The morning of my first official training session dawned cold and gray, with a sky the color of old dishwater and a wind that rattled the orphanage's loose shutters like the bony fingers of a particularly persistent ghost. I lay in my new, marginally-less-lumpy bed, staring at the ceiling and mentally preparing myself for what was about to happen. In a few hours, I would be alone in a room with the man who had murdered me. The man who, in another timeline, had beheaded me in a frozen clearing and then calmly walked away to burn down an orphanage. And I was supposed to call him "Master Corvus" and ask him to teach me magic.
This is fine. This is completely fine. I am a master of deception. I am the world's smallest secret agent. I am—
A knock on my door interrupted my internal pep talk.
"Alexander!" Helga's voice, still oozing that unsettling sweetness she'd adopted since learning about my core. "Your tutor will be here within the hour. Make yourself presentable!"
"Coming, Matron Helga!" I chirped, my voice the perfect pitch of an eager child. Then I quietly added, under my breath, "You absolute monster."
I swung my legs out of bed and began my morning routine. Wash face in the basin of cold water. Run fingers through my wild, too-long hair in a futile attempt to tame it. Change into the slightly-better tunic Helga had provided—still rough, still secondhand, but at least lacking the structural integrity of a wet paper bag. I caught a glimpse of myself in the small, tarnished mirror that now hung on my wall. The face staring back was the same one I'd seen in the pond a month ago, before everything went sideways. Tan skin. Sharp eyes. A feral, knowing look that no five-year-old should possess. But today, I had to hide that look. Today, I had to be soft, impressionable, malleable. Clay to be molded.
Showtime.
I was halfway down the stairs when the system decided to weigh in.
DING!
[NEW QUEST: THE DILIGENT STUDENT]
A teacher has arrived to instruct you in the ways of magic. For now, he believes you to be nothing more than a talented child. Keep it that way. Follow his instructions, learn what you can, and do not reveal the true depths of your power. A good student listens. A great student listens and plots.
Quest Requirements:
*- Successfully complete your first training session under Corvus's instruction [0/1]*
Quest Rewards:
*- 1x Gacha Ticket*
*- 2x Copper Coins*
*- 7x Minor Mana Potions*
Time Limit: Until the session ends.
Failure Penalty: You reveal your hand, Corvus becomes suspicious, and you probably end up dead again. No pressure.
I paused on the stairs, reading the notification twice. No EXP reward this time. That was interesting. The system apparently considered this a lower-stakes quest, or maybe it was calibrating rewards based on the challenge level. Either way, a Gacha Ticket and seven mana potions were nothing to sneeze at. I'd been running low on potions after my previous life's desperate battle—well, in my memory of that battle, since my Inventory had reset—and the ticket would inch me closer to the hundred-pull jackpot I was saving for.
Alright, system. I'll be the best darn student this murderer has ever seen.
I continued down the stairs, my bare feet silent on the worn wood. The common room was empty, most of the other orphans already sent outside to do chores in the yard. Helga was in the kitchen, her mana signature a muddy smear of cold efficiency. And there, standing by the front window with his hands clasped behind his back, was Corvus.
He looked exactly as he had yesterday. Tall. Lean. Unremarkable in the way a knife is unremarkable before it's plunged into your ribs. His pale blue eyes tracked my entrance with that same calm, predatory assessment, and I felt the Curse of Fear hum uselessly against his mental walls. Whatever protection he had, it was solid.
"Good morning, Alexander," he said, his voice smooth as polished glass. "Are you ready to begin?"
"Yes, Master Corvus," I said, bowing my head slightly. I'd decided on "Master" as the appropriate honorific—formal enough to show respect, old-fashioned enough to make me seem like a child mimicking something he'd read in a book. "I'm very excited to learn."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Excitement is good. Discipline is better. Today, we'll start with theory. Before you can wield magic properly, you must understand what magic is. Follow me."
He led me to a small room at the back of the orphanage that Helga had apparently converted into a makeshift classroom. A wooden table, two chairs, a chalkboard propped against the wall. It was sparse but functional. I took a seat, folding my hands on the table like a proper student, and waited.
Corvus remained standing. He picked up a piece of chalk and began to draw on the board—a simple diagram of a human figure with a glowing circle in its chest.
