flow toward his Spell Circle with unwavering willpower. The faint hum of energy buzzed around him as the mana flow resumed.

It had to. He had studied the process of breakthrough for years, and if he couldn’t break through, then no one could. However, knowing that didn’t make it easy. Especially when external factors influenced him.

The darkness of the warehouse gnawed at him, threatening to shatter his concentration. The bastard spider moved something heavy around, the screeching of the object piercing Daren’s ears. The spider kept up a constant nagging.

He closed his eyes, shutting out the oppressive gloom, and focused solely on the breakthrough. His breathing slowed, becoming steady and rhythmic, as he quickly entered a meditative state. The only sound in his mind was the soft, flowing hum of his mana.

After what felt like an eternity, he managed to get back to the breakthrough. The Primal Mana flow resumed its journey through his Spell Circle, expanding it slowly but surely. The energy crackled softly, a sensation of warmth and light spreading through him. Though it seemed like days had passed, only a few minutes had elapsed.

The Primal Mana flow stopped. Daren’s Spell Circle expanded from its center, radiating outward. As expected, no natural Spell Sigil formed on it. For others, this might have been a curse, but for him, it would be a boon.

He opened his eyes and exhaled deeply, releasing a breath of stale, putrid air. “Breakthrough completed,” he muttered, relieved. He was thankful he didn’t have any impurities; otherwise, he would have been drenched in sweat.

Just then, another thought echoed in his mind: “Human broke through. Quite fast for an impudent human like him.”

Daren frowned, his focus momentarily broken by Crystal’s incessant chatter. That little bugger called himself an emperor. Their bond must have advanced further, he mused.

Ignoring the little spider, Daren turned his attention back to his Spell Circle. With a thought, his Spell Circle—Deconstruct—appeared in front of him, glowing with intricate patterns. It spread through the long warehouse, its luminous lines stretching even beyond the walls. If one arranged the complex Spell Circles in the world, Daren bet Deconstruct would secure a place in the top ten. He’d seen no other Spell Circle in the Realm of Awakening that could match its complexity and size. Even the Spell Circles in the Realm of Revelation couldn’t hold a candle to his Spell Circle.

He played with the remaining mana crystal. It wouldn’t be sufficient to break through. There was no way he could break through with just two mana crystals.

He sighed deeply and brushed his fingers against the mana crystal, feeling its cool surface against his skin. His calculations had gone awry, and he would need a few more mana crystals to reach the Peak stage of the Realm of Awakening. This could prove challenging, but he didn’t have any other choice. Now he had two options—to try breaking through with the remaining mana crystal, which wouldn’t happen, or to carve a Spell Sigil on his expanded Spell Circle.

“Spell Sigil, then.” Daren let the mana flow into his mana channels, feeling the energy course through his veins.

He watched the Spell Circle in front of him change, its glowing lines shifting and revealing new patterns. Many areas of the Spell Circle still remained uncovered. The intricate Spell Sigils and glyphs would take decades to build up, to reach a fully saturated state.

At the moment, though, he had to choose one Spell Sigil to build on, and he had a few choices before him. Normally, mages received their Spell Sigils upon reaching the Awakened stage, but he hadn’t. He had to go through trial and error, crafting one for himself. It was his specialty.

Basically, he had three choices because he’d studied three Spell Sigils in detail during his previous life. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered the Sigil of Devour. It would provide him with the ability to absorb others’ spells and mana for himself. The idea of siphoning off his opponents’ power was tempting, but he knew it would be limited at his current stage.

“What is human doing, sitting like this while I’m working here? This emperor should be ordering the human. Things looks good in pair or four,” the spider muttered. “If human could hold the stones, I could make it faster. It should be set like a pack of two and then two.”

Daren frowned. Whatever the hell the spider was doing, he didn’t care.

He glanced at the Sigil of Integration. This would allow him to link his secondary Spell Circle to his first one, enabling him to use some abilities and generate mana on his own. It would be inefficient initially, but it had the potential for future development. However, he would have to break through with two Mana Portals in the future, and that would be time-consuming.

Finally, he considered the Sigil of Creation. This would grant him the ability to create spells on the fly that were not confined to his existing Spell Circle. He had awakened it in the later years of his life. It had proved to be a complex sigil, but it provided a person with unlimited possibilities.

“Damn it. I should have considered the options in advance.” Licking his lips, he pondered his choices. Normally, he would have spent a day or two thinking it through and then broken through. But he didn’t have that option now.

He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. The Sigil of Integration it was. He already knew what his secondary Spell Circle would be, and awakening it in advance wouldn’t prove much of an issue.

Determined, he crushed the second mana crystal, feeling the sharp edges dig into his palm. He let the energy flow toward the Spell Circle in front of him. Where a side portion bloomed, he began carving the Sigil of Integration in the shape of two interlocking circles. The air around him grew thick with the scent of mana as he focused intently on his task. Sigil carving wouldn’t be a simple process, and he might have to spend hours on it, which would delay him.

So be it. If he had to carve the Sigil of Devour, it would take minutes, as he had spent a lot of time on that. It would be the next sigil he would carve.

A sudden flash caught his attention. He spun around, heart pounding in his chest, as a portal opened, with mana beasts pouring out of it. Their ominous scent filled the entire warehouse, and dread spread through the air.

“Fuck! What just happened?” he asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Daren stepped back, watching as mana beasts with the heads of lions and the bodies of dogs prowled out of the portal in the corner of the room. The air grew thick with a musky animal scent. The low growls of the beasts sent shivers down his spine.

53 PORTAL IN THE LIBRARY

Miss Wallheart was carving a fire rune with concentration, her entire focus on the practice paper, when something flashed in the corner of her eye, interrupting her flow. It was like a flicker of a candle, but its brightness was so intense that it was impossible to miss. Before she could investigate, the flicker vanished, leaving behind a scent of the ocean. The salty aroma was out of place in her lab, which usually smelled of old parchment and ink.

“Why would it smell like the sea in here?” she muttered to herself, perplexed. “And what was that flicker?”

Moving closer to the spot where she had seen the flicker, she noticed dry sand scattered on the ground. She knelt down, running her fingers through the gritty substance. Where had it come from?

“Is this another prank?” she wondered aloud, her irritation growing.

