‘I’m… tainted! I will never die a peaceful death!’ Roa bit his lips with great grief.

The first time he ever had a full meal; his mother’s gentle voice while singing him a lullaby; his first gold coin… Roa expected to see joyous moments such as these to ease his passing. Instead, horror took over at the thought of Solitaria’s nonsense playing out at a heightened speed.

—Hah! So those irritating things relieve themselves and pass waste at the same time?

‘No! I can’t die! Not like this!’ A surge of energy shot throughout Roa’s body. Though living with the same limitations as his past life would be unfavorable; dying with his final thoughts being about an avian’s genitalia… was a worse indignity. 

He had to live, even if it meant losing an arm again.

‘Your technique, Hadar! —I’ve seen you use it enough times. It’ll be the only thing of use right now. I hope it’s enough, dear friend!’ 

Infusing mana into his blade was insufficient against the Seed of Fire. And sword aura? Roa had yet to awaken it. Right now, he was undeniably weak.

Even so—the 10th, seat of Hadar’s signature spell, Roa would try to imitate it. He raised his left hand and slammed it against the face of his weapon. He drew what little mana he could and with his fingers, etched them onto the blunt edge of his blade.

‘You said only a genius could pull this off—?!’ Roa smirked slightly. A warm current of mana culminated in his hand, a feeling he had lost when his right arm was cursed. He yelled out, “Quench!”

Water—enough to fill a cup—formed from the light of mana and enveloped his blade. The result was a pale imitation of the seat of Hadar’s spell, looking as if it would soon disperse. Roa had a faint hope that his splash of water would be enough against the barrage of vines radiating immense heat.

He swung his blade to deflect the first attack—splattering droplets of sap from the vines that were hot enough to burn one’s skin. Again, he swung towards the second vine, and then the third, the fourth…

In a short span of time, he had deflected numerous vines. Soon, his blade was deformed and was not too far away from breaking, meanwhile underneath his clothes, numerous red burn patches were scattered on his skin. His exhaustion was nearing its peak.

‘Silly, why don’t you just cut down all these things?’

“You think I can cut anything using a stick with some spit?” retorted Roa, though after doing so, his mouth remained agape.

‘Tsk! Shouldn’t something sharp be used to cut? Why use a stick? It is savior’s fault for using something like that to cut! Even I know that to cut, one must use something sharp!’

Nonsense mentioned with a proud stance—Roa wasn’t wrong to lose his composure. Initially, he thought that a fragment of his memory replayed itself in his head when in fact, it was the actual self-proclaimed dragon!

—Solitaria was here!

‘I’ll help you out, Savior. A small flame like this is easy, heh—snap! I’ll return to my nap after, but you better talk lots with me when I wake up!’

An ominous giggle skittered around Roa’s thoughts and a chill raced down his spine. He suddenly saw his left arm moving independently from his will, towards his front, breaking his stance. Now, it was positioned to grab Ariene’s vine.

‘This jabbering lizard—what did she do!?’

The situation went out of hand, literally. All at once, a barrage of questions tried to fit themselves through the gate of Roa’s mind, causing his train of thought to cease.

‘There’s no helping it… I hope Ariene only takes the hand,’ Roa lamented, and prepared for the inevitable searing pain that was about to crawl up his left arm.

As soon as the burning vines touched his fingers, a brand appeared around his left arm—a stigma—emanating a luminous cyan glow, dispersing Ariene’s magic—poof!—leaving behind nothing but fizzling remnants of the dying fireworks.

In Roa’s eyes, past the embers that beautifully floated down, reflected Ariene. Her expression was dull and her eyes in full disbelief. She slumped down in surrender and collapsed onto the ground, depleted of her mana and will to fight.

“Hah…” Roa let out a wry chuckle. “I really hate surprises.”

His expectations were turned on its head. He’d won.

He turned to the referee who’d become slack-jawed, and tossed his deformed blade to their feet. This reminded the man to announce Roa’s victory, and finally ended the second assessment. Inwardly though, Roa started cussing the man out.

‘This was a simple spar. This bastard should have stepped in the moment Ariene unleashed her signature spell.’

Roa knew full well why his safety wasn’t assured in the mock battle. In the eyes of the majority, he was supposed to lose this match. For the academy, him being crippled or losing his life only served to gain benefits from Forest Riviera, and they would only lose a red tier student from the slums.

‘They were taking advantage of Ariene’s precarious status. When did the great Luveris Academy fall so far?’

Perhaps not all of Luveris was privy to these malicious plans. Roa knew that there were those still upholding the beliefs of the academy’s founder, the belief where all talents were to be equally given a chance to be nurtured. However, the influence of those few had already been buried by the majority falling into corruption.

If there were any chance of holding up against the Spirit Domain’s inevitable encroachment, it would be in their best interests to undergo a reform. —The earlier the better.

Roa mulled over the things he had to do, the things he needed to accomplish in this fresh start as now, he lay comfortably incapacitated in the infirmary.