"This," he said, tapping the circle, "is your mana core. You already understand its basic function: it generates, stores, and channels mana. But how that mana is used determines everything about what kind of mage you become. There are three primary classifications of mages in this world. Can you name them?"
I shook my head, wide-eyed. "No, Master. I only know what I've figured out on my own."
He nodded, as if expecting that answer. "Then listen carefully. The three classifications are Augmenters, Conjurers, and Emitters."
He wrote each word on the board beneath the diagram.
"Augmenters are warriors who channel mana inward. They reinforce their bodies, their weapons, their armor. An Augmenter can move faster than the eye can follow, strike with the force of a battering ram, and withstand blows that would shatter stone. They are the backbone of every army, the shield and sword of the battlefield. Augmenters typically have elemental affinities, but they use them to enhance their physical abilities rather than project magic outward. A Fire-Augmenter might wreathe their blade in flames. A Wind-Augmenter might move with supernatural speed. But they are, at their core, physical combatants."
He drew arrows pointing inward on the diagram.
"Conjurers are the opposite. They channel mana outward, shaping it into spells that affect the world at range. A Conjurer can hurl fireballs, summon barriers of ice, call down lightning from the sky. They are artillery, support, and utility all in one. Conjurers are rarer than Augmenters because the control required to project mana externally is far more demanding. A Conjurer must master not only their elemental affinity but also the principles of mana shaping, range, area of effect, and spell stabilization."
He drew arrows pointing outward.
"And Emitters?" I asked, genuinely curious. The original TBATE story had mentioned them, but this was the first detailed explanation I'd received in this world.
"Emitters are the rarest of all," Corvus said, and for a moment, something flickered in his pale eyes. Respect? Wariness? It was gone before I could identify it. "Emitters channel mana into other living beings. They are healers, primarily, able to mend wounds, cure diseases, and purge toxins. But Emitter magic is not limited to healing. A skilled Emitter can strengthen allies, calm agitated beasts, or—in rare cases—harm an opponent by disrupting their mana flow from the inside. Emitters are so rare because the talent requires an innate sensitivity to the mana of others, a gift that cannot be taught. Most kingdoms would go to war over a single competent Emitter."
He set down the chalk and turned to face me fully. "Now, within each classification, mages are further defined by their elemental affinities. The four basic elements are Fire, Water, Wind, and Earth. Most mages have a single affinity. A very small number—perhaps one in ten thousand—have two. Having two affinities is considered a mark of exceptional talent. It allows for more versatile spellcasting and, in some cases, the creation of unique compound effects."
He paused, his eyes boring into me. "You, Alexander, have shown signs of both Fire and Wind affinity. That alone makes you extraordinary. In all my years, I have only met a handful of dual-affinity mages."
I ducked my head, feigning embarrassment. "I didn't know it was that special. It just... felt natural."
"Natural," Corvus repeated, a strange note in his voice. "Yes. I imagine it did." He cleared his throat and continued. "Beyond the basic elements, there are deviants. Deviant magic occurs when a mage's affinity evolves into a higher, more specialized form. Fire can deviate into Lightning. Water can deviate into Ice. Wind can deviate into Sound. Earth can deviate into Gravity. Deviants are even rarer than dual-affinity mages. A Lightning mage can strike with the speed and precision of a thunderbolt. A Sound mage can weaponize vibrations, shatter stone with a whisper, or listen to conversations from miles away. A Gravity mage can manipulate the fundamental forces that bind the world together. Deviants are often feared and revered in equal measure."
I absorbed this information, cross-referencing it with what I remembered from the webcomic. It all lined up. But hearing it from Corvus, delivered in that calm, clinical tone, made it feel more real. More dangerous.
"And what about three affinities?" I asked, playing the curious child. "Has anyone ever had three?"
Corvus's expression flickered. "Never. In all recorded history, no mage has ever been born with three elemental affinities. It is theorized that the human soul simply cannot attune to more than two elements without tearing itself apart. Attempts to artificially gain a third affinity through experimentation have invariably ended in madness or death. The very idea is considered an impossibility."
Good to know. I'll add "don't tell anyone about my hybrid dragon-god soul" to my list of survival strategies.