A few days earlier, someone had snuck into her lab and rearranged her carefully organized items—everything had been placed in perfect order only for someone to disrupt it. It had to be Phila, the barbarian bitch. Only Phila held a grudge against her.

Suddenly, a talisman tied to her waist pulsed a vibration. It was a call for all teachers—a warning call.

Tossing the sand aside, she stood up abruptly and rushed out of the lab, her heart pounding. She headed toward the main building, where the teachers convened. As she hurried across the courtyard, a few other teachers joined her, their expressions equally concerned as they made their way to the meeting.

A hooded figure appeared out of nowhere and blocked her entrance. The figure’s dark cloak billowed in the evening breeze, obscuring any features beneath the hood.

“Wallheart. Come with me,” the hooded figure said in a coarse voice, the words grating like gravel.

“A shadow…” She bit back her reply, her eyes narrowing.

She felt a chill travel down her legs. A shadow guardian—why would one seek her out? The shadow guardian touched her shoulder with a gloved hand, and they dematerialized, reemerging instantly at the library door.

Teleportation Spell Circle. So that was how the shadow guardians moved. She blinked, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift in location.

“Sir, why did you bring me here?” she asked, her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart.

“Follow me.” The shadow guardian turned and entered the library.

She followed him, her footsteps thudded softly in the vast, quiet space. Teachers had separate floating stairs. With private, faster floating stairs, they reached section E of the library quickly.

“Section E? Why are we here, sir?” she asked, frowning as she looked around the dimly lit corridor leading to the section E door.

“You recall the door you three opened in the library?” The shadow guardian stood in front of the section E door, his hands crossed against his chest.

“Yes, but we didn’t really open it. It just opened on its own.”

The shadow guardian spoke slowly. “It was a Puzzle Spell Array. We studied it. Whoever built this library left it in case of an emergency.”

“Emergency?”

“We found a Void Crystal behind the door.”

She shuddered involuntarily. A Void Crystal was a dangerous item classified by the Mage Society of the Five Continents. Protocol dictated it be handed to the Mage Society immediately upon discovery.

“So that call was for this?” She touched the talisman.

“No.” He shook his head before opening the door. “Look for yourself.”

She peered in and saw a stream of massive cactuses pouring out from a portal in the corner. Each plant had two legs and a wide mouth that chewed on everything they found in their way. The relentless chewing sound filled the room as the creatures gnawed on the books continuously.

“What the hell are those things?” She stepped back, her skin crawling.

“Cactus beasts. Those are mana beasts, and they are at the Peak stage of the Realm of Awakening,” the shadow guardian said, his voice steady despite the chaos.

“Then it’s easy to eliminate them.”

The shadow guardian shook his head, glancing back at the gnashing beasts. “They are not the issue, but the Void Crystal is. It’s missing, and we suspect one of them has eaten it. If we hit it with a blast, the entire academy will explode.”

Miss Wallheart shuddered. The Void Crystal was classified as one of the most dangerous objects known. If hit with magic, it could devastate a huge portion of their surroundings. This was a real danger.

“How can I help you?” she asked, her voice firmer now.

“I want you to find the little boy who can use Nullify. We need him here,” the shadow guardian said, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of the crystal.

“And…?” She frowned, not liking where this was going.

“The boy is missing, and his roommate doesn’t know where he’s gone. Take Princess Phila with you and search for him. We need him now.” The shadow guardian’s voice was urgent, leaving no room for argument.

Miss Wallheart nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. She had no reason to doubt him.

Where the hell was Daren Morin?

* * *

Ashini sensed the change in the mana. A portal had opened somewhere nearby. She could feel it. The raw mana emanating from the rift was unmistakable.

She was about to move when she noticed the two people camping outside her small house. Dongra had sent them to protect her a couple of hours earlier. Something had happened to the people he’d sent to track the academy student.

“Mister, what happened to the people you sent to track the student?” She stepped out of the door, letting the cold air nip at her skin.

“Miss, please go back in.” The bulky guy raised his hand to stop her from going anywhere. In front of his tree-trunk-like arm, she felt small. “Boss has strict warnings not to let you go out. It’s really dangerous.”

“I feel a disturbance nearby. That person might be close,” she said, watching their expressions closely.

“If he comes near, he won’t walk back. We have five Peak stage of the Realm of Awakening Mages and one Realm of Harmony Mage surrounding this place. That fucker burned our secret stash, and the boss is pretty pissed off.”

“Did he really burn your warehouse? The masked student?” Ashini asked, her voice steady despite the rising tension.

The burly guy shifted his weight, his face hardening. “Secret warehouse, and he even killed five people. That guy is a nasty motherfucker.”

Ashini arched her brows, her mind reeling with possibilities. If this was the same masked student, then she had to admit that he was courageous. He’d had the audacity to burn Dongra’s secret stock.

She glanced at the burly guy, whose clenched fists and tense shoulders revealed his barely contained anger. If the student could destroy a warehouse and kill several people just for tracking him, what might he do when he realized she had sent people to kill him?

The cold winds bit her skin intensely, sending a shiver down her spine. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the chill. Suddenly, the whole prospect of killing an academy student didn’t feel good. Her resolve wavered as she thought about the consequences of her actions.

54 MANA BEASTS

Dogs with lion heads prowled through the shimmering portal in the warehouse corner, their muscles rippling beneath matted fur. Through the gateway, Daren glimpsed a towering volcano belching crimson flames against a backdrop of roiling storm clouds. The sulfuric stench of brimstone rolled into the warehouse, forcing him to pinch his nose.

A cold weight settled in his stomach. The scene transported him back to his previous life, to those endless months navigating the Chasm of the Dragon. He’d learned to hate the echoing growls of these dog-lions as they stalked him through the cramped caves, attacking without warning from the shadows. The Chasm of the Dragon, just beyond the mana storms on the north end of the city, had made crossing through almost impossible.

The nearest beast locked eyes with him, its amber gaze reflecting the portal’s glow. Its mane bristled as it lowered into a hunting crouch, ready to spring.

“Two begot four. There are too many,” said a voice.

Daren spotted a tiny spider rushing toward him, its legs scratching against the stone floor with a grating sound. Daren scanned the mana beasts pouring out of the portal.

“Why the hell did a portal open here?” he muttered, his eyes darting from one creature to another.

He couldn’t judge their exact power level, but they seemed to be at the Peak stage of the Realm of Awakening. In the same realm, mana beasts could easily overpower humans. No sane mage would fight them head-on.

