The knock came again, sharper this time, and I realized I'd been staring at my reflection—at Alex Hazenworth's reflection—for far too long.
"Young master," the voice called through the door, professional but edged with impatience. "Your father is waiting."
'Right,' I thought, tearing my gaze away from those unsettling crimson eyes. 'I need to... what? Play the part? Pretend to be someone I'm not?'
Except I was Alex Hazenworth now, whether I wanted to be or not. The memories proved it—fragments of a life I hadn't lived but somehow knew. Childhood in this estate. A father's pride turning to disappointment. A sister's shadow growing longer as his own light dimmed. Years of wasted potential and squandered opportunities.
"Come in," I said, and was relieved when my voice came out steady despite the chaos in my head.
The door opened to reveal a middle-aged woman in a maid's uniform, her expression the carefully neutral mask of someone who'd served the family long enough to know when to show emotion and when to hide it. She curtsied with practiced efficiency.
"Good morning, young master Alex. I've prepared your breakfast attire." Her eyes flicked over me, still in the rumpled clothes I'd apparently slept in, and something that might have been concern crossed her face. "Are you feeling well? You look rather pale."
'Pale,' I thought. 'That's one way to describe someone who just had their consciousness forcibly transplanted into a stranger's body.'
"I'm fine," I lied. "Just... didn't sleep well."
She didn't look convinced but moved to help me dress anyway, laying out formal clothes on the bed with the ease of long routine. A white shirt with intricate embroidery along the collar. Dark trousers. A vest in deep crimson that matched my eyes. A jacket bearing the Hazenworth family crest—a sword crossed with a flowering branch, symbolizing strength tempered by growth.
'Ironic,' I thought, looking at the crest. 'Strength is exactly what this body lacks.'
I tried to dress myself, waving away the maid's assistance with a gesture that felt natural thanks to Alex's memories. But the moment I started moving, really moving, I understood just how bad things were.
Every motion felt heavy. Like I was moving underwater, or wearing weights I couldn't see. My arms trembled slightly when I lifted them to pull on the shirt. My legs felt unsteady, threatening to buckle under my own weight. Even breathing required conscious effort, each inhale and exhale reminding me that this body wasn't right, wasn't healthy, wasn't strong enough.
'This is worse than my real body,' I thought with growing horror. 'At least back on Earth, I knew what was wrong. Chronic respiratory failure. Something concrete. But this...'
I pulled up my status with a thought, and the translucent window appeared in my vision:
[NAME: Alex Hazenworth]
[RANK: 1]
[PATHS: Triadic Soul (Body + Mind + Elemental)]
[BODY PATH: Sword - Stage 1: Foundation]
[Sealed Knowledge: Stage 3 techniques inaccessible until vessel strengthens]
[MIND PATH: Spirit - 12 Contracts (All Dormant until Rank 2)]
[Contracted Spirits: Zephyros, Pyraxis, Aqualis, Terramore, Luminae, Umbral, Frostine, Verdania, Voltaris, Spectra, Chronos, Nihilus]
[Note: Contracts maintained but Spirits cannot manifest or communicate until Rank 2]
[ELEMENTAL PATH: Blood - Locked (Requires Rank 3)]
[PENALTY: 300% Experience Requirement]
[VESSEL COMPATIBILITY: 23%]
[WARNING: Current vessel cannot efficiently sustain Triadic Soul burden]
[WARNING: Physical capabilities severely limited until compatibility improves]
I stared at that last warning, understanding dawning with sickening clarity. The 300% experience penalty was bad enough—it meant I'd need to work three times harder than a normal person just to progress at all. But the 23% vessel compatibility? That was catastrophic.
This body, Alex Hazenworth's body, couldn't handle what I was. The Triadic Soul wasn't just a gameplay challenge anymore. It was a physical burden, a weight pressing down on a frame too weak to support it. Like trying to run a program on hardware that didn't meet the minimum requirements.
'No wonder the original Alex stagnated,' I thought. 'If his body felt even a fraction of this weight...'
"Young master?" The maid's voice cut through my thoughts. "You've been standing there for quite some time. Your father truly is waiting, and he does not appreciate tardiness."
