Lucien Vale floated in a vast white void where even gravity seemed to have forgotten its purpose. There was no sky. No ground. No sound. Just endless light stretching in every direction like a blank page waiting for someone to write on it.
For a long moment he simply drifted there. Then Lucien exhaled slowly.
"So this is what dying feels like." His voice echoed strangely, dissolving into the white space before the sound could even travel far.
Fragments of memory flickered across his mind. Crimson lightning splitting the sky. Demons marching across burning plains. The colossal demon lord descending from the abyss.
And finally…
The spell.
Astral Ruination.
Lucien frowned slightly.
The last thing he remembered was the spell activating and light swallowing the battlefield. A spell like that should have erased everything within thousands of kilometers. Including himself.
Yet here he was. Still conscious, thinking and very much alive.
"...What in the world is happening" he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper in the endless quiet.
Lucien raised his hand. Blue mana flickered faintly around his fingers before fading away like a dying candle. His mana circuits felt strangely quiet… empty.
Before he could examine it further, the white void trembled. Hairline cracks appeared across the endless light like fractures spreading across glass.
"What is it now" Lucien narrowed his eyes. The cracks widened.
Suddenly the entire world shattered.
...
Lucien Vale opened his eyes. For several seconds he didn't move.
The ceiling above him was carved from pale white stone, smooth but slightly uneven where centuries of enchantment had etched faint runic scars into the surface. Morning light slipped through the tall academy window and painted thin golden lines across the room.
Lucien stared at the ceiling, a slow breath entered his lungs. Another followed, then raised one hand in front of his face and flexed his fingers.
They responded easily.
"…This feels wrong." His brow slowly tightened.
Lucien pushed himself upright.
The bed creaked softly beneath him. It was narrow and simple, covered with plain academy sheets that smelled faintly of sun-dried cotton. The room itself was small but orderly, the kind of dormitory given to junior professors.
A wooden desk stood beside the window, covered in neatly stacked books and handwritten research notes. Academy robes hung beside the door.
Lucien stared at them. And strange silence filled his chest. He recognized everything. Every inch of the room. Every crack in the stone wall, and every burn mark left by an accidental spell experiment.
His gaze slowly drifted toward the desk.
A particular book sat open near the edge.
[Fundamentals of Mana Circulation — Lecture Draft]
Lucien's eyes narrowed.
"…No."
He stood, his legs felt lighter than they should have. Much Stronger, healthier, and importantly alive
Lucien lifted both hands and closed his eyes. His senses reached inward. Mana flowed through the body like rivers through invisible valleys. Every mage knew the feeling intimately. The currents were the foundation of magic itself.
Lucien traced those currents carefully.
One circle.
Two.
Three.
He opened his eyes and three mana circles rotated slowly within his core, weak, unstable and young, glowing faintly like small moons.
"Three circles…" Lucien laughed softly under his breath.
In his previous life, Lucien had died with eight. Eight circles meant archmage territory. It meant influence, power, respect...and enemies, too many enemies.
Now he had only three circles left, back to a time when casting even a simple fireball drained him dry.
Lucien looked down at his hands again. Young, smooth and unscarred.
Hands that had never gripped a staff in a life-or-death duel.Hands that had fought nothing more dangerous than ink, paper, and sleepless nights of research.
The thin white lines from dueling accidents were gone. The burn marks from experimental rituals had vanished. Even the deep cut across his knuckle from the day he fought the Crimson Apostle had disappeared.
Lucien slowly exhaled.
"…I'm really back."
He stood there for a moment, letting the truth settle inside him.
Then he walked toward the window.
The view outside stopped him mid-step.
The Imperial Magic Academy stretched across the valley below.
Hundreds of towers rose like stone spears into the morning sky. Bridges of floating crystal connected several of them, humming softly with stabilizing enchantments.
Training fields filled the lower grounds, where young mages practiced spells beneath the watchful eyes of instructors.
Students crossed the courtyards in small groups. Some carried books. Some argued loudly about spell theory, others were half-running because they were already late for morning lectures.
Lucien stared silently.
Ten years. He had returned exactly ten years.
Before the war. Before the academy burned.
Before the world tore itself apart.
"…No way" A quiet whisper escaped him.
A knock came from the door.
Lucien froze.
"Professor Vale?" The voice carried calm authority.
Lucien's heart skipped. He recognized that voice immediately.
Headmaster Roland.
Lucien turned slowly and walked toward the door. His hand rested on the handle for a moment. The last time he had seen Roland, the old mage had been lying in a pool of blood beneath the ruins of the central tower.
Killed by cultists, while buying time for students to escape.
Lucien opened the door.
Headmaster Roland stood there exactly as he remembered from ten years ago. A tall with silver-haired, sharp blue eyes that don't missed every detail. His long academy robe carried the golden crest of the Imperial Magic Academy: a circle of stars surrounding an open spellbook.
"Good morning, Professor" Roland smiled politely.