A dog-lion charged at the spider, saliva dripping from its fangs as it leaped into the air.

“Damn it. This emperor didn’t open the portal for them. Someone has messed things up,” Spider said before shooting a web toward Daren.

It landed on Daren’s face. “Fuck!” he shouted, yanking at the sticky web. The spider used the web to pull itself onto him, blocking his view entirely.

The dog-lion pounced on Daren with a loud growl that sent a shiver down his spine and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. If the mana beast’s sharp claws caught him, he might lose a layer or two.

Daren ducked low and let the animal fly over him. Despite his eyes being blocked, he used mana to sense the incoming danger, feeling the beast’s heat and energy. He pulled his elbow back, and as the beast landed to his right, his fist crashed into the beast’s side with a solid thud, sending it flying toward the stone wall. The impact echoed in the confined space. The dog-lion roared in pain.

“Damn it, spider.” He peeled the sticky web from his mouth and spat out the remnants before shoving it into his pocket. The bitterness lingered on his tongue.

Wait, mana… he could taste mana through the spiderweb. He picked up the web he’d thrown on the ground and collected it inside a cloth. Without wasting a second, he sprinted toward the door, his boots thudding against the stone floor. Dozens of dog-lions had poured out of the portal, and only a fool would fight them head-on.

Five fireballs shot at him from behind, illuminating the dim room with a fiery glow. Dog-lions lived in the chasm of the volcano and spat fireballs at their enemies. The heat singed the air around him, and he knew they could burn him to ashes in no time.

Daren activated Deconstruct without a thought and sent the spells back at their caster. The fiery orbs reversed direction, crackling through the air, but more came at him from different angles.

“This would overwhelm me.” Daren cursed as he nullified the next Spell Circles. “Where the hell did you come from, bastards?”

Sweat dripped down his forehead as he continuously cast Deconstruct on the incoming fireballs to nullify them. The heat in the room was stifling, and the air tasted of ash. Daren’s mind moved through his options. He could send the spells back, but it wouldn’t harm the beasts much. If he continued modifying nodes with Deconstruct, he would waste mana. Nullifying them would be a much better choice.

The dog-lion, which he had sent flying moments ago, roared as it charged at him again. Its fiery eyes glowed with rage. It opened its mouth and shot a fireball from only a couple of feet away.

Daren winced at the ball of fire, feeling the heat singe the air around him. He flicked his wrist, sending his cold dagger slicing through the fireball. The dagger dissipated the fire spell and lodged into the dog-lion’s open jaw, turning it into an ice crystal in mere seconds.

The creature’s frozen form toppled to the floor with a dull thud. Daren kicked the icy sculpture, feeling the cold against his boot, and retrieved his dagger as he sprinted toward the door. The warehouse was teeming with dog-lions, their growls and snarls echoing off the walls. He knew he couldn’t fight them all and didn’t see the point in trying.

A dog-lion blocked his path, its mouth dripping with saliva and eyes glowing with feral intensity. Daren tightened his grip on the cold dagger.

“I see you didn’t get my warning,” he said before launching the dagger into the creature’s open maw, killing it instantly.

But the attack cost him precious seconds. Two more dog-lions sprang into his path, their growls rumbling like distant thunder. Daren spat to his right.

“I guess I’ve got to get my hands dirty,” he said with a grimace. He punched the nearest dog-lion, sending it crashing into a stack of crates. With a quick flick of his dagger, he slashed the throat of the second one.

More dog-lions closed in, their hot breath and rancid smell filling the air. He glanced at the door a mere fifteen feet away, tantalizingly out of reach. If only he could fly or leap over the distance, he’d be out of this damn warehouse, but the beasts wouldn’t give him the chance.

“Fuck off.” Daren changed his direction and ran for the big window on the left. The garbage boxes lying around it had vanished. The spider had moved them.

He dodged another dog-lion, feeling its hot breath on his skin. “Spider, why did you remove the boxes?” He kicked a dog-lion before it shot a fireball at him.

“I rearranged them,” the Crystal Heart Spider replied in Daren’s mind. “I hate scattered things. I arranged them in the pack of two or four.” It seemed proud of its useless work.

“What the hell?” Daren stepped on the next dog-lion, using its back as a springboard. He smashed into the window, breaking it into pieces and landing outside with a thud. A cloud of dust rose around him as he rolled over the cobblestone street.

The cold night air hit him, and shards of glass bit into his palms. A couple of dog-lions leaped out, and one almost landed on him. Daren punched it away, feeling the impact jolt up his arm. With his mana body at the Peak stage of the Realm of Awakening, he could fight them for the whole day. But if he got hit by those fireballs, he wouldn’t survive too many.

He scanned the area, searching for an escape route. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow, looking for any possible way out that would get him out of harm’s way.

“Kid, what are those things?” A burly guy walked out of the shadows, his face twisted in a disgruntled expression. He was wearing a black robe that covered most of his body, but the sheathed sword tied to his waist was clearly visible. The worst part was the intense aura of mana he exuded, making Daren’s skin prickle with unease.

Daren sensed danger from this guy. A Realm of Harmony. What was a strong mage doing here?

“Sir mage, I don’t know,” Daren stammered.

“You came out of the warehouse along with two mana beasts. You’re hiding something.”

“I was making out with my girlfriend when this bastard jumped out of the corner and killed her.” Daren showed a fearful expression, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. “Please, sir mage, you have to save her. They’re tearing her apart.” He began crying, his shoulders heaving with each sob.

The burly man had a face like a stone wall. No reaction surfaced in his eyes. “Mana beasts leaping out of the shadows?” he muttered. With a swift motion, he shot a wind blade at the two dog-lions, shredding them in an instant. The air hummed with residual energy from the attack. “Kid, tell me the truth. Mana beasts don’t come into the city without guards knowing about their presence.”

The metallic scent of blood filled the air, mingling with the acrid smell of mana. Dog-lion corpses littered the ground, their fur matted with blood.

“Sir, what truth?” Daren snorted inwardly. This guy’s attack had proved his guess. He was at the Advancement stage of the Realm of Harmony. It meant Daren’s plan to check on Ashini would have to wait.

“What did you do in there? Tell me the truth,” the burly man growled, matching the growls of the beasts inside the warehouse.

