The rain fell in sheets across Crimson Spire Academy's rooftop, each droplet hammering against concrete like a thousand tiny fists. Ren tasted copper on his tongue—his own blood mixing with rainwater as it streamed down his battered face.
Another blow sent him sprawling.
"Why?" The word came out as barely more than a wheeze. His ribs screamed in protest. "Why are you doing this?"
Felix crouched down, his blonde hair plastered to his forehead. Water dripped from the silver chain around his neck—some expensive brand Ren didn't recognize.
Everything about Felix screamed old money, from his custom-tailored uniform to the way he carried himself like the world owed him something. Even through the rain, Ren could see the cold satisfaction in his eyes.
"The letter, idiot. You were warned, weren't you?" Felix grabbed a fistful of Ren's soaked uniform. "Should've just kept your nose out of it."
The letter.
Tuesday morning. Three days ago. Plain white envelope, no return address. Black letters, clinical and cold:
Stop digging into Jace's death. This is your only warning.
Ren had crumpled it up. Thrown it away.
Because that letter wasn't a warning.
It was confirmation.
Someone was scared. Someone knew he was close to the truth about his brother's "accident" six months ago.
Turned out he'd been right.
Turned out his cover was blown anyway.
Felix's fist connected with his jaw. The world tilted. Ren hit concrete, rain filling his mouth as he gasped. Before he could think—before he could breathe—Felix's boot came down on his left hand.
The crunch was loud even over the storm.
Ren's scream tore through the rain.
"My turn."
Owen's voice. Cheerful. Wrong.
The lanky brunette stepped forward, rolling his shoulders like he was warming up. Owen was the quiet one. Forgettable face. Blended into backgrounds. But his eyes—
His eyes enjoyed this.
The first kick caught Ren's ribs. Then another. Another. Each one drove the air from his lungs, replaced it with fire.
C-ranks. Both of them.
Felix manipulates sound. Could rupture my eardrums with a whisper.
Owen controls plants. Could strangle me with vines.
Either one could end this in seconds.
But they haven't.
Because they don't need to.
Fists were enough for someone like him. Someone powerless. Someone who didn't belong here.
I'm going to die, Ren thought distantly. Pain was becoming abstract. His consciousness fraying. Just like Jace.
"Alright, boys. That's enough."
The new voice cut through the rain—casual, almost bored. Felix and Owen immediately stepped back, straightening like soldiers.
Ren forced his working eye open. The other had swollen shut.
Through blood and rain, he saw him.
Dark red hair. Styled perfectly despite the downpour. Eyes that had never known defeat. Tall. Proud. Moving like he owned every space he entered.
King.
Crimson Spire Academy ran on hierarchy. A pyramid everyone understood from day one.
At the top: King. First in command. Absolute authority.
Below that: The Court. Queen, Jack, Ace and Reaper.
King was the second most powerful student by raw ability.
But he held the number one position in influence.
What the hell does he want with me?
King approached with measured steps. Expensive shoes splashing through puddles. He held something in his hand.
A book.
No.
No.
"Interesting read," King said, holding it up like fine wine.
"Kept me up all night." He smiled. The kind that didn't reach his eyes. "Your protagonist—the regressor who survives death, returns to the past, hunts down everyone responsible for his murder. Masterful."
That was Ren's novel. Monarch of Darkness. Mystery/fantasy. Fifty thousand words over six sleepless months. The only physical copy, printed and bound, hidden under his dorm room floorboard.
How—
King dropped it.
It hit concrete with a slap. Pages soaking through. Ink running like black tears.
"You're not even Gifted, are you?"
The words punched through Ren's chest harder than any fist.
King tilted his head, studying him. "A normie. Here at CS Academy. That's impressive, actually." He crouched down, perfectly balanced. "How'd you manage it? Forged documents? Stolen ID chip? Must've taken real dedication to fake your way into an academy for the Gifted."
Shit.
Shit shit shit—
King's smile widened. "That's why Felix and Owen only used their fists. You're not worth wasting abilities on. You're just..." He paused, as if tasting the word. "...ordinary."
Ren's blood turned to ice.
Six months. Six months of pretending. Of studying how Gifted students moved, talked, acted. Of staying invisible. Of investigating in shadows.
All of it just to find out what happened to Jace.
All of it blown.
"Should've realized it sooner," King continued. "You have his eyes. Same shape, same color." A soft laugh. "Same stubborn glint. You're his little brother, aren't you?"
