It was a strange feeling—being more nervous than ever, everything happening too fast.
Kael sat on the edge of a cliff, one leg dangling over the drop, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, the other on his knee. The cold wind whipped through, messing up his hair as he watched leaves tumble and scatter into the distance, far from the academy.
The longer he sat there, the more the biting wind enveloped him, yet strangely, his mind grew calm. He thought to himself, "I wish I had never been transmigrated here." Memories of his old life on Earth surfaced. "Wouldn't it be lovely…" he murmured under his breath, "…to never have to carry this burden?"
Gazing at the empty sky and the shifting shapes of clouds, another thought formed:
'We cannot predict the future. It's not in our hands. Maybe everything happens for a reason… but our fate? That's who we choose to become.'
He clenched his fist, repeating the words silently in his mind like a mantra:
