The academy bells tolled—a deep, iron hum that resonated through the cold morning air, echoing off stone towers and tiled rooftops like a warning from a future that only Rafael remembered partially.
Each chime struck his spine like a countdown, not to graduation, but to catastrophies.
The twentieth reboot had begun.
And this time, Rafael wasn't just prepared—he was honed. Sharpened. Reduced to a singularity of focus.
He walked the halls of the academy with the calm of someone who had died too many times to be shaken by student gossip or exams.
His peers called him intense. Professors called him promising.
But only Rafael knew how tightly wound he truly was. How much effort it took not to scream every time someone talked about trivialities like roommate drama or who would get top marks in Elemental Integration.
They didn't know. They couldn't know.
But Lira began to get a glimpse of it.
***
By mid-morning, he found solitude beneath the weathered gargoyle in the North Wing garden. A patch of old stone hidden behind flowering hedges and twisted branches, a place the others ignored unless they were assigned gardening duty.
Here, he could listen to the soft hum of runes carved centuries ago and feel the pulse of the leyflux floating in the air. The substance equal to mana in other stories. The substance that allowed anyone who could feel it, to wield magic.
His Apocalypse Diary was open across his knees. Dozens of pages already scribbled with new calculations. Magic field intensities. Rift patterns. Updated breach. Any kind of possibilities he could thight about. This timeline had changed rapidly again. And he didn't like how early the signs were showing.
He was mid-way through drawing a leyline distortion sketch when a shadow fell over the page.
"Skipping meditation again?"
Lira, still in her combat leathers, dropped onto the bench beside him like she owned the space.
"I meditated. For five seconds," Rafael said without looking up.
"Let me guess. Five seconds of staring into the abyss and rewriting some kind of prophecy?"
He didn't answer. But the twitch of his brow was answer enough.
She leaned over to peer at the diagrams. "You've got the entire continent mapped in energy frequencies. That's…," she furrowed, "not normal, you know."
"I stopped being normal nineteen deaths ago."
She tilted her head. "Wait. That wasn't a joke, was it?"
"No."
"You're serious."
Rafael looked at her. Truly looked. Her eyes were bright. Her expression wary—but not dismissive. Not like at the first few loops. Not like when she had laughed in his face or walked away. This Lira… she wanted to understand.
"I've been here before," he said quietly. "All of this. The academy. The trials. The war. I've fought the Riftwalkers. I've watched the sky split open. I've seen cities burn. I've watched you die. Everyone's death. Over and over again."
She said nothing. But her hand, resting beside his on the bench, curled ever so slightly.
"And then I woke up again," he continued. "Younger. A little earlier each time. A little bit random also. I don't know how many chances I get this time. I just know this might be my last. I hope."
Finally, she spoke. "And you're planning to stop it? The apocalypse?"
He nodded. "One move at a time."
"And you want help."
He hesitated. "I need it."
Lira studied him for a long moment. Then nodded once. "Alright. Tell me what really happen. If I think that this is some kind of bullshit, I'm gonna hit you hard in the chest."
He grinned.
***
That evening, Rafael moved with deliberate purpose through the academy's twisting halls, assembling the group he once called his 'apocalypse party.' This time, he wouldn't wait until the first crack slit in the sky. This time, he would forge the bonds early. Prevent the splintering. Build the trust.
He started with Kelan.
The spell-sword prodigy was mid-swing in the dueling yard, sweat flying from his brow as lightning danced along his blade. Alone, as always. Angry, as always. Someone he couldn't met at 19th loop.
"Looking for a real fight?" Rafael asked.
Kelan glared. "I don't spar with kids."
"Good. This isn't a spar. It's war."
Kelan blinked, faltered slightly.
"I've seen what you can do. And I know what's coming," Rafael said. "When the sky tears open, you'll want allies."
"And what, you're building a team?"
"I'm rebuilding one."
Kelan stared at him for a beat as something ringing inside his skull. A glimpse of past loops that he couldn't understand yet. Then he wiped his blade clean. "You're insane. But fine. I'm listening."
***
Next was Mira. Hidden in the recesses of the second library, tucking away books she didn't even realize she was absorbing with her latent nullification magic. She hadn't awakened it yet. But Rafael knew she would soon.
He slid a parchment onto her desk.
"What's this?" she asked.
"A field test. Unauthorized. Dangerous. Also, possibly world-saving."
She read the first line, then looked up sharply. "This is a leyline rupture pattern."
"Promising, right?" He smiled faintly.
She stared at him. "You're serious."
"I never joke about end-of-the-world events. Well, most of the time."
"I'm in," she said before he even asked.
***
And finally, Juno. Soon-to-be bard who would sing a lullaby that tore monsters apart. Found, as always, in the kitchens, hoarding fresh bread and apples like a dragon with a snack obsession.
"You again," she muttered, mouth full.
"I need a thief. A quiet one. One who can break into a divine vault without triggering a high-rank ward."
She chewed slowly. "That's oddly specific."
"It will make sense soon."
Juno narrowed her eyes, studying him. "You always talk like you know too much. Are you one of those future-seers or something?"
He shrugged, "something like that."
She snorted. "You've got the 'doom prophet' look down. Fine. I'm in. Not because I believe in sky-tearing nonsense. But because you look like someone who's going to get into trouble, and that usually means loot."
He offered her a half-smile. A glimpse of future, past, and possibilities played wildly in his mind. "I can live with that."
"First pick," she said, tossing him an apple. "Or no deal."
"Deal."
***
They met that night in the old tower study. The flickering light of enchanted lamps bathed the room in golden warmth. Rafael stood before them, cloak half-undone, hands ink-stained, eyes burning.
Kelan leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. Mira had already started reading his battle notes. Juno was dismantling a lockbox with idle curiosity. And Lira… stood by the window, silent but resolute.
"This is real," Rafael said. "And it's coming fast. We don't have years. We have months. Maybe less."
He unrolled a map of the continent, punctuated with sigils and arcane lines.
"This time, we'll stop it before it starts. So, I want to start with loops and apocalypse themselves."
He looked around at them—all young, brilliant, unaware of what was truly coming—and felt his chest tighten.
But this time, he had them early.
And he wouldn't lose them again.
Even if it killed him.
Or made him lick his own toes.
***