Do you think every time we go in there, it will be as random as today? I asked Fern.
‘I certainly hope not. I felt terrified and drowsy and entirely useless. Whatever drug he used on you made it foggy inside your head. I couldn’t properly see or even talk to you!’ Fern said.
Yeah, now that you mention it, you didn’t say a word that whole time. I was wondering what was missing when we swung across that chasm, I said, scratching my head. Your screams of terror would have been welcomed.
‘Oh, I was screaming all right. It’s weird. I can’t feel exhaustion when you run, but I can feel pain sometimes, and I can feel the tingling you felt when we flew across the chasm. This whole twin soul stuff is confusing. Sometimes, it’s like we are one; others it’s like we are separate,’ Fern said.
I am not sure which one is better, to be honest. At the end of the day, we want to be our own people, but by working together and becoming one, we can be stronger.
‘Let’s just hope we don’t merge into one person by the end of this.’
Agreed.
Inside the bustling cafeteria, a sea of recruits, ranging from first- to fourth-years, gathered at long, rectangular tables. The room was divided subtly into three sections, one for each house. Colors and attitudes made it easy to spot who belonged to which. Maroon for Anu, gold for Enlil, and blue for Nin.
I noticed a group from House Enlil—the cliché brash and ambitious type—scream in triumph over a game they were playing. The house’s coleader, Marcus, exuded that archetype. He was in a massive arm-wrestling tournament with some of his house members and a few upperclassmen from other houses. The third-year kept yelling each time he slammed his opponent’s hand onto the table. Clearly, he wanted attention.
In contrast, across the other side of the room, House Nin’s influence over their recruits was evident in the calm, orderly behavior of Zenobia and Ruriel, two of the kids who traveled with us to Ash. They were eating slowly and methodically with every bite almost in sync with their housemates. Their demeanor set them apart in the chaotic environment.
We found a table tucked in a quiet corner near the entrance, away from the noise of House Enlil’s table. Sora, normally the brightest spark in our group, barely touched her food. She pushed a piece of bread back and forth across her plate, eyes flickering toward her sister.
Lunchtime always hit her the hardest. It was the one part of the day where she could see Rinka—but never spend time with her. The academy didn’t forbid us from mingling with other houses, but Sora’s last attempt ended with Lucius scolding her, telling her she needed to stand alone instead of clinging to her twin. Now, across the room, Sora’s sister sat among the Enlil recruits while Lucius—white haired, polished, and insufferably self-assured—thrived in his new environment, serving as a lackey to Marcus.
I wanted to say something to cheer Sora up, but Silas, oblivious as ever, was already deep in a monologue about Professor Twinges.
“You wouldn’t believe the kind of stuff he said he will let me work on,” Silas said, shoveling food into his mouth between words. “Professor Twinges showed me an old sewing machine, an ancient clock designed by a famous mageblood, and the engine system used to control the old elevators in this very pillar. I’m talking about ancient stuff here. Like Atlumu Empire stuff! You ever think about how advanced a civilization must be to—”
His rambling was cut off by a sudden uproar from the center of the cafeteria.
Chairs scraped against the floor as we all turned toward the noise. A sharp voice rang out, followed by the unmistakable sound of a scuffle. Without hesitation, we pushed to our feet and rushed toward the commotion, weaving through the older House Anu students to see what had set the cafeteria ablaze.
In the middle of the room, in a cleared circle of students, Marcus was confronting our house’s leader. Waelid looked as calm as he always did and sat casually on a stool with an air of unflappable calm about him as Marcus cursed him out.
Marcus’s voice rang out, dripping with scorn: “What, no defense? You know, that’s what I hate about you, Waelid. You always act like you’re better than everyone else, and then, when anyone challenges you, you just sit there and smile with that punchable grin. Your house has what . . . fifteen first-years left? I guess you couldn’t wait until the trial this time, huh? Tell me, did you bribe the remaining recruits to keep quite about your ‘ways’?” He spoke so viscously, spit flew out his mouth and across the floor.
Mel, never one to back down from a challenge, stepped forward. “You got something to say about us first-years?” she challenged. Her fists clenched at her sides as she squared her shoulders, daring Marcus to continue.
Marcus’s gaze shifted to her, a sly smile playing on his lips. Then a tall, pale upperclassman with short black hair and cool steel eyes stepped forward.
