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Finally, after what seemed like an endless struggle, he managed to open his eyes, flinching at the sudden noise from the familiar door.

His eyes adjusted to the dim light as they raked over the broken furniture strewn around him. The door. The broken shelves, the disorganised library. The thrum that came through the cold floor.

It all came crashing back as he tried to understand what was happening. He squeezed his eyes shut, panic coiling in his gut.

Wait… What?

Opening them again, he took in the surroundings, realising that he was back to the confines he had painstakingly survived in before finding the spell to go back in time.

It was the underground library of the Sorcerer’s Tower.

It shook beneath his body as all sorts of possibilities ran through his mind.

Did Arzan’s soul return to his body, and I’m stuck here, once again? Is the ritual I did reserved itself …This can’t be happening!

He tried to inhale deeply to calm his raging heart. He coughed as the dust hit his lungs immediately. With dust particles, he sensed something. Something that made him widen his eyes in tremor.

Another tremor hit the room and he looked towards the door, knowing that any moment monsters would spring up inside.

He instinctively touched his eye and felt relieved that it was there. Last time, a mana fiend had gouged it out. But this time— he couldn’t let it happen. Whatever this was, wasn’t going to end like last time.

I need to prepare spells before they come in.

He forced himself to remember the chant, the flow of mana he needed to unleash a spell. But the words stuck in his throat, choked by a rising tide of terror.

The spell structure was clearly in his mind, as he had practised the same spell over and over during his time under the tutelage of his master and the battles he had been in.

He tried his best to say it out loud. His willpower gripping at every attempt. But, no matter how much he tried to get it out of his throat, he couldn’t.

W-why can’t I form the spell structure and chant it out?!

He extended his arm and turned his focus to a simple spell. After what seemed like several excruciating minutes, a spell structure started slowly forming.

"A—" he opened his mouth, a sound barely audible coming out. He tried his best to focus on the simple [Firebolt] incantation that he might have said a thousand times before.

"Firebolt!" he hissed in pain.

The words fell into oppressive silence.

Nothing. No surge of power. No whispered magic ignited at his fingertips. And the usual ecstatic feeling of mana he felt whenever he cast a spell was… Nowhere to be found.

Looking around the room once again, he realised what was wrong. There was no mana in the air and he felt weak. His throat was parched. He had found himself in the era where mana had become the scarcest resource and the reality of it was finally settling in.

As he hunched his shoulders, a sound took his attention.

A gravelly chuckle intonated through the room. It disturbed him from the horror of his spell not working.

"K-Kai…," the voice rasped out.

Kai whipped his head around, spotting a lone figure amidst the chaos of the room.

An old man, his beard and hair as white as the falling dust, sat slumped against a fallen pillar. He wore flowing robes, richly embroidered once, now stained with dark, spreading crimson. A smoothly curved dagger protruded from his chest, its tip glistening ruby red.

Kai squinted his eyes, praying to almighty goddess Luminous that it shouldn’t be who he thought it was.

But it is, I know it’s him.

His palms were flat on the dusty floor, and he tried to lift himself. But, his legs soon gave up. Helplessness. Pain. He could feel them everywhere, in his heart, mind, and even in the numbness of his body.

But the image of his master lying there a few feet away made him scramble towards the old man, ignoring the eating fear in his gut.

Gathering all the willpower, his knees dragged him across the floor.

"Master!" his voice echoed.

His master’s face was wrinkled with all the years of experience. His lips curled to a displeasing look. His eyes were staring at Kai.

Kai’s hands reached out, hovering uselessly over the old man’s blood-soaked form.

"Hold on, I’ll heal you… just need a light mend…" His voice trailed off, a sickening realisation dawning.

The magic that pulsed through his veins in the previous body – gone. Here he was helpless as a newborn. It washed over him in a wave, cold and bitter, threatening to drown him.

It- It can’t be. I’ve to save him somehow.

The old man coughed, a wet, rattling sound. "Disappointing, Kai," he rasped, his voice weak. "Always disappointing."

Kai’s stomach clenched. "No! I’ll heal you, I swear! Just…" his voice broke. Just what? He couldn’t explain the impotence that held him like a vice.

"No healing," the old man wheezed, his gaze locking with Kai’s. "Even a hundred lifetimes wouldn’t be enough. You were my greatest failure, Kai. You got me killed once, and here you are again, fumbling like a child."

Kai wanted to scream, to deny it.

But the accusation struck a familiar chord, a chilling echo of his mind whispers he’d sometimes heard during training when he was still a student.

Another bone-shattering blow resonated through the tower. The old man’s smile turned grim. "Have you fulfilled your promise, then?"

"I… I’m working on it!" Kai stammered, desperation clawing at his throat.

"Working on it," the old man mocked, his voice gaining a tinge of its former strength. "Never enough, Kai. Never enough. You’ll disappoint me again, just like always."

A slow, chilling smile spread across his face. The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled. It was a smile Kai recognized. A smile that sent shivers down his spine.

He didn’t want his master to die. No, not again. He tried to focus on his breathing, on his mana, on anything that could increase his power. Gain his power!

Before he could even retry, POP! He muffled his ears from his hands as the noise was too loud to bear. The old man was gone. His master was–

The realisation hit him, the pain of it was worse than a physical blow.

All the memories of his time during the academy rushed one after another. The guilt was heavy on his chest. He couldn’t save him.

