Reincarnation of the magicless Pinoy
From zero to hero! "No magic? No problem!"
Encounter 33 – Two Sides of the Same Coin part3
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The metal halls groaned under his boots. Sparks flickered from broken lights above. Rolien kept running. Blood still wet on his lips. His body screamed with every step—Gerberra's backlash was eating through him, but he had no time to stop. Not now.
> "This pain's nothing... if that thing blows, no one's walking out of here."
He turned the corner—another collapsed corridor.
And then he felt it.
A pulse.
Not mana.
Something colder. Familiar.
> "No..."
He picked up speed. His breath ragged. Every warning in his system blared red, matching the blood dripping from his chin.
And finally—he found it.
The bomb.
A crude mass of steel, wires, and blinking lights—not made of this world's magictech. No mana circuits. No crystal cores. Just raw, terrifying Earth engineering.
Dozens of students were tied up around the room, chained to the rig, mouths gagged, eyes wide with panic.
Rolien skidded to a stop, eyes locking onto the device.
> "Tch... Just like I feared."
He knelt down fast. Scanning the wires. His fingers moved like they had before—on Earth, defusing car bombs in war-torn zones and rogue cities.
> "...These patterns. These junctions..."
His breath caught in his throat.
> "This method... no doubt. This is your work."
He narrowed his eyes. Sweat formed on his brow—not from fear, but rage. His gloved hand hovered over the core, Gerberra steaming at his side.
Then—
He froze.
> Someone's here.
Among the crying students... one presence stood still.
No shaking. No fear. But a weight of pure, killing intent pressing against the room like a blade to the throat.
Rolien stood slowly, his voice low and sharp:
> "You might as well stop hiding. Your aura's leaking like a busted pipe. Old friend."
From the back, the figure rose—parting from the crowd of hostages like a wolf among sheep.
A hooded man, face half-obscured, chuckled.
> "Ah... So you figured it out."
His voice oozed mockery and nostalgia.
> "I thought you'd take longer. But then again... that's why you were always my favorite mortal enemy."
Rolien's jaw clenched.
> "...Solomon."
> "Captain Rowan Elian Grey," the man said mockingly, stepping forward with a twisted smile, "Always two steps ahead. Even in this world."
> "Tch. I had a hunch the moment I saw that crooked C4 in the cavern. That sloppy wiring? That was you. I just didn't think I'd be lucky enough for it to really be you."
> "Guess fate's got a sense of humor," Solomon chuckled. "You got reborn here, didn't you? Body looks young—mine too. Makes sense we're both walking nightmares in this world now."
> "Enough." Rolien drew his sword—Ashcutter gleaming faintly in the dim light.
> "Let the students go."
> "Let them go?" Solomon laughed.
He raised his hand and gestured at the massive device.
> "That bomb's enough to level half the capital. Even if I set them free, they'll die in the blast. And so will you."
> "You haven't changed. Still hiding behind hostages and explosives."
> "And you're still playing the hero," Solomon sneered. "But I'll give you one thing... I missed this. The tension. The chessboard. You and me, back where we belong."
> "Tch..." Rolien shifted his stance, his voice tight. "Well... at least there's one thing we agree on."
> "Yeah?"
> "I'm gonna enjoy kicking your ass again, Hunter Salmon."
> "It's Solomon, you prick!"
Silence.
The heat between them thickened.
Then—they moved.
Both dashed forward, blades clashing. The air cracked from the force of it.
Steel on steel.
Earth mana erupted under Solomon's boots, coating his blade in jagged stone. Rolien countered, sliding low, his prosthetic arm parrying the strike before twisting into a punch—Hauling Punch igniting across Solomon's ribs.
But Solomon rolled back, grinning even as he spat blood.
> "Ahhh... that arm. I'll rip it off again. Like old times."
Rolien didn't answer—he just charged again, blade ready, fury blazing in his eyes.
The tension snapped like wire.
