"Uhhhhhh…"
"You alright, Seer? You look like a ghoul."
"Shut up…"
I grumbled the words while dragging myself along the hallway wall.
You may be asking:
Kamrik, why are you slowly crawling toward your lecture hall like a corpse with academic obligations?
And why was I so pale?
Well, the answer was simple.
I was exhausted.
Absolutely, completely, spiritually exhausted.
I felt like the lightest breeze could knock me over and send me into an eternal sleep. My vision was blurry, my legs were shaking, and every step felt like my body was filing a formal complaint against my continued existence.
Which made sense after yesterday.
As I shuffled along the wall toward my first lecture of this regression, I reminisced.
Training Bloodrend was terrible.
No. Terrible was too soft.
Training Bloodrend was like discovering a magic system specifically designed by someone who hated the concept of internal organs.
Originally, Bloody had trained it through battle. Wild animals. Monsters. Other students in the Combat Department.
Me?
I was currently hiding the fact that I had awakened mana at all, so my training method had to be different.
To train magic with sentient mana, you had to do what the mana wanted.
And Bloodrend wanted blood.
Unfortunately, I only had one convenient source.
Myself.
So I bled.
A lot.
A whole lot.
Apparently, repeatedly feeding your own blood to a sentient murder-cleaver was not good for your health.
Shocking, I know.
The only reason I wasn't dead was because Bloody had advised me on exactly how much blood I could lose before crossing from "training" into "corpse."
Also, Bloodrend eventually started spitting my blood back out.
Yes.
Spitting it out.
The cleaver had a taste preference.
And apparently, I was not delicious.
That hurt more than I expected.
With Bloody's guidance and Rend's extremely offensive culinary standards, I managed to train until I was just short of the danger zone.
If I had done it alone, I probably would have died.
After that, it was already dark, so I had to run back to the Studies dorm before the staff caught me outside after hours.
Unfortunately, sleep was not a magical cure for a severely exhausted, blood-deficient civilian like myself.
And yes.
I was still a civilian.
"Gaaah…"
I groaned again.
"I'm sorry, young man," Knight said beside me, his voice heavy with concern. "If I could carry you, I would."
"Don't worry," I muttered. "At this point, I'm being held together by spite and attendance requirements."
As I trudged through the halls, I received more than a few unpleasant looks from the other Studies students.
What, had they never seen a finals-ridden, sleep-deprived, stressed-out student before?
Then I remembered.
Midterms and finals hadn't happened yet.
This was only the first week of school.
Then I realized something even worse.
Midterms and finals hadn't happened yet.
"Guuuuuuuu…"
Another groan escaped me, this one filled with genuine anguish.
"You really need to take the training down a notch, young man," Knight said.
"Gah. You and I both know I can't."
I gave him and Sleazy a tired glare.
"Anyway, take Sleazy and leave me alone for the afternoon. I don't want to get called out for insanity before I even enact my grand plan. Understand?"
Sleazy rolled his eyes before fading away.
Knight gave me a curt nod and disappeared after him.
Bloody and Lazy were already gone. Neither of them had shown up this morning.
Cowards.
After trudging my way to the lecture hall — early, of course — I made sure to sit in the very back near the window.
The reason?
Carlos sat here.
Right by the window.
I allowed myself a small smirk.
The first step to assassinating the main villain?
Become someone who had a reason to sit beside him.
Well, mostly.
This was more of a precaution than anything else. With something like this, I couldn't afford to take chances.
I sat down and rested my head against the desk.
For a moment, time slipped away from me.
The sound of footsteps and polite chatter slowly filled the lecture hall.
I raised my head.
And met a pair of dark eyes.
Carlos stood in front of me.
Before I could react to the future villain currently blocking my view, he spoke.
"Is anyone sitting beside you?"
I blinked.
"N-no. You can take it."
Damn it.
Why was I stuttering?
I was supposed to murder this guy in a little bit.
Carlos only nodded and took the seat to my right. He tilted his head toward the window, staring outside as if the world didn't matter to him at all.
How right that was.
I pulled my eyes away from him and forced myself to focus on the front of the class.
Professor Ludwig entered and addressed the room with a cheerful voice.
He spread his hands.
"Hello, and welcome to Basic History 357. This is the first time I've met some of you. Others, I've had the pleasure of teaching before."
He smiled.
"Since this is our first class together, I don't want to give you too much work. But since you are all the intelligence of the future, we'll begin with a simple review."
He walked up to the chalkboard and wrote:
300 years ago
Then he turned back to the class.
"Now, who remembers what happened three hundred years ago?"
Hands shot into the air from the hundreds of students packed into the lecture hall.
Ludwig hummed for a moment, then pointed.
"You, go ahead."
He was pointing at me.
Why me?!
Before I could panic, I heard the voice from my right.
"Yes, Professor."
Carlos stood up.
"Three hundred years ago marked the end of the Battle for Humanity," Carlos said. "The hero destroyed the Corruption God's medium, preventing his full descent into this world and beginning the Era of Peace."
