The silence returned after his outburst, but it was heavier now. Arkael—or whoever he was now—stared at the ceiling above him, the weight of Selene's words pressing hard against his chest.
"The Great Sage of Astia... is dead?" he murmured again, mostly to himself.
Selene didn't answer immediately. She stood stiffly by the bedside, arms crossed and expression unreadable.
Finally, she let out a soft exhale.
"He died over a thousand years ago," she said. "He was a threat to Astia's future and was slain to save Astia. Everyone learns about it in Magical History."
The words hit him like a cold slap. He'd been revered, feared, praised—his very name had once commanded silence in every room. Now he was an evil footnote in every school textbook. A villain.
Selene glanced at him again. "I don't know what's wrong with you, Renhardt, but playing pretend as some long-dead mage isn't going to win you any favors around here."
He didn't answer. Couldn't.
He had died.
And now… he was here. In the body of some boy a thousand years later.
"I'd like to be alone," he said at last, voice barely above a whisper.
Selene arched a brow, but didn't argue. "Fine. Stay in bed and try not to get in trouble again," she muttered.
"Professor Corven will want to see you later." She turned on her heel and left the infirmary.
The room returned to a stand-still.
He sat up slowly in the bed, clutching his side. The pain was real. His breath still came shallow. But now that he was alone, he could finally confront what mattered most.
This body. Lucien Renhardt.
The name had no weight in his mind, but the circuits inside the body screamed otherwise.
Arkael—no, Lucien—closed his eyes and reached inward. It was instinctive, like breathing, like returning to an old meditation.
He slipped into the stream of his new self's mana channels only to nearly recoil.
The circuits were a mess. Torn, collapsed, blocked. It was worse than a seal—it was a complete failure.
No wonder they called him mana-mute. His pathways had never developed or worse. They had been forcibly shattered during childhood.
But there was something else there.
A thread. A dormant vein, untouched and faint, buried so deep it was nearly invisible to even the trained eye.
Lucien focused. Not just as the boy he now was but as the Great Sage he had once been. Centuries of arcane knowledge rushed through him.
He summoned a silent chant under his breath, ancient syllables woven with intent. Slowly, his fingers formed the hand seal of the Hollow Gate.
A soft hum sparked beneath his skin.
He followed the path of mana through the deepest part of Lucien's core, clearing debris with precision, easing blocked points, reconnecting severed pathways with the gentle care of a surgeon.
The dormant vein then flickered to life.
Thrum.
A sudden heat radiated through his chest. His eyes widened as golden-blue light pulsed under his skin, tracing the route of the awakened mana circuit.
This was the first stage in awakening a dormant vein — opening the Hollow Gate.
Then, as the energy stabilized, it spiraled deeper. Faster. Sharper.
And then the second ignition struck. He let out a gasp as the broken lattice of Lucien's inner mana flow realigned, painfully twisting and reforming into something new. Something much stronger.
It was the second stage in cultivating mana — opening the Ember Gate. Now, that was something entirely unexpected for this body, but it left him content for now.
Lucien collapsed back onto the bed, panting hard, drenched in sweat.
"No matter what… I must regain what I've lost." He muttered under his breath before returning to a deep sleep.