“Sir, please help her. I don’t know where they came from. I was just trying to kiss my girlfriend, and they arrived.” Daren gave a fake shiver. “I’ll go and find more help from the outside.” He got up and began walking away, his senses heightened.

A woman walked out of the shadows, her gray and golden eyes glinting. Ashini. What the hell was she doing here?

She approached the burly man. “Sir, what happened? What is going on?” she asked calmly.

Daren froze, his mind piecing together the puzzle. So, Ashini had something to do with this. Had she opened the Void Rift and summoned these dog-lions? What was her plan?

55 RUTHLESS KILLING

“Sir, who is this person?” Ashini stared at Daren, her golden and gray eyes squinting as she studied him. Her fingers twitched, revealing her cautious curiosity.

Daren maintained his panicked expression. Ashini hadn’t seen him in his original appearance, and even now, he had slightly altered his nose and lips using mana. He shifted his weight nervously, his eyes darting around.

The burly man answered with a casual shrug. “Just a kid messing things up,” he said, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. The cold of the night didn’t seem to affect him, but Ashini shivered as she scanned the surroundings, her breath misting in the chilly air.

Daren had just escaped a heated fight with dog-lions, so he sweated profusely. The air around him still smelled like ashes and shredded corpses, which lay a few feet away from him. He could feel the stickiness of blood on his boots.

“Why does it smell so bad?” Ashini walked toward the corpses. “These are mana beasts.” She squatted and checked on the corpses shattered by the burly man’s wind blade.

“Sir, I’ll look for more help.” Daren stepped back from the group, scanning the dark tree line for any signs of movement.

It would be unwise to stay around these two people. One thing had become clear: Ashini had called for a strong helper, and Daren didn’t need to engage her right away. He would wait, maybe break through into the Realm of Harmony first. Then he would strike.

Patience wasn’t weakness—it was strategy. In his previous life, his greatest victories had come from calculated waiting—from understanding precisely when to strike. He’d become the predator that studied its prey, learning patterns, discovering vulnerabilities. And when the moment came, he would be merciless.

“Wait, kid.” The burly guy frowned. “Didn’t you say you had a girlfriend in there? Why are you rushing away? Don’t be a bad kid.”

“Yes, sir, and please help her, but there are…” Daren’s voice trailed off when Ashini pointed her finger at him. Had she found out about him?

“It’s you!” Ashini shouted. “You are the masked student who came to deal with me!” Her mismatched eyes, one gray and one golden, drilled into the pocket of his trousers. “I can feel the cold dagger I gave you.”

Damn it. Even though he’d hidden it in his pocket, she’d still spotted it.

“And you’re carrying the academy uniform as well.” She pointed at his backpack, a strange smile playing on her lips.

Daren extended his mana to his back. Something had cut through his backpack, exposing the bright-yellow uniform beneath. Damn it. The fight with the beasts had messed things up.

“So you are the bastard who killed my men and burned the boss’s drug stash.” The burly man shifted forward, mana rushing around him, his muscles tensing with raw power.

Daren chuckled. “And I thought I had things under control. My bad. I should have done better. But what can we do if you guys want to do things the hard way?”

“Sir, please kill him. It’s the same guy,” Ashini said, her body quivering as she tapped on her bracelet. She retrieved a long sword from it, the same weapon she had used when they first met. The blade gleamed under the dim warehouse lights, casting eerie reflections.

The burly man raised his arm, and wind blades began to form around it, spinning with lethal intent. Two wind blades. It would be difficult.

Daren flicked his wrist, and the door of the warehouse burst open with a loud creak. Using a simple manipulation spell, he opened the metal bolt, which was already beyond repair. With mana, he had many simple spells he could use.

The world of magic had just opened up for him. Too bad he couldn’t cast any battle spells yet. He would have to carve some inscriptions and keep them ready in the future.

Two wind blades came at him, slicing through the dark of the night with a high-pitched whistle.

“Deconstruct.” Daren activated his Spell Circle, nullifying both wind blades. Sending the wind blades back would have burned through his mana, so he opted for the simpler approach.

Ashini, observing from a distance, stepped forward. “Sir, he has a Spell Circle that can nullify your spells. I have studied his attack, and you can only kill him by going close or using a high-tier spell.”

Daren felt a flicker of appreciation for her. She was excellent at research and would become a highly sought-after mage. The woman had a knack for uncovering meticulous details. She shouldn’t have messed with him, though.

“Thank you, miss.” The burly man, taking Ashini’s advice, charged at Daren. He froze midstep when a dozen dog-lions sprang out from the shadows, their growls echoing through the neighborhood. The beasts’ fur bristled as they surrounded him, their eyes glowing ominously.

“There are so many mana beasts,” Ashini muttered, her eyes widening in realization. “My guess was right. Someone has opened a Void Rift in this place. But how?” She glanced around, searching for any signs of the rift’s origin.

“Miss, call my people. I will hold off these beasts and also make sure he doesn’t run.” The burly man adjusted his stance and leaped over the beasts, charging at Daren from above.

“Never show your back to your dogs.” Daren chuckled, his voice dripping with malice. A dozen fireballs shot out from the dog-lions, streaking through the air and crashing into the flying man.

“Damn,” the man said.

The fireballs seared through his defenses, scorching skin and igniting clothing. He crashed to the ground but immediately rolled to his feet, wounded but far from defeated. With the resilience that marked higher-class mages, he fended off the circling beasts despite his injuries.

But a dog-lion pounced on him, its muscular body slamming against his chest. The impact knocked the air from his lungs as he fell backward onto the hard ground. The burly man grimaced and summoned a wind blade. The magic hummed with deadly accuracy as he tore through the dog-lion’s flank. Blood sprayed across his face.

The beast, even in its death throes, clamped powerful jaws into his leg. Teeth punctured deep into muscle as the man let out a pained grunt. The creature’s body went limp, but its jaw remained locked in place even after it had died.

Daren moved swiftly, his form a blur, and plunged his dagger into the burly man’s brain, ending his life with precision.

Ashini froze, shaking. She quickly regained her composure and sprinted toward her house, her feet pounding against the ground with urgency. Daren wanted to follow her, but the dog-lions charged at him, their snarls filling the air and blocking his path.

“Damn it,” he muttered, realizing he’d gotten himself into a big brawl.