“Marcus, think before you do anything rash. Knock it off. It was just a game,” the new upperclassman said.
“Jiho, respectively I know you’re house leader, but as coleader, let me make my own decisions. It’s high time Waelid gets called out. Just because he’s the strongest doesn’t mean he gets to get away with breaking all the rules. It isn’t fair.”
“Who said we are breaking rules, dick-weed?” Mel said, sticking out a rude hand gesture.
Marcus turned and glared at her. Jiho shook his head, but Marcus ignored him. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the fiery demon whore of Anu Right, Waelid? Tell me, how’s that temper working out in bed? Has she f—”
Before he could finish, a loud whooshing noise erupted from the center of the room. In a blur, Waelid moved—so fast I didn’t see him step down from his seat. One moment, he sat on the stool; the next, he was inches from Marcus.
A collective gasp rose from the crowd.
A single, precise fist collided with Marcus’s midsection. The upperclassman’s eyes bulged as he was lifted off his feet, hurtling backward until he slammed into the cafeteria wall. Plates and trays stacked up near him clattered to the ground.
Silence fell across the room.
Students stared, mouths agape, first at Marcus and then at Waelid, whose eyes were not glowing. He didn’t emanate any infused power at all. Not like how Laska had, not like Al had. He didn’t need to tap into that power for this. No, he moved this fast on his own.
Waelid stood back up, took a deep breath, straightened his jacket, and flipped his coat back. His smile returned as if nothing had happened. He glanced over to where Jiho stood, observing with a detached expression.
“Sorry about that, Jiho,” Waelid called out cheerfully. “Got a bit carried away.”
The House Enlil leader met the House Anu leader’s gaze and shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me.”
Without another word, Jiho turned and walked away, his entourage following like shadows, and Waelid went his own way.
Marcus groaned, struggling to his feet. Lucius and some of the other first-years in House Enlil rushed to help him. Even Rinka lent a hand. With the confrontation over, we returned to our table.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Fern anxiously commented in my mind. ‘Well, that was . . . intense. Let’s hope Waelid is with us if we run into that guy when we’re in the trial.’
Yeah . . . but why were they fighting? I asked, confused. Was it because of a stupid arm-wrestling match? And what did Marcus mean about Waelid’s “ways”? Our “leader” hasn’t rubbed me right since we met him.
‘Maybe he is just mad that he lost a round? Waelid is clearly stronger, and why be suspicious? He stuck up for Mel.’
That’s true, I said.
With lunch winding down, I stole another glance at Sora, who thanks to Luna and Tevin was now cheered up and eating the rest of her food. Silas and Mel started to have their own arm-wrestling match, and I began to wonder how we would perform in the trial with so many fewer first-years than the other houses. I also worried that Sora would make a mistake during the trial if she hesitated due to her sister.
The Beast Mastery classroom space was my favorite. The lawn—the size of three football fields and carefully maintained by staff members—made it a joy to escape the claustrophobic halls of the academy.
You would think that a huge-ass pillar like that would feel big and spacious on the inside, but no, cramped as hell and designed for tiny children, I thought, annoyed.
I stretched both my hands to the sky and bent left and right, stretching my muscles. Although I was in a young body, my mid-twenties mindset remained, and I enjoyed a good back twist.
Large enclosures designed for the care of titan-beasts stretched along the perimeter of the field. We could hear the low murmur of animal sounds—soft grunts, distant snorts, and the occasional clatter of hooves—from where class took place.
Near a reinforced pen, I spotted our old friends, Goro and Gora, waiting patiently. Their massive forms reminded me of the titanic creatures their hundred babies would grow into. About a month ago, the eggs were ready to hatch into larvae, so the beetles had buried their eggs into several deep mounds near the Beast Mastery classroom. Only Al knew where they were exactly.
At the center of the field stood Professor Herman, the Beast Mastery professor. He was a round, jovial man with a bushy beard, twice as thick as Al’s, whose deep voice carried across the yard.
“Gather round, recruits! Today, we learn to calm and connect with our titan-beasts,” he bellowed.
