Julien woke up gasping for breath.
He saw something achingly familiar. The ceiling was smooth, carved wood, not the miserable scene he'd died in. Cheery sunlight filtered through white linen curtains and the air smelled clean.
Asanel Academy…? Is my life flashing before my eyes?
He sat up. His body moved too easily. There weren't any wounds. No weight dragging him down. He instinctively reached for his sword, only to find it wasn't there.
And then he saw his hands. They were wrong.
They had no callouses from years of gruelling training. They were pale and unblemished, no scars in sight. And Julien's Mark, the one that shone gold on the back of his right hand, was gone.
Instead, there was a deep red symbol on his palm. He stumbled over to the mirror opposite the bed he sat on.
The face that stared back stopped his heart.
Long bronze-colored hair down to the ears. Light skin. Brown eyes: sharp but kind.
That's not me… That's Ian. But it can't be! He's long gone, so how am I him?!
His mouth went dry.
Ian Mooring. The top student of Asanel Academy before Julien had even arrived. He was a natural S-tier, the kind of talent that normally only appeared once in a generation. Calm, efficient, yet with a kind of friendly charm. The ideal every student was supposed to chase. Julien remembered watching him from a distance, back when he was just a wide-eyed first year. Ian had seemed untouchable, basically half-legend. Until, of course, he would gently go up and help someone struggling with that signature smile.
He took a step back and fell back onto the bed. This can't be right.
Ian was meant to be dead; Inferno killed him. Everyone was aware of that. The day Ian died, Inferno had stolen his abilities and used them to start the first flame siege.
And yet...
The system pinged softly in the back of Julien's mind.
[User: Ian Mooring]
[Class: Mage – Subclass: Fire User]
[Current Rank: S-Tier]
[Villain Path Progress: 0%]
[Memory Sync: 100% Complete]
Villain?!
Suddenly, he remembered what he had last seen before everything turned black.
[Unlocking Hidden Route: Villain Path – Ian Mooring]
Ian was a good guy, so why did the system call him a villain?
Julien clutched his head. A rush of fragmented memories suddenly slid into focus--training drills, lectures, quiet evenings alone in the dorm, moments with friends. Bits of Ian's life, clean and orderly, with no hint of cruelty or violence. No blood. No fire. No cities burned.
He even saw yesterday--and the exact date.
It's early Year 497 now. I've gone back six years… to the months before Ian was killed.
I have his face and his memories. I've become him. What kind of spell is this? Changing one's appearance is easy enough, but nobody can tamper with time. The only thing powerful enough to do something like that would be… the system. Why?
He silently called up the system to look deeper. He could see everything from Ian's skill list, to inventory, stats and all.
[Ian Mooring – Lvl 67/80]
[Currently Equipped Skills: 10 (MAX)]
[Mana: 31000/31000]
[Health Points: 6300/6300]
The stats definitely weren't Julien's. The amount of mana far exceeded that of anyone in the melee class, himself included. And the health was far too low for close combat, just like a normal… mage.
Skill list.
[Unlocked Skills (45)]
Julien stared hard at the system's floating letters, taking every listing in.
It's probably a good thing Inferno didn't wait for Ian to unlock any more skills before he stole them. He already had 45 different ones when he was only 19 or 20. Even I only managed to get 38 by the time I died.
He scrolled through the list in silence. There were basic mage skills, spells, passive abilities, all at impressively high levels for a student.
Julien also saw a few of Inferno's favorites--Flame-Whip, Conjuring, Fireball--bringing back a few of his own bitter experiences with them.
Damn. I knew he was just as, if not stronger than me, but now I really understand why that monster did what he did to him.
Sighing, Julien gazed at his Marked hand again. Seeing something different there was unnatural. The lack of raw strength in his arms was weird. There was no familiar light to be felt circling around his core, instead an uncomfortably warm heat.
This is going to take some getting used to.
Nothing in the system was missing or purposefully hidden. Every detail was there--stats, affinities, ability cooldowns. It looked exactly like the kind of profile a top-ranked prodigy should have. Strong, yes. But not broken or villainous in the slightest.
He closed the system screen.
Everything was laid out clearly, like the normal system he'd been using for years. But none of it felt like his. Not just because the numbers were different. The entire build was foreign.
Julien stood, stretching out his arms. They were leaner, sure, but that wasn't the problem. The real issue was how the mana moved.
It didn't wrap around his limbs, didn't flow into his muscles, or reinforce his frame like he was used to. It just sat there, dense, simmering heat in his core. Ready to be channeled outward, not inward.