56 INTO THE VOID RIFT

Ashini thought she could run away from him. She had reached beyond the dog-lion’s projectile range, but with Daren’s Mana Body Strengthening, it wouldn’t take much to catch her.

“Not so fast, Ashini.” Daren stepped on a dog-lion and jumped over its head, launching himself away from the pack of feral mana beasts.

A few fireballs from their lion mouths came crashing at his back, their heat singeing the air behind him, but he flicked his wrist and nullified them with ease. After seeing their Spell Circle once, he could do this in his sleep.

“You shouldn’t have messed with me, Ashini.” He threw a normal dagger at her, the metal glinting as it cut through the air.

Ashini’s mismatched eyes widened. She twisted her thin fingers, opening a small Void Rift that swallowed the weapon with a soft hiss.

Daren smirked as he increased his speed. With his Mana Body Strengthening at Advancement stage, he could run a ten-mile sprint and wouldn’t break a sweat. His muscles hummed with power, each stride covering an impressive distance.

His shoes smacked against the cobblestone floor while the dog-lions’ growls provided him good background music, deep and threatening. The air smelled like blood and gore, metallic and pungent in his nostrils. In a few seconds, he closed the gap between them.

“Caught you, bitch.” He clawed at her, fingers curled like talons, feeling like a complete villain as satisfaction coursed through him.

A smirk played on Ashini’s lips as she swung a fiery sword at him. The blade cut through the air with a sizzling hiss, orange flames dancing along its edge.

“Take this bastard. This is not magic. Antinullify.” Her eyes—one gray, one golden—gleamed with confidence.

“If only I had Nullify Spell Circle.” Daren snorted as he activated the Deconstruct.

The familiar surge of mana coursed through his fingertips. It worked on everything—even a human body. Of course, he had to reach a high level of mage realm to make that happen, but deconstructing a fire wouldn’t be a challenge to him.

After he’d wiped out the fire, the flames dissipating into wisps of smoke, he caught her blade with his bare hand. Metal bit into his palm but couldn’t penetrate his mana-reinforced skin. He pulled her toward him with a sharp jerk. His other hand reached for her throat, fingers tensed and ready. For the fast one she’d pulled on him, she deserved death.

“Impossible!” Ashini exclaimed, letting go of the sword. Her face paled, the confidence draining away.

Daren grabbed her shoulder with bruising force and plunged the tip of the sword into her other shoulder. The blade slid through fabric and flesh with a wet sound, blood immediately darkening her clothing.

“You monster!” she cried, blood bubbling at the corner of her lips. “Let’s die together.”

A Void Rift the size of a human body appeared next to them with a sound like tearing fabric. The air around it distorted, pulling at their clothes before engulfing them both. Daren activated a quick Deconstruct spell, mana pulsing through him, but it was too late as they fell into the chasm of void. The world around him vanished, replaced by a swirling darkness that pressed against his skin like cold water.

Was he going to die even before getting a chance to walk out of the academy? No way. Void was dangerous, and he didn’t know where they would end up, but wherever they entered, the place would have mana. And as long as he had mana, he could survive this. He could feel it now—the strange, alien energy brushing against his senses like static electricity.

“Devour.” Daren began carving his Spell Sigil on the fly, his mana operating at a higher efficiency as his Spell Circle expanded into the void. He wanted to carve the interlinking Spell Sigil, but he had no option for that now. He had to have Devour to begin devouring the mana from the void before it consumed him instead.

They hit a ground of solid shadow with a bone-jarring impact. Ashini rolled away from him, her eyes wild with panic as she conjured another Void Rift to run away. The golden eye gleamed unnaturally in the darkness.

“No way you are going away.” Daren plunged the sword through her thigh, pinning her to the ground.

The blade sank through flesh with a sickening sound, and Ashini’s scream echoed across the dark space. A wise choice would be to force her to open a Void Rift, but that would be too dangerous. Who knew what she would do? And one thing he had learned was to never trust an enemy to do any good for you. Unless they were mind controlled.

Daren reached down with determined eyes. “I’m taking that first. I gave it to you.”

He pulled the bracelet from her arm, the metal cold against his fingertips. The enchanted band resisted slightly before coming loose, leaving a pale mark on Ashini’s skin where it had rested. He’d asked her to use her Spell Circle to carve a void space on the bracelet to store items, but instead, she’d called some goons on him. For that, she deserved death.

When he peered into the bracelet, he saw tiny motes of darkness swirling within the metal. His mind lit up with a joy he hadn’t felt for a long time. She had perfectly carved a Void Rift inside the bracelet, and he could use it after wiping her mana signature from it.

“I never thought you would have succeeded in this, Ashini. Excellent.” He turned the bracelet, brushing his finger against the polished edge. “This will be very useful in the future. But first, I have to get out of this place.”

Ashini grimaced through her pain. Blood pooled around her pinned leg. “We have to get out of this place.”

Daren slipped the bracelet onto his wrist, feeling the expanse of the dimensional artifact tug at his mana. “I never said you were walking out of this place alive.”

He glared at her. His hand rested on the cold dagger as he wondered if he should kill her now or later.

57 REVERSAL

Turning away from Ashini, Daren extended his awareness, letting his mana seep into the tunnels. The familiar tingle of magic brushed against his consciousness as he searched for traces of the dog-lions. The air held only stale dampness and the musky scent that marked their territory, but no fresh signs of the creatures themselves.

He crouched, examining the claw marks etched into the packed dirt floor. Those looked fresh. The pack from this tunnel must have entered the portal in the warehouse. They would be a nuisance to the people nearby, but the slums had many high-level mages who would take care of them in no time.

The scent of lava and dogs lingered. He and Ashini had indeed entered the Chasm of the Dragon. They’d materialized in a long corridor. As he recalled, there were hundreds of such tunnels filled with dog-lions.

“You can’t kill me!” Ashini cried, clutching her bleeding leg. Her lips had turned dark gray. “We had a deal. Be a man and show me your sincerity. No one will help you if you go against me.”

Daren slapped her hard across the face. “A deal? A deal where you colluded with Dongra to kill me?”

She cried out, her eyes glistening with tears. “It was my mistake. Please forgive me. I can take you out of this rift.” Her golden eye pulsed with desperate energy as she extended a trembling hand toward him.

“Shut up, or I’ll put the dagger through your heart next.” Daren pressed the dagger’s tip against her chest. He scanned the shadowy tunnels further but found no sign of the dog-lions. “You can’t get us out of here. Your Void Rift doesn’t work on the opposite side. Who knows where we would end up going to.”