I forced myself to finish dressing, each button and fastener requiring more focus than it should. The maid helped with the jacket despite my earlier refusal, and I was too exhausted to protest.
When I finally looked at myself in the mirror, I saw a young noble in fine clothes that couldn't quite hide how unwell he looked. The white hair made the paleness of my skin more pronounced. The crimson eyes, which should have been striking, just looked feverish.
'This is the body I have to work with,' I thought grimly. 'This is what I'm stuck with.'
I knew calling out to Zephyros would be futile. The status said it clearly enough—all twelve Spirits were dormant until I reached Rank 2. They were there, somewhere in whatever space contracted Spirits occupied, but sealed away behind a barrier I couldn't break. Not yet.
'Later,' I told myself. 'When I'm stronger. When this body can actually handle the connection.'
The walk to the dining hall was longer than it should have been. Not because of distance, but because I had to stop twice to catch my breath, leaning against walls when the maid wasn't looking. Alex's memories told me the route, showed me the portraits of ancestors lining the corridors, whispered the names of servants we passed.
But those memories couldn't prepare me for what hit me the moment I stepped through the dining hall doors.
Pressure.
Not physical force, not anything I could see or touch, but a weight that crashed down on me like a collapsing mountain. The air itself felt thick, heavy, pressing against my skin and trying to force me to my knees. My legs buckled, and I had to catch myself against the doorframe.
At the head of the table, my father looked up from his morning paper.
Aleo Hazenworth was not a large man, but he filled the room with his presence. Dark hair touched with gray at the temples. A face that might have been handsome if it wasn't set in such harsh lines. Eyes the same crimson as mine but colder, sharper, like blood frozen into blades. He wore a simple but exquisitely tailored suit, the jacket hanging open to reveal the family crest embroidered on his vest.
And he was Rank 4.
I'd known that intellectually, had seen it in Alex's memories. But knowing and experiencing were entirely different things. This was a man who'd achieved what I'd spent three months clawing my way toward as Saber. A man who'd reached heights where you earned titles and respect, where your very presence bent the world around you.
His aura leaked out unconsciously, the way a lamp gives off heat. And to my Rank 1 body with its 23% compatibility, that unconscious emanation felt like standing under a waterfall.
"You're late," Aleo said, his voice carrying the same weight as his presence. Not loud, but commanding. The kind of voice that expected obedience not because it demanded it, but because anything else was unthinkable.
"I apologize, Father," I managed, forcing myself to stand upright and walk forward. Every step felt like moving through mud. "I was—"
"I didn't ask for excuses." He set down the paper, and the full weight of his attention turned to me. The pressure intensified. "Sit."
I made it to my chair, barely, and collapsed into it with less grace than a noble should have. My mother, seated to Aleo's right, reached out as if to steady me, then pulled her hand back.
Eleanor Hazenworth was everything her husband wasn't—soft where he was hard, warm where he was cold, gentle where he was harsh. Her hair was a light brown that caught the morning sun streaming through the tall windows. Her eyes were blue, not crimson, suggesting she'd married into the Hazenworth line rather than being born to it. She wore a morning dress in pale green that somehow made her look like spring itself.
She was also Rank 3, and though her presence wasn't as overwhelming as her husband's, I could still feel it. A softer pressure, like a hand placed firmly on my shoulder.
'Everyone in this family outranks me,' I thought, trying to control my breathing. 'Even my mother could crush me without effort.'
A servant appeared with breakfast—eggs, toast, bacon, fruits I didn't recognize from Earth but that Alex's memories named as cloudberries and dawn melons. The food looked and smelled delicious, but my stomach was twisted in knots.
Aleo picked up his fork and began eating, and that was apparently the signal that the rest of us could do the same. Eleanor took a delicate bite of toast. I forced myself to eat an egg, even though every swallow felt like pushing rocks down my throat.
We ate in silence for several minutes, the only sounds being silverware against porcelain and the distant clatter of servants in the kitchen. The pressure from Aleo's aura never lessened. If anything, it seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment.
Finally, he spoke.
