"So, the other day I got into a little trouble... I killed four children and paralyzed both their parents. Took their eyes out too."
Julian turned his gaze towards the sky.
"...Why?" The seven-year-old Virgil asked.
He sat in the grass with his knees pulled against his chest.
"I was carrying out orders... I did what I was told to do."
His voice was quiet.
"Why didn’t you say no?" Virgil asked again.
"...I don’t know."
His voice was quieter now.
None of them spoke for a while. The only sound was the wind moving through the grass.
After a long silence, Julian lowered his head. His shoulders trembled.
"Virgil..."
His voice cracked as he spoke.
"I can’t keep living like this."
He swallowed hard.
"I can’t."
More tears slipped down his face.
Virgil didn’t understand.
Julian was never like this. He had always been strong, or at least, that’s how it used to seem.
Now, he looked exhausted.
Julian wiped his tears away.
"I want you to kill me."
Virgil’s eyes widened.
"...What?"
"Take my sword and stab me in the chest."
"Will you do that for me?"
Virgil didn’t know what to say.
So he kept quiet.
"...No."
Julian lowered his eyes.
"Yeah."
He sounded almost relieved.
Virgil moved closer.
He didn’t know what else to do.
So he wrapped his arm around Julian.
For a moment, Julian remained still.
Then he slowly returned the embrace.
"I’m sorry for asking that."
His voice was unsteady.
"I shouldn’t have put that on you."
"It’s okay."
For a few seconds, neither of them moved.
Then, Julian pulled away.
"Master?"
The man stood.
His hand moved towards the sword at his waist.
"What are you doing?"
Julian didn’t answer.
Steel slid from his sheath.
"Master?"
The man turned towards him.
There were tears in his eyes. But he was smiling.
"I’m sorry."
He raised the blade.
And then---
The memory fractured, breaking into pieces.
.....
Virgil jolted awake.
He gasped for air, breathing in short, ragged gasps.
Sweat clung to his skin, the open window doing little against the heat.
He pushed himself upright.
"What the fuck was that!?"
He paused.
Something was odd.
His voice sounded different.
’What the hell...’
He looked around.
This wasn’t his room.
’Where am I?’
His room was small, with barely enough space to move around without knocking something over.
This place was different.
Yet, something about it felt familiar.
The curtains.
The workbench in the corner.
The soft bed.
The sword resting against the wall.
He knew where each of those were without even looking.
However, he had no memory of ever living here.
His gaze shifted to his hands.
The hands in front of him weren’t his. They were younger, leaner, and paler than his hands had ever been.
His breath caught.
’Did I die?’
He stumbled out of bed.
His legs nearly gave out beneath him, but he caught himself against the wall and hurried to the bathroom.
He stared at the face reflected in the mirror.
Two icy-blue eyes stared back at him, coupled with snow-white hair that fell messily around his face.
He raised his hand.
The reflection did the same.
"No."
He turned on the tap and splashed water onto his face.
"No, no, no."
The reflection remained.
"Ah."
The voice came out weaker than he expected.
"I’m fucked."
He recognized that face.
There was no mistaking it.
’Virgil.’
He had transmigrated.
That was the only explanation that made any sense.
But of all the characters he could have become...
"Why did it have to be this guy!?"
The protagonist’s suicidal brother.
A child prodigy.
Virgil possessed an absurd amount of potential when he was young, but his abilities would gradually stagnate as he grew older.
He would eventually lose control of his affinities.
Then he would be expelled from the academy.
And finally...
Killed by his brother.
Virgil swallowed.
’Wait, did I actually die?’
He could be dreaming.
He had already tried the water, but it wouldn’t hurt to try something else.
He pinched his arm and inhaled deeply.
Pain flared in his arm.
"Fuck."
He exhaled.
The last thing he remembered from his old life was reading a novel.
’How To Conquer Heroines With Your Heavenly Sword’
He had picked it up the night before because he thought it would make for a decent read.
He was wrong.
The novel was far better than he expected.
The characters were likable, the plot was surprisingly deep, and the world was more detailed than he had anticipated.
He found himself reading well into the night, long after he should have gone to sleep.
Eventually, he dozed off with the novel in hand.
And now he was here.
Virgil lowered himself onto the bathroom floor.
"What am I going to do now?"
It was then---
[Character synchronization initializing]
His head snapped upward.
The air in front of him flickered.
A grey rectangular panel appeared out of nowhere.
An interface.
"What---?"
Before he could finish, pain exploded in his skull.
He collapsed onto his knees.
"Gah!"
His hands grabbed his hair in agony.
It felt as though someone had driven a blade through his brain.
He clenched his teeth.
For several seconds, all he could do was endure it.
Then the pain disappeared.
[Character synchronization complete]
The grey panel disappeared.
A new screen replaced it.
-- [Status] --
Name: Virgil Visconti
Rank: Mortal (Grade 4)
Class: Maverick
Affinity: Death (Locked), Shadow (Locked), Lightning (Partial).
Abilities: None
Soul Technique: Quiet Uproar --- Allows the user to control magic directly from thought, enabling spells to be cast purely through intent, regardless of their strength.
??? (Potential)
-- [Status] --’A status screen?’
His eyes lingered at the very top line.
Virgil Visconti.
There was no mistaking it.
He sighed before moving to his rank.
’Grade 4.’
The average student at the academy was around Grade 4.
Most of the main cast were already at Grade 3.
In the novel, power was measured across five ranks: Mortal, Ascendent, Transcendent, Mythic, Divine.
Each rank was divided into five grades, from Grade 5 to Grade 1.
’And I’m a Maverick as well.’
Mavericks were Awakened who rejected conventional magic combat and incorporated weapons or martial techniques into their fighting styles.
In other words, they didn’t solely rely on magic. but the moment he saw his affinities, his mood sank..
Death.
Shadow.
Lightning.
’Locked.’
His strongest affinities were inaccessible, and Lightning was only partially accessible.
Death and darkness were extremely rare affinities.
His body simply couldn’t handle them.
As he grew older, his control over them weakened.
"Great."
He rubbed his face.
"Absolutely fantastic."
He had transmigrated as a character meant to die, and his strongest affinities were locked.
’At least I have one good thing.’
Quiet Uproar.
Magic could normally only be cast through incantations.
But this skill allowed him to cast spells through thought alone.
Incantation-less casting.
Even with his limited access to his affinities, it could still prove to be an invaluable skill.
Virgil pushed himself to his feet.
He needed information.
He didn’t even know where or when he was.
He left the bathroom and returned to the bedroom.
His legs were still unsteady from the pain.
He sat on the edge of the bed and took another look around.
Everything here belonged to him now.
Something on the small writing desk beside his bed caught his attention.
An envelope.
He stood up and walked over.
The envelope was made of thick paper, its edges perfectly cut.
A dark-blue wax seal held it shut.
A crest had been stamped into the wax.
His name was written across the front in elegant handwriting.
He broke the seal.
Inside was a single sheet of parchment.
He unfolded it.
To Virgilius Maro Visconti,
By the authority of the Aurelian Arclight Academy, we are pleased to extend to you an invitation to participate in this year’s entrance examinations.
Your talents and achievements have brought you to the attention of the academy, and we believe you possess the potential to become a worthy candidate for admission.
Those who successfully pass the examinations will be granted admission and permitted to enroll for the upcoming academic year.
We wish you the greatest success in your examination and look forward to witnessing the extent of your abilities.
Respectfully,
The Aurelian Arclight Academy Of Advanced Arts