Colin had died on a Tuesday.
He remembered that part clearly, for some reason. Not the method — not really. One second he was standing in the middle of a campus street, earbuds in, half-eaten energy bar in one hand, and the next…
Well.
There was a lot of light.
Then a lot of nothing.
Now this.
He wasn't supposed to believe in reincarnation. He'd studied physics, not faith. He believed in systems, repeatable outcomes, and logic. But what the hell was logical about opening your eyes in someone else's body?
He walked slowly across the marble path that led to the student dorms, the glowing stone of Valefort's floating towers casting rippling mana-light across the ground. The sky above pulsed like glass, flickering gently every few minutes with the rhythm of protective enchantments. Somewhere in the distance, a dueling ring cracked with the force of someone's flame spell detonating.
It was beautiful here.
Painfully so.
And that made it worse.
His footsteps echoed faintly as he entered the dormitory block. A mana crystal panel lit up beside the door with a beep, scanned his watch, and approved him without question. The interior was far more humble than the towers outside. Wooden hallways. Stacked rooms. Basic enchantments.
The "commoner wing," he assumed.
They didn't call it that, of course. Too politically incorrect. But Colin was already good at reading between lines.
He found the room. Room 3C. Door unlocked with a soft click.
And then he was standing inside a life that wasn't his.
Two beds. One neatly made, the other slightly messier. The faint scent of potion herbs and old ink. A mana lamp flickering slightly over a desk cluttered with half-finished notes and spell diagrams. A small bookshelf packed with titles like "Warding The Soul" and "Reforming Force Energy Pathways."
Colin stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.
The silence was thick.
He ran a finger across the desk.
Dustless. This Colin had been precise. Or obsessive. Or both.
There were notebooks, scattered at odd angles. A cracked mirror leaning sideways against the wall. The robes hanging near the wardrobe weren't crested — standard student issue.
Colin took a seat at the desk and let himself breathe for the first time since waking up.
It was starting to settle in.
He wasn't on Earth anymore.
And the person who'd owned this room — Colin Williams — was gone.
But some part of him remained. Echoes. A name. A body. A few fragments stitched deep into the nerves.
Colin touched the edge of the mana watch resting on the desk.
The moment his fingers brushed the surface, his vision pulsed white.
Pain flared like a blade through his skull. Sharp. Sudden. Bright.
Flashes.
A classroom humming with energy. A boy — himself? — staring blankly while others conjured light from their palms. A duel. Screaming. Pressure. Mana circuits burning like overcharged wires. Collapsing. Lying alone on the floor of the library as a spell fizzled out in his hand.
Silence.
And then—
Darkness.
Colin gasped and pulled back.
The mana watch powered on. The interface lit up with soft blue light, holographic panels forming around his wrist.
[ Welcome, Williams, Colin. ]
[ Access Level: Civilian Tier 3. ]
[ Valefort Academy Portal Online. ]
He sat there, breathing hard, chest rising and falling with the weight of memories that weren't fully his — but now were.
The old Colin had been smart. But not smart enough to survive. Crushed by expectations. Beaten by a system that wanted power, not potential. He'd tried to force magic to obey without ever understanding it.
Colin wouldn't make that mistake.
He touched the screen again, navigating with ease. The interface was simple. Mana-synced files. Course listings. Campus alerts.
He opened the intranet homepage and was instantly hit with a rush of data.
Heroic Corps Announcements
Tribunal Enforcement Updates
Club Recruitment Week Open
Ranker Division Combat Showcase — Top 10 Stream Available
Emergency Protocol Revision (Red Zone Dungeons)
He scrolled silently. Reading everything. Watching the world unfold from behind his glasses.
Valefort Academy wasn't just a school. It was a political machine.
And Colin? He wasn't even a gear yet.
He leaned back in the chair.
This room didn't feel like his. Not yet.
The books were foreign. The bed wasn't his. The mirror didn't recognize him.
But…
He looked at his hands.
They moved when he told them to.
They burned with potential.
This world — all of it — felt like something he'd only read about in webnovels between lectures and projects. Power structures. Noble hierarchies. Hidden talents. Magic spells built on mathematical logic.
And now he was inside one.
Alive.
Real.
And utterly, terrifyingly alone.
Colin exhaled and stood up. Walked to the small mirror on the shelf. Looked at himself again.
Same white hair. Same cold eyes. But different now.
He wasn't just borrowing this life anymore.
It was his.
For better or worse.
And if the world wanted to underestimate a commoner with no bloodline and no crest?
Good.
Let them.
He'd already died once.
Now he was playing to win.
🌀 To be continued…