Daren shifted his weight away from Ashini and closed his eyes, drawing mana from his core to complete the intricate pattern of his Spell Sigil, Devour. The air thickened around him as he concentrated, sweat beading on his forehead.

A low hum vibrated through the chamber as the Spell Circle glowed to completion. Resplendent light—neither blue nor green but somewhere in between—shot through the entire sigil, illuminating the Spell Circle. Knowledge flooded Daren’s mind, revealing the spell’s capabilities and limitations.

The name of the Spell Sigil sounded impressive, but at his current level, he wouldn’t be able to do much. He would be only able to devour spells below Harmony Realm, and he would suffer a slight amount of damage from them once he tried that. The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“How do you know so much about my Spell Circle? Who are you really?” she asked, grabbing the sword hilt to pull it out of her thigh. Her fingers trembled, pain passing fleetingly over her face.

Daren pushed the sword a little deeper, feeling resistance against muscle and tissue. “So you won’t run away.”

Ashini cried. “Don’t you feel ashamed torturing a girl?”

“Torturing?” Daren chuckled as he used Deconstruct to wipe the bracelet’s mana signature. Blue energy crackled around his fingertips. “Did you feel ashamed when you sliced open a man’s heart to get his mana core when you were twelve? Should I talk about the human brains you dissected from in that lab of yours?”

Ashini shuddered at his words. Her breath caught in her throat, and the golden eye dimmed while the gray one darted nervously.

“How do you know so much about me? Who are you?” she asked, fear flashing in her eyes for the first time since they’d fallen into this damn place. Sweat beaded along her hairline.

Daren examined the bracelet, and his mind was illuminated like hundreds of Mana Candles being lit at the same time. “This thing is huge. You used one of your best spells on it.” He chuckled, staring at the huge space inside the bracelet. A dozen mana cores pulsed with eerie blue-gray light. “I never thought you would succeed in this so quickly. Now I wonder if you have learned to open a void portal to your own place from here.”

“No, I haven’t yet. But I’ve learned something in the process of trying.” Ashini laughed, and the sword in her thigh disappeared.

Daren frowned. His fingers traced the edge of the bracelet as he puzzled over her technique. How had she done it?

A low growl bounced off the stone walls of the tunnel. Dozens of dog-lions stepped from the shadows on the far side, their eyes glinting with an unnatural light. The creatures’ massive paws made no sound as they advanced.

“Do you know what amazes me the most?” Ashini got up and stepped back, her injured leg dragging against the ground. Blood seeped through the torn fabric where the sword had been. “You knew about the mana cores right after I neared the completion of my research, and then you talked about a Void Rift in the wall, and that got me thinking about using the Void Rifts in a closed space.”

Daren felt something cold and sharp stabbing into his back. His breath caught in his throat. The sword, which had disappeared from Ashini’s thigh, had materialized behind his back and now pierced his left side. Pain radiated outward as warm blood trickled down his skin.

In his arrogance, he’d forgotten the first rule of hunting: the most dangerous prey is the one you think you’ve already caught. Talk about a reversal. The hunter had become the prey in an instant.

58 DECONSTRUCT AT ITS PEAK

“How does it feel to fall for a weak woman’s spell?” Ashini laughed, stepping forward on the damp ground. Her boots made a soft squelching sound with each step. A twitch of her lips disturbed her villainous smile, revealing a flash of pain. The wound in her thigh oozed blood, staining her torn pants crimson.

Daren laughed hollowly. “Even if I die, you can’t get out. The dog-lions will shred you.”

He coughed blood, the metallic taste filling his mouth. Pain riddled his entire being, sharp and relentless. The sword lodged in his back pressed against his spine with every labored breath he took, weighing against his resolve to stay alive. It had been decades since he’d felt so close to death.

An evil lord of decades dying to a weak woman’s sword. How would it sound if anyone ever wrote his biography? Well, he deserved to be scorned. He shouldn’t have taken Ashini lightly.

The Ashini he knew from his previous life had been a ruthless man who’d killed on a whim, with heterochromatic eyes—one gray, one golden—and had observed death with scientific curiosity. If Daren’s Deconstruct Spell Circle hadn’t been of use to the old Ashini, he would have killed Daren too. Later they’d become—kind of—friends. Or at least, he’d thought that was the case. Looking at those memories, he could see that Ashini, or Mr. Ashi, had never had any intention of becoming friends with him. The realization stung like salt in an open wound.

“The dog-lions will shred me? Says who?” Ashini’s mismatched eyes glinted with amusement. “Didn’t you ask if I could create a Void Rift to go back to my house? Then behold my magic.”

She waved her fingers in a precise pattern. The air crackled with energy as darkness tore through reality, forming a jagged Void Rift in the wall. Through the opening, Daren glimpsed a chaotic scene—shelves of leather-bound books toppling over as massive cactus beasts with razor-sharp spines trampled through what appeared to be a laboratory.

“What happened? This is not my lab,” Ashini mused, her brow furrowing as she leaned closer to inspect the rift. “Something is wrong.”

Daren stepped forward, the metallic scent of magic burning his nostrils. His legs gave way, and he knelt hard on the cold surface, pain shooting through his joints. The dog-lions on the other side of the rift growled, their thorny manes bristling as they charged toward the opening. For once, he thanked them for their mindless action, knowing it would force Ashini to do something he wanted her to do.

“Anyway, I’ll see where it leads, or I’ll open another Void Rift.” Ashini turned toward it. “But before that…” Ashini’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “I’m interested in your Spell Circle, so be a good boy and tell me where it is.”

Daren looked up, tasting copper as blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. “Why? Do you want to cut my Mana Portal and take it for your research?”

“And your brain as well.” A dagger appeared in Ashini’s hand as she stepped forward. Her blood-stained pants caught on a sharp notch in the floor, and she sliced through the fabric with a casual flick, exposing the pale skin of her legs.

Daren ignored the distraction, focusing instead on her mismatched eyes, searching them for any trace of his friend.

“Come on—it’s for research purposes. Don’t look at me with puppy eyes.” She chuckled coldly. “I bet I will find some interesting things in your brain and your Spell Circle. Be a good student and donate your corpse to me.”