Their blades clashed—stone and steel grinding, the sparks lighting the dark chamber. But they weren't fighting like students. Their stances, footwork, and movements screamed experience—killers trained for war.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Rolien used his blade for precision, while Solomon used brute force, his rocky sword bearing weight like a sledgehammer.
But then—
Solomon feinted.
Rolien ducked, twisted—and disarmed him.
The sword clattered across the floor.
Solomon didn't flinch.
He reached behind him—pulling a black combat knife.
> "Heh... just like Fort Eria, huh?"
FLASHBACK – Earth: Fort Eria | 6 Years Ago ⟡
War-Torn Border, 2300 Hours
Captain Rowan Elian Grey stood atop the bunker's rubble, blood dripping from his shoulder.
Opposite him, limping but smiling—
Hunter Solomon, the rogue explosives expert. Knife in hand. Vest torn.
The rain fell hard.
> "You're not supposed to be here," Rowan said, breathing hard.
> "Neither were those kids you just evacuated," Solomon said, circling.
> "You knew the school was nearby and still wired it."
> "Because it would've made headlines," Solomon grinned. "And you stopped it. Guess that's your thing."
They didn't speak further.
Their blades met—short, brutal strikes.
No stances. No ceremony.
Just knife to knife, grit to grit, in the rain.
Rowan blocked low—Solomon struck high.
Solomon rolled back—Rowan pressed forward, elbowing him in the ribs, but Solomon ducked and punched his thigh, numbing the nerves.
They fought for five long minutes—no backup, no plan, just history and hate.
Then Rowan caught his wrist.
Spun him.
Slammed him into the wall.
> "This ends now."
> "Not today, Captain—"
Solomon twisted, stabbed the ground, set off a smokescreen grenade, and vanished into the dust.
Their swords were gone.
Knives now.
Solomon pulled a curved fang-like blade, trying to stab low.
Rolien blocked with his prosthetic arm—the steel plating sparking from contact. Then punched his gut with a short hook.
Solomon staggered—slashed across Rolien's side.
They grunted, twisting into a close-quarters grapple.
Solomon kicked Rolien's shin—Rolien headbutted him with his helmet.
Solomon reeled back—just in time to see the barrel of Punchline 2.0 spinning to full speed.
> "Surprise—"
THOOM!!!
The rocket-powered fist smashed into Solomon's jaw.
BOOM!
It detonated mid-contact—flinging him across the chamber. Dust and flame engulfed his path.
Rolien stepped back, smoke rising from his gauntlet. His arm trembled from recoil.
> "There. That's my parting gift."
He turned—
Only to see a staggering shadow crawl up through the flames, and disappear through a crumbling passage in the wall, laughing faintly.
> "Try to catch me again, Captain!!"
Smoke lingered in the chamber like ash clinging to memory.
Rolien stumbled forward. His steps were uneven. Blood still dripped from his mouth. Gerberra sparked at the seams—blue cracks glowing faintly.
The bomb was still active.
The students, wide-eyed and bound together, cried and screamed, pressing into one another for space and breath. Some whispered prayers. Some were frozen.
Rolien's visor flickered. The scan was unstable.
> [WARNING: External Device Detected – Unidentified Technology]
[Status: Armed]
[Countdown Active – 00:01:52]
> "Shit…" Rolien hissed.
He dropped to his knees in front of the device. It didn't pulse with mana—it radiated with something he knew far too well.
A Cold-Fusion Pulse Core.
Earth tech. Dirty, unrefined, improvised—but deadly.
> "Damn it, Solomon… even in another world you're still trying to blow up schools…" he muttered, voice gravel.
His fingers moved with shaky precision, working through the wiring with practiced rhythm. Red wire. Black wire. Silver filament.
He knew the pattern.
He remembered it from the Jakar bombing. The Berlin trap. The Fort Eria shell.
It was his signature.
And now it stared him in the face again—laughing.
> [00:01:02]
He gritted his teeth. "You just couldn't help yourself…"
He pulled back the side casing—revealing a familiar engraving scratched inside:
"TO ROWAN – YOUR MOVE."
