I didn't die heroically.I didn't get hit by a truck or save a kid from drowning or anything poetic like that.
No... I just fell asleep with my phone in hand, the final arc of a half-baked novel, "Twisted Fates" open on my screen. The protagonist had just suffered another tragic loss, the villain grinned from behind the smoke — and then... nothing.
Then I opened my eyes in someone else's bed.
And that someone... wasn't human anymore. Not exactly.
The first thing I noticed was the ceiling — polished black stone, patterned with silver inlay like constellations. The kind of detail you only see in fantasy novels. The air was thick with mana, a metallic tang that made it feel like I was breathing magic itself.
I sat up, and the world moved wrong. My body was heavier, taller, sharper.
The mirror across the room confirmed what I feared.
Black hair. Pale skin. A jawline too sharp to belong to a 17-year-old. Eyes like frozen steel. Even standing still, I looked like someone who'd already buried a few enemies.
I was no longer... me.
I was Asmo Ravenheart.
The name settled into my bones like a curse.
I felt a weird energy circling around inside me, as I dived deep into meditation which was muscle memory at this point, feeling the slight weight of the power seal that restrains my magic. It's like a tight band around my core—a self-imposed shackle I designed to hold back the dark mana raging within me. Even now, I sense the ebony currents of dark mana flowing through my veins, eager to surge forth. In my past life I'd read of protagonists granted game-like abilities; little did I expect I would wake up in a fantasy world with overwhelming dark power. This dark mana is my greatest strength and my greatest danger. Without the seal dampening it, I risk losing control or even self-destruction from the backlash of its immense power.
The Ravenheart family name carries a certain infamy; whispered to be practitioners of forbidden arts. A villain's lineage. Fitting. I allow myself a wry smile. Reincarnating as the future villain of this world… Perhaps fate has a sense of irony.
After quickly dressing in the simple dark attire provided to me, I tighten the fingerless glove over my left hand. Underneath lies a faint sigil on my wrist, the Contract of Shadows I, or the original Asmo had forged last night, which might not have been very successful, considering I was in his place now. In this world, binding contracts with darkness can amplify one's mana at great cost. I made mine immediately upon awakening in this body, striking a pact with the shadows themselves. It's risky, but necessary. My body is only at the Intermediate level in terms of magical capacity—far above the Beginner level of other freshmen—but without training my physique, that power could rip me apart. The contract bolsters my body's endurance and aligns me with the darkness, helping me shoulder the burden of my own mana. Even so, caution is key; I will not survive long if I let the dark energy wreak havoc unchecked.
A firm knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. "Mr. Ravenheart?" a brisk male voice calls. "It's time. May I come in?"
I cross the small dorm room in two strides and open the door to find a tall, bespectacled man in academy robes. Strands of gray streak through his brown hair, and a kindly yet nervous smile sits on his lips. I recognize him from yesterday—Professor Halford, one of Aurelian Academy's instructors. He personally oversaw my entrance exam and was assigned as my chaperone due to my... special admission status.
"Good morning, Professor Halford," I say, inclining my head politely. My voice is calm and steady—belying the mix of excitement and anxiety I feel. This is the day I formally join the academy ranks.
"Good morning, Asmo. I trust you slept well?" he asks courteously, then gestures for me to follow. "We should head to the academy grounds. The final evaluations for new students will begin shortly. As a special admit, you'll have a tailored testing session, but you'll still be evaluated alongside some other top candidates."
I nod and step out, closing the door behind me. The corridor of the inn is quiet as we make our way out to a waiting carriage. It seems the academy arranged private lodging for me last night, away from the main dormitories—perhaps out of caution. Or isolation. I can't help but smirk. They're wary of the Ravenheart dark mage in their midst. They're not wrong to be cautious.
Outside, the city of Aurelia bustles under the morning sun. Professor Halford leads me into a sleek black carriage embossed with the academy's crest—a shield and staff crossed beneath a rising sun. Two armoured horses whinny softly as we board. Soon, we're off, wheels clattering on cobblestones.
As the carriage traverses the streets, Professor Halford turns to me with a curious glance. "I must say, your performance in the initial exam yesterday was remarkable. A perfect score on the written test and an outstanding display in the magic aptitude assessment... especially with such an unusual affinity." He clears his throat. "Dark-element mana is rarely seen in entrance exams."
I meet his gaze evenly. "Thank you, Professor. I've had... a lot of practice." That much is true—just not in the way he thinks. He doesn't need to know that I carry memories of another life, one that grants me a broader perspective and knowledge beyond my age.
