"Next, Ash Wyvern."
I stepped forward from the line, just as the others had before me, putting distance between myself and the rest. My hands remained tightly clenched behind my back, my gaze locked onto the men seated before me.
The hall was massive, yet dimly lit—just a single magical lantern flickered on the table beside them, casting their faces in shifting shadows.
The man who had called my name arched a brow as he scanned my file. "Huh? He's just a nobody?"
The other two leaned in, curious. "What do you mean?"
"Just look at his file!" He shoved the documents into their heads. "A petty thief—keeps stealing from bakeries and restaurants. Grew up in that church before the kingdom burned it down in the Cleansing Fire, and…"
His lips curled into a smirk. "He's the son of a slave."
Laughter erupted, echoing through the hall.
I clenched my fists tighter, nails digging into my palms.
I should be used to this by now. Every damn time someone mocked my mother—called her a slave, laughed at the life she had lived—anger clawed at my chest, restless, unshakable.
The laughter faded, but the amusement in their eyes remained. The man tossed my documents aside and stood up, taking slow, deliberate steps toward me. Taunting me.
Tsk.
Then—slam.
A heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder.
"Oho…" He grinned, squeezing just enough to test my reaction. "Fourteen years old. The youngest one here… but built like a damn warhound. The training must've done a fine job shaping you. What camp did you attend?"
I met his gaze, my voice steady. "None, sir."
A pause.
His brow furrowed. "Huh?"
Silence.
Then, laughter erupted again.
His grip on my shoulder tightened, fingers digging in. "So you're telling me this body—this strength—is just… what? Good genes and that rough little street-rat life of yours?"
I gritted my teeth. My eyes, I knew, were gleaming with defiance.
"Yes, sir."
"Dear Ash, your mother… What was her name again?"
I didn't hesitate. "Maria Wyvern, sir."
He snapped his fingers. "That's right. Maria Wyvern." His smirk widened as he scanned my file once again. "She wasn't much of anything, was she? No talent for magic, no physical strength. It's all written here in black and white."
Then, he lowered his head, eyes boring into mine.
"So tell me, how did you end up like this? Buffed, built for war—when your mother was nothing more than a common sex toy of a slave? Or was it your father's genes?"
…
…
That was it.
A tremor rippled through the air.
The ground didn't shake, but the weight in the room shifted—like the world had grown heavier in an instant. Even the candidates behind me staggered, hands clutching at their chests, struggling to breathe.
"H-Huh?"
"An earthquake?"
"What the hell is this…?!"
Void.
An unseen force, pressing down on them like an executioner's hand.
I barely acknowledged their panic. My focus was on the man before me—the fool who still had his hand on my shoulder.
Unforgivable.
I reached up, resting my hand lightly on his forearm.
Then, I crushed it.
A sickening crack rang out. Flesh twisted. Bone snapped. Blood splattered onto the marble floor.
"AAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
He crumpled, landing hard on his backside, his face contorted in agony.
"M-MY ARM! MY ARM—!!"
I took a slow step forward, looming over him. "Pathetic."
He scrambled backward, gasping. "S-Stay away from me!" But his body refused to move.
I knelt beside him, grabbing the sparse tufts of hair left on his head. Yanking his face up to meet mine, I sneered.
"You dare to mock my mother? Call her names like that?"
His breath hitched.
I tightened my grip, letting the threat linger. Then, with a scoff, I released him, watching him slump in fear.
"This time, I held back," I said. "But if you ever cross that line again, you'll bear the full consequences."
I straightened, dusting off my sleeve. "And since my lineage seems to be of such great interest to you…"
The room was deathly silent. Every pair of eyes was locked on me.
I exhaled. "I couldn't care less about my bloodline. But if you must know who my father is for me to enroll…"
My gaze flicked back down to the man still clutching his shattered arm. His pained, scowling grimace suited him well. The sight was almost satisfying.
"My father," I said, "is Alaric Crownwell the Fourth."
A gasp rippled through the hall.
Someone whispered. "Not just a slave's son…"
Another voice, stunned. "He's the son of Gloria's king!"
---
"Would you snap out of it already?!"
A sharp voice cut through the fog in my mind.
Before I could process it—THUNK!
"OW!!"
Pain exploded on the crown of my head, and I crumpled, clutching at the throbbing spot. What the hell?!