> "Tch… you psycho bastard."
His hands moved faster now. Sparks flew. He ripped through the outer case, exposed the main detonator, and jammed the override cable from his gauntlet into the side.
> [Emergency Sync: Establishing...]
[Decryption in progress – 83%...]
[90%...]
[91%...]
Then he heard it—
A child's whimper.
He turned. One of the students—no older than nine—was staring at him through teary eyes.
> "W-Will we die…?"
Rolien didn't answer.
He just lowered his head.
Then smiled faintly.
> "Not today."
> [Decryption Complete – Detonation Sequence Interrupted]
[Manual Override – Confirmed]
[Device: Safe]
The ticking stopped.
The light on the bomb's panel died.
Rolien let out a shaky breath—and collapsed onto his side.
> [WARNING: Vital Signs Falling]
[Adrenaline Dump Detected – Physical Collapse Imminent]
He barely had the strength to speak.
But still managed one line:
> "Get them… out…"
---
⟡ Meanwhile – Surface: East Courtyard ⟡
"Status?!"
> "We're holding! The last defensive barrier's still up!"
> "We need to regroup—form a perimeter—someone's still underground!"
Sophia leaned heavily against Caelan, bandaged but alert. Mira stood near, her hands clenched. Leto sat nearby, his blade laid across his lap.
Suddenly—
> KA-THOOM!!
A faint rumble shook the ground.
Everyone looked toward the center building.
From the cracked entrance, a figure emerged—
Bloodied. Armor scorched. Cape torn.
The Black Wraith.
He carried a little girl in his arms—her cheek smeared with dust, but she was breathing.
Behind him, a wall of smoke rose from the underground corridor. Knights rushed to meet him. He didn't say a word—just handed the girl to a healer, then turned to go back.
> "Wait!" Sophia called.
He paused.
She limped closer. Reached for his arm—the prosthetic—still faintly glowing.
He didn't stop her.
> "You… really came," she said softly.
He didn't answer.
But the tilt of his head said enough.
> "I knew it was you…"
She whispered it only for herself.
---
⟡ Moments Later: Crown Prince Caelan's POV ⟡
He watched the Black Wraith from the terrace as healers swarmed the scene. His brother—Prince Gael—finally arrived with elite knights from the capital.
> "Who is he?" Gael asked.
Caelan didn't answer immediately.
He just stared toward the fading silhouette.
> "A ghost," he said finally.
> "The kind that saves lives."
Location: Lower Forest Trail – Near the Southern Ridge
Branches snapped under his boots. Blood dripped from his busted lip.
Luke—no, Solomon—pulled his hood tighter over his face, masking the scorch mark near his jaw.
> "Tch… he actually managed to tag me…"
He paused beside a large boulder, glancing at the twisted dent in his stolen vest. A small metal shard clattered to the ground—remnants of Punchline's explosive warhead.
He laughed.
> "Heh… classic Rowan. Doesn't kill you outright. Just enough to remind you he could've."
He reached into his cloak, pulling out a strange device—a cracked black crystal embedded into an iron casing.
> "No matter… the next phase begins."
He looked up at the smoke rising in the distance—the remnants of the sealed chamber. His eyes narrowed.
> "That arm... Gerberra. You brought that into this world, you bastard. You really haven't changed."
He chuckled again—this time quieter.
> "But don't think this is over, Rowan Elian Grey. I'm not that kid you arrested back at Fort Wallace. This time, I've got gods on my side."
And with that, he turned and vanished into the trees.
Magisterium Academy, Morning
The soft hum of healing wards buzzed through the dimly lit room.
Rolien stirred in the reinforced mana bed, his breathing slow, chest rising and falling with effort. A thick bandage wrapped his torso, and faint burns still glowed across his shoulder where Gerberra had overloaded. The prosthetic arm rested in a maintenance cradle beside the bed, locked and sealed.