"The carriage is prepared to depart at noon. You have four hours to ensure your belongings are packed and ready." He didn't look at me, his attention seemingly focused on his breakfast. "I trust you haven't forgotten anything critical, though given your track record, I wouldn't be surprised."
"I've packed everything I need," I said quietly.
"Have you." It wasn't a question. "Your books? Your training equipment? The family sword?" He paused. "Though I suppose the sword is largely ceremonial for you, isn't it? You've barely progressed past Foundation stage in six years."
The words cut deeper than they should have, partly because they were true for the original Alex, and partly because I knew exactly how much skill it took to progress beyond Stage 1. I'd done it as Saber. I'd reached Stage 3, achieved One Heart One Weapon. But in this body, that knowledge was sealed away behind walls I couldn't break through.
"Aleo," Eleanor said softly, a gentle reproach.
"Don't," he cut her off. "He needs to hear this. Needs to understand what's at stake." He finally looked at me, and the full force of his crimson gaze made me want to flinch. "The Grand Academy has just begun accepting students for the new academic year. Four-year program. Your class will be the newest intake of first-years."
I nodded, knowing this from Alex's memories but letting him speak.
"Upon arrival, you will take the entrance examinations along with all other incoming students. These exams will determine your initial placement, your class assignments, and whether you're even worthy of attending at all." His grip on his fork tightened slightly. "Most students your age are Rank 2, approaching Rank 3. You are eighteen years old and still Rank 1."
The pressure in the room intensified, and I realized it wasn't unconscious anymore. He was deliberately increasing his aura, testing me, seeing if I'd buckle.
My legs trembled under the table. My hands shook. I focused on breathing, on staying upright, on not collapsing under the weight of his disappointment made manifest.
"Your sister Seraphina reached Rank 2 at age fifteen," Aleo continued relentlessly. "Rank 3 at seventeen. She's now a third-year student at the Academy, one of the top performers in her class. Everything you should have been. Everything you could have been if you hadn't wasted your potential on frivolous pursuits and childish rebellion."
'It wasn't rebellion,' I wanted to say. 'This body couldn't handle the burden. The 23% compatibility was crushing him long before I got here.'
But I said nothing. Explanations wouldn't matter. Couldn't matter. Because I was Alex Hazenworth now, and his failures were my failures, his shame my shame.
"There's more," Eleanor said gently, trying to change the subject. "Tell him about the monster surges, dear."
Aleo's expression flickered with something that might have been concern, though it was hard to tell through the permanent scowl. "The kingdom has been experiencing unprecedented monster surges for the past two months. Creatures from the Darkwood, the Shattered Peaks, even the Sunken Marshes have been moving in coordinated waves. We've lost three border villages and two military outposts."
I felt something cold settle in my stomach. Two months. The monster surges had started two months ago in this timeline. But when I'd played as Saber, in my three months of private server time, this hadn't happened. Not like this. Not this organized, not this early.
'I've gone back in time,' I realized. 'The timeline has reset. Events that happened in my experience as Saber either haven't occurred yet or have changed.'
"Why is this relevant to the Academy?" I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the pressure still bearing down on me.
"Because the Academy will be mobilizing students to assist with defense," Aleo said. "Upper years are already being deployed to reinforce border regions. If you cannot prove yourself capable of at least basic combat, you will be a liability. And liabilities get people killed."
He leaned forward, and the pressure increased again. I felt my spine compress, my vision blur at the edges.
"Let me be absolutely clear, Alex. This is your last chance. Attend the Academy. Pass the entrance exams. Prove that you are not the complete disappointment you've been for the past six years. Show even a fraction of the potential you demonstrated as a child." His voice dropped lower, colder. "Or when you return at winter break, you will be disowned. Stripped of the Hazenworth name. Cast out with nothing but the clothes on your back."
The ultimatum hung in the air like a blade.
Eleanor reached across the table, placing her hand over mine. Her touch was warm, gentle, and I could feel her Rank 3 aura trying to buffer me from her husband's pressure.
"We don't want that, sweetheart," she said softly. "We believe in you. We know you can be great if you just apply yourself. Your sister believes in you too. She's asked us to let her know the moment you arrive so she can help you settle in."
