Magna Arx Academy had not changed.
The great marble spires, the flowing banners of red and gold, the endless lines of students marching from lecture to lecture—it was all exactly as he remembered. The faces were younger, less burdened by war. The air still carried the faint scent of incense and mana dust.
And Elion? He was invisible. Just like before.
"Hey, Greaves!"
He stopped at the bottom of the dormitory stairs. A stocky boy in a bronze-trimmed uniform leaned against a column, sneering. Maren Thatch. House of Ironblood. A bruiser with barely enough talent to activate a flame, but more than enough arrogance to make up for it.
"Still limping around like a half-broken dog, huh? Didn't the instructors tell you to drop out already?"
Elion didn't respond. Not yet.
He moved past Maren without a glance. He didn't need to relive every petty insult, not now. Not when there were far greater problems looming.
[Status: Mana Core - Grade: Fragmented (98.2% Ruptured)] [Suggestion: Reconstruct Core via Ritual Flame Compression.]
A ripple of old pain passed through him. The memories of his shattered core were fresh—burned into him from a time when he was too weak to protect anyone. If he didn't fix it soon, he'd never survive long enough to stop the collapse.
Instructors barely looked at him. He was a charity case—sponsored by the Ardyn Crown after the incident that left his family dead and his core ruined. In the last life, they used him as a scapegoat for failure.
This time, he would make them watch.
At the edge of the training fields, he watched students sparring. A blue-haired noble girl parried effortlessly, flames dancing around her blade. Another conjured wind with a flick of her hand.
Elion couldn't even light a candle anymore.
Not yet.
But deep within him, the fire stirred.
He turned away from the training grounds and made his way toward the western cliffs. There, hidden in the caves beneath the Academy's old chapel, he knew he would find it:
The Well of the Forgotten Flame.
In his fifth life, a mad hermit once taught him how to rebuild a broken core. It involved pain. Isolation. Flame so intense it would sear the mind.
It also worked.
He knelt at the edge of the well, the echoes of past failures whispering from the stone.
[Initiate Flame Compression? Warning: Success Rate 11.7%]
He reached into himself. Into the fractured core. Into the ember that still flickered despite everything.
"I'm not here to succeed," he murmured. "I'm here because I have no other choice."
And then he plunged his hand into the flame.
The pain was immediate. Blinding. It seared up his arm, through his chest, into his skull. His vision fractured. His heartbeat slowed. His breath caught.
He screamed.
And kept going.
The flame was not kind. It was not gentle. It stripped him bare.
But he did not let go.
[Flame Compression: 29%... 47%... 61%...]
His teeth cracked from how hard he clenched them. His blood boiled in his veins.
And then—
[Core Type: Ember Reforged (Flame Affinity: Hidden)] [Trait Unlocked: Pain Transmutation]
Elion collapsed, smoke rising from his skin, breath shallow.
But he was alive.
He opened his eyes.
And smiled.