He gives a polite smile. "Your control over dark mana was flawless for a mage of your years. Most students struggle to command even basic elemental mana without losing efficiency, but you demonstrated advanced techniques without strain." I sense the unspoken question in his statement. Dark magic has a sinister reputation; surely he's wondering how I came by it and how safe I am to teach.
"It's a family specialty," I reply, offering a rehearsed half-truth. "The Ravenheart lineage has long studied the darkness. I was taught early." Also true, from what I recall of Asmo's inherited memories. The original Asmo Ravenheart was trained in secret arts from childhood. Now, with my reincarnated soul in control, I simply leverage that foundation with far greater skill than he ever had.
Professor Halford nods thoughtfully. "I understand. Well, at Aurelian Academy you'll be able to broaden your horizons further. We foster all Paths here, as long as students use them responsibly."
I gaze out the window as he speaks. The streets gradually give way to sprawling marble walkways and verdant lawns—the academy campus unfolding before us. Tall spires of lecture halls and towers dot the horizon. Other carriages and pedestrians—young men and women in fresh academy uniforms—converge toward a grand archway of wrought iron. The gate bears an inscription in flowing script: "Lux et Virtus" – Light and Virtue, the academy's motto. I arch a brow. How quaint. Light and virtue may be their values, but I carry darkness and ambition in my heart.
"We've arrived," Professor Halford announces as the carriage stops. He steps out and I follow, straightening my coat. Ahead, beyond the gates, lie the grounds where new students gather for orientation and final tests. A mix of excitement and tension hangs in the air. I spot clusters of families saying farewells, commoner students clutching acceptance letters, and noble heirs accompanied by servants.
Professor Halford guides me through the gate. A few passing students cast curious glances at my unfamiliar face and the fact that a professor escorts me personally. I hear faint murmurs trailing behind us:
"Who is that? Did you see his eyes—purple eyes..."
"Is that the special admission kid? Must be someone important if a professor is with him."
"Ravenheart, I heard he comes from that house... that ominous dark magic wielding clan."
I ignore the whispers and focus on the path ahead. We traverse a courtyard dominated by a grand fountain, then approach a series of sparring rings and examination tents set up on the dueling field. The area is abuzz with activity. Here and there, groups of fresh students are being tested by instructors in various disciplines. Some stand before targets, hurling spells of fire, water, or wind. Others engage in mock combat with wooden swords while senior knights observe their form.
My heart quickens at the sight. This is Aurelian Academy's dual-path training in action—Magic and Martial Arts, side by side. In this world, aspiring combatants choose one of two broad paths:
Mage, harnessing mana to cast spells and control the elements (or more esoteric energies like light and darkness).
Warrior, cultivating physical strength and Aura to enhance the body and wield weapons with supernatural skill.
Each path requires a different approach to channeling one's life energy. Mana users develop a mana core and spellcasting techniques, while martial artists train their bodies and spirit to awaken Aura. It's rare for anyone to excel at both; most stick to one path since mana and aura cultivation methods can conflict. Even here at Aurelian Academy, the classes and facilities are split between the Arcane College and the Martial Conservatorynovelbin.com.
Of course, there are always exceptions. I think of one name Professor Halford mentioned in passing during yesterday's interview: Leon Drakos, a first-year who supposedly showed aptitude in both magic and combat. A dual talent like that comes once in a generation. The professor didn't give details, but I recall the hint of admiration in his voice. I showed interest, but I already knew of that name, who else but our dear protagonist?
"Over here, Asmo," Professor Halford beckons, interrupting my thoughts. He leads me toward a tent where a stern-looking examiner is checking names. "Special admit – Asmo Ravenheart," the professor informs her. The examiner, a thin woman with hawk-like eyes, flips through a clipboard and marks something.
"Proceed to station 3C for written evaluation, then to the practical exam area," she instructs crisply. Her gaze flickers to me, curiosity evident, but she asks no further questions. Being a "special admission" apparently grants me some leeway in process, but also draws attention.
I'm handed a blank answer booklet and directed to a row of desks under the tent for the written test. Several other students are already seated, quills in hand, brows furrowed in concentration as they tackle the exam questions. I slide into an empty seat, and the test proctor nods for me to begin.
I glance down at the exam paper and almost smile—basic magical theory, elemental affinities, arithmetic for potion mixing, historical trivia about the kingdom's heroes. Child's play. With the combined knowledge of modern education from my past life and the arcane tutelage of the Ravenheart family, I find the questions straightforward. My quill scratches quickly across the pages. Within minutes, I've answered questions that would stump most 15-year-olds. Around me, a few examinees shoot incredulous looks my way as I flip to the final page while they're still mid-test. I make a conscious effort to slow down, reminding myself not to stand out too much. It wouldn't do to appear too monstrous on day one.
