The wind rustling through the overgrown grass was the only sound in the field, and beyond the boundaries, a few birds were chirping in the trees. After placing his feet shoulder-width apart and rolling his shoulders, Julien got ready to cast.
Alright. Let's try one simple spell.
He focused on one of the most basic skills on Ian's list--[Ignition]. It was a low mana cost spell, a non-violent one used for starting small fires. Just enough to spark a flame at the fingertips.
Mana gathered instantly. Surprisingly smooth for his first time.
The spell activated before he even finished forming the thought. A bright orange flame burst to life in his palm.
Julien stared at it. He hadn't even used the proper command phrase.
Perfectly round and flickering softly, the fire hovered steadily. He felt like he could control it perfectly.
…Huh.
He tried extinguishing it. The flame vanished the moment he willed it.
Is this how Ian did it?
He repeated the motion. [Ignition]. Again, the spell launched faster than he could track. It was more like flipping a switch than charging up a skill, without the usual slow gathering and waiting. The mana moved exactly where it was supposed to, like it already knew the path.
So the body remembers.
Julien decided to switch to something more advanced--[Flame Arc], a medium-level, short-range curve of fire meant for sweeping through enemies. Normally, a mage would need at least five seconds to cast it. But as soon as he aligned his stance and mentally reached for the pattern, the body adjusted on its own.
His hand moved before he told it to. Fingers spread, weight shifted slightly back, then forward. A perfect curve of blazing fire cut through the air ahead of him, tracing the exact angle from Ian's memory.
No wonder he was the next big thing of the Marked world. I bet even the instructors aren't as quick as this.
This was not instinct--it was more like an old habit. The gaps were being filled by the body, which had been shaped by years of specialized training. Ian's muscle memory was carrying Julien's movements, even though he didn't know the precise technique.
And it wasn't just the body, it was the mana too.
The flame bent cleanly, wrapped with refined compression. He didn't have to force it. Julien looked down at his hand again.
Maybe I don't need to start from zero after all.
He moved onto [Burst Pillar], a vertical fire-spike used to hit larger enemies. It had a higher mana cost, but he wasn't concerned. Ian's reserves were massive--he could cast dozens of high-level spells before even dipping below half.
Julien picked out a patch of grass near a cracked rock. This one required a bit more focus. The shape, the timing, the point of impact.
His body moved into place in an instant. Mana flowing, wrist angled slightly in, fingers curled.
A pillar of flame rose six feet in a straight line from the ground, and a loud boom echoed. There was no energy wasted or wobbling. A simple, vicious upward blow.
Julien blinked, surprised.
That should've taken effort. At least some strain. But his hand didn't even tremble.
"...You're kidding me."
It was like the body wanted to perform. Like every motion, every movement had been drilled so deeply into Ian's being that it had become second nature--even if Julien was the one driving it now.
It was strange. Julien lowered his arm and stared down at the burned patch of earth.
So this is what a natural-born S-tier mage felt like. It's a lot different than being a melee one.
It was incredibly easy for him. But unfairly so.
He flexed his fingers once. The heat had already vanished.
"I don't even feel tired," he muttered. "How is that possible?"
His own style had always been about control. Force directed through the body, burst enhancements, tempo, footwork. He'd put endless practice into every kill. Now, all he had to do was think.
He took a few steps back and held out both hands this time. One spell in each. Left hand: [Flame Thread], a shaping technique to control a lingering trail of fire.
Right hand: [Ignition], again.
The spells came together instantly. With ease, the thread bent to its purpose and slithered outward. Awaiting orders, the flame hovered with readiness.
Julien swept his left hand gently across the air.
The thread trailed behind, bending in perfect spirals, entirely under his control. Not a flicker was out of place. It wrapped around a loose boulder and a tree trunk once before smoothly going through them.
His right hand heated up again. Another [Ignition] formed. He cancelled both spells with a thought.
This much control--was this really what Ian was capable of as a student?
Just thought, direction, and fire. He wasn't even using any enchanted gear--let alone a magic staff to help.
Julien was half-impressed, half-unsettled. He could easily see how someone might get drunk on this.
When you don't need to fight for every inch… when your body handles everything for you… nothing's been even a small challenge so far. I'm not complaining, but what if I forget how to work hard, if everything is given to me?