She thrust her dagger toward the base of his neck with frightening precision. Well, she thought it was precision. Instead of letting it pierce hm, Daren drove a cold dagger into her chest and activated Deconstruct, preventing her from conjuring any more Void Rifts inside her own body. He pressed his palm firmly against her heart, the connection locking her in place like an anchor.

“Impossible. How…?” Ashini’s face contorted with shock. She attempted to deactivate her Void Rift, but Daren’s Deconstruct spell blocked her effort, disrupting the flow of her magic before it could form.

Daren twisted his hand at an awkward angle and pulled the sword out of his back. The metal scraped against bone with a sickening sound. “It’s not your fault for not knowing I’ve reached the Advancement stage of the Realm of Awakening in Mana Body Strengthening.” Blood trickled down his spine, but the wound was already closing. “Common weapons have no effect on my heart, and your artifact magic…”

He chuckled, pushing his dagger farther into her chest. The blade sank deeper with minimal resistance.

“It’s only appropriate that I kill you with your own magic.” He watched the icy web from her cold dagger spreading across her chest, crystalline patterns forming beneath her skin.

Ashini’s mismatched eyes widened in panic. Her fingers twitched uselessly at her sides.

“And stop trying to create a Void Rift in my heart. It won’t work.” Daren felt the subtle disturbance in the air around him—the telltale vibration of her attempted magic. “I’ve already activated Deconstruct all over my body.”

He’d studied her Spell Circle before, memorizing its patterns and weaknesses. The glow of his countermagic pulsed beneath his skin, neutralizing her every attempt. She’d taken him by surprise when she moved the sword, using a Void Rift, and plunged it into his back, but that was it. The pain had been sharp, unexpected—a rookie mistake he wouldn’t make again. She hadn’t killed him in that single blow, and once he knew the extent of her magic, it became easy to defend himself.

The mad scientist’s breaths grew shallow, her golden eye dimming as the ice spread The cold weight of realization settled in Daren’s stomach. One thing was clear—he couldn’t take anyone for granted.

59 SECRET PORTAL IN THE LIBRARY

The growl of the dog-lions bounced off the stone walls of the tunnel as Daren’s fingers moved swiftly across Ashini’s still-warm body. His hand brushed against something metallic—her necklace. The familiar pulse of her mana signature thrummed against his palm.

“Deconstruct.” The word cut through the damp air.

He quickly erased her mana signature, watching the magical essence dissipate like smoke. His bracelet hummed as he transferred her possessions, the necklace dropping in last with a soft chime. Fresh blood trickled down his back, each drop hitting the ground with a soft splat. The dog-lions’ growls turned into frenzied snarls, their massive paws scraping against stone as they closed in. Their breath came in hot, heavy pants that filled the narrow space.

The tunnel’s oppressive dampness pressed against him, mixing with the scent of his blood and the musty fur of the approaching beasts. His wound pulsed with each heartbeat, the pain spreading like poison through his body.

He raised his sword and cut off Ashini’s head in a clean sweep, the blade slicing through with minimal resistance. He grabbed her torso, fingers sinking into the fabric of her clothing. The weight of it settled uncomfortably in his arms. It could be useful if anyone had questions.

A horde of fireballs charged at him from behind, illuminating the tunnel with angry orange light. Heat rushed toward his back in suffocating waves. The dog-lions had unleashed their magical attacks even before they physically reached him, their guttural barks echoing off the stone walls as the blazing projectiles hurtled through the damp air.

“Deconstruct.” His voice remained steady as he nullified the fireballs. The Void Rift shimmered ahead, its dark surface rippling like disturbed water. He pushed off against the slick ground, launching himself toward the library’s entrance as the beasts’ claws clicked against the stone behind him.

A dog-lion leaped behind him, and its paw scratched against his back, still bleeding from before. “Damn it,” Daren said.

The pain shot into his head, turning everything blurry for a moment, making him fall face-first. However, he couldn’t even take a breather as a few jagged pricks pierced his already torn back. The cactus beasts had fucking attacked him too. He rolled away, expecting a few more attacks, but the newcomers had engaged with the old beasts of the room, and soon, an intense brawl broke out in the library.

Daren ducked behind a small hill of books shredded by the cactus beasts. “What the fuck happened here?”

“This emperor rearranged them of course.” The spider stepped from its space inside him and landed on his shoulder. “I feel a crystal nearby. Let’s go there, my minion.”

Daren almost slapped it to death for calling him a minion, but Crystal Heart Spiders were famous for finding mazes and maneuvering their way through them. In fact, the door had opened after the spider had rearranged the books.

Could it have opened the secret portal that the elder had spoken about? Curious, Daren glanced at the door of Section E, which remained closed for now, and then he headed toward the secret door that had appeared in the library. The half-open door exposed a slit that would allow a single object in.

“It must be the key,” he muttered.

“Kill that beast.” Spider pointed at a cactus beast, and Daren used the cold dagger to cut it into pieces. From the beast’s stomach fell a Void Crystal.

“This emperor will grow once he eats the crystal. Minion, bring it to me,” the spider said.

Daren shook his head and picked up the crystal, its smooth facets cool against his fingertips. Instead of handing it to the spider, he deliberately placed it in the narrow slit on the floor. The crystal settled with a soft click, like a key finding its lock.

A faint Spell Circle materialized in the air, its intricate patterns shimmering with gossamer threads of blue-white energy. For normal mages, it would remain invisible, but Daren could distinctly see each delicate rune and arcane symbol pulsing with ancient power.

“It leads to a secret passage,” Daren murmured, reaching out to touch the Spell Circle. His fingers tingled as they passed through the ethereal construction, allowing him to sense the strength of the components.

Out of curiosity, he altered a pattern, shifting a sequence of glyphs that seemed misaligned. As expected, a door materialized behind the slit, unfolding from seemingly nowhere. A brilliant light erupted from the opening—not harsh or blinding but prismatic and alive, casting rainbow-hued patterns across the library walls.

“Stay your hand.” A shadow appeared behind him, blocking him from looking into the magical portal. It was the same shadow guardian they had encountered after the secret portal in the library opened. “Daren Morin, how did you come here?” the shadow guardian asked suspiciously.

Daren spat a mouthful of blood before pointing at Ashini’s corpse. “She used some high-level magic to open a portal here.”

