A searing wind swept across the ashen wasteland.
The last battlefield.
Charred corpses, shattered swords, and the broken armor of heroes littered the earth.
Only one man still stood.
Dale Han.
His body was pierced, bloodied, and shaking—but in his hands, a flickering flame remained.
The Primordial Flame.
It pulsed like a heartbeat, warm and ancient, older than the world.
And it called to him.
He had lost everything. His comrades. His mentors. His love. But he had reached it.
The source of all fire.
He staggered forward.
"If I can take it in... maybe—"
The sky split open.
The flame burst with light—and swallowed him whole.
Then everything went black.
"HAN! DALE HAN!"
A voice bellowed.
Dale's eyes snapped open.
The sunlight wasn't from a ruined sky but from a tall classroom window.
His body wasn't broken—it was young.
No scars. No wounds. Just... youth.
Before the wars. Before the flame.
A stunned silence filled the room.
Dale slowly looked down at his hands.
Smooth. Unscarred.
He looked up. Dozens of cadets in uniforms stared at him like he was insane.
A middle-aged professor with a lion's mane of hair glared at him.
"I asked you to read line twenty-three of the Heroic Code. You've been blanking out for a full minute."
Dale stood up.
His heart raced.
"What's today's date?"
Murmurs.
The professor frowned. "Are you mocking me?"
"Please. Just answer. What's today's date?"
Another cadet chuckled nervously. "May 3rd, 879 of the Sealing Era."
Dale staggered back.
He had returned.
Before the wars.
Before the flame.
Before he became the lowest-ranked cadet at Reynald Hero Academy.
Outside the classroom, Dale leaned on the railing, trying to calm his breath.
He had chased the Primordial Flame through the end of the world.
And now he was back.
Seventeen years old.
"A second chance..."
He clenched his fist.
He remembered how he used to beg for scraps of training. How others mocked his weak Stigmata. How he crawled behind the rising stars.
Not this time.
This time, he would burn brighter than all of them.
From zero—to hero.
With the flame in his blood.
Reynald Hero Academy was founded by Reynald Helios, one of the Five Great Heroes who sealed the Demon God five centuries ago. A legendary swordsman blessed by the Seven Gods, he created the academy to forge awakened youths into genuine heroes through four years of intensive training.
Heroes are individuals so powerful that each one can shift the balance of nations.
The Empire, the Holy Kingdom, and the Republic—the three powers dividing the continent—admitted anyone who had awakened the "Stigmata" into the academy without question, hoping to produce even one more superior hero.
Naturally, tensions arose.
Forcing young elites of different nations, statuses, and ideals into close quarters ignited constant conflict.
Eventually, after negotiations between the academy and the three powers, Reynald Hero Academy was declared a complete "neutral zone."
In other words—
"So, within the academy grounds, no discrimination based on nationality or status is allowed."
"...So?"
"Even if Iris is the Holy Kingdom's Saint, she's merely a cadet here."
"What are you trying to say?"
"A month is too long. Let's reduce it to about four days."
"Hey, you...!"
Professor Lucas, who had been quietly listening, rubbed the back of his neck.
"You were originally suspended for a week!"
"Yes, that's right."
"But you cause an accident during suspension and then ask to reduce it to four days?!"
"When negotiating, you should go in strong, don't you think?"
"There's no such thing as a lunatic who causes an accident and then negotiates for leniency! Do you think you're in any position to negotiate with me?!"
Professor Lucas glared at me, disbelief in every crease of his face.
I smirked slightly.
"Professor Bianca's birthday is coming up, right?"
Professor Bianca—head of the Magic Department.
Rumored to loathe Professor Lucas.
"...Why are you suddenly bringing up her birthday?"
But I knew.
I knew the beast-like Lucas secretly harbored feelings for her.
"Don't you want to know what gift would actually impress her?"
"Hah. Why should I care about that?"
