The academy's bell tolled through the great metropolis like the summons of the gods themselves. Each chime awakened memories Lucian thought he had long buried—tongue-tied grins, worried faces, and aspirations gone to dust.
He clung to the dormitory window sill until his knuckles whitened. From where he stood, he could see the Royal Arcane Academy gates. Thousands of applicants were gathered, robes and armor glinting in the sunlight. Some bore the crest of noble houses, others the rough tunics of commoners. But all bore the same expression—hope.
Lucian laughed almost cruelly. Hope. I recall that.
He turned away, the memory of a sword in his chest still sharp. Hope was a frail thing. Trust, more fragile.
He made his way to the small washbasin, splashing water on his face. The face that looked back at him was still shocking—young, unscathed. His hair was trimmed, jawline less rough, his eyes not yet darkened by years of war. He was like a boy attempting to be a man.
But inside, he was someone else entirely.
He dried his face and took up the uniform laid out flat on the chair. The simple black academy robe, silver lining embroidered on it, felt foreign to him. He had once worn it with pride. Now, it was a disguise.
As he fastened the clasp, a shiver of movement welled at his feet. Shadows—near invisible, so thin they were like smoke dancing in sunlight. His magic had come with him. Not all of it, not yet, but enough to make him remember what he was.
Lucian curled his hand back, let the shadows retreat. A cruel smile twisted his mouth.
Good. If the shadows are present, then my second life has commenced.
The academy courtyard was a maelstrom of sound. The gates rolled in carriages that carried nobles accompanied by their guards. Commoners walked in on foot, clutching their scrolls of enrollment. Gold and blue pennants snapped in the wind, each displaying the crest of the Royal Arcane Academy—an open book surrounded by flames.
Lucian fought his way through the crowd undetected, hood slung low over his eyes. He did not need notice. Not yet.
But it caught up with him.
"Watch it, commoner!" A youth's voice cracked as Lucian shoved past. The owner of the voice was a nobleman, no more than sixteen, his fine silk sleeves adorned with his family device. Two minions flanked on either side of him, puffing their chests like obedient hounds.
Lucian did not slow. He did not even glance at them.
The boy scowled. "Did you hear me? I said—"
Lucian's gaze flashed up, once. Cold and unblinking. The shadows at his feet stirred faintly, responding to his displeasure.
The noble's words lodged in his throat. For a moment, his swagger faltered. His minions squirmed uncomfortably.
Lucian lowered his eyes and continued.
He had no use for bugs. Not in this life.
The hopefuls were led into the grand plaza, where the marble fountain ran over with iridescent water brimming with mana. At its center was a gargantuan crystal, emitting colors that changed like melted flame. The Exam Crystal.
Lucian's lips pressed together. He remembered this. The crystal would examine each candidate's mana limits, allocating ranks between F to S. A show meant to breed awe and competition.
It was all deception.
He knew his shadows would not be so easily commanded.
The test proctor, a stern instructor in puffy robes, raised his staff. "Line up! Place your hand on the crystal. Don't resist the flow of mana. All shall be sorted by the Academy."
Excited whispers buzzed in the air. Contestants pushed others aside, boasting of their training, their bloodlines, their hoped-for ranks.
Lucian fell into line, ignoring them. He was elsewhere in his mind.
He remembered what came after this test—the dungeon test, first blood taken, first glimpse of betrayal. His heart tightened.
And then. he saw her. Seraphine Lys.
She was a few rows ahead of him, her blond hair glinting in the sunlight, her stance gracious but not arrogant. Her eyes—warm amber, brimming with determination—were fixed on the crystal. She was dressed in the simple robes of a candidate, but to Lucian, she glittered more resplendently than any gemstone in the audience.
For a moment, he wasn't breathing.
He had seen her die. In his previous life, he had held her in his arms as her blood stained his cloak. He had vowed to protect her, and he had failed.
She was here now. Living. Unscarred by tragedy.
Lucian's hand trembled at his side. The darkness hungrily demanded, defended. He clenched his fist, anchoring himself.
Not this time. Never again.
"Next!" the overseer bellowed.
Hopeful after hopeful laid hand to crystal. Colors flashed, ranks announced. Cheers, gasps, jealous murmurs.
"B-rank!"
"C-rank!"
"A-rank!"
Each new decision was buzzed by the crowd.
Then Seraphine stepped forward. She placed her hand on the crystal. Light exploded—gold, shining, pure. The crystal blazed as if in joy at her touch.
The overseer's eyes widened. "S-rank!"
The plaza erupted into chaos. Nobles gawked. Commoners gasped. Whispers became shouting.
Seraphine nodded her head only a fraction, her expression calm, though her hands trembled.
Lucian's chest tightened with pride—and something else, unsaid.
Of course. Even here, even now, she shines.
"Next!"
Lucian's turn.
He stepped forward, placing his hand on the crystal.
For an instant, nothing.
Then—a faint flicker of light. Barely a glow. The crystal pulsed once, went out.
"E-rank."
The overseer's tone was dull, unimpressed. The crowd erupted into laughter.
"E-rank? Hah!"
"Did he train at all?"
"Pathetic."
Lucian withdrew his hand silently, dispelling the giggles. His face never faltered, though inside the shadows seethed with icy fury.
Let them jeer.
The world had already broken its promise to him once. He did not require its praise this time.
His true strength lay in hiding, waiting patiently. And when the time came, all of them would know to fear putting themselves between the Shadow Monarch and them.
Until then, he would retain the mask.
And he would wait.