"Now," Corvus said, folding his arms, "with all that in mind, I have a question for you. What kind of mage do you wish to become? Augmenter, Conjurer, or Emitter?"
I didn't have to fake the pause that followed. The question was genuinely important. In my previous loop, I'd fought as an Augmenter—reinforcing my body, wielding a blade, fighting in close quarters. But that had been born of necessity, not choice. I'd trained with the sword because the Sword God Incarnate trait made it natural, because the quests pushed me down that path. But now, with a proper teacher and time to plan, I had options.
An Augmenter could complement my existing swordsmanship skills. A Conjurer would let me leverage my massive mana pool and affinities. An Emitter was out of the question—I had no healing instincts and, frankly, the idea of letting anyone get close enough to my mana channels to teach me Emitter techniques was terrifying.
But more importantly, what would make Corvus underestimate me? If I chose to be an Augmenter, I'd be following the same path that had led to my death. He'd already seen me fight with a sword—he'd commented on my talent. If I showed too much aptitude too quickly, he might become suspicious. But if I chose to be a Conjurer...
"I want to learn magic," I said, my voice firm. "Pure magic. Conjurer magic. I want to throw fireballs and summon wind storms. I want to be the kind of mage that people write stories about."
Corvus studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded, a faint smile ghosting across his lips. "A Conjurer, then. A wise choice for someone with dual affinities. Your talents would be wasted on pure augmentation. Very well. We will focus your training on external mana manipulation and elemental spellcraft."
I beamed at him, the picture of childish enthusiasm. Inside, I was cataloguing every word, every expression, every scrap of information. So far, so good. He thinks I'm a talented but naive kid with big dreams. Keep playing the part.
"Now," Corvus said, reaching into the satchel he'd brought with him, "before we can begin working with elemental magic, we must address your core refinement. You told Helga that you advanced to Dark Red through self-study. That is impressive. But I suspect your technique is... inefficient."
He pulled out a small, spherical object and placed it on the table between us. It was about the size of a marble, smooth and translucent, glowing with a soft blue light that pulsed like a heartbeat. I recognized it immediately from the TBATE lore: a beast core. The crystallized mana organ of a magical creature, harvested after death.
"This is a beast core," Corvus confirmed. "Specifically, a core from a low-level mana beast called a Glimmer Fox. The mana within it is already refined, already pure. There are two primary methods of refining your own core. The first is the method you've likely been using: cycling your own mana through your core, grinding away impurities through sheer pressure and repetition. This method is slow, exhausting, and depletes your mana reserves. It is the method of the desperate and the self-taught."
He tapped the glowing marble. "The second method is absorption. You draw refined mana from an external source—a beast core, a mana-rich environment, or a willing donor—and use that external mana to purify your core. Because the mana is already refined, it acts as a solvent rather than an abrasive. It dissolves impurities without depleting your own reserves. It is faster, more efficient, and far less painful."
I stared at the beast core, genuine curiosity flickering through my act. I'd been sandpapering my soul for a month. The idea of a method that didn't feel like spiritual road rash was genuinely appealing.
"How does it work?" I asked.
"Pick it up," Corvus said. "Hold it in your palm. Close your eyes and focus on the mana inside the core. Reach out with your own mana, not to push, but to pull. Imagine a stream flowing from the core into your hand, up your arm, and into your own core. The beast core's mana will do the rest."
I reached out and picked up the small blue sphere. It was warm to the touch, vibrating faintly with contained energy. I closed my eyes and did as he instructed, extending my mana perception toward the core. The mana inside it was indeed different from my own—smoother, cleaner, already processed. I reached out with a tendril of my own mana and made contact.
The response was immediate. The beast core's mana surged toward me like water finding a crack in a dam, flowing up my arm in a cool, tingling stream. I guided it carefully to my own core, and the moment it touched the dark red crystal in my chest, something beautiful happened. The refined mana flowed over the surface of my core like a gentle solvent, dissolving microscopic layers of impurity without the grinding, scraping sensation I'd grown used to. It was almost... pleasant. Like washing dirt off your hands after a long day of work.
DING!
[New Skill Acquired: Basic Mana Absorption Lv 1]
You have learned to draw refined mana from external sources. This skill allows you to absorb mana from beast cores, enchanted objects, and other mana-rich materials. Absorption speed and efficiency increase with skill level. Warning: Absorbing mana from unwilling or incompatible sources may result in backlash. Don't try to drain a dragon.
