Max couldn't stop staring at his hands.
They were clean. Unscarred. The calluses he'd earned from six years of desperate fighting were gone. His fingers didn't ache. His shoulders didn't carry the weight of a hundred battles. He was 'young' again.
Around him, students continued to cheer and chatter, their voices blending into a wall of noise that made his head pound. The headmaster was still speaking, gesturing broadly at the assembled crowd, but Max couldn't focus on the words. His mind was racing too fast.
'Six years ago. I'm really six years ago.'
He'd died. He remembered the demon's claw descending. The taste of blood. The cold creeping through his limbs. And then—
Nothing.
And then—
'This.'
"Settle down, settle down!" The headmaster's voice cut through the noise. The hall gradually quieted, though excitement still buzzed beneath the surface. "I know you're all eager to begin your studies here at Fey Academy, but first, we must ensure you're placed appropriately."
Max's attention snapped back to the present. He knew what was coming next. How could he forget?
"Tomorrow," the headmaster continued, "you will undergo your entrance examination. This is not merely a test of strength, but a ritual as old as the academy itself. It will measure your talents, your skills, your potential. And based on your performance, you will be sorted into your respective classes."
A ripple of nervous energy passed through the crowd.
The headmaster raised one hand, and a shimmering display of light appeared above him—five symbols arranged in descending order.
"''Alpha.''" The first symbol blazed brilliant gold. "The elite. The finest talents our academy has to offer. Those who demonstrate exceptional ability and potential will earn their place here."
Murmurs of ambition. Students straightening their spines, eyes gleaming.
"''Beta.''" The second symbol glowed silver. "High performers. Skilled and capable, with bright futures ahead."
More murmurs. Some students nodded to themselves, setting their sights on a realistic goal.
"''Gamma.''" Bronze. "The backbone of our academy. Solid, dependable students who form the core of each generation."
Max had been Gamma. In his first life, he'd been proud of it. Gamma meant respectable. It meant he'd earned his place through hard work despite having no legendary bloodline or prophecy backing him.
He'd been an idiot.
"''Delta.''" Iron-gray. "Those who show promise but require additional guidance to reach their potential."
A few uncomfortable shifts in the crowd. Nobody wanted Delta.
"''Epsilon.''" Dull, tarnished brass. The headmaster's voice remained perfectly neutral, but the symbol seemed to radiate disappointment. "Every student begins somewhere. Epsilon class will provide foundational training for those who need it most."
Bottom barrel. The unspoken words hung in the air. Epsilon was where you went when you barely qualified for the academy at all.
"The exam begins at dawn tomorrow," the headmaster said. "You will be tested in combat, problem-solving, mana control, and teamwork. Give it your all, students. Your placement will determine not only your classes, but the trajectory of your entire career."
The hall erupted in excited chatter the moment he finished. Students immediately began speculating, boasting, forming quick alliances.
Max stood still, letting the noise wash over him.
He remembered this exam. Remembered the nerves, the desperation to prove himself. He'd fought hard, used his Mana Amplification cleverly, and scraped into Gamma. Meanwhile, Beck had sleepwalked through the entire thing and landed in Alpha without breaking a sweat.
Because of course he had.
Blessing didn't just make you strong. It made 'everything' easier. Combat, mana control, learning speed—Beck's talent elevated every aspect of his being. He was naturally, effortlessly exceptional.
And he'd wasted every bit of it.
Max's jaw tightened.
'Not this time.'
A strange tingling sensation prickled at the back of his skull. Max frowned, reaching up to rub his neck—
And froze.
Words appeared in his vision.
Not on a screen. Not projected in the air. 'In his vision', as if carved directly onto his eyeballs.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
Max's breath caught. His heart slammed against his ribs.
What—
[Welcome, Maximilion Keath]
The words hung there, crisp and clear, completely ignoring the fact that Max was standing in a crowded hall surrounded by hundreds of students. Nobody else seemed to notice. A girl walked right past him, laughing with her friends, completely oblivious.
Max's hands trembled.
[Analyzing host...]
[Analysis complete.]
[STATUS]
The word expanded, and suddenly Max was staring at something that looked like a character sheet from a game.
---
NAME: Maximilion Keath
RACE: Human
RANK: F
LEVEL: 1/10 (0%)
TALENTS:
- Plunder (F-Rank)
- Mana Amplification (F-Rank)
SKILLS:
- Basic Swordsmanship (Lv. 1)
- Mana Control (Lv. 2)
ATTRIBUTES:
- Strength: 8
- Agility: 7
- Endurance: 9
- Intelligence: 11
- Mana: 15
---
Max stared.
And stared.
'What the hell is this?'
His mind raced. A system. A literal game-like system. Nobody in this world had anything like this. People tracked their growth through feeling, through instinct. You knew when you were close to a breakthrough because your mana felt denser, your body felt stronger. It was subjective. Intuitive.
This was 'precise.'
And his talents—
Max's eyes locked onto the list.
''Plunder.''
He didn't recognize the name. It hadn't been his talent in the first timeline. Back then, he'd awakened Mana Amplification during his first year at the academy, and that had been it. One talent. One path.
But now there were 'two'.
