The illusory world dissolved around them like morning mist burned away by the rising sun.
Alzer blinked once, twice, and found himself standing back in the examination grounds. The massive crowd of examinees had reappeared all at once — some cheering, some crying, some standing in stunned silence. The ones who had withdrawn early stood apart, their faces pale with the knowledge that their paths as Mages had ended before they truly began.
But Alzer paid them no attention.
His gaze drifted to the tattoo on his wrist. The glow had faded, but the number was still burned into his memory. First place. Over three thousand points. The gap between him and the second-place examinee was so vast it was almost laughable.
Heh. A cold smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Just as he was about to turn and leave, a voice cut through the noise like a blade.
"You!"
Alzer looked up. Prince Charles Dawnlight was striding toward him, his golden hair disheveled, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and humiliation. Behind him, a group of his followers trailed at a distance — their expressions a complex tapestry of anger, fear, and reluctant admiration.
"So you finally show yourself, Demon." Charles stopped three meters away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Alzer regarded him calmly. The prince's aura had shifted. The naive kindness from before was still there, buried beneath layers of wounded pride and barely suppressed fury. But there was something else too — a flicker of something harder, something that hadn't been there when the exam began.
Good. Alzer thought. Maybe he learned something after all.
"What would you like me to say, Your Excellency?" Alzer's voice was flat, almost bored. "That I'm sorry? That I regret my actions?"
"Those people trusted me!" Charles's voice cracked. "And because of you, they—"
"They what?" Alzer interrupted, tilting his head. "They're still alive, aren't they? Their Mana Cores are intact. They can try again next year." He paused, letting the words hang in the air. "Unless, of course, you're not actually angry about them. Unless you're angry about yourself."
Charles went still.
"You're angry because you lost," Alzer continued, each word deliberate. "You're angry because someone outsmarted you. You're angry because for the first time in your privileged life, you faced a situation your status couldn't solve and your strength couldn't overcome." He took a single step forward. "That's not my fault, Prince. That's yours."
"You bastard—!"
Charles lunged.
But before he could close the distance, a hand grabbed his shoulder and held him in place with effortless strength.
"Enough."
The voice belonged to Vice Headmaster Ferrell Izkard. The middle-aged man's expression was unreadable, but his grip on Charles's shoulder was iron. "The examination is over. Whatever grievances you have, settle them outside the academy grounds. Is that understood?"
Charles gritted his teeth. For a long moment, it looked like he might resist. Then his shoulders sagged, and he stepped back.
"...Understood, Vice Headmaster."
Ferrell released him and turned to face the crowd. His voice boomed across the grounds, carrying the weight of absolute authority.
"Listen well! The top fifty examinees by point total will receive their acceptance letters within three days. Those who failed — you have no one to blame but yourselves. The Royal Academy does not accept mediocrity. Dismissed!"
The crowd dispersed slowly, like a wounded beast dragging itself away to lick its wounds. Some walked with their heads held high, proud of having survived. Others moved like ghosts, their dreams shattered.
Alzer turned to leave.
"Wait."
He stopped. Ferrell was standing directly behind him, having moved without making a sound.
"Vice Headmaster." Alzer inclined his head slightly. "Is there something you need from me?"
Ferrell studied him for a long moment. His eyes were sharp — far too sharp. Alzer had the uncomfortable feeling that the man was seeing straight through him, peeling back layers he had worked hard to keep hidden.
"You're an interesting one," Ferrell said finally. "First place in the examination. Three thousand two hundred and forty-seven points. The highest score in the last decade." He paused. "And yet, you achieved it through extortion and psychological manipulation rather than raw combat strength."
"Is there a rule against that?"
"No." Ferrell's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "But there's something I'm curious about. How did you know Charles would fold? How did you know he valued that girl enough to sacrifice everything?"
Alzer met his gaze without flinching. "I observed him. I studied him. I identified what he cared about most and used it as leverage." He shrugged. "It's not complicated, Vice Headmaster. Everyone has a weakness. The strong simply know how to find it."
Ferrell was silent for a moment. Then he chuckled — a low, genuine sound that seemed out of place on his stern face.