Lucien blinked once. The memory of Roland dying flickered across his mind, as he forced his expression to remain calm.
"…Good morning, Headmaster" Lucien replied trying his best to gain composure.
Roland studied him for a moment. "Did I wake you?"
Lucien shook his head. "No. I was already awake"
Roland nodded and handed him a folded document. "Your freshman class assignment begins tomorrow," the headmaster said.
Lucien accepted the paper. The parchment felt strangely heavy in his hand.
Roland then continued speaking.
"This year's freshman is unusually talented. Several noble families sent promising heirs. I trust you'll maintain your usual… high standards."
Lucien smiled sofly.
In the previous timeline, his "high standards" had terrified half the academy. Students either improved quickly under his teaching…or transferred out.
Lucien unfolded the document, a list of names stared back at him. For several seconds, he simply read.
Aiden Stormfall.
Cecilia Ravenhart.
Darius Ironblood.
Elena Moonveil.
Lucien stared at the list. Then he started laughing. It wasn't loud but it was very real.
"Professor?" Roland frowned slightly
Lucien wiped the corner of one eye. "Sorry, Headmaster. Just...just remembering something funny"
Roland looked mildly confused but didn't press further. Lucien lowered his gaze back to the names.
Aiden Stormfall: The lightning prodigy who would later become the strongest battle mage on the continent.
Cecilia Ravenhart: A noble girl with terrifying mana control and an even more terrifying political mind.
Darius Ironblood: A walking fortress of a warrior who would one day command entire armies.
Elena Moonveil: A quiet illusionist whose spells could fool even archmages.
Lucien's faint smile slowly disappeared. His eyes had stopped on a single name.
A student. The one who would one day open the gates to the cult.
The one whose choice would ignite the disaster that swallowed the academy.
For a moment, the room felt colder.
Lucien stared at the name as if it were a crack in fate itself.
'So it begins here' conclusion formed in his mind
Lucien folded the paper carefully.
"Headmaster," I accept the assignment" he said calmly.
"Excellent." Roland nodded in satisfaction.
He turned and began walking down the hallway. Then he paused briefly.
"Try not to scare them too badly on the first day."
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "I will try."
Roland chuckled and continued down the corridor.
Lucien closed the door. The quiet returned instantly. For a long moment he simply stood there.Then he looked down at the list again.
Future heroes.
Future villains.
Future corpses.
Every name carried memories. Lucien leaned against the desk and stared out the window once more.
"Ten years…"
Ten years before the cult revealed itself. Ten years before the war consumed the empire. Ten years before the academy collapsed under betrayal.
Lucien slowly smiled. A calculating one.
"Alright, let's try this again." he murmured.
He grabbed his academy coat and stepped outside. The academy courtyard buzzed with morning activity. Freshmen were arriving from every corner of the empire.
Some came from noble families, escorted by armored guards. Others arrived alone, carrying cheap luggage and hopeful expressions.
Lucien walked across the courtyard quietly. Students barely noticed him.
To them, he was just another professor. But Lucien's eyes moved carefully across every face.
Memories flickered with each glance.
That girl would later invent a teleportation spell. That boy would accidentally blow up half a laboratory. That pair of twins would eventually become royal court magicians.
The future was walking around casually in the sunlight.
Then Lucien saw something.
Near the academy gate, a young man stepped onto the stone path.
His hair crackled faintly with static. The boy looked confident for exactly three seconds, then he tripped. His foot caught the edge of the stone walkway, pitched forward and slammed face-first into the ground. A small burst of lightning sparked from his hair on impact.
Several nearby students jumped back in surprise.
Lucien stared.
"…Unbelievable."
The boy groaned and pushed himself up, rubbing his nose. Electric sparks flickered along his sleeves.
Aiden Stormfall, future lightning tyrant of the battlefield, currently losing a fight against the flat ground.
"That, became the strongest lightning mage on the continent?" Lucien rubbed his temple.
Aiden stood up, trying to act like nothing had happened. It wasn't working.
Three students were openly laughing.
Lucien sighed, his gaze shifted across the courtyard again, and then he saw another figure.
A girl standing near the academy fountain, long black hair, perfect posture. Sharp eyes that observed everything around her.
Cecilia Ravenhart. Even at eighteen, she looked more composed than most adults.
Lucien remembered negotiating battlefield strategy with her years later. She had been terrifyingly intelligent.
Cecilia suddenly glanced in Lucien's direction.
For a brief second their eyes met. Lucien looked away immediately. 'Best not attract attention yet' he sighed.
His gaze moved again.
Near the academy library stood a quiet girl reading a book.
Elena Moonveil.
Beside the training field, a large boy argued loudly with a gate guard.
Darius Ironblood.
Lucien inhaled slowly, all of them were here. Still unaware of what the future held. Somewhere among them was the boy who would one day destroy everything.
Lucien's smile returned, calm...cold.
"This timeline, is going to be exhausting" he murmured,
But for the first time in ten years… the story would be different.
Lucien Vale is looking forward to the future.