The beast core in my palm crumbled to dust, its energy fully depleted. I opened my eyes to find Corvus watching me with an expression that was difficult to read. Surprise? Satisfaction? Both?
"Interesting," he murmured. "You absorbed that much faster than I expected. Your mana channels are unusually receptive. A natural talent for absorption, perhaps."
He reached into his satchel again and produced five more beast cores, identical to the first. He placed them in a neat row on the table.
"I need to speak with Matron Helga for a moment," he said, rising from his chair. "While I'm gone, I want you to absorb these. All of them. Focus on maintaining a steady, controlled pull. Do not rush. Do not try to absorb more than one at a time. When I return, we'll discuss your progress."
"Yes, Master," I said, already reaching for the next core.
He left the room, his footsteps fading down the hall. I waited until I heard the distant creak of Helga's office door opening and closing before I allowed myself to relax slightly. Then I got to work.
The conversation I didn't hear was happening one floor up, in a room protected by a soundproofing artifact that hummed softly on the corner of Helga's desk. But even if I had heard it, I would have had to pretend I didn't.
Corvus closed the office door behind him and took a seat across from Helga, his expression shifting from the patient tutor to something colder, more businesslike. Helga, for her part, had dropped her sweet grandmother act entirely. Her face was hard, her eyes sharp, her fingers steepled on the desk in front of her.
"Well?" she demanded. "What's your assessment?"
Corvus leaned back in his chair. "The boy is extraordinary. His core is fully purified to the Dark Red stage, which at his age is almost unheard of. He has dual affinities—Fire and Wind—and his mana channels are remarkably well-developed for someone who claims to be self-taught. He absorbed a Glimmer Fox core in under a minute. I've seen adult mages take five times as long."
Helga's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "So he's a prodigy. I could have told you that the moment I scanned his core. What else?"
"He's also a monster in the making," Corvus said flatly. "With that kind of talent and the right training, he could become one of the most powerful mages on the continent. Possibly the most powerful. And he's completely unaware of it. He thinks he's just a talented orphan who got lucky. He has no idea what he really is."
"Perfect," Helga breathed. "Absolutely perfect. What do you think the Master would say about him? Would he have a place in the Star Cult?"
Corvus's composure cracked. He shot a sharp look at the door, then at the window, his hand instinctively moving toward the weapon he wasn't currently carrying. "Keep your voice down! Do you want the whole kingdom to hear—"
Helga tapped a small, rune-carved stone sitting on the corner of her desk. "Soundproofing artifact. I'm not an amateur, Corvus. This room is sealed. Speak freely."
Corvus relaxed fractionally, but his expression remained tense. "The Master would be very interested," he admitted. "A child with this level of talent, this young, this moldable... he's exactly the kind of asset the Cult seeks. But we must be certain. Talent is not enough. He must be shaped. Tested. Brought into the fold slowly, so that when the truth is revealed, he embraces it willingly rather than recoiling from it."
"And if he doesn't embrace it?"
Corvus's pale eyes went cold. "Then he's a liability. And liabilities are eliminated."
Helga nodded, as if this were the most reasonable thing in the world. "Then we proceed carefully. You will train him. You will earn his trust. You will plant the seeds of our philosophy in his mind. And when the time is right, we will present him to the Master as our gift."
"A gift that could elevate us both," Corvus agreed. "But patience is paramount. A prodigy who feels manipulated will turn against us. We must make him believe this is his path, his choice, his destiny."
Helga smiled her terrible smile. "Then we had better give him a destiny worth believing in."
I absorbed the fourth beast core just as I heard footsteps in the hallway. The fifth core was still sitting on the table, untouched. I'd deliberately left it there, not wanting to seem too freakishly efficient. Four cores in ten minutes was already impressive enough. All five might tip my hand.
Corvus re-entered the room, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever. He glanced at the dust that had been the first four cores, then at the untouched fifth, and raised an eyebrow.
"You left one?"
"I was getting tired," I said, which was technically true. The absorption process wasn't physically exhausting, but the concentration required was significant. "I didn't want to mess up the last one."
