Kayian stood by the window for a long time, watching snowflakes melt against the dark glass. Everything inside him seethed, but he forced himself to breathe evenly. Panic was a luxury he could no longer afford.
He stepped away from the window and sat on the edge of the bed. The black script on his wrist pulsed in time with his heart. He focused on it, and the interface materialized before his eyes once more:
[Fate System
Host: Kayian Wellstream
Level: 1
Fate Points: 0
Available functions:
Target Analysis (active)
Fate Log (locked, requires level 3)
Fragment Shop (active)
Timeline Map (locked, requires level 10)
At the bottom of the interface, a line blinked: "New quest detected. Open?"
Kayian gave a mental nod.
A window unfolded before him:
[Quest: "Revival of House Wellstream"
Your family fell in the future. You have returned to prevent it. Change the fate of your House.
Conditions:
Preserve the life of the head of the House (father) after the assassination attempt (0/1)
Prevent the brother's betrayal (0/1)
Restore the House's reputation within the Empire (current status: "under suspicion")
Eliminate the true enemies (0/???)
Reward: Unknown. Each completed condition unlocks new possibilities.]
Kayian read the conditions three times. The assassination attempt on his father would occur in three months—at the winter ball. He remembered every detail: the poisoned wine, the convulsions, the futile attempts of the Spirit mages to save him. Damian had been at his father's side then, holding his hand, while he himself had ordered the poison poured.
You will pay, brother. But not yet.
He dismissed the interface and shifted his gaze to his left hand. The glove he always wore hid the scars from using blood magic. Now, in this body, there were no scars yet. But he felt the spark of the forbidden school deep within—it was weaker than in his past life, yet it still pulsed, ready to answer.
Blood magic is too dangerous. If I use it now, I'll be exposed. This time I have to be smarter.
He closed his eyes and focused on the other two sparks he sensed inside: Shadow and Lightning. They were barely noticeable—novice level, first rank. In his past life he had neglected them, focusing on Blood. A mistake. Now he would develop them in parallel.
He stood and walked to the writing desk. A parchment lay there with the schedule for the entrance exams at the Academy of Eternis. Tomorrow, at noon, candidates would go through three stages: magic potential test, duel tournament, and trial of the mind.
Kayian remembered them all. Last time he had passed easily, demonstrating a high level of Blood magic, which immediately drew the attention of the Imperial court. That was the beginning of his downfall.
This time I will be more modest. I'll show exactly enough to get in, but not enough to stand out. Let Damian think I'm weak. Let my enemies underestimate me.
He picked up a quill and began writing quickly. A list of names, dates, events—everything he remembered from the future. Traitors, allies, weaknesses, key moments. He pressed down so hard on some names that the quill tore through the parchment.
When the list was finished, Kayian rolled it up and hid it in the secret compartment under the floorboard—the same one he had made as a child in his previous life, and which no one knew about.
Then he lay down in bed, closed his eyes, and tried to fall asleep. But sleep wouldn't come. Every memory of the future struck him like a hammer: Damian's face smiling on the scaffold; Loren's eyes full of tears and… relief? No, not relief. Fear.
She was a pawn too, he realized suddenly. Her family depended on the Prince. If she refused, they would have killed her parents. She chose them, not me.
The realization brought no relief. The pain remained. But now it had transformed into a cold, sharp tool with which he would carve out the truth.
He only fell asleep toward morning, and slept without dreams.
He woke to a knock at the door.
"Lord Kayian, time to get up. Your brother awaits you for breakfast."
The voice belonged to Ella—the elderly servant who had died a year after his arrest. She had been hanged for "sheltering a heretic." Kayian clenched his teeth.
"I'll be there shortly," he replied, keeping his voice calm.
He washed quickly, dressed in a dark-blue coat with silver embroidery—the colors of House Wellstream—and stepped into the corridor.
The manor was exactly as he remembered: high ceilings, dark wood, portraits of ancestors on the walls. Each footstep echoed on the parquet, and the sound soothed him. Home. His home, which he had thought lost forever.
When he entered the dining room, Damian was already seated at the table. He wore a similar coat, but with gold accents—the mark of the senior heir. He smiled upon seeing Kayian.