Huh…? Wait a second…
This wasn't the training hall.
A forest?
Blinking, I lifted my gaze, the lingering haze of memory fading into the cool night air. Lou stood before me, arms crossed, his expression caught between frustration and exasperation.
"You spaced out the entire way to camp, Bug!"
Oh… right.
This was reality. Not the past.
Damn, I got so caught up in that memory, I momentarily forgot I was reincarnated and all. Every time I saw a slave, those memories would resurface—pulling me under like an undertow I couldn't fight.
Rubbing my sore head, I scowled. "You really nailed me with that one."
Lou clicked his tongue, "You deserved it! I didn't even know people could zone out that hard!"
"Yeah, me neither…" I muttered under my breath.
Lou's head snapped toward me. "Said something?"
"Nope! Nothing! Allalalala!"
Tsk. Why was he so mad?
Anyway…
As usual, Lou handled dinner, and we sat around the fire.
In silence.
Lou tore into his grilled meat, gaze fixed on his plate.
In silence.
Meanwhile, I just stared blankly at my own portion, appetite nowhere to be found.
IN FREAKING SILENCE.
Seriously? After all those questions I clearly dodged earlier—about the incantations, the collar, everything—he wasn't even curious enough to press me?
Freaking ask, Lou!
…
He didn't.
sigh
Fine.
Taking a deep breath, I straightened up and cleared my throat with a pointed "Ahem." Crossing my legs, I decided to take charge.
"Alright, Lou! Let's talk."
But before I could even start, he caught me off guard.
Lowering his half-eaten meat, Lou finally met my gaze.
"Bug," he began, voice oddly contemplative, "did you know magic used to exist in our world? Records say it vanished around five hundred years ago."
…
A choked laugh slipped out before I could stop it. "R-really? I... I had no idea."
Hell, I already figured that much.
This forest was brimming with traces of Mana.
Lou leaned forward, his expression serious. "Unlike Flow, everyone once had Mana—magic wasn't just something stored in living beings and objects, it was woven into the very fabric of reality. People could wield it naturally, though they were bound by affinity. Only one element per person. And…" he glanced at me meaningfully, "they needed to chant to cast spells. Just like that woman we encountered."
He lifted the collar, letting the firelight glint off its purple shard.
"The Chasles Academy, along with other academies, dedicates vast resources to recovering these relics. Their functionality hinges on Mana… But you already knew that much, didn't you?"
The emberlight flickered against his sharp gaze.
I forced a smile, leaning back.
"...Maybe."
Confusion settled in my chest like a lead weight.
Why these academies? What were they after—unraveling history? Power? Research?
Silence wouldn't give me answers.
Shaking my head, I asked the question nagging at me. "What's the point, Lou? Why collect these relics?"
Lou shrugged, his expression tight with frustration. "The academies were given missions by the Council of the Eight Ones, but…" He trailed off, tracing circles in the air with his finger, his brows knitting together. "The Council is searching for the reason magic vanished. Makes sense, doesn't it?"
I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess it does." If magic had suddenly disappeared from the world, the logical move would be to investigate.
But today's encounter changed everything.
I met his gaze. "Except… magic isn't extinct, is it?" My voice was quiet but firm. "That woman was using it. Just like you said."
Lou exhaled sharply, leaning back against a log. "This just got a whole lot messier," he grumbled, rolling his eyes skyward. "Once I report back, our Academy is going to have three major headaches instead of two."
He raised three fingers, ticking them off one by one.
"First: How is magic still around, even if it's rare?"
His index finger curled down.
"Second: What caused magic's extinction, and the sudden rise of Flow, five hundred years ago?"
Another finger down.
"And finally, something specific to Chasles Academy—what led to the destruction of the Gloria Kingdom?"
I choked mid-bite, coughing as I spat out the half-chewed meat. "G… GLORIA?" My voice barely came out—a strangled whisper.
The name slammed into me like a warhammer to the gut.
What?
Like, what?
Lou might as well have told me great gummy bears ruled the galaxy for all the sense this made.
"What… what do you mean?" My fingers dug into the dirt as if grasping something tangible might anchor me.
Lou frowned, poking at the fire with a stick. "Huh? Isn't it obvious?" His casual tone only made my skin crawl. "Since we're descendants of Gloria, it's our duty to uncover the truth behind its fall five hundred years ago."
