The morning after the storm, sunlight crept timidly through the academy windows, glinting off wet cobblestones and casting fractured rainbows across the marble halls. Lee Shin tightened his tie, staring at his reflection in the glass.
His face looked calm, ordinary—too ordinary for the man he used to be.
But the faint mark of the ring shimmered beneath his cuff, a reminder that his past wasn't dead. It was waiting.
He stepped into Class D to find a familiar sight: whispers, sneers, and laughter that stopped when he walked by. Ji-Hoon sat among his friends, smirking like a viper with something to prove.
"Look who crawled back," Ji-Hoon said. "Hope your ribs healed, weakling."
Shin ignored him and sat in his seat. But the air around him felt heavier. His mana—still weak—flickered faintly in response to his emotions. The ring pulsed once, like a heartbeat, and a faint ripple moved through the air.
Ji-Hoon froze for a second. "...What the—?"
Shin smiled faintly. "Something wrong?"
Before he could answer, Instructor Rho entered. "Pair evaluations today. Class D will spar with C-class guests. Show me how much you've grown—or don't."
Groans filled the room again. Class C guests meant humiliation for most. But for Shin, it was opportunity.
The battle arena hummed with mana seals as the students took their places. The first few fights were short, predictable. D-class students were outmatched and outclassed.
Then Rho called his name.
"Lee Shin. You're up."
His opponent—a tall boy from Class C with lightning veins running through his forearms—grinned. "I'll make it quick."
Shin raised his sword. His ring pulsed once. The world slowed—not as sharply as before, but just enough. Every movement of his opponent became traceable, predictable.
The first strike came fast—a blur of lightning. Shin ducked, countered, parried. Sparks flew as metal clashed against mana-infused steel.
He wasn't stronger. He wasn't faster.
But he was smarter.
Every blow reminded him of his past life—how he'd trained soldiers to anticipate, not react. How instinct, not power, decided who lived or died.
The boy swung again. Shin sidestepped, shifted his weight, and delivered a single, precise strike to the chest. The impact sent the boy sprawling.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Even Rho's eyes widened. "That's enough."
As the crowd muttered, Shin sheathed his sword and stepped down, heartbeat steady. Inside, though, the ring burned hotter than ever.
He felt its whisper again.
"The fragments awaken… seek the heirs…"
He frowned, pressing his hand over it to quiet the pulse.
Later that evening, Shin stood on the dorm balcony, watching the city lights below. The rain had stopped, but the sky still smelled of thunder.
He could feel something building inside him—an energy he couldn't yet control.
Something ancient.
Something that remembered.
And somewhere across the campus, he could sense a familiar mana presence—soft, warm, and painfully nostalgic.
A girl's voice echoed faintly from the courtyard below.
"Stop! Leave me alone!"
His blood turned cold.
That voice…
He rushed to the window and saw her—surrounded by students.
A girl with long dark hair, trembling but defiant. They jeered, calling her a betrayer.
And then a boy stepped forward to defend her—calm, composed, sword drawn in her defense.
The boy's name reached Shin's ears like thunder.
"Leave Ryu Ahra alone!"
Shin's world stopped.