Ludwig gave a nod.
"Correct, Mr. Strega, though incomplete. Take a seat."
Mr. Strega.
Hearing Ludwig say his name out loud made the whole thing feel worse.
Carlos sat back down quietly.
I stared at him.
Carlos Strega had just answered a question.
Calmly.
Correctly.
Voluntarily.
That was not supposed to happen.
From what I remembered, besides being a genocidal maniac, Carlos was a rather reserved person. He was not the type to answer questions in class. He barely spoke unless spoken to.
So why had he answered?
Before I could sink too deeply into suspicion, Ludwig continued.
"You are correct that three hundred years ago, humanity destroyed the Corruption God's medium. By doing so, the hero prevented him from fully descending into our world."
Ludwig walked back to the chalkboard.
"However, that was not the end of the matter. As the god was expelled, he left behind a curse."
The room grew quieter.
"A worldwide curse of corruption. It affected the land, the seas, the skies, beasts, plants, and mana-dense regions. Humanity itself was spared from direct corruption, but the world around us was not."
Ludwig wrote another phrase beneath the first.
The World Curse
"Because of this curse, humanity was forced back into only forty-five percent of its former territory. Today, that surviving land encompasses the four continents and the protected region surrounding the God Tree."
A few students began writing quickly.
I leaned back slightly, trying not to look as exhausted as I felt.
It did not work.
Ludwig picked up the chalk again.
"There was one more thing Mr. Strega missed."
He wrote three words on the board.
Manus Fati
My frown deepened.
Behind me, I heard two sharp clicks of the tongue.
Knight and Bloody had reappeared.
Of course they had.
Apparently, the moment ancient evil cults entered the conversation, everyone suddenly wanted front-row seats in my personal space.
Knight's expression was grave.
Bloody looked disgusted.
For once, neither of them made a joke.
That was probably the most alarming part.
Ludwig tapped the chalk against the board.
"Alongside the expelled god, we must discuss the cult that facilitated and led the war we now know as the Battle for Humanity."
He turned to face the class.
"Manus Fati — the Hand of Fate."
The room quieted.
Not because no one knew the name.
Because everyone did.
Even among first-year students, everyone knew about Manus Fati.
The cult that had opened the door for the Corruption God three hundred years ago.
The cult that had dragged humanity into its worst war.
The cult that had supposedly been wiped out to the last believer.
Supposedly.
I stared at the words.
The Hand of Fate.
What a pretentious name.
Then again, evil cults rarely called themselves something normal like The Bad Decision Committee.
"Manus Fati is often translated as the Hand of Fate," Ludwig said. "Some older texts use the plural, Hands of Fate. Both translations refer to the same organization."
He placed the chalk down.
"The name came from their doctrine. They believed history had already chosen its ending, and that humanity's resistance was nothing more than a delay."
Beside me, Carlos's pen stopped moving.
Only for a second.
Then it continued.
I looked at him from the corner of my eye.
His face had not changed. He looked calm, detached, almost bored.
But he had reacted.
Slightly.
Maybe it meant nothing.
Maybe I was being paranoid.
Actually, no.
Considering the boy beside me was supposed to become the vessel of a world-ending god, paranoia seemed perfectly reasonable.
Ludwig continued.
"They were not merely sympathizers of the Corruption God. They were the primary human force that allowed his medium to descend into our world. Without Manus Fati, the war may never have reached the scale that it did."
A student near the middle raised her hand.
Ludwig nodded toward her.
"Yes?"
"Professor, weren't they all killed during the Final Purge?"
"According to official records, yes," Ludwig said. "After the corruption medium was destroyed, the surviving kingdoms and churches launched a coordinated purge against Manus Fati. Their temples were burned, their leaders executed, their libraries destroyed, and their remaining members hunted across the continents."
He paused.
"By all accepted historical accounts, Manus Fati no longer exists."
I stared at him.
By all accepted historical accounts.
What a wonderfully suspicious phrase.
That was the kind of phrase scholars used when they didn't want to say, We hope they're dead, but honestly, who knows?
Ludwig began writing again.
Doctrine
Medium
Corruption
The Final Purge
He pointed to the second word.
"The medium is one of the most important concepts for understanding the war. The Corruption God could not fully enter our world directly. Instead, Manus Fati prepared a medium — a physical anchor, a bridge between his existence and ours."
I felt Knight stiffen behind me.
Bloody's expression darkened.
Carlos remained still.
Too still?
No.
Maybe I was overthinking it again.
Actually, I was definitely overthinking it.
But I was going to keep doing it.
Ludwig clasped his hands behind his back.
"Once the medium formed, corruption began spreading across the world at a catastrophic rate. Forests twisted. Beasts mutated. Rivers blackened. Entire ecosystems became hostile to human life."
He gestured toward the window, toward the distant world beyond the academy's subspace.