'Help me settle in,' I thought. 'Or watch me to make sure I don't embarrass the family further.'
"Seraphina has agreed to take you under her wing," Aleo added. "Guide you. Ensure you don't make a fool of yourself in front of the other noble houses. Try not to disappoint her the way you've disappointed us."
The weight of his aura intensified one final time, and I felt something in my spine pop. My vision swam. My hands gripped the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turned white.
Then, mercifully, he pulled it back. The pressure eased, and I could breathe again.
"You're dismissed," he said, returning his attention to his breakfast. "Be ready to depart at noon. And Alex?"
I looked up, meeting those cold crimson eyes.
"Don't shame our family further. We've endured enough embarrassment on your account."
I stood, my legs barely supporting me, and managed something that approximated a bow. "Yes, Father."
Eleanor gave me an encouraging smile, but it was strained, worried. "Be safe, Alex. Write to us when you arrive."
I left the dining hall, each step feeling like a victory. The moment I was out of sight, I leaned against the wall, breathing hard, my entire body trembling from the effort of withstanding my father's presence.
'Rank 4,' I thought bitterly. 'That's what Rank 4 feels like. That's the power I had as Saber, and now I'm so weak that just being in the same room with it nearly breaks me.'
A servant approached, asking if I needed assistance. I waved them off and forced myself to walk back to my room under my own power, however unsteady.
---
The packing didn't take long. Most of it had been done the night before—before I'd become Alex Hazenworth, when the original consciousness had still inhabited this body. Clothes, books, training equipment, personal items. Everything a noble student would need for a year at the Grand Academy.
I added a few things from Alex's memories. A journal that he'd never written in but had received as a gift from his mother. A pendant with the family crest that was supposed to bring good fortune. The ceremonial sword my father had mentioned, which hung on the wall more as decoration than actual weapon.
When everything was packed and the servants had carried the luggage downstairs, I finally had a moment alone.
I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled up my status again, studying it with the careful attention I'd learned from thousands of hours of gaming.
[NAME: Alex Hazenworth]
[RANK: 1]
[PATHS: Triadic Soul (Body + Mind + Elemental)]
The details were the same as before. Sword at Stage 1 with sealed knowledge of higher techniques. Spirit affinity with twelve contracted beings I couldn't access. Blood affinity locked entirely. And that crushing 300% experience penalty.
But something was different. Something was missing.
I scrolled through the interface, looking for the familiar progress bar, the numerical indicator of how much experience I needed to level up.
It wasn't there.
No level counter. No experience bar showing progress toward the next milestone. Just the rank indicator and a note about progression requirements.
[Note: Rank advancement requires significant achievements, not simple experience accumulation]
[Progress to Rank 2: 0%]
'They removed the level system,' I realized. 'Or it's different in the actual game world versus the private server. No more grinding monsters for experience points. Advancement requires actual accomplishment.'
That was both good and bad. Good because it meant the 300% penalty might not be as crushing as I'd thought—if advancement was based on achievements rather than raw numbers, skill and strategy could compensate. Bad because it meant I couldn't just grind my way to power. I'd need to actually prove myself worthy of each rank.
'And with this body barely able to handle the Triadic Soul burden,' I thought, 'that's going to be nearly impossible through normal means.'
I sat there, staring at my status, feeling the weight of the situation settle over me like a burial shroud. Rank 1 in a world where my peers were Rank 2 or higher. A body with 23% compatibility that trembled under my own father's presence. Two of my three affinities locked away. No experience bar to chase, just vague requirements about "significant achievements."
'I'd need years,' I thought despairingly. 'Maybe decades. And I have one academic year to prove myself before being disowned.'
That's when the memory surfaced.
Not Alex's memory. Mine. From my time as Saber, from my months of playing the game before everything went wrong.
I'd been in Port Saltmere, taking a break between quests, when I'd logged out briefly to check the forums. People were already theorizing about the game, discussing strategies, sharing discoveries. And one thread had caught my attention.
"How is Alister Lightblade so OP???"
The thread was full of players speculating about how the main story NPC could be so impossibly powerful. Alister Lightblade, the prophesied Hero of Light, was apparently advancing through ranks at a speed that shouldn't have been possible. Players who'd encountered him in beta testing reported that he'd gone from Rank 1 to Rank 3 in less than six months.