He crouched low, testing a familiar stance. Tried channeling mana the way he always had--use it to tighten the shoulders, reinforce the knees, push it into his arms.
Nothing.
Well, not nothing, but the mana resisted. It didn't respond like before. It pulsed once, heavy and slow, then stayed where it was.
Of course it didn't work. This wasn't a melee Marked body. Ian had never trained for sword enhancement, never built a foundation for physical reinforcement. Everything in this body was designed for spell output. After all, he was a mage, and they were much more suited to throwing spells from afar than hitting something with a weapon.
Julien clicked his tongue and stood back up. It felt off-balance. Even his center of gravity sat higher than he was used to.
Guess I won't be throwing people through walls anymore.
He opened the system again and tapped into the skill list again. Much to his dismay, Ian had not a single body boost or reinforcement technique that would help anyone who wasn't a melee Marked. Nothing to support muscles that weren't refined enough. Even the buff spells he had weren't as leveled as the more powerful skills.
I'm going to have to learn how to fight like a mage.
Not that he couldn't. He had practiced with mages, engaged in combat with them, and instinctively learned how to avoid their spell patterns. But as a swordsman, It was another matter entirely to use them himself. He hadn't given much thought to timing, incantation flow, or control that went into a mage's spells. He never imagined that he would have to.
If he wanted to avoid drawing suspicion, he'd need to move and cast like Ian. No reckless dashes or brute counters. Just perfect precision and powerful fire.
Julien shuddered at the thought. All those years of polishing my everything, wasted. Now I have to start from scratch in a completely new way of fighting.
This is absolutely ridiculous. Screw the stupid system! Couldn't it just let me rest after all those hardships?!
Julien paced for a moment, his steps stiff and uneven in a body that didn't move like his. He couldn't stay in this room all day. Sooner or later, someone would come by--friends, instructors, people looking for advice. If he slipped up around them, said the wrong thing, stood the wrong way...
No. He needed space. Somewhere quiet, far from anyone who might know Ian well enough to notice the change.
His eyes scanned the room. It was organized, precise. Ian had always been like that. On the shelf were several books about spell-skill relationships. A chair had his uniform jacket folded neatly across it. Under the desk, even his boots lined up.
Julien grabbed a red coat instead.
If it is really Sunday as I think it is, and there's no class, then no one's going to question where I go. Probably.
He entered the corridor. The corridor of the old dorm was just as orderly and rigid as he remembered. On either side were the doors of students, some of which were already open and filled with sleepy voices. He walked by them without looking at them.
No one stopped him. They probably assumed he was heading to study, even on the weekend.
He was Ian.
As he reached the exit, a few younger students nearby straightened up when they saw him.
"Morning, Ian! Off to the usual?" one of them said cheerfully.
[Character Guidance Activated]
Before he could even think of a response, his mouth began to move.
'Morning! You know me too well, Charlie. Have a good day, you three!'
Ian's pleasant voice echoed around the hall, without Julien even thinking about it.
What was that about? Character guidance? The hell's that supposed to mean?
He hurried away, unsettled. He repeated the phrase in his mind, hoping that the system would give him some kind of explanation.
A system window opened instantly.
[Character Guidance Lvl.1 (MAX)]
[Type–???]
[Effect: Ian Mooring's body may respond to basic social situations by default. This function automatically protects the user's cover and prevents inconsistencies in tone, phrasing, or facial expression.]
[Requirements: Activation is subconscious. Cannot be disabled.]
So the system is doing the acting for me?
He wasn't sure if that was unnerving or a relief. It had caused him to speak in a tone that wasn't his, smile without his consent, and use someone else's name as if it were natural. Nothing seemed strange to the younger students. Of course, that was the point. He didn't like the sound of that, though. He felt like a puppet as a result. Or worse, as if the system didn't have complete faith in him to do this correctly.
Julien picked up his pace. The sun was fully out now, shining light across the stone paths and brick walls of Asanel's massive campus. Students wandered in pairs and small groups across the grounds, heading to training courts, study halls, or the cafeteria.
He moved east, past the outdoor dueling platforms, and down a lesser-used trail behind the main hall building. His memories guided him well enough. Behind the slope was an old practice field that had long since been taken out of the class rotation and was sufficiently isolated.
Ha… I remember when me and my friends would mess around there for hours after classes. There should be no one here though, since we only discovered it in our second year.
Sure enough, the field was empty. Worn lines on the ground, surroundings chipped from decades of stray spells and wayward slashes.
Alright, a place where I can fail without it becoming a scandal. But Ian isn't a 15-year-old learning their first stance. He's got many destructive powers, so I'll need to be careful.