I didn't sleep.
How could I? My mind was a battlefield where Jake Cornelli's memories clashed with Leon De Stellis's instincts, where the impossible reality of transmigration warred with my desperate need to survive. I spent the night pacing the cold stone floors of what Leon's memories told me was my room—a chamber that spoke of faded grandeur and deliberate intimidation.
The Stellis estate didn't do warm and welcoming.
Everything here was sharp angles and cold stone, dark wood and darker secrets. Even the furniture seemed designed to remind you that comfort was a luxury, not a right. The bed I'd woken up in was massive, draped in black and silver silks that probably cost more than most families earned in a year, yet somehow it felt more like a sarcophagus than a place of rest.
Appropriate, considering the original Leon was supposed to be dead in fifteen days.
As dawn broke, painting the sky in shades of steel and ash through my window, I stood before the full-length mirror again, studying the stranger wearing my consciousness.
Leon De Stellis was objectively beautiful in that unreal, almost inhuman way. The kind of face that belonged on marble statues or tragic paintings. Long raven-black hair that fell past my shoulders in perfectly straight lines—not a single strand out of place even after a sleepless night. Violet eyes that seemed to glow with their own internal light. Features so sharp and aristocratic they could cut glass.
I looked like a villain from a high-budget anime.
Marcus would've lost his mind.
The thought of my brother sent a spike of pain through my chest. Was he okay? Had he watched me die? God, Mother must be—
Stop.
I forced the thoughts down, compartmentalized them the way I'd learned to compartmentalize pain over years of chronic illness. That life was over. Jake Cornelli was dead. Mourning wouldn't change that, and I had exactly fifteen days to become strong enough that Leon De Stellis didn't follow him into the grave.
"Status," I said aloud, and the System responded immediately.
[STATUS DISPLAY]
NAME: Leon De Stellis
AGE: 17
RANK: Mortal (Low, 0%)
POTENTIAL: Paradox
AFFINITY: [??????]
ATTRIBUTES:
- Strength: 12
- Agility: 15
- Endurance: 13
- Mana Pool: 10
- Mana Control: 8
- Intelligence: 18
- Wisdom: 16
- Charisma: 14
TALENTS: [NONE]
The numbers were... underwhelming. According to Leon's memories, an average adult male had attributes around 10. So I was slightly above average in some areas, average in others. Not exactly the stats of someone who was supposed to be a "genius swordsman prodigy."
Then again, potential wasn't the same as actualized power.
"System," I said, feeling slightly ridiculous talking to thin air, "what's my current quest?"
[CURRENT QUEST: SURVIVE THE ASTRAL ACADEMY ENTRANCE EXAM]
- Difficulty: A-Rank
- Time Limit: 15 Days
- Reward: Advancement to Initiate Rank (Low, 10%), Basic Combat Skill
- Failure: Death
[SUB-QUEST AVAILABLE: FIRST STEPS]
- Objective: Successfully circulate mana through your pathways for 1 hour
- Difficulty: E-Rank
- Time Limit: 24 Hours
- Reward: Basic Sword Affinity (Level 1), +1 Mana Control
- Failure: None (Quest will repeat until completed)
Now that was more manageable. Mana circulation—the foundation of all power in Cyna. Leon's memories provided the theoretical knowledge: mana existed in the air, in the earth, in all living things. Practitioners drew it into their bodies, circulated it through specific pathways, refined it in their core, and used it to fuel everything from basic physical enhancement to reality-warping magic.
Simple in theory.
Apparently less simple in practice, or the System wouldn't be making it a quest.
A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts. Sharp, efficient, not the tentative tap of someone afraid to disturb me.
"Enter," I said, and my voice came out cold, imperious—Leon's natural tone. It felt strange on my tongue, but also... right. Like slipping into armor.
The door opened to reveal a young woman in a maid's uniform. But calling Rita a maid was like calling a katana a kitchen knife—technically accurate, functionally misleading.