He began by demonstrating the first technique: a soft melody. Grasping a simple wooden flute with four holes, Herman raised it to his lips and played a gentle tune. The sound drifted over the field like a soothing balm, and even the restless grunts from the beasts softened into quiet murmurs. I watched, mesmerized, as Bruno—a massive razorback boar that had given us all attitude—slowed his pacing, his agitated eyes growing calmer with each note. Eventually, Bruno curled up on the fence near Professor Herman.
“Music can work wonders,” Herman explained. “It influences a beast’s emotional state and can turn ferocity into calmness.” He handed us all flutes to practice on our own.
Next, Herman introduced the concept of empathic connection. He approached a skittish animal that was like a lynx crossed with a bat. It paced nervously near a set of barrels. Standing still, he locked eyes with the creature, matching its slow, tentative steps with his own calm movements. Gradually, the lynx’s tension eased, and it inched closer until it allowed him a gentle pat on its head. “By raising your own internal feeling to match theirs, you establish rapport through body language and build mutual respect,” he said.
As we practiced, our group split off into small clusters. Mel, ever bold, attempted a version of the melody with her own off-key hum while trying to mimic Herman’s techniques on a large, half-tamed creature. She failed spectacularly and was nearly trampled by the beast.
Silas and I partnered to work on empathic connection with a pair of moon rabbits—small, skittish animals with iridescent fur and ram-like horns. We crouched down, mirroring the rabbits’ delicate hops and looked inside, focusing intensely. Eventually, they hopped close by but not close enough to pet. Silas thought it was because we didn’t “feel”like them enough, but I thought that was bullshit.
Tevin, being the bug fanatic he was, was glued to the other titan-insects Professor Herman cared for. Sora worked with Luna on a pair of twin-tailed snow foxes, and either the two girls had mastered empathic connection, or the foxes just liked them. The two animals danced around the two girls, much to everyone’s jealousy.
Professor Herman clapped his hands to signal the end of the class. “Well done, recruits! Remember, these techniques are not just for today. They are tools for every challenge you will face. We will practice these techniques all week until your trial!” he shouted to us as we scattered off to our history class, where we all held our breath.
I wonder which conspiracy we will learn about today? I said as I chuckled to Fern.
‘Oh gods, please no more. That hour and a half felt like eight yesterday.’
“What are you laughing about?” Luna asked, leaning over. Her bright orange eyes looked like they were reading my thoughts.
“Oh, just wondering how class will go today.” I scratched my head and laughed.
“I was just thinking the same thing!” Tevin shouted from the front of our group. “You don’t think any of that stuff will be on the test, do you?”
“Blood! It WILL ruin your life if you don’t know about it.” Professor Gallon clapped her hands together as she closed the door to her classroom. Her hair was as frizzy as yesterday, and her lecture wasn’t starting out much different either. She cleared her throat, and in a much more serious voice, she began. “Today, I will lecture on one of the most critical rites of being a Cinder: the blood infusion.” Surprisingly, Professor Gallon talked about the one topic that almost everyone was most excited about. Seats shifted, and we all sat up, with pencils raised and paper ready for notes.
Professor Gallon walked to the board and began writing. “The blood infusion ceremony is the process by which a voidblood may access the latent power within—with a little help from the natural world.” She paused, surveying our attentive faces.
I spoke to Fern. This is the kind of knowledge that might be our only hope to change our fate.
Gallon continued, “A blood infusion is not just about gaining strength—it is about controlling your mind, and in turn, controlling your destiny. The process is brutal yet beautiful. It involves harvesting the blood of a dying magical beast of at least gold grade. For those unfamiliar, beasts are ranked as copper, silver, gold, diamond, or aether. Gold-grade creatures are exceptionally potent—just below what a Guardian represents. However, obtaining their blood is perilous. It must be drawn at the moment of death, near the heart, to capture the last surge of life energy, and then mixed with pillardust.”
A student raised a hesitant hand. “Professor, what happens after you drink the mixture?”
“An excellent query,” she said, smiling thinly. “Once it is ingested, you undergo what we call the first ascensionautomatically. You gain the ability to tap into your mind and urge the beast’s power forward. Your eyes will glow with the color corresponding to the beast’s infusion, granting enhanced strength and speed. Should you train further with a runic applications professor, you can channel that elemental power into your weapons. For example, our very own Laska has the blood infusion of the giant Veclan snow leopard, so she harnesses the power of ice.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “All that is what we call level one.”