The door that was in the corner of the room started shaking violently. Someone pounding it with all their might. A relentless drumbeat urged him to get himself up and confront the monsters that were outside the door.

THUD THUD THUD!!

The door didn’t creak open. It shattered inwards this time, a splintered explosion that sent the broken shelves flying.

Blinding light flooded the room again.

Kai flinched back, throwing his arm up to shield his eyes.

He jolted awake. His fist clenched, and a strangled gasp tore from his throat. Cold sweat slicked his skin, chilling him, despite having Heat stones in his room.

Scrambling out of bed, he landed on his knees by the side of the cot, chest heaving with adrenaline. His heart hammered a wild tattoo against his ribs, slowly calming as he scanned the familiar surroundings of his room.

A subtle daylight streamed through the window, bathing the furnishings in a soft glow. The air smelled faintly of woodsmoke and parchment, the comforting scent of his room.

Slowly, he realised what had happened.

It was just a dream. A damned, recurring nightmare, but a dream nonetheless.

Kai cursed under his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow.

He hadn’t thought of his master in a while. Yet, for as long as he could remember, these nightmares had followed him, a relentless echo of his past. For years. It had similar nightmares.

An unwelcome image flickered in his mind– his master, crumpled against the stone, blood streaking across his robes. The faint breath heaving up and down his chest and the exact moment, Kai knew it would stop.

Stop!

Kai pushed the image away with a grimace.

A sharp rapping on his door cut through the remnants of his dream. Kai flinched, surprised by the intrusion.

He shook off the lingering echoes of his master’s spectral words as a gentle knock at the door startled him. "Come in," he shouted, trying to appear as normal as possible.

The door creaked open, revealing Claire’s familiar face. Her usual warm smile was tinged with a hint of concern seeing him stand up from the position on the floor. It could also be due to how he was drenched in sweat.

"Good morning, Claire," he said, not missing the look in her eyes that stayed despite his greeting. "Did something happen?"

Claire nodded. "Breakfast is ready, Lord Arzan," she said softly. "And… Lord Actra is there too today."

***

As soon as Kai had walked inside, Killian and Francis silently grabbed their seats where the maids had already arranged the table with food. Actra was already seated just as Claire had told him.

The scent of freshly baked bread and frizzling meat greeted him, a welcome assault on his five senses. The mismatched collection of furniture that served as their dining area seemed to be overly quiet today.

There, at the head of the table, sat Actra.

His usually pristine robes, as Kai encountered when he had first met him were rumpled, his silver hair escaping its customary braid in a few unruly strands. His green eyes— they were on him.

Even from a distance, Kai could see faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes.

He had been putting his energy into something recently. Maybe that’s why he was here. Or it could be something else. Trying not to make assumptions, Kai sat down after everyone greeted him.

Beside him, sat Francis and Killian. Their folks hovered mid-air, stealing furtive glances at Kai.

Killian quickly withdrew himself from the rigid stance and munched on the bread slowly. Francis’s eyes urged Kai to say something— or do something about the man sitting at the same table as them.

As an experienced administrator, he very well knew there was a reason Actra was here.

Kai grabbed a chipped mug. He poured himself a steaming cup of tea, the earthy aroma calming his frayed nerves.

What could this man possibly want? Kai couldn’t help but think.

"Rare to see you out of your dusty old tomes, Mage Actra," he said. The pointed comment hung heavy in the air.

Actra smiled, his lips curling slightly upwards. "It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Felt the need to, shall we say, broaden my horizons." His gaze flicked towards Claire, who busied herself refilling mugs with a practised air of obliviousness. "Besides," he added, his voice dropping to a low tone, "wanted to see your progress firsthand. Wouldn’t want you to stray from the path as from my knowledge, you don’t have a master."

Kai raised an eyebrow, the meat he’d grabbed halfway to his mouth forgotten. His mind ran hundreds of miles on possibilities of what this all could be about.

Is he trying to become my master? Just the thought of him was enough to make him shiver.

Though he hadn’t read a ton of books written by Mages of this era since it was hard to get his hands on one, he doubted Actra could teach him anything before the 5th circle.

"I don’t, but I’m doing fine without one. I wouldn’t want to be subjected to lectures on magic theories all day in a confined space. I’m making decent progress without anyone to teach me." He took a large bite of the meat, the snap echoing in the tense silence.

Actra’s smile faltered for a brief moment. His lips turned to a thin line as he sipped the tea.

"Progress comes in many forms, Lord Arzan. Not everything is brute strength and flashy spells," he said calmly. "You might have access to spells from your family, but they aren’t what makes a true Mage."

"What does?"

"An eye to look into the wide world and to pluck away at its mysteries. Even an apprentice can defeat a few primal monsters."

"Can they? I don’t think spending hours in a room would give battle experience."

For the next ten minutes, Kai and Actra talked like that, their faces smiling, but their eyes growing colder by the second.

Killian kept giving a shaky glance at both of them as they continued and finally, Kai’s patience ran low.

He slammed his mug down on the table, the clatter echoing in the room.

"Alright, enough of this masked dance," he said sternly. "We both know you wouldn’t come crawling out of your room for a simple breakfast. What brings you here?"

Actra met his gaze head-on. Something unreadable in his old eyes. He set down his mug and leaned backwards in his chair.

"Your way of talking has worsened and you have lost respect for me, Arzan. Either way, I’m here because I heard of your expedition and I was wondering…" he paused, taking a deep breath, "If I could perhaps… accompany you."