"Brother, you look tired. Couldn't sleep?"
Kayian sat across from him. The system activated on its own, and a semi-transparent panel appeared above Damian's head:
[Damian Wellstream
Threat Level: Medium
Loyalty: 34/100 (envy)
Hidden Objectives:
Assume the position of head of the House
Eliminate younger brother as a rival
Forge alliance with House Ardente through Loren's marriage
Connections: Prince Edwin Arcturus (ally), Loren Ardente (target), Advisor Morwood (secret contact)]
Kayian smiled inwardly. Information that had taken him years to gather in his past life was now laid out before him like an open book.
"I was thinking about the entrance exams," he replied, picking up a cup of tea. "I'm nervous."
Damian laughed:
"You're a blood mage. With your potential, they'll accept you without a second thought. Not like me—just an ordinary Earth mage."
In his past life, Kayian had fallen for that flattery. Now he saw right through it. Damian wasn't just praising him—he was pushing his brother to show off his strength and attract attention. To set in motion the chain of events that would lead to the accusation.
"I thought I wouldn't show everything at once," Kayian replied calmly. "Perhaps it's better to develop the other schools. Focus on versatility."
Damian froze for a moment. His smile became slightly less sincere.
"That's… unexpected. You always took pride in your blood magic."
"People change, brother." Kayian took a sip of tea. "I did a lot of thinking about the future yesterday."
"The future?" Damian raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. About what I want it to look like."
A silence hung between them. Damian studied him, trying to figure out if he was joking. Kayian held his gaze calmly, without defiance, but also without the familiar brotherly warmth.
"Well," Damian finally said, looking away. "That's your right. But don't forget that our House has always been renowned for its strength. If you show weakness during the exams, it could affect our reputation."
That's exactly what you want, Kayian thought. For me to fail. For Father to be disappointed in me.
"I'll show exactly what's necessary," he replied. "Don't worry."
They finished breakfast in tense silence. When Kayian rose from the table, the system activated again:
[Attention! Change in host behavior detected. Damian Wellstream: Loyalty reduced to 31. Suspicion: +5.]
Kayian nodded mentally. Let him suspect. Let him grow anxious. Every mistake he makes in this state will cost him dearly.
He left the dining room and headed for the exit. In the courtyard, a carriage waited to take him to the Academy.
Before stepping out, he paused before the hallway mirror. A seventeen-year-old youth stared back at him—dark hair, gray eyes that now held a cold, hardened resolve.
"You will win," he said to his reflection. "This time, you will win."
He pulled the glove onto his left hand, covering the system's mark, and stepped into the carriage.
The Academy of Eternis awaited.
Kayian watched out the carriage window as the streets of Askar shifted one after another. The city was beautiful—wide avenues, fountains, statues of the Seven Gods at every crossroads. The Empire prospered, unaware that in three years it would face a civil war, unleashed by those who now sipped tea in marble palaces.
I know who will start the war. I know who will win. And this time, I will make sure the victors are not them.
The carriage stopped before the Academy's massive gates. Kayian stepped out and paused.
The Academy of Eternis was a city within a city: towers of white stone, walls encircled by magical barriers, thousands of students in blue and crimson robes. In the center rose the spire of the Archons' Tower, where the council of high mages convened.
Kayian remembered this place. Here he had gained power. Here he had also found his betrayers.
He passed through the gates and headed toward the main building, where registration was taking place. Applicants crowded around—young aristocrats, merchants' children, a few commoners with wide eyes full of hope.
The system worked at full capacity: panels with names, levels, and hidden objectives appeared above every head. Kayian quickly scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces.
There she was.
He spotted her by a column. Red hair, green eyes, an old amulet around her neck. She stood apart from everyone, hunched as if trying to become invisible. A group of girls in expensive dresses walked past, and one deliberately shoved her shoulder.
"Sorry," the redhead said quietly, though she hadn't been at fault.
Kayian moved closer, activating his analysis.