'Must be story buffs,' one player had written. 'Main character privileges.'
'Or maybe he's got some kind of special item,' another had suggested. 'Legendary equipment from his family?'
'I heard a rumor,' a third had posted, and this was the message that had stuck in my mind. 'One of the beta testers said they saw Alister with a ring. Some kind of artifact that glowed when he used it. Could be a growth item? Something that boosts progression?'
The thread had devolved into speculation after that, with most people dismissing it as gossip or wishful thinking. But one post, near the bottom, had included something more concrete.
'I saw coordinates in the beta files,' someone had written, clearly someone who'd done some data mining. 'There's a location marked as "Hero's Origin Point" in the Whispering Woods. Maybe that's where the ring comes from? Didn't have time to check it out before the beta ended.'
The Whispering Woods. I'd passed through that area as Saber, but only briefly. It was marked as a low-level zone, the kind of place starting players would visit for their first few quests. Nothing dangerous. Nothing interesting.
I'd never investigated because I'd been focused on reaching higher-level areas, on pushing my limits, on proving my build could work.
But now...
'A ring,' I thought, my heart rate picking up. 'An artifact that could boost progression. Something the hero was supposed to find.'
I pulled up Alex's memories, searching for information about the timeline. What day was it? When was Alister Lightblade scheduled to arrive at the Academy?
The memories provided answers. Today was the 15th of Highsun. The Academy term had begun on the 12th, with upper-year students returning first. New students, the first-years like Alex and Alister, were expected to arrive over the next week for entrance examinations.
Alister was scheduled to arrive on the 17th. Two days from now.
'He hasn't gotten the ring yet,' I realized. 'He can't have. If he had it, he'd already be at the Academy, already taking the exams. The timeline has reset, gone back to before he found it.'
The implications crashed over me like a wave.
If the ring existed—if it wasn't just speculation and rumor—then it was sitting in the Whispering Woods right now. Waiting. Unclaimed.
And if it could boost progression, offset the impossible burden of my 300% penalty and 23% compatibility...
'I need it,' I thought, the realization crystallizing into certainty. 'I can't survive without it. Can't advance fast enough to avoid being disowned. Can't prove myself worthy of staying at the Academy. Can't do anything except slowly suffocate under the weight of a build that's too much for this body to handle.'
But taking it meant Alister wouldn't get it. The prophesied Hero of Light, the one who was supposed to save the world, would be missing a crucial piece of his power.
'Tough,' I thought, surprising myself with the venom in that mental voice. 'He's got everything. Noble birth, natural talent, the right body for his powers, probably doesn't even have a penalty. He'll be fine without one artifact. But me? I'll die without it. Metaphorically if not literally.'
It wasn't stealing. Not really. I was just... getting there first. Finding it before he did. The game hadn't assigned it to him yet. It was sitting there, available, waiting for someone worthy enough to claim it.
'And if anyone needs it more,' I thought, 'it's the person who's been cursed with the hardest build in the game while stuck in a body that can barely walk without shaking.'
I stood up, decision made, and crossed to the window. The Hazenworth estate spread out below—manicured gardens, a training yard where guards practiced, stables where horses were being prepared for my departure.
The Whispering Woods weren't far. Maybe half a day's journey from here if we went directly. And they were roughly on the way to the Academy, so it wouldn't be too suspicious to make a stop.
'I'll go there first,' I decided. 'Before the Academy. Before Alister arrives. Before anyone realizes what I'm doing.'
'I'll find that ring. And I'll use it to level the playing field.'
A knock came at the door. "Young master? It's nearly noon. The carriage is ready."
"Coming," I called back.
I took one last look around the room—at a space that belonged to someone I wasn't, at a life I'd inherited rather than earned. Then I straightened my jacket, made sure the family crest was visible, and walked out.
---
The courtyard was bustling with activity when I descended the main stairs. Servants were loading my luggage onto an ornate carriage that bore the Hazenworth crest on its doors. The horses—sleek black creatures that probably cost more than a house—were being checked and readied by stable hands. Guards in family colors stood at attention, ready to serve as escorts for the journey.