The words hit like bullets.
"What did you do?" Ren's voice cracked. Blood sprayed from split lips. "What did you do to my brother?"
King stood. Placed his foot on the manuscript. Pages crumpled beneath his designer shoe.
"Your brother was strong. S-rank potential." King pressed down, grinding the book into wet concrete. "But strength without control? That's just tyranny. Jace thought he could ignore the rules, challenge the hierarchy." His voice went cold. "So he had to be silenced. Just like this."
The casual cruelty—months of work destroyed, his only outlet during the nightmare of Jace's death—ignited something in Ren's chest.
"I remember the day he died," King said softly. "East campus. Abandoned training facility. He had the same look you have right now. No regret. No begging. Just defiance." He paused. "Until the very end."
Adrenaline flooded Ren's system.
Overriding pain. Broken ribs. Crushed hand. He surged forward with a wordless roar—
"You bastard!"
Felix and Owen moved like they'd rehearsed it. Each grabbed an arm, slammed him down. Knees in his shoulder blades. Face pressed into a puddle.
King squatted again. Close enough that Ren could see his own broken reflection.
"You know what I like about your novel?" King's voice was almost genuine. "The belief in second chances. The idea that you can come back from death, rewrite fate if you're determined enough." He gestured at Ren's pinned form. "Exciting. Even a normie like you believed he could stand against the King of CS Academy."
King's expression went flat.
"Your brother didn't believe in second chances. Jace lived like a man betting everything on one hand. Win or lose. No regrets, no do-overs." He stood. "That's probably why his death stayed permanent."
"I'll kill you." Ren's voice was barely a whisper, but it carried weight. Absolute conviction. "I swear to God, I'll kill you."
"There's that spirit." King brushed rain from his jacket. "Good. Then prove it, Ren. Prove you can really win that second chance you wrote about."
He turned away. Already losing interest.
"Come back from the afterlife. And take me down."
His fingers snapped once.
Felix and Owen hauled Ren to his feet, dragging him toward the rooftop's edge. Through fading consciousness, Ren saw the drop.
Forty stories.
The grounds barely visible through storm.
"Wait—"
Felix's final punch caught his solar plexus. All air left in one explosive gasp.
And then he was falling.
Rain fell with him. Or he fell through it. The distinction stopped mattering after three seconds. Wind screamed past his ears. Ground rushed up with terrible inevitability.
I'm sorry, Jace.
I couldn't do it. Couldn't find the truth. Couldn't avenge you.
I failed.
The impact never came.
Instead—darkness. Absolute. Suffocating. Pressing from all sides. No sound, no sensation, no up or down.
Just void.
And then—light.
Not natural light. Something else. A glow from nowhere and everywhere, coalescing into words carved from solidified starlight.
[NOTIFICATION: UNJUST DEATH DETECTED]
[SYSTEM ACTIVATION: COMPLETE]
[ANOMALY REGISTERED: REN MORA]
[CAUSE OF DEATH: MURDER]
[JUSTICE STATUS: DENIED]
[INITIATING RESURRECTION PROTOCOL...]
The words shifted. Rearranged.
[TWO PATHS AVAILABLE]
[CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY]
Two options materialized, hovering like doors to different realities.
[OPTION 1: ETERNAL REST]
[DESCRIPTION: Reincarnate in a world of peace. No pain. No loss. Your brother will be waiting for you there. You can see Jace again. You can stop fighting. You can rest.]
[OPTION 2: REVIVE]
[DESTINATION: ORIGINAL WORLD]
[CLASS: MONARCH OF DARKNESS]
[DESCRIPTION: Return to life with powers beyond comprehension. Hunt those who wronged you. Break the hierarchy that killed your brother. Become the darkness that even Kings fear.]
[CHOOSE NOW]
Ren stared at the choices floating in the void.
Option one glowed warm. Inviting. The promise of peace. Of finally seeing Jace again after six months of hell. Of rest.
But option two pulsed with something darker. Hungry. It called to the part of him that remembered Jace's smile. That remembered King's boot grinding his manuscript into concrete. That remembered his brother's eyes in every photograph he had left.
He thought about second chances.
About what his protagonist would do.
About what Jace would want him to do.
About what he wanted to do.
Ren reached out his hand toward the glowing text. His voice steady despite the void.
"I pick option—"