Rain fell across the silver domes of the Academy of Grand Arcanum, washing away the dust of a thousand histories carved into its ancient marble. Beneath the stormy sky, Loyaid Floyen stepped onto the training field, his cloak sodden but his posture unbent. Around him, young mages from noble houses whispered, chuckled, and glared all eyes fixed on the mana-less noble who had somehow passed the first trial.
What they didn't know what they could never know was that the boy before them had once been Max Van.
He'd watched empires rise and fall. He'd ended the lives of kings and demons. And now he stood in the middle of a damp courtyard surrounded by adolescents who thought power was a glowing staff and a title handed down by birth.
But Max wasn't angry. Loyaid, as he now was, had made peace with weakness. Or so he thought.
......
The second trial was announced.
[The Elemental Arena]....
It was designed to test a mage's affinity under pressure. Mages would enter a massive, spell-forged simulation, forced to battle both the elements and each other. The more magic you summoned, the more your spirit was exposed. Most young mages trembled at the thought of overextension.
Loyaid stood at the registration table when a thin hand slammed beside him.
Celia Dranheart.
You're entering? Really? she asked, not with derision, but curiosity.
Loyaid looked up at her calmly. "I thought you said I should try harder to blend in."
I said.. exists not get crushed by elemental monsters in front of the student body.
He offered the ghost of a smile.
Celia frowned, brushing a lock of wet hair from her face. You're hiding something. You're not like the others.
Neither are you,Loyaid said softly.
Celia blinked, then turned away before he could read her face. Do what you want, trash prince. Just don't die in there.
.......
The arena shimmered into existence as the academy's arcane dome hummed with layered spellwork. Simulated landscapes bloomed: rivers that boiled with fire, forests of glass and lightning, caves with gravity-defying roots.
Inside the simulation, students were scattered randomly. Loyaid found himself on the edge of the Glass Forest.
He didn't move.
Instead, he closed his eyes and breathed.
Deep in his soul, beyond the sealed mana circuits, lay a whisper. Not of power but of presence. Old magic. Ancient roots that predated elemental categorization. The magic of Will.
A flare of dark magic erupted nearby screams echoed.
Loyaid opened his eyes and sprinted toward the sound.
......
Three students lay unconscious, surrounded by crystalized earth. Towering over them stood a figure robed in black—**Vikard Vel Voss**, heir of the Vel Voss bloodline and user of corrupted earth magic.
Trash shouldn't be here,Vikard sneered as Loyaid approached.
Loyaid glanced at the wounded students. They're out of the trial. You've proven your strength. What's the point now?
Vikard raised a hand. Correction. You're the next point.
The ground surged. Crystalline shards shot toward Loyaid's chest.
For a moment, Loyaid's body moved before the thought even formed A pivo. A sidestep, A breath The shards whistled past him.
Vikard's expression darkened. That wasn't luck.
No, Loyaid replied. It was experience.
He struck not with magic, but with a single pressure-point jab to Vikard's wrist. The older boy staggered back, magic faltering.
You fight like a warrior, Vikard hissed.
Loyaid didn't respond. He didn't need to.
In his past life, he'd fought demon generals without mana. It wasn't power that defined strength it was will.
.....
Meanwhile, deep in the academy's sealed archive, a shadow crept.
A hooded figure slid through the barriers unnoticed. In their hand glowed a crystal of dark obsidian the symbol of the Twelfth Commander..
They whispered a message into the void:
Target has awakened. Reincarnated soul confirmed. Orders?
From beyond, a voice laced with malice responded:
Observe. Delay. But do not engage until the Eclipse.
The shadow vanished into the archive's depths, leaving behind a silent echo of coming calamity.
...
Back in the Elemental Arena, Celia found Loyaid tending to the injured students.
You really don't care what they say about you, do you? she asked.
I care, he said quietly. I just don't let it rule me.
She studied him for a long moment. You don't talk like a kid. You talk like someone who's seen too much.
He didn't answer.
She knelt beside him. You scare me sometimes.
I scare myself, he whispered.
.....
That evening, the trial results were posted. Loyaid had not only passed he had earned top marks for composure, combat application, and teamwork.
The academy buzzed. Rumors spread.
The trash prince wasn't so trash after all.
And somewhere in the demon realm, the Demon King stirred. In his obsidian throne, he smiled, dark flames flickering in his palm.
Max Van... I smell you again. The game begins anew.
......