Thirty-three years old.
Yet the face in the mirror looked twenty.
Who am I looking at?
Shai Jura pressed his fingers against his jaw, sharper, higher. Bone had restructured itself overnight, carving away years he had lived through.
He bared his teeth. Even those looked different: whiter, straighter, as if stolen from someone else's mouth.
A smile came across his face, his fingers forcefully moving the edges of his lips into a smile.
It's all fake.
His reflection smiled back at him, but Shai Jura didn't recognize who was smiling at him anymore.
Ever since accepting his illness, it was clear Shai Jura had grown significantly younger.
A normal person might have felt joy at such a change, but this was not rejuvenation. It was replacement.
His arm scraped down his cheek, lifeless amber eyes staring back at him.
He looked, disturbed at the smoothness of his skin, and the youthful vitality he emitted.
An emotional sickness overtook him as he made slight gagging sounds.
Repulsive.
He thought as he looked in the mirror. Even the pitch of his voice had gone slightly higher.
It was no longer bodily changes.
This wasn't his body anymore. But a mask he was growing into, changing everything about him.
What does a person value in this life?
It's simple, their identity. Humans have evolved to embody such vulnerabilities, identity the main factor for a persons sense of self.
Yet Shai Jura was the opposite, he was devolving into something else, losing all sense of self.
He was now a royal, but also a student who would enroll into the Ve Deha academy tomorrow, going under the name of Shailyth Imuat.
A distant cousin visiting his brother Sindra, however this alias wouldn't last for long.
I am Shai Jura. I am me.
He repeated in his mind, gripping at what was left of himself.
To his left, a wooden stool held jewelry and fine clothes, his costume for the life of elitism.
If I go past the three day threshold, now approaching two. Each day over will cause me to lose significant memories.
According to the clan head, the awakening ceremony at the Ve Deha academy is only in six days. That's almost four days of losing memories.
Shai Jura calculated, then frowned, dissatisfied.
There are millions of memories in my brain. However there is a slight chance that over the course of these four days, I may lose important information.
I should write down everything on a piece of paper, in hopes I can still maintain this identity of mine.
Moonlight spilled through the window as Shai Jura bent over his notebook, a brown quill scratching across parchment.
His hand had already begun to ache.
How many memories would he have to write?
Thousands?
Millions?
He glanced at the notebook in front of him, two hundred pages. Maybe less.
It's not enough. It's never enough.
He glanced at the blank papers, then started with the essentials, the mechanics of survival:
*Saavi'Agita: Requires blood sacrifice from every orifice. Erases causal threads. Command the naga familiar with specific wording... vague requests fail.*
His hand moved faster, racing against time he didn't have.
*Clan Head Imuat: Earth manipulation, blue-mist eyes. Weakness: pride. Exploitable through flattery or challenge.*
He paused.
*Do not trust him. Alliances are temporary. He is your pawn.*
*Ouroboros curse: Regeneration through self-consumption. Cost: memory decay. Three-day threshold before significant loss. DO NOT EXCEED.*
The quill hesitated over his next entry.
*Allies: ...*
*None.*
He thought of his mother, then techniques.
She was irrelevant, there were no allies in this world. Not even his mother. Everyone in this world acts selfishly, including himself.
What was her name?
Shai Jura gripped his hair, tugging at it violently.
What was it? What was...
He then wrote out.
*Mother: Irrelevant*
The writing stared at him, a slight guilt gnawing at him, yet he tried to push it aside. He had to.
If I can't remember, then there's no use fretting on it. If a person cannot change something, then they mustn't worry.
That's what Elder Supreme taught me.
He focused once again.
All that mattered was the names of those who'd betrayed him, the names of enemies still living.
He recorded forbidden cultivation methods, the locations of hidden relics, as well as the weaknesses of every elder who'd stood against him.
A forbidden technique slipped from his mind mid-sentence. The name was there moments ago... yet now he just felt emptiness, staring at the incomplete line with utter dissatisfaction.
Perfection would cost him everything. It was, a concept. Perfection couldn't truly exist in this world, so he moved on.
Everything he was... compressed into this small book.
When the moon began to set, and the sun gave way to dawn, Shai Jura closed his book, and got up from his chair.
A knock came from his door.
"Young master, the carriage leaves in an hour."
He looked at his notebook, only 40 pages filled to the max, 150 left pages blank.
His hand raced.
One hour. Millions of memories.
Once the awakening ceremony finishes, what's left of me will read this book, and continue my pursuit of power.
He thought as he kept writing, getting himself ready for the coming day at the royal academy.
---
The carriage lurched over another dune, and Sindra's wine sloshed against his cup's rim.
"How long do you plan on staying here?"
A pair of dark blue eyes shot out at him, unfriendly in its gaze.
"Not long."
Shai Jura ignored Sindra's hostility, keeping his eyes on the sandy dunes that stretched endlessly beyond the carriage window.
"You're not one of us."
"I know."
Silence stretched between them, filled only by the rhythmic creaking of wood and the thuds of heavy footsteps.
"But your grandfather thinks I'm useful. That bothers you more than my presence, doesn't it? That he chose the drunk who maimed you over his own blood."
Sindra's knuckles whitened around his cup.
"Those arms... how did you regenerate them?"
Sindra's voice was quiet.
Shai Jura turned from the window.
"Alchemy. Your grandfather's personal physician."
"Liar."
Sindra leaned forward, forgetting his wine.
"I've seen alchemy. Limb grafts take weeks. Months for full sensation."
"Then perhaps your education is lacking. Your grandfather believes I'm useful."
Silence stretched between them, the carriage creaking over another dune.
"My grandfather believes you are dangerous. There's a difference"
Sindra finally said.
"So? That means I serve a purpose."