She was beautiful in a way that was meant to be overlooked. Average height, average build, mousy brown hair pulled back in a simple bun. Soft features, gentle brown eyes, the kind of face that blended into crowds and was forgotten moments later.
Except Leon's memories knew better.
Rita. Master rank (Mid). Thread Affinity. Assassin in service to House Stellis. The original Leon had discovered her secret by accident two years ago, and instead of being afraid, had been fascinated. She was the only person in the estate he'd treated with something approaching respect, and in return, she'd become the closest thing he had to a confidant.
"Good morning, young master," she said, her voice soft and professional. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep," I replied, studying her. Looking for any sign that she could tell I wasn't the Leon she knew.
Her expression remained neutral, but I caught the slightest flicker of concern in her eyes. "Nightmares?"
The original Leon used to have nightmares. About what, his memories didn't fully reveal, but Rita knew.
"Something like that," I said, which wasn't entirely a lie. "What's on the schedule today?"
"Breakfast with the family at eight. Your father requested your presence specifically." The way she said it made it clear that "requested" meant "commanded." "After that, you have the morning free. Master Frey has sword practice in the training yard at noon, and Lady Kira has her music lesson at two."
My siblings. Leon's memories provided faces, personalities, fragments of interactions.
Frey De Stellis, fifteen years old, second child of Duke Stellis. Talented with the blade, earnest, desperately seeking Father's approval. Afraid of Leon.
Kira De Stellis, thirteen years old, third child. Quiet, observant, with a gift for magic that impressed even the tutors. Also afraid of Leon.
Because the original Leon had been, in a word, an asshole.
Not cruel, exactly. Not physically abusive. Just... cold. Dismissive. He'd treated his younger siblings the way an apex predator might regard smaller, weaker animals—with casual indifference that occasionally shaded into contempt. They existed in his world, but they didn't matter.
Great. I'd inherited the personality of a entitled prick.
"Tell the kitchen I'll be down for breakfast," I said. "And Rita?"
She paused at the door, turned back. "Yes, young master?"
"Thank you." The words felt foreign in Leon's mouth, like his vocal cords had to relearn the shape of gratitude.
Rita's eyes widened fractionally—the most extreme reaction I'd seen from her. Then she inclined her head, the ghost of a smile touching her lips. "Of course, young master."
After she left, I turned back to the System display, still hovering patiently in my vision.
"Let's start with the basics," I muttered. "Show me how to circulate mana."
[INITIATING TUTORIAL: MANA CIRCULATION]
[Step 1: Assume meditation position. Cross-legged sitting recommended for beginners.]
I sat on the cold stone floor, legs crossed, back straight. It was easier than it should have been—this body moved with a natural grace that Jake's never had, responding to my intentions without the constant translation errors of chronic illness.
[Step 2: Close your eyes. Focus on your breathing. Breathe in for four counts, hold for four counts, breathe out for four counts. Establish rhythm.]
Simple enough. I'd done breathing exercises before, trying to manage anxiety during particularly bad diabetes episodes. This was the same principle.
In. Two. Three. Four.
Hold. Two. Three. Four.
Out. Two. Three. Four.
[Step 3: Extend your awareness beyond your body. Mana exists in the air around you, invisible but present. Feel for it. It will feel like warmth, like potential, like static electricity before a storm.]
I extended my senses, reaching beyond the boundary of my skin. At first, nothing. Just the cold stone beneath me, the faint sounds of the estate waking up, my own heartbeat steady and strong.
Then—there.
A sensation like standing near a campfire, feeling warmth without seeing flames. Countless tiny sparks of energy floating in the air, too small to grasp individually but present in their multitude.
Mana.
[Step 4: Draw the mana into your body through your breath. Visualize it entering through your nose and mouth, filling your lungs with light.]
I breathed in, and this time I pulled, instinctively reaching for that warmth with something that wasn't quite physical touch but felt just as real.
The mana responded.