"Everyone has a weakness, he says." He shook his head. "You're either very wise or very dangerous, young man. Perhaps both."
He turned and walked away, leaving Alzer standing alone in the emptying examination grounds.
Alzer watched him go, his expression unchanged. But inside, his mind was racing.
Ferrell Izkard. In his past life, the man had never paid him any attention. A Dark Mage was beneath notice — a tool to be used and discarded, not someone worth cultivating. But now, with lightning affinity and a first-place score, the Vice Headmaster was suddenly interested.
How fickle the world is, Alzer thought bitterly. How easily people's attitudes change when you show them something worth investing in.
He turned and walked toward the exit. The carriage was waiting for him outside the southern district. He needed rest. Real rest. The kind that came from sleeping in an actual bed, not the half-conscious dozing he'd managed during the exam.
But even as exhaustion pulled at his limbs, his mind refused to quiet.
Charles. The prince's reaction had been... interesting. The despair had clearly taken root, but there was also something else. A spark of something harder, something colder. Alzer had seen that transformation before — in his past life, in people who had been broken and then rebuilt themselves.
If Charles emerged from this experience stronger, he could become a genuine threat.
Something to watch, Alzer decided. But not a priority.
The carriage ride back to the Volheim manor was quiet. The streets of the capital were already darkening as evening settled over the city. Lanterns flickered to life along the main roads, casting dancing shadows across the cobblestones.
When Alzer finally pushed open the door to his room, he didn't bother with dinner. He didn't bother changing his clothes. He simply collapsed onto the bed and let the darkness take him.
The Spiritual Sea.
Alzer opened his eyes and found himself back in that strange, infinite space. The stars stretched in every direction, countless and cold. And there, floating in the distance, was the Book of Chaos.
Still here, he thought. Still watching.
He tried to move toward it. Nothing. His body refused to obey, just like before. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't close the distance.
Damn it.
But this time, something was different.
The Book of Chaos flickered. Its pages began turning on their own, faster and faster, until they were nothing but a blur. Then, without warning, a single page tore itself free from the binding and drifted toward Alzer.
It moved slowly at first, then faster. By the time it reached him, it was moving like an arrow loosed from a bow.
Alzer flinched — but the page didn't strike him. Instead, it dissolved into particles of golden light that streamed into his chest like water finding its way through cracks in a dam.
Information flooded his mind. Not words, exactly. Concepts. Knowledge. Understanding.
A spell.
No — not just a spell. A technique. One that didn't belong to any element he knew. It was something else entirely — something older than the Nine Great Elements, something that predated the very concept of magic itself.
[Void Step] — A movement technique that allowed the user to step through the cracks between space itself. Not teleportation. Not speed enhancement. Something in between. Something that bent the rules of reality without breaking them.
Alzer's eyes snapped open.
He was back in his room, drenched in sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs like a caged beast.
"What... what was that?"
The Book of Chaos had never done anything like this in his past life. It had been powerful — yes — but it had always been a tool. Something he wielded, not something that acted on its own.
Unless...
A terrible thought surfaced in his mind.
Unless it was always watching. Always waiting. And now that I've returned to the past, it's decided to play a more active role.
He sat up slowly, pressing a hand to his chest. The golden light was gone, but the knowledge remained. [Void Step] was etched into his memory like a brand, complete and perfect.
He raised his hand and concentrated.
Crack.
A hairline fracture appeared in the air in front of him — a split in reality itself. Through the gap, he could see... something. Not the room next door. Not the street outside. Something else. A space between spaces, gray and empty and endless.
Alzer's breath caught in his throat.
This technique... it's not of this world.
He closed the fracture with a thought and lay back down, staring at the ceiling.
The Book of Chaos had just given him a gift. Or perhaps a curse. He couldn't tell which yet. But one thing was certain — the rules of his past life no longer applied. Something had changed. Something fundamental.
And he had a feeling that whatever was coming, [Void Step] was only the beginning.
Outside his window, the moon rose high over the capital, cold and indifferent.
Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.
End of Chapter 13