Chapter 5 – The First Ritual
Night had settled over the academy island like a heavy, silent cloak. Clouds smothered the sky, hiding the stars, and a thin mist rolled across the ground. A faint breeze rustled the tall trees by the lake, carrying with it the lonely cry of a night bird. The academy, so alive and noisy during the day, was now almost completely silent—only the distant footsteps of patrolling guards echoed faintly through the courtyards.
Seryn liked this silence. During the day, he was tired of the glances, the whispers, and the contempt that followed him wherever he went. But the night… the night belonged to him. And tonight would mark a turning point in his life.
On the desk before him lay an old sheet of parchment. It wasn't just some historical document—it was a fragment of the very story he had once read in his previous life. A story that described this world's fate long before he ever stepped into it.
One particular line was burned into his memory:
"After the demon attack on the academy, the Serpent King—an A-rank peak mana beast sealed a century ago—will awaken beneath the northern forest. Weak and dying, it will be slain by Lucien, who will claim its core. That core will become the key to his future power."
Seryn read the line again and again, each repetition strengthening the steel resolve in his chest.
"I'm going to steal that fate," he whispered. "This time, the hero won't be him."
But the Serpent King's heart and core weren't mere trophies—they were forces beyond comprehension. If he tried to absorb them now, his fragile body would be torn apart. His mana channels would shatter, his veins would burn, his heart would explode under the pressure. To reach for that kind of power, he needed to prepare.
And preparation meant starting small.
The next day, Seryn walked into the Academy's Beast Bank, a place where the remains and organs of magical creatures were stored and sold. Researchers purchased specimens for study, students bought them for practical lessons, and noble families often reserved rare pieces for their private alchemists.
Rituals weren't forbidden here—but they were frowned upon. The noble path preferred to boast about "pure" strength gained through bloodlines and natural talent. Those who sought power through rituals were often seen as desperate, or worse, unworthy.
Seryn didn't care. Power was power, no matter how it was earned.
"I want a D-rank mana serpent cadaver," he told the clerk.
"The heart and core must be intact."
The man didn't even look up as he flipped through the paperwork. "Price is high. Payment?"
"Credit."
Seryn handed over a small bronze seal—proof of his eligibility for a student loan. The clerk examined it briefly, then nodded.
"Sign here. Purpose: research and application. From this point on, you're responsible for how the material is used."
Seryn signed without hesitation. This was more than just a loan—it was an investment in his future.
"A small price," he muttered. "For what's to come."
Midnight approached, and the academy grew still. Seryn slipped into the depths of an abandoned stone building long forgotten by most. It had once been a storage room, but now it was nothing more than a damp, dust-filled chamber. Perfect for what he was about to do.
He laid the serpent's cold, heavy body on a table. Its once-bright eyes were dull now, its scales faded, but the mana within still lingered. Taking a deep breath, he began his preparations.
The ritual circle took hours to draw. White chalk traced precise shapes across the floor: concentric rings, sigils, and mana flow lines. Every mark had to be perfect—one mistake could mean failure, or worse, death.
When the circle was ready, Seryn carefully opened the serpent's chest. The heart still pulsed faintly with mana, the weak core glowing like a dying ember. He placed the heart at the center of the circle and the core along the eastern line.
"I'm ready," he whispered.
The air shifted the moment the ritual began.
At first, it was just a faint vibration. Then, a searing heat flooded his veins as the mana poured from the serpent's heart into the spiral, racing toward his body.
The pain struck immediately.
It felt like molten metal was being poured into his bloodstream. His muscles spasmed, his vision swam, and his lungs screamed for air.
But Seryn didn't back down. Pain was not his enemy. Pain was the fire that forged strength.
Time lost meaning. Minutes, maybe hours, passed. And then—something changed. The agony dulled. The fire became a steady, rhythmic pulse. His muscles tightened and strengthened. His skin felt tougher, his bones heavier.
His body was adapting. It was accepting the power.
When the ritual finally ended, Seryn collapsed to his knees. His breath came in sharp gasps, and sweat dripped from his brow. But despite the exhaustion, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"I did it…"
When he stood, he could feel the difference immediately. His steps were lighter, his movements sharper. When he clenched his fists, strength rippled beneath his skin.
He was no longer just a weak, powerless student.
The results were undeniable:
His physical strength had reached peak E-rank.
His resistance to mana had increased dramatically.
His body could now endure a much higher-level ritual without tearing itself apart.
By the time he left the chamber, dawn's first light was creeping over the horizon. The academy was still silent, but inside Seryn, a storm was brewing.
This was the first step. But it would not be the last.
The Serpent King still slept deep beneath the northern forest, its death creeping closer with each passing day.
And this time, Seryn would be there first.
He would take what was meant for Lucien and claim it as his own.
"This is only the beginning…" he whispered to himself.
"The real war is about to begin."
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Seryn has taken his first real step toward power. Do you believe he can truly rewrite fate?