And Mana Amplification was listed as F-Rank, same as this new "Plunder" ability. As if—
'As if I plundered my own talent from my previous life?'
Max's stomach twisted. The implications were staggering. If that was true, if Plunder had somehow stolen his old talent when he looped back, then—
''[PLUNDER: Randomly acquire Talent, Skill, or Experience from slain enemies. Acquired abilities are permanently added to host.]''
The description appeared unbidden, as if responding to his thoughts.
Max read it three times.
'Randomly.'
'From slain enemies.'
His pulse quickened. This was—this was insane. If he could stack talents, accumulate skills, he could become—
He could become something this world had never seen.
"Hey, you good?"
Max flinched. A hand clapped his shoulder, and he spun around.
A demihuman boy—wolf ears, sharp golden eyes—grinned at him. "You were just standing there staring at nothing, man. Don't tell me you're already freaking out about the exam."
Max forced his breathing to steady. "No. Just... thinking."
"Yeah, well, think later. They're dismissing us to the dorms." The boy gestured toward the crowd, which was beginning to filter toward the exits. "You don't want to get stuck in the rush."
"Right. Thanks."
The boy jogged off, already calling out to someone else.
Max stood there a moment longer, the System display still hovering in his vision. With a thought—he wasn't sure how he knew, but he 'knew'—he dismissed it.
The words vanished.
The hall felt suddenly too loud again. Too bright. Max took a breath, then another, grounding himself.
'Okay. Okay. I have a system. I have a new talent. I have a second chance.'
'Now what?'
His gaze drifted across the hall, searching automatically, and—
There.
Beck Aristar was leaning against one of the stone pillars near the exit, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. He looked like he might fall asleep standing up. A couple of students had already approached him—probably recognizing the name, the talent, the 'legend'—but Beck waved them off with a lazy smile and a few words Max couldn't hear.
The students left looking disappointed.
Beck yawned.
Max felt something twist in his chest. Anger. Frustration. Grief.
'You could save everyone. You could be the hero they need. And you just... don't care.'
In his first life, Max had tried. He'd tried so many times to motivate Beck, to inspire him, to make him understand what was at stake. And Beck had always smiled, shrugged, and said something like, "You've got this, Max. I believe in you."
As if belief was a substitute for action.
Max started walking.
Students flowed around him, chattering about dorm assignments and exam strategies. Max ignored them all, weaving through the crowd until he reached the pillar.
Beck noticed him immediately. His expression shifted—not quite a smile, but something warmer than indifference. "Max! There you are. I was wondering if you'd gotten lost in the crowd."
"Beck." Max stopped in front of him, studying his friend's face. He looked so 'young'. Sixteen. No scars. No weight in his eyes. Just a kid who'd been told he was special and decided that meant he didn't have to try.
"You alright?" Beck tilted his head. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
'You have no idea.'
"I'm fine," Max said. "Just... processing everything."
"Yeah, this place is pretty intense, huh?" Beck glanced around the hall, supremely unbothered. "Big ceremony, bigger expectations. Classic academy energy."
"The entrance exam," Max said carefully. "You planning to take it seriously?"
Beck laughed. Not mockingly—genuinely amused. "I mean, I'll show up. Isn't that the important part?"
"Beck."
"What?" Beck's smile didn't waver. "Come on, Max. You know me. I'll figure it out when I get there. I always do."
Because Blessing made it easy. Because Beck had never had to struggle, never had to fear failure. The world bent around him, smoothed his path, handed him victory.
And he thought that was normal.
Max swallowed the bitter taste rising in his throat. "What class do you think you'll get?"
Beck shrugged. "Alpha, probably? That's the top one, right? Sounds fine."
"Sounds fine," Max echoed.
"Why, you worried about it?" Beck pushed off the pillar, slinging an arm over Max's shoulders. "Dude, you'll be fine. You've always been solid. I bet you'll land Gamma, maybe even Beta if you get lucky."
Max stared at him.
Beck had no idea. No idea what Max had lived through. No idea that his careless optimism would cost millions of lives. No idea that the friend standing next to him had watched the world burn because Beck couldn't be bothered to lift a finger.
"Yeah," Max said quietly. "Maybe."
"That's the spirit!" Beck steered them toward the exit. "Come on, let's find the dorms before they stick us in some closet. I need a decent bed if I'm gonna survive tomorrow."
Max let himself be guided, his mind still churning.
He couldn't tell Beck about the loop. Even if Beck believed him—which he wouldn't—it wouldn't change anything. Beck didn't care about distant futures or abstract threats. He cared about what was directly in front of him, and only when it became inconvenient to ignore.
No. Max couldn't rely on Beck.
He'd have to do this himself.
The System. Plunder. His second chance.
Tomorrow, the entrance exam would begin. Max would be tested, sorted, assigned a class. And for the first time, he'd have the opportunity to kill—monsters, demons, whatever the academy threw at them.
And when he did, Plunder would activate.
Max's hands curled into fists at his sides.
'I'll get stronger. Strong enough to do what you won't.'
Beck was still talking, something about hoping the dorms had good food, his voice light and carefree.
Max barely heard him.
His eyes were fixed ahead, on the path stretching out before them.
Six years.
He had six years to prepare for the end of the world.
And this time, he wouldn't waste a single day.