Standing amid a field of rubble and corpses, a dense blanket of grey clouds covering the sky, I watched the sun sink below the horizon as a figure cloaked in black emerged from the shadows. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, the acrid scent of smouldering ruins clinging to my lungs. I tightened my grip on my weapon, infusing it with ether. 

I unleashed my most powerful attack, an arc of golden light slicing through the air, sending up a whirlwind of dust and debris as it struck him—yet he emerged unscathed, darting towards me with inhuman speed. My instincts barely kept me alive. I raised my sword just in time to meet his first strike, but the force of it sent tremors through my bones. Blow after relentless blow rained down, driving me back until I met the crumbling castle wall. My muscles screamed in protest, exhaustion creeping into my limbs.

Then, with one final, brutal strike, his blade pierced through my core. My breath caught, pain lancing through me as I collapsed to my knees, blood spilling from my mouth. Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, blurring the battlefield into indistinct shapes and colours as he withdrew his sword.

With a horizontal slash, he sent a crescent of darkness crashing into the castle. The world trembled as stone shattered, the structure giving way beneath the force. As he spoke, his words became indistinguishable from the debris that rained down, burying me beneath the wreckage. His laughter echoed across the battlefield, distant and distorted, before being swallowed by the pain twisting through me. Eventually, the pain faded into a creeping numbness. Voices rang in my head, one frustrated, one mocking. My mind slowed, then ground to a complete stop—

I jolted awake, sitting up in bed, panting.

The remnants of the nightmare faded, replaced with an intense lucidity. My memories slotted into place, the final pieces of a puzzle clicking in. There was no nausea, no throbbing headache that usually accompanied a memory. Just… clarity.

“Those voices,” I murmured into the darkness. “How did I forget?”

Ever since my reincarnation, I had been dreaming of my past life, each night bringing me closer to its end. This time, though, it felt different—final. Yet reliving those events had felt more like watching someone else’s life unfold rather than my own. Now, for the first time, my body felt truly mine. My usually scrambled mind—whole.

Had my reincarnation not been complete until now? And those voices— what were they arguing about? Why couldn’t I remember them before? 

I hurriedly broke down the conversation in my head, trying to piece together who had been speaking. 

‘Beat you again, Malasine.’ Malasine. I recognised that name.

Throwing off my covers, I stumbled through the darkness to my bookshelf, running my fingers along the spines in search of a specific book. I had borrowed quite a few from the manor’s library that I thought might be useful, and among them was a thin, hardcover volume on the world’s religions. When my fingers closed around what I hoped was the right one, I pulled it free and hurried back to my bed—only then realising I couldn’t read a word of it in the pitch-black room.

Turning to the oil lamp on my nightstand, I cupped my hands and focused. Fire-element mana coursed through my meridians, gathering in my palms, condensing and congealing until a small flame flickered to life. It wavered unsteadily, struggling to maintain its form as I fed it mana to keep it alight.

It had worked on my first attempt.

I smiled, momentarily pleased with my progress, and used the flame to light the oil lamp. My parents should be asleep—as long as I didn’t do anything dangerous, Freya’s Instinct wouldn’t activate and wake her. It was impossible to suppress my mana signature while actively using mana, even with my bracelet. Hopefully, if someone outside the manor noticed, they’d assume it was one of my parents or a mage working for Julius and ignore it. Worst case, one of the manor’s night guards is a mage, senses it, reports it to Julius, and… well, he already knows I’m a mage, I reasoned.

Carefully adjusting the lamp’s light, I flicked through the book until I found what I was looking for.

“Goddess of Life, Malasine,” I read aloud. “Said to be the twin sister of Nythera, Goddess of Death, Malasine governs several domains, such as life, lust, growth, endurance, and change. She represents the ruthless and harsh nature of existence.”

She’s a goddess? 

Leaning back against the headboard, I frowned. That’s hard to believe. If gods existed, wouldn’t their names have appeared in my old world too? Maybe she just shares the goddess’ name?

I thought back to the conversation between the two voices. They were clearly powerful—capable of speaking directly into my mind during my reincarnation. As I continued reading, I considered the possibilities.

High-level mages have an increased lifespan, and one from a long-lived race like elves could survive for thousands of years. Perhaps she isn’t a true deity, but a being so powerful that people began worshipping her as one. If that were the case, then the other voice I heard must have been someone of similar power. 

But then… if he ‘chose me’ before Malasine, did that mean he was responsible for my reincarnation? Or were they targeting me because they knew I would reincarnate?

I shook my head. There was still too much I didn’t know.

Sliding the book back onto the shelf, I replaced it with another—The War of Kings. The last recorded appearance of reincarnates had been five hundred years ago, during a war that spanned the continent and engulfed multiple kingdoms and nations. The current year was 988, meaning the war had occurred during the late fifth to early sixth century.

From what I could tell, the rulers involved in the war had either backed a reincarnate, been controlled by one, or were reincarnates themselves. Coincidentally, that same period saw a sudden boom in technological and industrial advancements. Given that reincarnates likely came from multiple worlds—some of which might have been more advanced than mine—it stood to reason that these developments were their doing.