It flooded into my lungs, and the sensation was unlike anything Jake had ever experienced. Not painful, not exactly pleasant, just intense. Like drinking lightning. Like inhaling starlight.
[Step 5: Guide the mana through your pathways. Follow the natural channels in your body. Do not force it. Allow it to flow like water finding its course.]
Leon's memories provided the map—major pathways running through the torso, branching into the limbs, smaller channels networked throughout like veins. I guided the mana down from my lungs, through my chest, felt it branch and spread.
It was clumsy. The flow stuttered and stalled, pooling in places it shouldn't, barely trickling through channels that should have been rivers. Like trying to pour water through a clogged pipe.
But it was working.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. My muscles trembled with effort despite sitting perfectly still. This was harder than it looked—maintaining the meditation, drawing in mana, guiding it through pathways, all simultaneously.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Time became fluid, measured only in breaths and circulation cycles.
[PROGRESS: 15%]
The System notification appeared at the edge of my consciousness, encouraging but also highlighting how far I had to go. One hour of continuous circulation. I was nowhere close.
A bell chimed somewhere in the estate. Eight tones. Breakfast.
Damn.
I let the circulation falter, the mana dissipating back into the atmosphere. My eyes opened, and I had to blink against the sudden brightness of morning sunlight.
[PROGRESS SAVED: 15%]
[TIME REMAINING: 16 Hours, 47 Minutes]
At least the System tracked my progress. I could return to this after breakfast.
I stood, my legs slightly shaky—apparently mana circulation was physically taxing for beginners—and moved to the wardrobe. Leon's clothes were uniformly dark and expensive. Black shirts with silver embroidery, tailored trousers, boots that probably cost more than a horse.
I selected something relatively simple, dressed myself with hands that remembered motions Jake's never learned, and checked my reflection one last time.
Leon De Stellis, young master of House Stellis, stared back at me with violet eyes that held Jake Cornelli's determination.
"Showtime," I muttered, and headed down to breakfast.
---
The Stellis dining hall was exactly as pretentious as I expected.
Vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows depicting battles I didn't recognize, a table that could seat thirty but currently held only four. Everything was dark wood and cold stone, designed to intimidate rather than welcome.
Duke Aldric De Stellis sat at the head of the table.
Leon's father was a man who commanded space just by existing. Tall, broad-shouldered, with iron-gray hair and the same sharp features I'd inherited. But where Leon was beautiful in a cold, distant way, the Duke was handsome in the way a sword was handsome—all lethal edges and purposeful design. His eyes were steel-gray, not violet, and they tracked my entrance with the calculating assessment of a man who trusted nothing and no one.
"Leon," he said, his voice a deep rumble. "Sit."
Not a greeting. A command.
I took my seat to his right, the position of the eldest son. Across from me sat Frey and Kira.
Frey looked like a younger, softer version of Father—same build, same coloring, but with more warmth in his expression. At least until he saw me. Then his face shuttered, and he focused intently on his plate like it held the secrets of the universe.
Kira was different from the rest of the family. Where we were all dark hair and sharp features, she had Mother's coloring—honey-blonde hair, softer features, blue eyes that missed nothing. She glanced at me, then away, her small hands folded primly in her lap.
They were both afraid of me.
The realization sat heavy in my stomach. These were children—fifteen and thirteen—and they flinched when I entered a room.
What had the original Leon done to them?
"You look terrible," Father said, his tone making it an observation rather than an insult. "Another sleepless night?"
Leon's memories provided context: the nightmares were known. Father tolerated them because they didn't interfere with Leon's duties.
"I'm fine," I said, letting Leon's natural arrogance color my tone. "Just thinking."
"Dangerous habit," Father said dryly. "Thinking."
Was that... a joke? From Leon's memories, Duke Stellis didn't joke.
"The Astral Academy entrance exam is in fifteen days," he continued, spearing a piece of meat with his fork. "I trust you're prepared?"
There it was. The exam that would kill me if I wasn't strong enough.
"I will be," I said, because Leon De Stellis didn't admit weakness.
"See that you are. House Stellis has enough problems without our heir failing a basic entrance exam." He took a bite, chewed, swallowed. "The other noble houses already whisper about us. About our... associations. We cannot afford to show weakness."
Associations. Demons. The thing that made House Stellis both feared and reviled.
"I'm aware," I said carefully. "I won't fail."
"Good." Father's eyes pinned me in place. "Because failure is not an option. If you cannot enter Astral Academy, if you cannot prove House Stellis still produces worthy heirs, then you are useless to this family. Do you understand?"
The words were spoken casually, like he was commenting on the weather. But the threat underneath was crystal clear: succeed or become expendable.
Frey stared at his plate. Kira's small hands clenched in her lap.
This was the environment the original Leon had grown up in. No wonder he'd become the way he was.
"I understand, Father," I said, matching his cold tone. "I will enter Astral Academy. And I will excel."
Something flickered in Father's eyes. Approval? Surprise? It was gone too quickly to identify.
"We'll see." He returned to his meal. "Frey, I hear your sword instructor reports improvement."
Frey's head snapped up, shock and hope warring on his face. "Y-yes, Father. Master Aldwin says my footwork has—"
"Continue your efforts." Father cut him off, not unkindly but with the finality of someone who didn't waste words. "Dismissed. All of you."
We stood, Frey and Kira practically fleeing the dining hall. I followed at a more measured pace, feeling Father's eyes on my back until I crossed the threshold.
Rita appeared at my elbow like a ghost. "Your training yard is prepared, young master. As you requested last night."
I hadn't requested anything last night—I'd been too busy having an existential crisis—but I understood. Rita was giving me an excuse to go somewhere private.
"Lead the way," I said.
She guided me through the estate, and I took the opportunity to really see Lourven Domain for the first time through Leon's eyes but with Jake's perspective.
The Stellis estate was a fortress disguised as a manor. Thick stone walls, narrow windows, defensible positions everywhere. It spoke of a family that expected attack, that had learned to trust stone and steel more than diplomacy.
We passed servants who bowed and averted their eyes. Guards who stood at attention, hands never far from their weapons. Everything was maintained to perfection, but there was no warmth here. No laughter, no casual conversations.
It was a prison that happened to have expensive furniture.
Rita led me outside, into a courtyard I recognized from Leon's memories. The training yard was a wide space of packed earth, surrounded by high walls. Weapon racks lined one side, filled with practice swords, spears, bows. Training dummies stood at attention, their straw bodies already bearing countless cuts from previous sessions.
"Thank you, Rita," I said, and again, she showed that flicker of surprise at the gratitude.
"Will you require anything else, young master?"
I hesitated, then decided to take a risk. "Your honest opinion. Do you think I can pass the entrance exam?"
Rita's expression remained neutral, but her eyes sharpened, assessing. This was the look of an assassin evaluating a target.
"No," she said quietly. "Young master Leon is skilled but undisciplined. Talented but complacent. Against opponents who have trained seriously, who want it more..." She shook her head.
Brutal honesty. I appreciated it.
"Then I'll work on becoming that person," I said. "Starting now."
Rita inclined her head and melted back into the shadows, leaving me alone in the training yard.
I walked to the weapon racks, selected a practice sword. It was heavier than I expected, the weight unfamiliar in hands that had never held a weapon for longer than Jake's brief fencing phase in high school.
But Leon's muscles knew this weight. His body remembered the forms, even if I didn't consciously access them.
I took a basic stance—feet shoulder-width apart, sword held in a middle guard, weight balanced. Leon's memories provided the corrections: back straighter, elbows in, grip firm but not rigid.
"System," I said quietly. "Resume mana circulation tutorial. Can I practice while moving?"
[AFFIRMATIVE. MANA CIRCULATION CAN BE MAINTAINED DURING PHYSICAL ACTIVITY. DIFFICULTY INCREASED.]
Of course it was harder. Nothing about this was going to be easy.
But I'd spent twenty-three years fighting a body that actively tried to kill me. I knew how to work through difficulty.
I closed my eyes, found that rhythm again. Breath in, pull mana, guide it through pathways. Then I opened my eyes and began to move.
Basic cuts. Horizontal slash, vertical chop, diagonal strikes. The sword whistled through the air, and I tried to maintain the circulation, tried to keep the mana flowing even as my body moved through forms.
It was like trying to pat my head and rub my stomach while juggling. Everything wanted my attention simultaneously, and doing any one thing well meant doing the others poorly.
The mana circulation stuttered. The sword forms became sloppy. I was trying to do too much at once.
Focus.
Jake had learned patience. Had learned to break complex problems into manageable pieces, to celebrate small victories because they were the only kind available.
I slowed down. Simplified. Just circulation and standing still until I could maintain it for five minutes without faltering.
Then circulation and slow movements.
Then circulation and faster movements.
Hours passed. The sun climbed higher, beat down on the training yard. Sweat soaked my shirt. My muscles burned—not the scary burn of Jake's body failing, but the good burn of muscles being used, being strengthened.
[PROGRESS: 45%]
I was getting there.
"Brother?"
The voice startled me, and I lost the circulation entirely. I turned to find Frey standing at the edge of the training yard, practice sword in hand, staring at me with confusion and something that might have been curiosity.
"Frey," I acknowledged, trying to keep my tone neutral rather than cold.
He shifted uncomfortably, clearly debating whether to flee or speak. "I... Master Aldwin is sick today. I was going to practice alone. I didn't realize you'd be here."
"The yard is large enough for both of us," I said, which wasn't an invitation but also wasn't a dismissal.
Frey hesitated, then nodded and moved to the far side of the training yard, putting maximum distance between us.
I watched him start his forms. He was good—smooth, efficient, with the kind of fundamental soundness that came from dedicated practice. Not brilliant, but solid. The kind of swordsman who'd be reliable in a fight.
Better than I was currently, that was certain.
An idea occurred to me. Possibly stupid, but I was running out of time to be cautious.
"Your footwork on the reverse cut is too wide," I called out.
Frey froze mid-swing, staring at me like I'd grown a second head.
"What?"
"Your footwork," I repeated, walking over. "When you transition from forward cut to reverse, you're stepping too wide. It overextends your balance. Look."
I demonstrated the movement, exaggerating the flaw. "See how my weight shifts too far? It creates an opening here." I tapped my own side. "A faster opponent would exploit that."
Frey's expression cycled through confusion, suspicion, and reluctant interest. "I... Master Aldwin never mentioned that."
"Master Aldwin is a competent instructor but unimaginative," I said, channeling Leon's arrogance but aiming it at the absent teacher rather than my brother. "Try it with a narrower stance. Keep your weight centered."
He did, moving through the form again. Better, but not quite right.
"Narrower," I corrected. "Imagine you're on a balance beam. Economy of movement."
This time, it clicked. The form flowed smoothly, the reverse cut snapping out with more speed and returning to guard without leaving him exposed.
Frey's eyes widened. "That's... that's much better."
"Obviously," I said, because Leon De Stellis didn't do humble. But then, softer: "You have good fundamentals, Frey. You just need refinement."
He stared at me like I was an imposter. Which, to be fair, I was.
"Since when do you care about my training?" The question came out before he could stop it, and he immediately looked like he regretted speaking.
Since I died and got reincarnated into your asshole brother's body, I thought. Since I realized that surviving the next fifteen days might require allies, and terrified siblings aren't useful allies.
"Since I realized that House Stellis's reputation depends on more than just me," I said instead. "If I enter Astral Academy alone and you remain mediocre, what does that say about our family?"