"This is why humanity lives as it does today. Our cities, roads, academies, and military borders are all shaped by the corruption left behind three hundred years ago."
A boy near the front raised his hand.
"Professor, if Manus Fati was destroyed, why do we still study them so much?"
Ludwig smiled slightly.
"A good question."
He walked away from the board and stood at the center of the lecture platform.
"We study them because history is not only a record of what happened. It is a warning about what can happen again."
That line made several students sit a little straighter.
Even I had to admit it was a good professor line.
Very dramatic.
Probably practiced.
"Manus Fati is considered extinct," Ludwig continued. "But the conditions that allowed them to rise were not unique to the past. Fear. Hopelessness. Worship of power. The belief that the future cannot be changed. These things still exist."
My fingers tightened under the desk.
The belief that the future cannot be changed.
I glanced at Carlos again.
He was still writing.
Slowly.
Neatly.
Like none of this had anything to do with him.
That bothered me more than if he had looked guilty.
Because Carlos Strega did not know.
Not yet.
The monster he would become had not arrived. Right now, he was just a quiet student of the Studies Department, sitting beside me during a history lecture.
And I was planning his murder.
My stomach twisted.
I looked away first.
Ludwig turned back to the board.
"The final topic for today is the God Tree."
That immediately pulled the room's attention.
Even the students who had been whispering stopped.
The God Tree was not just history.
It was the center of the world.
A massive divine tree whose branches stretched across the sky like veins of light. Its roots were said to stabilize the remaining uncorrupted land. Its branches protected the four continents, and its presence was one of the reasons humanity had survived after the war.
At least, that was the common explanation.
I had never cared much for theology before dying.
Amazing how the end of the world made a person more academically curious.
Ludwig wrote one final phrase on the board.
The Western Branch
"This semester, our course will not remain entirely within the classroom."
Murmurs spread through the lecture hall.
Ludwig smiled again, clearly enjoying the reaction.
"In two days, this class will participate in an in-person study outside the academy's subspace."
My head lifted.
There it was.
The Western Branch trip.
The griffin incident.
The chaos where Carlos Strega was supposed to vanish.
And the place where I had planned to make sure he never came back.
Ludwig continued, unaware that he had just announced the first step of my assassination plan.
"We will be visiting one of the lower sanctified branches of the God Tree. Specifically, a preserved section of the Western Branch located beyond the academy grounds. It is safe, regulated, and regularly used for historical and magical studies."
The room grew louder.
Some students looked excited.
Others looked nervous.
Carlos looked out the window again.
I stared at the side of his face.
A study trip.
Outside the academy.
Near a branch of the God Tree.
A location outside the academy's surveillance.
A historical site with enough students and staff to create confusion.
A target sitting right beside me.
And a reason to stay close to him without looking suspicious.
I lowered my head slightly, hiding the smile that tried to form.
This had been the plan.
Use the chaos.
Follow Carlos.
Kill him before the academy found him.
Simple.
At least, it had been simple before Carlos Strega decided to answer a history question and tell me to take care of myself.
Ludwig clapped his hands once.
"Further details will be provided tomorrow. For now, I want each of you to read the assigned chapter on the Final Purge and prepare one short reflection on why cults like Manus Fati are able to survive in times of fear."
He looked over the lecture hall.
"Class dismissed."
Chairs scraped against the floor.
Students began standing, talking, packing their books, and forming little groups around the exits.
I remained seated.
Partly because I was thinking.
Mostly because standing up sounded like a legendary trial.
Carlos calmly closed his notebook beside me.
Then, without looking at me, he spoke.
"You look unwell."
I blinked.
For a moment, I genuinely didn't know how to respond.
The future vessel of the Corruption God was concerned about my complexion.
What was I supposed to say to that?
Thank you, future apocalypse?
I forced out a weak laugh.
"Just tired."
Carlos turned his head slightly.
His dark eyes studied me.
Not intensely.
Not suspiciously.
Just… directly.
"You should rest."
Then he stood, picked up his things, and walked toward the exit.
I watched him leave.
Quiet.
Polite.
Normal.
That was unfair.
Villains were not supposed to tell you to take care of yourself.
They were supposed to laugh ominously, confess their crimes, and make the decision emotionally convenient.
Carlos Strega had done none of that.
He had answered a history question, stared out a window, and told me to rest.
How was I supposed to kill someone like that?
Knight appeared beside me again, his expression heavy.
"Young man."
"I know."
Bloody clicked his tongue.
"You hesitated."
"I know."
Neither of them said anything after that.
I stared at the doorway Carlos had disappeared through.
He didn't know what he would become.
He didn't know about Manus Fati waiting somewhere in the shadows.
He didn't know that his future had already ended the world once.
But I knew.
I slowly pushed myself up from the desk, my legs shaking under me.
My reflection in the window looked pale, exhausted, and half-dead.
Perfect assassin material, obviously.
I dragged myself toward the exit.
In two days, Carlos Strega would leave the academy's protection.
And I would follow him to the God Tree.