Huff… huff… huff. Vern and Edward panted like crazy as they collapsed onto the ground. Their training clothes were nothing more than tattered rags, torn like a beggar's attire, and sweat poured off their bodies as though they had been dragged through a storm. Vern's tied-up hair had long since come loose, strands sticking to his face from the relentless perspiration.
"Hey… how is it that your mana core is so trashy?" Edward finally managed between heavy breaths, his tone half-teasing but mostly frustrated.
"What can I do? I was born with it." Vern replied in an exhausted voice, lifting his trembling hand to check his mana core. The faint light within had dimmed completely; all the refined mana he'd gathered was spent in the brutal sparring match. His chest rose and fell as he stared at it, a dull reminder of his limit.
Edward frowned, shaking his head. "If it wasn't for that trashy mana core, you would've already stepped into Second Severance. You can beat most warriors who are in Second Severance already, but in the future… this will weigh you down. It'll prove heavy—too heavy." His voice carried genuine worry, as if he was looking further than today's exhaustion and into Vern's uncertain path ahead.
"Haha…" With a tired chuckle, Vern leaned back against the wall, his head thudding softly against the cold stone. His lips curled into a faint smile as he spoke, "Although it might be difficult for me to reach Third Severance, after that, what grade of mana core you have doesn't matter."
Edward tilted his head, still panting. "Hmm… you're right. But reaching Third Severance is no joke. It takes a ridiculous amount of refined mana to break that wall." He paused, wiping the sweat dripping down his chin. "Although I reached Second Severance a year ago, I think… at most, two more years, and I'll break into the third."
"Right…" Vern muttered, glancing sideways at him. "But do you think there's anyone else who has a mana core as good as yours?" His tone carried a mix of genuine curiosity and an edge of unease.
"Hm?" Edward thought for a moment before replying casually. "I heard from my father that the current Saintess candidate has a mana core as good as mine—maybe even better. But she chose magic instead of the martial path. Supposedly, she got admitted into this institute just last year."
"Saintess candidate?" Vern repeated, his brows furrowing slightly.
Inside, his heart skipped. I've never heard of her… His thoughts churned restlessly as fragments of memory from his previous life surfaced. If she's truly a Saintess candidate, then she should've been famous. Someone like that—someone chosen by the church itself—her name would've spread far and wide. Even commoners on the street would've known of her.
Yet, no matter how hard he tried to recall, there was nothing. No whispers, no mentions, no trace. It was as if she had never existed.
This is odd… very odd. His eyes narrowed as his mind raced. In my past life, I wasn't someone important, but even I knew about the Church's affairs, the Saintess selection, the candidates… If she really was one, then why do I remember nothing about her?
His gaze dropped to the floor, shadows flickering across his face as unease stirred deep within him.
"Who is she?" Vern finally asked aloud, his tone calm but carrying an edge of sharp curiosity.
Edward scratched his head, frowning slightly. "I don't know her name. My father didn't mention it, only that she's blessed and the Church has high hopes for her. If she's really here, I suppose we'll run into her sooner or later."
Vern forced a nod, but his thoughts refused to settle. If she truly exists in this life but not in my past one… then something has changed.
A chill ran down his spine, though sweat still clung hot against his skin. The world… it's shifting in ways I don't understand.
Now that I think about it… why did I regress?
That question had clawed at Vern's mind countless times, but the answer always slipped through his grasp like mist. And every time he awoke in this life, there was that strange, suffocating feeling—a weight pressing against his soul, as though something unseen had branded him.
Was it the plot of someone? No… that makes no sense. My previous life was insignificant. I was no king, no hero, not even a name worthy of fear. Yet… it was full of evil. Every step I took was drenched in blood, every choice twisted with sin. I betrayed, I killed, I schemed—just to grow stronger.
His lips curled into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained dark. And I do not regret those actions. Not then. Not now. If given the chance, I will commit those same crimes again in this life, because weakness… weakness is the only true sin.
But even so, a cold doubt gnawed at him. Was it really just luck that I was granted regression? A miracle? Or… was it that icy continent? That cursed, lifeless land where I stumbled upon the blueprint—those strange soul-related scripts etched in frost and silence?
No matter how hard he tried to recall, his mind fractured around that memory, like glass cracking under strain. The images never aligned, the truths never fit together.
And yet… there were changes—small but undeniable cracks in the mirror of his memories. The Saintess candidate… she shouldn't exist. The successor test of House Kael… it was never like this before. And that girl, Salena… in my past life, she was nothing. A stranger. Yet in this life, she acts as if she likes me, as if she has known me all along.
The thought chilled him more than any icy wind. It's almost as if the world itself has shifted around me. As if regression wasn't a return… but a rewriting.
Vern's brooding thoughts were abruptly shattered by Edward's sudden call, dragging him back into reality.
"Our classes will start from tomorrow. Are you going?" Edward asked, his voice still a little hoarse from exhaustion.
"Well, I should. That's the reason I got admitted in the first place," Vern replied with a faint shrug, masking the storm that had been raging in his mind moments before.
"Good. Then we should get going—dawn is approaching," Edward said, glancing at the old iron clock hanging crookedly on the gymnasium wall. Its hands pointed to 4:50 in the morning.
The two exchanged a tired look, then pushed themselves up from the cold floor. Their legs ached, their muscles screamed, but neither complained. As they walked toward the exit, the faint glow of the coming sunrise spilled through the high windows, casting long shadows across the training hall.
For Vern, that light felt less like the promise of a new day and more like a reminder—another day closer to the truths he had to uncover.
After parting ways with Edward, Vern walked alone through the dim corridor toward his allocated room. The stone floor echoed with each of his footsteps, the silence of early dawn making the vast hallway feel endless. No one else was around at this hour, and that solitude allowed his mind to sink deeper into thought.
He wasn't sure what his next course of action should be. On the surface, he knew well enough how to conduct himself in the academy—train, grow stronger, climb ranks, and seize every opportunity. But his true objective was far from simple, and the more he thought about it, the more dangerous it seemed.
This institute was no ordinary place. Its instructors included many who had already reached the Fifth Severance—men and women who could tear apart armies on their own. And then there was the principal himself, Bhism Sunkul. Vern's lips tightened as the name crossed his mind. That man was a monster—renowned across the continent of Axian, feared and respected for his overwhelming strength. Among the humans of this land, he could be considered one of the strongest alive.
But even that title had its limits. Beyond the seas lay the continent of demi-humans, where beings even more fearsome dwelled. Vern recalled the rumors he'd heard: the king of the Elven Empire, a being of such power that he could crush a mountain the size of Mount Stalin with a single arrow from his bow. Against monsters like that, even Bhism Sunkul might be nothing more than prey.
Vern exhaled slowly, a faint bitterness curling his thoughts. To infiltrate this place for what I want… it won't be easy. Here, I'm surrounded by predators, beings who could crush me like a bug if I make a single wrong move.
Thinking along these lines, Vern finally reached his room. The wooden door creaked softly as he pushed it open, the faint chill of dawn seeping inside. Without wasting much thought, he stripped out of his sweat-soaked rags and changed into his simple sleeping clothes.
He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, staring blankly at the floor. His mind still lingered on the dangerous possibilities, on the giants that overshadowed his every move.
"Oh well… I should try to seize an opportunity. If not… then my objective can never be fulfilled," he murmured under his breath.
With those quiet words, he lay down and pulled the thin blanket over himself. The exhaustion of the night's training weighed heavily on his body, dragging his eyes shut. Within moments, his breathing steadied, and he slipped into a deep slumber.