Mage.
Many aspired to walk such a path, but only a fortunate few ever truly could. Voren was one of them. Born with magical roots and awakened at the perfect age, his existence alone placed him among the chosen. From the moment mana answered his call, the path ahead had been decided, whether he liked it or not.
And he did like it.
He feared it too.
The road to magehood was brutal. Voren knew that better than most. The entrance exam alone was infamous, less a test and more a culling. Those who passed did so with scars, visible or otherwise. The academy that followed was no gentler. Endless training. Endless evaluation. Every day a quiet competition where failure meant being left behind.
There wasn't a single night where he didn't ask himself the same question.
Was this path truly worth it?
But then came the follow-up question, the one that never left him any room to breathe.
What other choice did he have?
He was a transmigrator, dropped into a world that did not care about his confusion or his past. A world where strength was not metaphorical. Here, people split mountains with bare hands, commanded dragons as mounts, and reshaped landscapes through sheer will. Beyond this lowly plane of existence, there were beings whose names alone carried weight, entities that hovered at the edge of godhood, if not beyond it.
To such existences, Voren was nothing.
A speck. A mote. Something so insignificant it barely qualified as alive.
And that truth terrified him.
That was why he chose this path. Not for glory. Not for recognition. But because power was the only thing that could anchor him in a world this unforgiving. To stand without trembling, he needed to rise. To survive, he needed to become strong enough that the world could not casually erase him.
That hunger had taken root early.
He read obsessively. Trained relentlessly. Cultivated with a focus that bordered on self-destruction. Every step forward was driven by the quiet fear of being left behind, of being crushed under someone else's ambition.
And then Aiden had ended it all.
One sword strike.
Clean. Efficient. Final.
Voren had been weak then. That was the truth, no matter how bitter it tasted. Weakness was the only reason Aiden had won. The only reason his life had ended without ceremony, without meaning.
His jaw tightened.
Now, things were different.
Two SSS-ranked skills. One unranked ability that bordered on heresy. A second life bought with blood and stolen power. He was anything but weak now. Not yet powerful, no. But dangerous. Growing. A blade still in its sheath, but sharp all the same.
And Aiden?
Aiden was out of the picture.
Unable to awaken. Unable to attend the academy. For the time being, one of the greatest obstacles on Voren's path had been removed entirely. There was a strange satisfaction in that, a quiet sense of justice that settled deep in his chest.
But it wasn't enough.
Aiden wouldn't walk free. Not truly.
For laying a sword on him, Aiden had unknowingly agreed to be struck in return. Not immediately. Not recklessly. But inevitably. Voren was patient now. He understood timing. He understood consequences.
Revenge didn't need to be loud to be complete.
Voren exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face.
His thoughts had begun circling again.
Always circling.
Paths. Futures. Enemies he hadn't met yet. Threats that didn't even exist but felt real all the same. He knew that look on his own face, the one reflected faintly in the window glass. Tight jaw. Distant eyes. A mind already fighting battles that hadn't arrived.
"That face again."
The voice was gentle, amused.
Voren felt arms wrap around him from behind, firm and familiar. Iris pressed against his back, hugging him tightly, her chin resting between his shoulder blades.
"I don't like it when you make that stress thinking face," she said.
He startled slightly, then let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Her presence cut through his thoughts like sunlight through fog.
"Sorry," he murmured. "Didn't mean to worry you."
She tightened her arms around him. "Too late."
He turned within her embrace and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her in return, holding her just as tightly. Her warmth grounded him, reminded him that not everything in this world was sharp edges and looming threats.
"I'm fine," he said softly. "Really."
She looked up at him, searching his face, then nodded and rested her forehead against his chest.
"Good," she said. "Because you don't get to carry everything alone."
Voren hugged her tighter.
And for the first time in a while, the future didn't feel quite so heavy.