Rolien stirred beneath the sheets, consciousness slowly returning. A soft pressure grounded him—someone was holding his hand.
It was Sophia, sitting at his bedside, cheeks bruised, a bandage over her brow, her eyes rimmed red. She squeezed his hand gently.
> "You're awake," she whispered, as if afraid to break the moment.
Rolien tried to sit up. A searing pain tore through his ribs, making him wince.
> "Don't move yet," she said. "You need time."
Footsteps echoed from the hallway. The door opened—and in came Grand Duke Edric Grey, flanked by Lady Lerien, Elian, Elara, and a tear-soaked Nanny Lyra.
Behind them followed Principal Thorne, carrying a clipboard and a grim expression.
> "He's awake," Sophia said quietly, stepping back.
Nanny Lyra burst into louder sobs. "Oh, my poor baby! You're all in bandages again! You promised not to get hurt anymore!"
> "...Hey, Nanny," Rolien said hoarsely. "Sorry. I broke that promise."
> "You broke half your body!" she wailed, hugging his good shoulder as he grunted in pain.
Lady Lerien approached next, poised as always, but her eyes glistened.
> "You went underground without permission. You went into a battle zone. You nearly died."
She paused, voice tight.
> "And I have never been so proud… or so furious."
Elian gave his brother a nod, arms crossed.
> "You beat me to it. Took on something not even the royal knights would touch."
> "Not something," Thorne corrected, finally stepping forward.
> "He fought a god."
The room fell into stunned silence.
> "An Outer God," Thorne continued. "One trying to manifest fully into this realm through a corrupted summoning ritual beneath this school. The entity's name was Xexayis. And it would've succeeded if he didn't stop it."
> "The hell?" Elara whispered. "Like… a real Outer God?"
> "Incomplete," Thorne confirmed. "But still powerful enough to destroy the city."
Rolien sat up straighter despite the pain. His eyes swept across his family. Then, slowly, he reached for the cracked mask sitting on the tray next to him.
The ghostly skull visor of the Black Wraith.
He set it on his lap.
> "I've been hiding something," he said.
The air shifted.
> "My missions, my gear, my skills—they weren't just training exercises. I've been an active adventurer for years now, using an alias."
He looked directly at his mother and father.
> "They call me the Black Wraith."
> "You—what?" Elian's eyes widened. "The Black Wraith?! The one who assassinated the corrupted count in Dorthal? Who raided the Chimera Vault of Vanmeria? That was you?!"
Rolien gave a dry nod.
> "It was easier to act under a codename. I had no mana—but I had skills. I made use of them."
> "Wait," Elara stepped back. "You fought that thing down there. And won. And now you're saying you're… that guy?!"
> "I didn't win," Rolien said. "Not really. I survived. Barely."
His fingers touched the side of the cracked prosthetic arm resting on the table nearby.
> "I used a weapon no one should touch. Gerberra—Final Roar. It burns with energy outside of time and creation. It nearly killed me to use it."
Thorne interjected, arms folded. "He disarmed a bomb meant to erase half the capital. Defeated an Outer God's avatar. Took down two summoners. All without mana."
> "That's impossible," Lady Lerien whispered. "Even with your father's blood, that should be impossible…"
Rolien didn't answer.
Instead, he met Grand Duke Edric's gaze.
> "I'll accept whatever punishment you see fit. But I'd do it again. Every damn time."
Edric stared at him for a long moment. Then stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.
> "No punishment," he said quietly.
> "Just pride."
Lerien exhaled, finally allowing her composure to crack.
> "And heartbreak."
> "And more sleepless nights," Nanny Lyra added, clutching a new handkerchief.
Sophia sat silently at the edge of the room, watching it all unfold—Rolien's double life, his sacrifice, the impossible truth behind the phantom hero she once believed was a myth.
He glanced her way.
She gave him a nod—and a tiny smile.
> "So... you're really him."
Rolien offered a tired smirk.
> "I always show up when it matters."
To be continued..
End of volume 1