"Oh, no reason. But if you gave her the right thing, maybe even someone she dislikes... might start seeing you differently."
His eyes trembled faintly.
Thud.
I pushed back my chair and stood.
"Well, since you're not interested, I'll take my punishment. A month it is."
I bowed politely and turned to leave.
"...Wait."
I paused, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
"Yes, Professor?"
"I'll reduce your suspension—but there's a condition."
"If it's what Bianca would like—"
"No. Something else."
His gaze sharpened.
"You must participate in tomorrow's Warrior Department sparring class and win. That's the condition."
"Hmm. Who's my opponent?"
"Can't tell you that."
A sudden spar. Of course.
'No doubt he wants to see it himself.'
The bloodthirsty hound—Lucas—had been floored by a cadet. Not a senior. Not a genius. Just me.
Camilla Vedice, future Sword of the Holy Kingdom, had fallen before even drawing her blade.
He needed to see it to believe it.
"Alright."
"...Confident, are you."
"It's just a sparring match. Nothing to worry about, right?"
Lucas sighed, crossing his arms.
He was probably thinking: How did this guy change so much in a day?
Unfortunately, I didn't know either.
"Then I'll be going."
"Wait."
"Yes?"
Lucas coughed awkwardly.
"So... what exactly would Bianca like as a gift?"
...
As expected.
Despite appearances, he was a romantic at heart.
The next day.
I woke and stared at the ceiling.
"It wasn't just a fleeting nightmare before death."
Had I wandered too long, chasing the Primordial Flame?
I still couldn't grasp that I'd returned.
I washed up and faced the mirror.
Dark gray hair like ash. Green eyes.
The face I hadn't seen in so long.
It hadn't changed. Not since I awakened the Blessing of Revival.
I had stopped aging.
Staring, I changed into my cadet uniform. It clung tight—still unfamiliar.
A new life.
"Hah, you really want me to spar with that guy?"
Felix O'Dorman. Slender, light blond hair. Warrior Department. Top 100 rank.
"Do you have a problem?"
"No... not really."
Lucas silenced him with a glance.
Felix sighed and picked up a wooden sword.
"Hey, you bastard. Draw your sword so we can get this over with."
He probably hadn't seen what happened yesterday.
Rumors, maybe. But belief? No.
Not that I blamed him.
"Did you hear what that guy Dale did yesterday?"
"Oh, that? Just a rumor, right?"
"No! I saw it myself!"
A crowd of cadets gathered, curiosity burning.
'I feel like a zoo animal.'
In my past life, I never got this kind of attention.
Not the curious kind. Only the cold, sneering kind.
"Huff."
I gripped the wooden sword.
It felt good—like a childhood toy.
"During the spar, magic is prohibited."
"Hah. Like I'd need magic to beat this guy."
Felix scoffed.
He wasn't wrong.
My magic had always been abysmal.
So low, they called me "Rabbit Han"—because my mana ran dry faster than a rabbit in heat.
'So. How should I live?'
I tapped the floor with my sword.
Yesterday, I acted on instinct.
Today, I had purpose.
"Hey, come at me."
All my life, I chased their backs—
Following footsteps. Never leading.
"Come on, didn't you hear me, you bastard?"
Even among the Final Five Heroes, I was still just 'Dale Han, lowest-ranked.'
"If you won't come, I'll come to you, you bastard!"
In that frozen wasteland, where no one remained—
—I cried out alone.
I never reached out.
Never stood in front.
That was Dale Han.
Until now.
Thud.
I sidestepped Felix's swing.
Right foot forward. Pivot. Spin.
Slash upward—
Sun Sword.
KWAANG!
The wooden sword slammed into Felix's gut.
He flew backward, tumbling across the floor, vomiting as he clutched his stomach.
I tapped the sword against the floor.
"What's wrong? You said you'd come to me. No? Then I'll come to you."
From now on—
I won't chase embers in the dark.
Let them follow the blaze I leave behind.