[Selena Arkwood
Age: 16
Level: hidden (potential: high)
Magic School: Spirit (suppressed)
Status: outcast, daughter of a fallen House
Hidden Objectives: survive, protect her younger sister
Fate in past timeline: died six months later at Prince Edwin's hands]
Kayian stopped a step away from her. She looked up, and he saw not fear in her eyes—but exhaustion. The exhaustion of someone who had grown used to the world being against her.
"You're in my spot," he said in a flat tone.
Selena flinched and stepped back.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"I was joking," he interrupted, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "There's enough room for everyone here."
She blinked in confusion, not understanding why the heir of a Great House was talking to her.
"My name is Kayian Wellstream," he introduced himself. "And you?"
"S-Selena Arkwood," she answered, still not believing it.
"Pleased to meet you, Selena." He paused, then added: "Be careful at the Academy. There are plenty here who bite."
She looked at him in surprise, but before she could respond, Kayian had already turned and walked toward the registration desk.
He didn't look back. He knew he had taken the first step toward changing her fate. But the main part was still ahead.
When he reached the desk, the system issued a new message:
[Attention! Temporal line deviation detected. Selena Arkwood: probability of death reduced by 3%. Fate Points awarded: 5.]
Three percent, Kayian thought. Pathetically small. But a start.
He took his participant number and headed to the hall for the first test—the magic potential evaluation.
Hundreds of applicants had already gathered in the enormous amphitheater. In the center stood an altar of black stone—an artifact that determined affinity for the various magic schools.
Kayian took an empty seat and waited. Somewhere in the back rows sat Damian, but his brother didn't seek him out—apparently deciding to keep his distance to avoid being associated with a potentially "weak" relative.
One by one, the applicants approached the altar, placed their hands on the stone, and the colors of the schools blazed above them: red for Flame, blue for Ice, yellow for Lightning, green for Earth, purple for Shadow, black for Blood, white for Spirit.
Most displayed one or two colors. Some showed three. When Kayian's turn came, he approached the altar and laid his left hand on the cold stone.
I must show enough to get in, but not too much.
He deliberately suppressed the spark of Blood, focusing instead on Shadow and Lightning.
The stone flared. Two colors lit up above it: yellow and purple.
"Schools of Lightning and Shadow, first rank," the examiner announced in a disinterested voice. "Passing score."
Murmurs rippled through the hall. The heir of the Great House Wellstream—only first rank and two schools? It was a disappointment for those who had expected a spectacle.
Kayian calmly returned to his seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Damian's face—his brother barely concealed his relief. Weak, his gaze seemed to say. Not a rival.
Kayian smiled to himself.
Selena was called to the altar next. She approached the stone timidly, laid her hand on it, and…
The stone blazed with a blinding white light. The third rank of Spirit shone above it, and silence fell over the hall.
"Spirit, third rank," the examiner's voice wavered. "That is… an exceptional result."
Selena stood frozen, not understanding what was happening. Her face had gone pale. She hadn't wanted the attention. She had wanted to remain invisible.
Kayian watched the faces around her change. Envy, malice, greed. Many had already realized: a third-rank Spirit mage was a treasure to be exploited.
I need to protect her, he realized. Otherwise she'll die even faster than last time.
When Selena returned to her seat, he leaned toward her:
"Congratulations. But now be twice as careful. You've drawn attention."
She looked at him with a mixture of gratitude and fear.
"I… I didn't know I had such potential. My father always said…"
"Perhaps your father wanted to protect you by hiding the truth," Kayian interrupted. "But now the truth is out. Stay close to me, and I'll help you survive."
"Why would you do that?" she whispered.
Kayian looked toward the altar, where the next applicant was displaying their modest abilities.
"Because you can't win a war alone," he replied. "And I have a great war ahead of me, Selena Arkwood. I need allies I can trust."
She didn't answer, but when Kayian glanced at her, he saw her eyes had changed. There was no longer only exhaustion in them. Something new had appeared.
Hope.
The system chimed softly:
[Attention! Temporal line deviation: Selena Arkwood. Survivability +7%. Fate Points awarded: 15.]
Kayian leaned back in his chair.
Slowly but surely, he thought. The world will change.
Ahead lay the second test—the duel tournament. And there, he didn't intend to hide his strength as much.
Because sometimes, to win, you had to show your teeth.