I froze. My breath hitched.
"Descendants of Gloria?"
Scrambling to my feet, I stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief. The movement startled him, and he flinched back slightly. "But… but isn't this Alaranta?"
Lou sighed, shooting me a look like I'd just asked if water was wet. "Bug, come on. We Glorians changed the name after the fall. This land, our language… it's all Glorian. You usually pick up on things faster than this."
His words weighed on me like iron chains.
I couldn't respond. My mind was spinning, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Slumping back onto the cold earth, I stared into the flames, watching them dance and flicker, their light casting sharp shadows across my vision.
Sweat beaded on my forehead.
This wasn't just some coincidence.
It fit.
The language. The traditions. The people. Even the damn artifact we'd found—every piece fell into place like a cruel puzzle.
This wasn't reincarnation.
This was something worse.
My soul hadn't traveled to another world.
It had slept.
For at least five centuries.
But for how long, exactly?
Surely, my death alone couldn't have caused the fall of an entire kingdom, right?
I knew who I had been—Gloria's silent blade, cutting down unseen threats before they reached the light. But the kingdom had never relied solely on me. They had other warriors, other weapons…
Except… I killed their best hope before I died.
The realization sent a chill down my spine.
Could it be… I had died just before the kingdom's demise?
I met Lou's gaze. His usual annoyance lingered, but beneath it, there was something else—something deeper.
Was it concern? Or was it something closer to fear?
Alaranta was Gloria.
Then what about me? Ash Wyvern…
Did my name still echo through history?
I placed a hand under my chin, considering.
There was no way I had been erased so easily. My past was too loud, too drenched in chaos. I nearly killed my own father, joined the special forces without attending a single training camp, and let's not even start on the insane missions I undertook.
I should be there.
Somewhere.
There was only one way to find out.
I lifted my head, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Lou… do you, by any chance, know anything about Ash Wyvern?"
A single name. That was all it took.
Lou's entire body stiffened.
His jaw slackened, his eyes bulging as if I had just whispered some forbidden incantation. The cup in his hand slipped through his fingers, crashing onto the ground in a spray of shattered ceramic.
Gone was his usual sharp demeanor—replaced by raw, unfiltered shock.
Did I just stumble upon the motherlode of secrets?
"A… A…" He struggled to form words. "Ash… Wyvern?"
Then, a tremor wracked his body.
"H-How…?" His voice was barely a breath. "How do you know that name, Bug?"
I didn't answer. I just watched. Let the silence drag, let the weight of my past press into the space between us.
His hand moved before his mind caught up.
And the memory of our first encounter flickered in my mind as the tip of a cold steel rested against my throat.
Lou's sword.
"That name…" He exhaled sharply, eyes hard with something dangerous. "Only a handful in the entire world even know it exists. It's buried—erased from every history book, every record. Even the Council… Even they don't speak of it."
His grip tightened on the hilt.
"There is no way you could've pulled that name from some documentary, no archive, no whispers in the dark. So tell me, Bug—" His voice dropped into something low and threatening. "How does a nine-year-old girl like you—"
I sighed.
Slowly, deliberately, I raised a single hand and placed it against the cold steel of his blade. It hovered just inches from my throat.
"Lou, haven't I surprised you enough already?"
His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
I pushed his sword aside. He didn't resist.
"Think about it," I pressed, voice steady. "My early Awakening. The overwhelming Flow. The suffocating Aura. My fighting style. My ability to wield any weapon like it's second nature. The way I knew that artifact on sight. Even my ability to sense Mana when even you can't."
Lou remained silent, eyes locked onto mine.
"Wouldn't even one of those things be enough to raise an eyebrow? Even from a god?"
His grip loosened. The tip of his sword dipped slightly.
"I admit, you've shattered expectations," he murmured. "But still—"
"But still," I echoed, frustration creeping into my tone. "Why do you keep limiting me by my age? Can't you see? There's more to me than what meets the eye. Deep down, you know I hold secrets beyond your wildest imagination."
Silence stretched between us, only the crackling fire filling the void.
Then, I took a step closer, voice lowering into something almost dangerous.
"So why do you keep trying to complicate things, Lou?" My words curled through the air like smoke.
"Why not take the easy route and accept the truth? There is no logical reason for my existence, after all."