I spent the next hour pouring over the text, sifting through names and battles, searching for anything that might connect to my own situation. Every so often titles I recognised, such as ‘Saintess of Death’ or ‘Promised Blade’ cropped up, confirming some of my thoughts. But none of it answered any real questions.

Lying on my bed, I ran through everything I knew, searching for answers. What were they talking about? Malasine said she’d been watching me even before I died. Had she sent my killer to claim me for herself? No, she wouldn’t have ‘looked away’ if that were the case. The voices kept mentioning ‘choosing’ someone. Were they referring to other reincarnates like me? That would imply reincarnates are both chosen and appear in batches, which explains their presence during the War of Kings but not since.

Then there’s that kid from the market, Lucian Vaelmont, who I asked my parents about after the market incident. It turns out he’s the eldest son of Viscount Vaelmont and a half-sylph. When he touched the mana stone, it glowed. Is he already a mage, or is there another way to make it react? From the way he carried himself and the intelligence he displayed, he could be a reincarnate like me. He looked my age, which if he is a reincarnate, affirms my theory that we reincarnated at the same time as a group. Do I have to be wary of everyone my age now?

I sighed, left with more questions than answers. There were just too many unknowns. I still didn’t understand why Lucian had helped me or what his motives were. But if he knew something I didn't, it was worth trying to make contact again. 

The day after the market incident our parents asked us what we thought about permanently moving to Eryndrel. To Haela’s delight, we all decided it was for the best. At the end of the week, we’d travel to Perlshaw to witness the Advent of Dragons for my birthday. Then, Ronan and some household staff would return to Damerel to retrieve our belongings, while the rest of us returned to Eryndrel.

I’ll deal with Lucian after we return, I decided, blowing out the oil lamp and rolling onto my side.

I lay in bed, trying to sleep, but my mind refused to calm. Turning my focus inward, I attempted to block out my racing thoughts and relax—only to jerk upright as I checked the current state of my core. Creating my first spell, small as it was, had significantly accelerated its development. I was already close to advancing, but this sudden growth meant I was closer to the next tier than I thought.

I gave up on sleep entirely. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I held my hands out, palms facing each other, and guided mana into the space between them, slowly gathering and condensing it. A small pebble formed and grew, dropping into my lap the moment my concentration slipped. The process consumed a significant amount of mana, but I immediately started again, forming a pebble as large as I could before it, too, tumbled into my lap.

With each pebble, I could feel my core progressing—step by step, drawing closer to the iron stage.

Each tier had an array of methods specific to the individual that could help advance their core. These would usually relate to the hurdles between each tier. This seemed to be the most rudimentary method for progression: controlling my mana and creating spells. I had been expanding my mana pool gradually through meditation, making it easier to summon pebbles without suffering backlash from a lack of mana.

After creating five pebbles, all of which quickly dissipated back into mana, I meditated to restore my reserves before switching to creating a small flame. Getting used to both elements helped to rapidly develop my core.

Before long, I felt my core begin advancing, and a tingling energy spread through my entire body. For a brief moment, the darkness flared with raw mana, filling the room. I could see and feel it outside my body, as if I had become connected to every mote that filled the space. My mind buzzed, my core grew warm, and a wet sensation dripped over my skin. Looking down at my arms, I saw sweat-like black liquid seeping from my pores—the impurities purged from my body by the advancement. My body had just been completely cleansed.

The glowing mana dimmed and everything returned to normal. My core still hummed with energy, cycling small amounts of mana through it even without my active input. My mana pool had expanded by nearly double, my meridians had strengthened and grown more defined, and my body felt light, rejuvenated with newfound strength. I leapt out of bed, quickly heading to the bathroom to wash the black sweat from my skin, and changed into fresh clothes. By the time I was done, the sun had begun to rise, and I abandoned any hope of getting more sleep.

After that, the morning passed uneventfully until it was time for Laela’s funeral. I hadn’t spent much time with Laela, but as her grandson, I was required to attend. Her service was held in a chapel dedicated to Thorvek, her body displayed on a brier surrounded by candles, flowers, and religious icons. She had been dressed in ceremonial robes and adorned with jewellery honouring both Thorvek—the god the Ellis family followed—and Nythera, the goddess of death. Dozens of people came to pay their respects. I paid no attention to the speeches or rituals, only following instructions and doing what was expected of me. 

After the procession, she was buried in a graveyard in the Sanctified District, followed by the wake, a grand feast in her honour held at the manor.

I kept to myself, speaking only when necessary and avoiding interaction as much as I could. Apart from my family, I recognised no one, though I was certain many aristocrats and other important individuals were present. Still, none stood out to me. My advancement went unnoticed, thanks to the signature suppression bracelet and my deliberate effort to halt all core activity for the day.

By the time the day ended, I was exhausted—mostly from a lack of sleep, but also from my advancement. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep, and for the first time in years, I didn’t dream of my past life.