After a respectable interval, I set down my quill, double-checking my answers. Satisfied, I raise my hand. The proctor looks surprised but walks over to retrieve my booklet. She skims the pages, eyes widening slightly, then gives me a curt nod. "You may proceed to the practical exam area ahead," she says quietly, clearly impressed but keeping professional composure.
I step out of the tent into the bright morning sun, drawing a deep breath. The practical exam will be next—a chance to flex my abilities a bit. This should be interesting.
Professor Halford rejoins me as I make my way to the training field designated 4A, where special admits and top scorers are being tested separately from the larger group. It's an open-air sparring ring ringed by other students who have finished their own exams and are now watching. I see a mix of older students and staff observing as well—perhaps scouting the incoming talent.
"Ah, perfect timing," says a deep voice ahead. An imposing man in a military uniform, likely a senior instructor, stands with a clipboard. "Ravenheart, is it? We've heard about you." The man's steely gaze sizes me up. "You'll demonstrate your combat abilities for us. You may use magic, martial skills, or both—whatever your specialty. Over there." He points to a line painted on the ground about ten paces away. Several wooden training dummies and targets are arranged at varying distances. "Hit as many targets as you can in one go, with as much force as you can muster. Show us what you can do."
I nod and walk to the indicated spot, aware that dozens of eyes are now on me. A hushed silence falls over the onlookers. I can even hear whispers from the nearby crowd of examinees:
"Is that the dark mage everyone's talking about?"
"He's the one who aced the written exam so fast. What's he gonna do now?"
"Dark magic… Hope he doesn't blow up the field."
I close my eyes briefly, centering myself. The seal on my core suppresses a portion of my mana, but I can still safely tap into a considerable well of dark energy. Lifting a hand, I begin to channel. Shadowy tendrils of mana coalesce around my arms, flickering with wisps of black and purple. A familiar chill washes over the area; a few spectators gasp as the sunlight above seems to dim, as if my gathering darkness is swallowing the light.
I thrust out my palm and unleash the spell I've prepared: "
A chorus of astonished murmurs rises from the audience. I hear the instructor let out a low whistle. Maintaining my focus, I'm not done yet—control is just as important as power. With a clench of my fist, I command the trailing wisps of the Dark Crescent that still linger. The fragmented shadow arcs curve back on my command, converging on a fifth distant target from different directions. BOOM! They crash into it simultaneously, shattering the target into splinters. A cloud of dust and darkness swirls, then dissipates. Five targets down.
I exhale slowly, releasing the residual mana safely back into the atmosphere. The dark haze around me clears. The demonstration is over in a matter of seconds, and the training field is left with broken targets and an awed silence.
Then the murmurs turn into excited chatter:
"By the Light… he destroyed five targets at once!"
"That control, he even curved the spell's trajectory!"
"I've never seen dark-element magic like that up close…."
Some cheers erupt from a group of older students who were clearly impressed. The senior instructor regains his composure and marks something heavy on his clipboard. He strides toward me, examining the wreckage of the targets with a critical eye. "Impressive," he states aloud. "Power, precision, and restraint. You didn't let a single stray bolt hit the crowd." He gives a curt nod of approval. "Welcome to Aurelian Academy, Mr. Ravenheart. You'll be a valuable addition to our ranks."
Professor Halford is beaming at the sidelines, clearly relieved that my demonstration went well —and that I didn't accidentally level the field. I allow myself a small smile and bow politely to the instructor. "Thank you, sir."
As I step back from the center stage, the crowd's attention begins to shift as the examiners call up the next examinee to demonstrate. I rub my sternum lightly, feeling a slight strain where the power seal constrains my core. Even holding back, that took a bit out of me. Still, it felt good to finally let loose, if only a fraction, and show what I'm capable of.
I got the feeling of being watched, quickly turning to my left. I turn to see a tall boy around my age grinning broadly at me. He has tousled dark-gold hair, striking amber eyes, and an athletic build. There's a wooden training sword slung over his back.
Drakos. He must want a reaction from me, seemingly provoking. I chose to do what I always did best, ignore.
It seemed to have pissed him off, but a delicate voice chimed in from his side, "Leon, aren't you going to prepare? They'll call you up soon." Stepping forward is a young woman with flowing pale-blonde hair and gentle blue eyes. She's donned in an immaculate white trainee mage robe edged with gold embroidery. Leon turns and laughs softly, "Right, right. Always looking out for me, Neria."