It was ostentatious. Exactly the kind of display a noble family would make to show their wealth and status.
Eleanor was waiting by the carriage, her expression a mixture of hope and worry. Aleo stood a few paces behind her, his face impassive, his arms crossed over his chest. Even from this distance, I could feel the weight of his presence.
"Alex," Eleanor said as I approached, reaching out to adjust my collar in that universal mother gesture. "Promise me you'll write. And eat properly. And don't stay up too late studying. And—"
"Eleanor," Aleo cut in. "He's going to the Academy, not to war."
"With the monster surges, he might as well be," she shot back, then turned to me with a softer expression. "Just... take care of yourself, sweetheart. And remember, Seraphina will be there. If you need anything, anything at all, go to her."
I nodded, not trusting my voice. The weight of her genuine affection was somehow harder to bear than Aleo's cold disappointment.
"The entrance examinations will determine your fate," Aleo said, his voice carrying that command tone again. "Do not embarrass us. Do not shame the Hazenworth name. And remember—this is your final chance."
"I understand, Father."
He stepped forward, and for a moment I thought he might offer some gesture of affection. A hand on my shoulder. A word of encouragement.
Instead, he simply said, "Don't make me regret giving you this opportunity."
Then he turned and walked back toward the estate, his presence fading with distance.
Eleanor pulled me into a brief hug that I barely had time to return before she released me. "Go," she said, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Make us proud."
I climbed into the carriage, settling onto the plush velvet seat. Through the window, I could see Eleanor waving, already looking smaller, more fragile. The guards took their positions flanking the carriage. A driver climbed up to the front bench, gathering the reins.
"Ready, young master?" the driver called back.
This was it. The moment of commitment. Once I left, there was no turning back.
"Actually," I said, my voice stronger than I felt, "I need to make a stop before we reach the Academy."
The driver turned, confusion evident even from this angle. "A stop, sir? Your father's instructions were to proceed directly to—"
"I'm aware of my father's instructions," I interrupted, channeling the imperious tone that came from Alex's memories. "But I need to make a brief detour. The Whispering Woods. There's something there I need to retrieve."
"The Whispering Woods, sir?" The driver's confusion deepened. "That's just a low-level area. Nothing of value there for someone of your... station."
'Exactly,' I thought. 'Which is why no one's found it yet.'
"Nevertheless," I said firmly. "That's where we're going. It won't take long."
The driver hesitated, clearly torn between obeying his young master and following Lord Aleo's explicit instructions. But in the end, hierarchy won out. I was a Hazenworth, even if I was the disappointing one.
"As you wish, young master," he said, snapping the reins.
The carriage lurched forward, wheels crunching on gravel. I looked back one last time at the Hazenworth estate—at the life I'd inherited, at the family that wasn't really mine, at the expectations I had no hope of meeting through normal means.
'Sorry, Alister,' I thought as the estate disappeared from view. 'I know that ring was probably meant for you. But I need it more. You're the hero with the destiny and the prophecy and the legendary system.'
'Me? I'm just a dead gamer in a borrowed body with a build that's trying to kill me.'
'And I'll do whatever it takes to survive.'
The carriage rolled down the road toward the Whispering Woods, toward an artifact that might save me or might damn me, toward a theft that would set everything in motion.
Toward the moment when I'd truly become someone who'd steal a hero's destiny and call it justified.
The sun was high overhead, painting the countryside in shades of gold. It was beautiful. Perfect.
And I barely noticed, too focused on planning my next move.
'The ring is in a shrine,' I remembered from those forum posts. 'An old structure, abandoned but not dangerous. The coordinates put it near the western edge of the woods, not far from the main road.'
'Get in. Find it. Get out. Continue to the Academy like nothing happened.'
'Easy.'
'Right?'
I leaned back against the velvet seat and closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart.
One theft. One artifact. One chance to level the playing field.
'I can do this,' I told myself. 'I've beaten impossible odds before. I can do it again.'
The carriage rolled on toward the Whispering Woods, and I rolled toward a destiny I was about to steal with my own two hands.