This kind of magic didn't feel like effort. It felt like a special privilege.
Julien turned away from the burn marks on the ground, pushing the thoughts aside. He needed to test something else. Range, maybe.
He got focused again--this time on [Fire Lance], one of Ian's long-distance burst spells. High velocity, hard to dodge, good for starting engagements.
The moment he locked onto a far target, a stone pillar near the boundary line--the mana surged. The stone was struck by a vibrant streak of flame that exploded outward. A portion of the pillar was completely shattered by the impact.
Julien flinched, just slightly, because it was stronger than expected. He hadn't even charged it properly.
"I've really got to stop being so surprised," he murmured. "No wonder we could never beat Inferno."
Everything was fast and sharp. He was barely scratching the surface and the damage was already too much for basic targets.
If this is what Ian had before he even hit his prime… no wonder Inferno wanted it so badly.
Julien stepped back. That was enough for now.
He'd confirmed it--this body wasn't just powerful, it was ready. Like a sword sharpened to perfection and placed gently in his hand. All he had to do was swing it.
The idea didn't comfort him.
He looked up. Tiny clouds drifted overhead, and sunlight was shining softly. The warmth on his skin didn't feel real.
Why me?
He wasn't even sure what he was asking. Why had the system brought him back? Why Ian's body? Why tell him Ian was a villain, when nothing in his memories hinted at that?
He could still feel them--flashes of late-night reading, happy laughter in study halls, peaceful mornings just like this one. Ian hadn't been a tyrant. He was ambitious, sure. But as far as anyone--Julien included--knew, he was just someone who wanted to make the world a better place.
He'd been killed before he could even begin to do that. What could possibly push a kind soul like him to become evil?
The system message still echoed faintly in his thoughts. Villain Path – Ian Mooring.
It had to be wrong. But what if it was right, and the path started now?
Julien ran a hand through his hair, fingers dragging through strands that weren't his. His reflection in the academy mirror came back to him. Brown eyes. That polite, serene expression.
It really did feel like a disguise.
Eventually, he'd have to stop hiding in the woods like this. There were classes, instructors, students who expected Ian to act a certain way. And sooner or later, he'd slip. Miss a name. Use the wrong phrasing. Cast a spell with the wrong hand.
I'll have to learn everything he was, fast.
He turned back toward the dorm path, already planning out the rest of his day.
More spell practice in the early mornings. Observation during class. Maybe dig through some of Ian's old journals for anything useful.
He walked slowly, keeping to the shaded edge of the path. Every step back toward the dorms felt heavier. Like he was walking deeper into someone else's shadow.
The system had called Ian a villain without hesitation.
But none of the memories Julien had seen supported that. Ian hadn't hurt anyone. He'd gone to classes, helped people. There was nothing evil in the way he lived. Not a single seed of darkness.
And then there was the obvious part--Inferno killed Ian.
That much was public knowledge. Everyone knew it. The top student, a rising prodigy, stolen from the world just like that. It was the story that shaped everything that followed. Ian was the tragic beginning. Inferno was the disaster that followed.
So what was the system talking about?
Or… had Ian almost become something worse, before his life was cut short?
That makes a little more sense. If someone like Ian, with all that power and potential, had been left unchecked… maybe things would've gone differently. Maybe the system had seen the path, even if Ian had never walked it.
It was still difficult to accept. He had looked up to Ian, because he was one of the few people who appeared to move through life without losing his balance. The type of person you believed the world needed more of. He didn't seem like someone who burned cities for fun, or killed powerful people just to rule the world.
Julien frowned as the spires of the academy came into view. Either way, it didn't matter anymore. He had his body. His mana. His name.
If there had been a mistake, he'd fix it. If there had been a danger, he'd steer away from it. If Ian really had the potential to fall… then Julien would keep it from ever happening.
That was all there was to it.
Two students passed him on the trail. One gave a casual wave. "Morning, Ian."
Julien returned it automatically, the system nudging his response into place.
"Morning. Off to sparring class?"
A grin, a nod, and they jogged away. He watched them for a second.
So far, it all looked peaceful. But if the system had sent him here, there had to be a reason.
A ding went off in his mind.
[Objective: Find out what happened between Inferno and the original Ian Mooring.]
I just can't find peace, even after death. Come on, system…