He knelt down, landing on a piece of crystal that had fallen from the cactus beast’s corpse. He gathered that and other pieces into his bracelet. Daren dared to do this because the shadow guardian was busy looking into the other portal. Otherwise, possessing a Void Crystal would have brought him a lot of trouble.

“I’ve got to take you to Princy for this.” The shadow guardian pulled the Void Crystal, tapped on Daren’s temple, and teleported.

Daren drifted into an odd darkness. Teleportation. A strange Spell Circle. If he deconstructed it in the middle of the cast, the caster would die.

Should he just kill the old man?

60 PRINCY’S QUESTIONS

Daren opened his heavy eyelids to white ceiling and cream walls. Afternoon sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains. The distant chime of the academy bell marked the changing of classes, its sound muffled by the thick walls.

Recognition settled in, heavy and unwelcome. The Arcane Academy infirmary again. The same stiff sheets scratched against his skin. The same antiseptic tang was caught in the back of his throat.

Daren attempted to sit up. His muscles protested with a dull ache that radiated through his limbs.

Memories flooded back in like water through a cracked dam—endless hours recovering from training injuries, magical backfires, and, more often, bullying. The phantom sensation of bruises long healed tingled across his skin. His stomach churned as the fragments coalesced, ending in a single, unshakable image: the spell that had killed him.

A sharp pain cracked through his back where Ashini had stabbed her sword. The same sword lay inside his storage bracelet.

Storage bracelet. Daren checked on his left wrist and found that it was still there. A sigh of relief escaped his mouth as he laid his head back on the cushion.

“I expected you to be awake at this time.” The ghastly voice reverberated off the walls like distant wind.

Princy floated through the ceiling, his translucent form materializing next to the bed. His four limbs darted anxiously around his spectral head, twitching and probing the air as if searching for invisible objects.

“Hi, Princy,” Daren said, offering a weak smile despite the pain. This encounter might turn out to be dangerous if he didn’t answer Princy’s questions truthfully. A familiar with a Truth Spell Circle facing someone who harbored as many secrets as Daren did was a dangerous situation.

Princy hovered closer, his form casting faint bluish shadows across the bedsheets. “I will not ask you many questions, and for the ones I ask, I want an honest answer.”

“As if I can lie to you.” Daren chuckled, but he froze midlaugh as sharp pain lanced through his back. He inhaled sharply through clenched teeth. Even with his enhanced internal organs, the sword wound remained a raw, throbbing reality.

Princy’s limbs stilled, the familiar’s gaze intensifying as it studied Daren’s face. “For you, it would be a child’s play,” Princy said, light shifting over his ghostly head in rippling patterns. “Anyway, that’s not a question. Tell me if you opened those portals.”

Daren met the familiar’s gaze steadily. “I didn’t.”

The air between them seemed to thicken with tension as Princy processed the response. The familiar’s limbs twitched, casting faint shadows across the floor as the Truth Spell Circle pulsed once with soft blue light. Daren watched the Spell Circle spread through the room with keen eyes.

“Did you kill the Void Rift Mage?”

“I did.” Daren’s voice remained matter-of-fact. His fingers curled against his palm, the only outward sign of his focus.

“Did you cut off her head?”

Daren shifted his weight. “I killed her, so does that matter?” he replied plainly. “She wasn’t an academy student, so it should be fine.”

“She was. A rough student.” The familiar’s head bobbed as it spoke. “That doesn’t matter, anyway. She ran away, so by killing her, you have done a service to the academy, and you will be rewarded.”

“A student.” Daren frowned.

The revelation sent a cold sensation down his spine. This was completely new information to him. There was a piece of history he’d never found out in his past life—but then, he hadn’t even discovered Mr. Ashi was a girl.

“Did you open the secret portal behind the secret door in the library?”

Daren swallowed. “Yes. I slid the crystal into the slit, and it opened.”

“Did you know it was a Void Crystal?” Princy’s voice dropped lower, the words hanging in the space between them. His eyes scanned Daren as if he were looking at a calamity.

Daren nodded, his fingers absently tracing the edge of the bed. “I also know as long as you don’t pour mana into that thing, it will not blow up.”

“That’s a correct understanding.” Princy’s limbs shifted position, retracting slightly. “I’m done here. Mr. Woolins will brief you about your next expedition once you recover from the injuries.”

“Thank you, Princy.” Daren felt relieved. The tension in his shoulders eased as he exhaled quietly. The familiar hadn’t asked him questions for which he might have had to use the Deconstruct Spell Circle to negate his spell.

“One last question.” Princy leaned closer, his presence suddenly heavy in the room. “Did you use Deconstruct while answering any of the questions?”

Daren shuddered. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as his heart hammered against his ribs. How the fuck did he know about Daren’s Spell Circle?

“I guess not. Good. We will meet again before the expedition.” Princy merged with the ceiling and vanished, leaving behind a faint ripple in the air.

The door squeaked open moments later.

“Daren Morin, you are awake.” Nyxara rushed in, adjusting her glasses on her nose, and sat next to him, her eyes moist. The scent of sweat and dust clung to her uniform. “I was worried about you. Where did you vanish to, and why did everyone come looking for you?”

Daren stared at the ceiling, his mind still reeling with the last question from Princy. The familiar was something else. Something powerful. He had misjudged the principal and his familiar.

Nyxara tapped his arm gently. “It’s good that you are awake. We have the midsemester dual in ten days, and we are going to fight Val Krakon. They planned it after four days, but something happened and they gave us time to prepare.”

Daren pulled his gaze away, blinking twice. “Whom did you say?”

“Val Krakon.” Nyxara rapped her own elbow nervously. “Someone fixed the issue with his magic going haywire, and he even broke through into the peak stage of Realm of Awakening. It’s going to be tough.” She shifted, her head tilting toward him.

Daren chuckled, which scratched his dry throat. Val Krakon was another person he’d underestimated. Someone who’d gotten an antidote for Crystal Heart Spider’s Mana Chaos must have had ties to powerful people.

Things were getting interesting, and he was looking forward to the dual. But before that, he had to process the head he’d put in his storage bracelet. That should help him with any challenge he faced in the duel.

Looking at the head made him nostalgic. It had been decades since he’d last collected human heads as a trophy.

Thank you for reading Daren’s Journey. He will come back soon.

Meanwhile you can join my mailing list to get snippets and information about the next book.

A.P. Gore’s World of Magic and Cultivation.

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