"You'll just be discarded by my grandfather. Like all the others—"
Shai Jura's ears perked as he heard what Sindra said.
"There are others?"
Sindra's cheeks were a rosy color, his intoxication showing itself clearly.
"My grandfather sent four others to Ve Deha before you. Over the past six years."
His words slurred slightly.
"Commoners, mostly. People with... talents. Like you for example."
"What happened to them?"
Sindra hiccupped.
"They had all disappeared after their... uh, awakenings."
"Wait what? Why?"
Shai Jura asked quickly, urgency growing in his heart.
"I saw them taken to the east wing. Late at night."
Sindra's voice dropped despite the wine.
"I heard screaming from that direction. For hours. Until dawn, then... nothing. They really never came back out."
He looked at Shai Jura, fear breaking through the drunken bravado.
"Must've been one hell of a party huh?!"
Sindra laughed uncontrollably, slapping his knees.
"What."
Shai Jura said softly.
"But I would worry more about you than them."
Sindra smiled at Shai Jura, turning back to the window, the conversation fully over.
Shai Jura wouldn't be able to get more information from him.
But something had shifted.
Others? The clan head has recruited and discarded others like myself?
His fingers traced over an embroidered insignia of the royal uniform.
I'm not special. How many others has the clan head sent to this school before me?
He pressed his fingers together, testing sensation.
Just what is going on here. I am not in control of my own situation.
Shai Jura began to rapidly breathe.
No. I am not thinking straight. There are other forces at play here.
The broken finger. The recruitment. The academy enrollment. None of it was by chance.
The clan head has done this before. Run this same exact script with others. Which means there's a pattern to study. Mistakes to avoid. Or outcomes to prevent. I cannot make any mistakes. That's it.
His veins popped out from his hands as he squeezed air tightly.
He could only imagine the enemies and friends he would make in the span of his short visit to this academy.
Steal cultivation relics, awaken my core firmament, and leave. That's all.
As the carriage continued to march forward, a disgruntled voice called out from the front.
"We're almost here."
The Ve Deha Academy rose from the desert like a monument, five hundred meters of sandstone steps, each tier wider than the last.
Heat shimmered against the stone, making the edges ripple like water.
The air smelled of incense and sand, mixed with something else.
Hundreds of students converged from all directions, their methods of transportation all different.
Some were in carriages like his, but others rode beasts, or used small sand ships to arrive.
Yet what caught his eye were the few that walked alone, their robes pristine despite the desert heat, a true flex of power, showing they didn't need transportation.
Then the sound hit him next: thousands of voices layered over each other, laughter, arguments, conversation, he heard it all.
Three hundred steps.
He counted the stairs, then stopped at the peak of the ziggurat.
From this distance, he could see mythical beasts carved along the edges, their stone eyes following the crowd.
School of Dominion. A fitting name for the Yfedrian translation of Ve Deha, is it not?
Shai Jura recalled climbing these steps before in his erased life. The memory felt distant, yet real.
In this timeline, this was his first time. But in totality, it wasn't.
A thought occurred while he contemplated.
Am I more like my demonic self? Or my drunkard self?
He found pleasure in the rhetoric, yet this thought quickly went away.
Everything he wore, the borrowed jewelry, the borrowed clothes, all of it felt heavy against his chest. Not from the weight, but from the meaning.
These weren't his. None of it was, including his body.
As they approached the gargantuan building, other students approached on armored elephants, carriages swaying while strapped on their backs.
It's just as I remember.
"This is as far as I am permitted, young lords."
The carriage door swung open to reveal the vast yellow sandy landscape, light pouring in against the blue sky with heat behind it, rolling in like a wave.
Stepping out, Shai Jura left immediately, followed by Sindra at his back.
A heavy breeze swept over him as he pulled on his white robe, fluttering in the wind crazily.
Walking towards the giant structure, students in white cloaks converged on the ziggurat from all directions.
This is where he would live for the next week, lodging in sandstone rooms with other students.
"Greetings, greetings!"
A crowd formed at the very entrance, a man in his mid thirties yelling at the conglomerate of young royals.
Shai Jura had already experienced all of this during his youth in his erased life, already aware of what's to come for the next week.
"Hello!"
A person waved from Shai Jura's left, then walked towards them as they marched towards the entrance.
"What do you want?"
"Oh uhm. Well I am just meeting my fellow classmates! First years?"
"Yes!"
Sindra replied enthusiastically.
"First years, you said?"
Shai Jura's voice was flat, studying the older student.
"Been here long yourself?"
The stranger's smile flickered. Just for a moment, yet the silence gave him the answer he was looking for.
This person is in their mid-twenties, maybe older. White robes worn and faded at the edges, not new like ours.
Third-year? Fourth? No... the way he stood apart from other upperclassmen, I know your nature now.
You are a failure, that's it. Multiple attempts at awakening.
Shai Jura concluded, judging the person before him.
"Anyways, please take these then! A gift if you will for my young friends."
The stranger held out two pieces of chocolate bark in his palm, a warm expression across his face.
Shai Jura's eyes dropped to the offering. The chocolate was dark, almost black.
Then the smell hit him.
Sweet, yes... but underneath, something else. Almost metallic.
Poison.
Shai Jura stared at the figure before him, his eyes flat, stripped of everything but malicious intent.
This person is clearly not a threat. Too stupid to even fake his own poison. No, he is a pawn. But who moved him?
Was it someone who knew I was coming? Impossible. I should be a nobody in this timeline.
His hand drifted to his chest, where the notebook pressed against his ribs beneath the borrowed robes.
Two days until his memories started fragmenting.
And someone already knew he was here.
His priorities had just changed.
Find the Naga artifact. Awaken his cultivation. And kill the person behind all of this.