I scribbled notes furiously while Fern’s thoughts murmured, Imagine turning into a creature of ice. I’d freeze Lucius’s annoying ass up immediately! I ignored Fern’s ramblings.
“Level two is where transformation occurs,” Professor Gallon went on. “At this stage, your body partially morphs into a more humanoid form of the beast. Let’s say you receive a lava salamander infusion. If you reached level two, you’d become 80 percent human with lava salamander attributes. This bestows a massive power boost and a variety of body enhancements that align with your infusion’s elemental abilities. However, a word of caution: Control is minimal AT BEST. Many Cinders have harmed and even killed their teammates when in their level-two transformation form. The form is there to warn you that you are NOT ready for the power. It is dangerous and should only be used in emergencies. When you transform, a mask bearing the beast’s symbol forms over your new form’s head. If you see someone transform and they have that mask, run away from their sight. You have no discernment between friend and foe in level two.” She shook her head lightly. “I won’t delve into levels three and beyond—those are reserved for only the most dedicated. Oftentimes, the training from level three to level four takes years.”
A murmur rippled among the recruits. “But why are we discussing this now?” I ventured.
“Two reasons,” she replied. “First, blood infusions are exceedingly rare and difficult to obtain; you must hunt down high-level magical beasts. So, if you run into a gold-grade or above monster when you go exploring, do try to grab its blood as it dies. It’s very valuable. Second, the winning house in your upcoming trial will be granted access to their blood infusions a year early as a prize. Consider this knowledge as both a warning and an opportunity. Each house will be trying hard to win. After all, the prize is early access to ascension. How great is that?”
My heart pounded as I processed the weight of her words. Fern’s voice inside me whispered, ‘This is our chance, Erik.’
That’s what I was thinking.
‘Maybe we can even get our bodies back soon with that new power too!’
We will see. Hopefully! I didn’t want to give Fern false hope, but I didn’t want to shut him down immediately. But something told me we would be stuck together for a while, and that a blood infusion wouldn’t get my body back.
I looked over at our group and saw Mel’s eyes lit on fire. Her mouth was open, and I would have sworn that I saw drool in the corner of her lips. The girl wanted the infusions more than me.
Luna was equally determined. She had a small smile on and eyes that told me she was ready. The girl seemed to change more and more from the shy, cautious girl I had first met. Even Sora, usually scared about new challenges, offered me a small, encouraging nod when she caught me watching them. A mechanical arm flexed near me.
“Nervous?” I asked Silas.
“Little bit. I need to put some upgrades on this bad boy. We only have four days.”
For one who was never saved, to bring salvation to all.
In the vast continent of Aethelgia, legacy is power. Bloodlines decide talent, ancient Arcana shape nations, and forgotten miracles still echo through the roots of Aethelhum, the cosmic tree worshiped by millions. Empires rise around inherited might, and behind every noble crest lies a history written in magic, conquest, and silent tragedies.
Siegfried Fors was not born into this world. He once lived behind screens and firewalls, a hacker who bent digital laws until fate bent him instead. After dying in an act of selfless instinct, he awakens as a child in Fors Barony. But peace is fragile. Strange forces hunt for children marked by destiny, empires whisper of national treasures gone missing, and ancient powers stir beneath the soil. In the middle of it all stands a boy who was never meant to exist here.
Yet Siegfried’s arrival is not a coincidence but the beginning of a quiet upheaval. For one who was never saved in his first life, he now walks a path where salvation becomes something he must forge with his own hands, for himself, for his family, and for a world teetering between old rivalries and awakening dangers. As empires maneuver in the shadows and forgotten legacies resurface, a single boy carries the potential to tip the balance… or shatter it entirely.
What to expect:
- Emotion-rich storytelling centered on flawed, compelling characters
- Unique magic systems, elemental paths, and Arcana
- Deep worldbuilding with layered mysteries that expand across arcs and continents
- A progression system tied to growth, struggle, and discovery
- A protagonist who grows through vulnerability, not perfection, moving through grey area.
- Themes of redemption, family, salvation, and destiny
Appeals to readers who enjoy: Mushoku Tensei, Frieren, Lord of the Mysteries, TBATE.
Volumes One & Two ongoing — steady releases.
New chapters released regularly — join the journey.