It was a very Leon De Stellis answer—self-centered but pragmatic. And I saw Frey accept it, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
"I won't be mediocre," he said, a spark of determination in his voice.
"Prove it. Run through your forms. I'll watch."
We spent the next hour like that—Frey practicing, me observing and offering corrections. It was strange, using knowledge I didn't consciously possess, instincts that belonged to Leon's muscle memory guiding my words.
But it worked. And more importantly, Frey stopped looking at me like I might bite him.
Small victories.
By the time the bells chimed noon, I was exhausted but satisfied. Frey left with a "Thank you, brother" that sounded genuinely shocked to be saying it, and I returned to my meditation.
[PROGRESS: 78%]
So close.
I settled back into the rhythm. Breath in, pull mana, circulate. The pathways were becoming familiar now, the flow less stuttering, more natural. Like my body was remembering something it had always known but forgotten.
Time dissolved.
There was only breath, only mana, only the endless cycle of circulation.
And then—
[QUEST COMPLETE: FIRST STEPS]
[CALCULATING REWARDS...]
[REWARD GRANTED: BASIC SWORD AFFINITY (LEVEL 1)]
[REWARD GRANTED: MANA CONTROL +1]
[NEW TALENT ACQUIRED]
BASIC SWORD AFFINITY (LEVEL 1)
You possess a natural affinity for sword-based combat. All sword techniques learned 10% faster. Sword strikes deal 5% additional damage. This affinity can grow with practice and understanding.
The knowledge slammed into me like a physical force. Not memories, exactly, but understanding. The weight of a blade, the geometry of cuts, the flow of combat—all of it suddenly made sense in a way it hadn't before.
I grabbed the practice sword and moved through a basic form. The difference was night and day. Where before I'd been copying movements I didn't fully understand, now I felt them. Understood the why behind each positioning, each angle.
It was just Level 1. Just a basic affinity. But it was progress.
It was power.
I checked my status.
[STATUS DISPLAY]
NAME: Leon De Stellis
AGE: 17
RANK: Mortal (Low, 2%)
POTENTIAL: Paradox
AFFINITY: [??????]
ATTRIBUTES:
- Strength: 12
- Agility: 15
- Endurance: 13
- Mana Pool: 10
- Mana Control: 9 (+1)
- Intelligence: 18
- Wisdom: 16
- Charisma: 14
TALENTS:
- Basic Sword Affinity (Level 1)
CURRENT QUEST: SURVIVE THE ASTRAL ACADEMY ENTRANCE EXAM
- Time Limit: 14 Days, 6 Hours
2% progression toward Initiate rank. One new talent. Slightly better mana control.
It wasn't much. Against Arielle De Luna, the protagonist with plot armor and a hero's destiny, it was laughably inadequate.
But it was more than I'd had yesterday.
And I had fourteen days to become something more.
"System," I said, my voice steady despite my exhaustion. "Show me the next quest."
[NEW QUEST AVAILABLE: FOUNDATIONS OF POWER]
- Objective: Reach Mortal Rank (Low, 25%)
- Difficulty: D-Rank
- Time Limit: 7 Days
- Reward: Choose one: Basic Magic Affinity OR Enhanced Physical Training Regimen OR Mana Circulation Technique (Intermediate)
- Failure: None (Progress will simply be slower)
Seven days to increase my rank by 23%. It would require brutal, constant training. No breaks, no mercy, pushing this body to its absolute limits.
I smiled, feeling Leon's arrogance and Jake's determination merge into something sharp and hungry.
"Accept quest," I said. "Let's get to work."
Behind me, I felt Rita's presence in the shadows, watching, assessing. Above, in the windows of the estate, I caught a glimpse of Kira's honey-blonde hair before she ducked back inside.
The sun was setting over Lourven Domain, painting the sky in shades of blood and gold.
Fourteen days until Arielle De Luna killed Leon De Stellis.
Fourteen days to become strong enough to change fate.
I'd already died once.
This time, I was going to live.
No matter what it took.