"A wise decision. Control is more important than speed." He sat down across from me and placed his fingertips together. "Let's see your progress. Focus inward and tell me what you feel."
I closed my eyes and turned my attention to my core. The difference was noticeable. The dark red crystal was slightly clearer, slightly more luminous than before. The system provided the exact numbers:
*[Core Purification: Dark Red Core - 6%]*
"I think I purified about six percent of my core," I said, opening my eyes. "Is that good?"
Corvus stared at me for a long moment. Then he laughed. It was a short, soft sound, barely more than an exhale, but it was the first genuine emotion I'd seen from him. "Good? Alexander, six percent purification from four low-grade beast cores is not 'good.' It's exceptional. Most mages would need a dozen cores or more to achieve that level of progress. Your absorption efficiency is remarkable."
DING!
[Skill Level Up: Basic Mana Absorption Lv 1 → Lv 6]
[Skill Level Up: Basic Mana Absorption Lv 6 → Lv 10]
[Skill Level Up: Basic Mana Absorption Lv 10 → Lv 13]
The cascade of level-ups was satisfying, but I kept my expression carefully pleased rather than triumphant. "Thank you, Master. I just did what you told me to do."
"Modesty is a virtue," Corvus said, "but so is recognizing your own abilities. You have a gift, Alexander. With proper training, you could become one of the great mages of your generation." He reached into his satchel once more and withdrew a sheet of parchment, covered in neat, precise handwriting. "This is your training schedule. On Mondays and Fridays, we will focus on core refinement through beast core absorption. The other days will be split between magical theory and practical spellcasting exercises. You will follow this schedule precisely. No deviations. No unsupervised experimentation. Magic is not a toy, and a mage without discipline is a danger to everyone around them."
I took the parchment and scanned it. The schedule was rigorous but manageable, leaving me plenty of free time in the evenings and on weekends. Free time I intended to use for my own private training, away from Corvus's watchful eyes.
"I understand, Master. I'll follow the schedule exactly."
"Good. Now, take a break. Eat something. We'll reconvene in an hour to discuss the applications of mana shaping."
The break was a welcome respite. I retreated to my room and ate the meal Helga had left for me—a bowl of stew that was actually warm and contained identifiable meat, a luxury that still felt surreal after a month of stale bread and watery gruel. The other orphans were still out doing chores, so the orphanage was quiet. I used the time to review what I'd learned.
Corvus was a member of something called the Star Cult. That was a new variable, one I hadn't encountered in the original TBATE story. It sounded ominous—cults usually were—and the fact that both Helga and Corvus were involved suggested a larger organization operating in the shadows. They wanted to recruit me. Mold me into a "proper believer." That meant I had time. They wouldn't kill me as long as they thought I could be turned.
So the plan remains the same. Play the part. Learn everything I can. Find out what the Star Cult is and who this "Master" is. And when the moment comes, tear it all down.
But I couldn't forget the threat. In my previous loop, Corvus had killed me without hesitation. If I slipped up, if I revealed too much too quickly, that same blade would find my neck again. I had to be careful. I had to be patient. And I had to get stronger—strong enough that the next time we fought, I wouldn't lose.
After the break, I returned to the classroom. Corvus was waiting, a fresh diagram on the chalkboard. This one showed a human figure surrounded by swirling lines and geometric shapes.
"Mana application," he began without preamble, "is the art of shaping raw mana into useful forms. A Conjurer must master this art absolutely. When you cast a fireball, you are not simply throwing mana at your enemy. You are gathering Fire-aspected mana, compressing it into a sphere, stabilizing it so it doesn't explode in your hand, and then propelling it toward a target. Each step requires precise control. A single mistake can result in catastrophic failure."
He drew a series of symbols on the board—circles, triangles, intersecting lines. "These are basic mana constructs. A circle represents containment. A triangle represents direction. A line represents flow. By combining these constructs in different patterns, a mage can create a near-infinite variety of spells. The more complex the spell, the more constructs are required, and the more concentration is needed to maintain them."
I raised my hand, playing the eager student. "Master, what happens if you lose concentration in the middle of a spell?"