The girl, Neria Solandis, gives a polite nod in my direction. I recall hearing whispers about House Solandis—a noble house famed for its devout followers of the Light. Solandis… Saintess of the Dawn, some call them. Neria certainly looks the part of a saintess, with a radiant aura of mana that feels warm even from a few steps away. "Your magic was quite impressive, Mr. Ravenheart," she says kindly. "Dark mana is seldom seen here, but you handle it with such skill." There's no disdain or fear in her tone, only genuine admiration. I'm mildly surprised—many Light-aligned mages shun dark practitioners, but she seems earnest.
I offer a slight nod.
I remain outwardly stoic, but inside I'm mildly surprised by this unexpected meeting with two out of the five members of the main cast from world. These five—Leon, Neria, Damien, Fiona, and Selene—are clearly the standouts among the new students. I spot the other three not too far from us, either being surrounded by students or choosing to stay alone. Each one of them has an aura of talent… or destiny. I can practically feel it rolling off of them: Leon's charismatic warmth and raw potential, Neria's soothing light and grace, Damien's crackling intellect and mana, Fiona's fierce strength and resolve, Selene's quiet deadly focus.
If this were a novel or a game, these would be the protagonists, the heroes in the making. And me? By quirk of fate, I'm the future villain placed among them.
The realization makes me suddenly cautious. Getting too chummy might complicate things down the line. I offer a polite but distant smile. "It's a pleasure meeting you both. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other in classes."
Leon opens his mouth as if to say more, but at that moment the instructor in the arena calls his name. "Leon Drakos, you're up next!"
Leon gives an eager grin. "That's me. Watch closely, Asmo—I'll show you what a Drakos can do." He jogs off towards the ring, unstrapping the wooden sword on his back. The others turn to observe, and almost by habit, I find myself watching as well.
In the ring, Leon takes his position. Even before he starts, I sense something unusual about him. There's a pulsing energy from Leon that I can feel both as mana and as aura. He truly is cultivating both, I realize, impressed despite myself. The air around him shimmers subtly—the telltale sign of aura reinforcement—while a faint crackle of elemental mana dances along the blade of his practice sword.
Leon launches into motion with explosive speed. "Haah!" With a roar, he swings his sword and unleashes a burst of flame concurrently with his strike. A fiery arc erupts, "Blazing Fang!" he intones, and the combination of his physical slash and fire mana tears into the targets. Wood scorches and explodes under the assault. Leon then pivots, channeling a rush of aura into his legs and dashes forward in a blur, striking the remaining dummies in close combat. One by one, the targets are felled—some burned to cinders, others cleaved by raw strength. The spectators erupt in applause as Leon finishes his demonstration, standing amid the smoking remains of targets, looking every bit the Lionheart Champion he aspires to be.
I clap a few times along with the crowd, noting how different his style is from mine. Light, fire, and a noble bravado—he's practically the opposite of my shadow and subtlety. And yet, something in me stirs—a competitive spark. I'll have to surpass him, all of them, when the time comes. Villain or not, I refuse to be outdone.
One by one, the rest of the elite candidates show their skills as well:
Neria steps forth and conjures brilliant shields of light, healing targets we were meant to destroy, much to the confusion of some examiners. She then shatters the healed dummies with a single beam of focused sunlight, an impressive display of both mercy and might.
Damien Allcrest methodically casts a flurry of spells—fireballs, ice lances, and lightning bolts in quick succession—showcasing his breadth of magical knowledge. The precision of his control marks him as a future Grand Magus in the making.
Fiona Grimstone wields her spear in a whirlwind of strikes, enhanced by a warrior's aura. With a battle cry, she smashes through targets with overwhelming force, proving why a Shieldmaiden General runs in her blood.
Selene Nightshade's turn is subtle yet no less effective—she seemingly disappears in a blur of shadow, then all the far targets suddenly collapse, cleanly cut. When she reappears at the center, twirling a thin dagger, I realize she dashed past each dummy in the blink of an eye. A judge announces each target had a precise slit through its "throat." The crowd quiets at the deadly finesse of this Shadow Emissary, a bit unnerved.
Watching each of them, I catalog their strengths in my mind. These are not ordinary beginners; they are peak Beginner level talents, maybe even on the cusp of Intermediate. Any one of them could become a formidable hero in time. In my time as the villain, they likely do.
As the ceremony concludes, I slip away from the crowds, claiming a need for fresh air. In truth, my heart is pounding with anticipation—something has been stirring within me ever since I met those five. The seal on my chest feels warm, almost agitated. Perhaps the proximity of so many powerful auras? Or my own excitement?
I find a quiet corner in a deserted hallway near the auditorium. The afternoon sun casts long beams through stained glass windows, painting patterns on the floor. Leaning against a cool marble pillar, I take a moment to breathe.
Suddenly, a sharp chime rings inside my head. DING! It's faint but unmistakable, like the sound when a bell rings in an empty cathedral. I stand bolt upright. "What—?"