"Depending on the spell?" Corvus's expression was grim. "You could suffer mana burn, which is painful but survivable. You could lose control of the mana, causing it to detonate. Or you could suffer backlash, in which the mana reverses direction and damages your core directly. Core damage is extremely difficult to heal and can permanently cripple a mage. That is why discipline is paramount. A spell is not a toy. It is a weapon, and like any weapon, it demands respect."
I nodded solemnly, filing the information away. Mana backlash. That was something I'd need to watch out for, especially with my enormous mana reserves. If a small spell could cause backlash, a large one could probably turn me into a smoking crater.
"Now," Corvus continued, "let's discuss the relationship between mana and the physical body. You have already demonstrated an instinctive grasp of mana reinforcement—the technique of channeling mana into your muscles, bones, and skin to enhance your physical capabilities. This is primarily an Augmenter technique, but even Conjurers benefit from a basic understanding of it. A mage who can't take a hit is a mage who won't survive their first real battle."
He spent the next hour walking me through the principles of mana reinforcement in more detail. I asked careful questions—ones that made me sound curious but inexperienced, never revealing that I'd already used the technique in combat against him. He answered each question with patience and precision, and I found myself genuinely learning. For all that he was a cold-blooded killer, Corvus was an excellent teacher. The irony was not lost on me.
The session ended in the late afternoon. I was mentally exhausted, my head swimming with new terminology and techniques, but I'd managed to complete the entire lesson without slipping up once. As Corvus packed up his materials, I stood and bowed.
"Thank you for the lesson, Master. I learned a lot."
He paused, studying me with those pale, unreadable eyes. "You're a good student, Alexander. Attentive. Curious. Disciplined. Those qualities will serve you well." He slung his satchel over his shoulder. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we begin spellcrafting. I expect you to be ready."
"I will be, Master."
He nodded once and left. I waited until I heard the front door close behind him before I allowed myself to breathe.
DING!
[QUEST COMPLETE: THE DILIGENT STUDENT]
You've successfully navigated your first training session without revealing your true capabilities. Corvus believes you to be a talented but naive child, exactly as planned. Keep up the act. The more he underestimates you, the more dangerous you become.
Quest Rewards:
*- 1x Gacha Ticket*
*- 2x Copper Coins*
*- 7x Minor Mana Potions*
[Total Gacha Points: 80]
[Total Minor Mana Potions: 89]
I smiled, a small, private expression that held no childlike innocence whatsoever. The quest was complete. The training had begun. And I was one step closer to bringing Helga and her assassin to justice.
Round two, Corvus. Let's see who learns faster.
STATUS SCREEN - END OF CHAPTER 7
Name: Alexander (LEX)
Race: Dragon-Human Deity Hybrid
Lifespan: 5 / 2,000
Level: 10
EXP: 480/4,000 (To Next Level)
Class: None
MP: 100,000 / 100,000
HP: 10,000 / 10,000
Elemental Affinities: Wind, Fire
Trait(s): Curse of Fear, Slowed Mana Regeneration, Mana Recovery Lv 10 (2,000 MP/hour), Reincarnated, True Demon Slayer Mark, Sword God Incarnate
Core Stage: Dark Red Core (6% Purified)
Template Integration:
Dragon God Orsted: 0.51%
Yoriichi Tsugikuni: 4.10%
Stats:
Perception: 125
Strength: 73
Constitution: 88
Agility: 75
Resistance: 63
Charisma: 78
Vitality: 80
Stamina: 86
Luck: 1055
{Status Points: 200}
Skills:
Basic Mana Manipulation Lv 62
Basic Mana Perception Lv 61
Basic Swordsmanship Lv 68
Basic Transparent World Lv 61
Minor Core Refinement Lv 52
Basic Mana Absorption Lv 13
Stealth Lv 58
Climbing Lv 55
Running Lv 60
Sense Intent Lv 57
Basic Mana Reinforcement Lv 1
Basic Fire Magic Lv 1
Basic Wind Magic Lv 1
Special Skill(s):
Reincarnation Technique (From Orsted) (MAX)
Inventory:
Gacha Points: 80
Small Mana Potion x89
Small Stamina Potion x28
Copper Coins x189
Gold Coins x2
Uncommon Weapon Ticket x1
Broken Kitchen Knife (damaged)
Wooden Training Sword x1
{Store: Locked - Requires Level 25 & a Class}