At the top of the spiral stairs, a set of grand doors stood tall. Once they passed through, Rhys found himself beneath a circular colonnade, with white stone pillars rising in perfect rhythm around an open courtyard nearly thirty feet across.

  Beyond the ring of pillars, the world opened.

  There was no roof, only sky.

  A vast crystalline blue stretched overhead, almost indistinguishable from the sky he had known on Earth. White clouds drifted lazily across the heavens, and sunlight poured down through the open circle, carving shifting patterns across the polished floor. A soft breeze wandered in, carrying the faint scent of greenery.

  Rhys inhaled sharply before he realized it.

  This… this was the first true sky of Arath he had ever seen.

  The air was startlingly pure, cleaner than anything he remembered on Earth. The humidity, the temperature, even the pale quality of the sunlight felt eerily familiar. A twin world indeed.

  Yet something tugged at him, an inexplicable sense of déjà vu, as though he had lived beneath this sky all his life despite inhabiting this body for barely two weeks.

  The sun looks smaller than Earth's… farther from its star, perhaps. Or a larger star altogether. But then why is the temperature identical?

  “What are you muttering about now? Did the sun insult you or something?”

  Rhys nearly flinched as Ingrid appeared beside him, squinting up at him through her gold-rimmed glasses.

  “No, no. Just… appreciating sunlight. Haven’t seen any in a while,” he replied awkwardly.

  “Strange words, strange behavior… you’re a long-term patient for sure.”

  She laughed lightly, though Rhys felt no urge to join.

  I really need to be careful with what I blurt out. One wrong move and they’ll toss me back into that vault like a lab rat.

  Leaving the courtyard behind, they entered the main building once more. Ingrid took on the role of tour guide, leading him along bright corridors and past classrooms full of murmuring students.

  After nearly ten minutes of wandering through the vast structure, they reached the heart of the Healing Department: a massive central courtyard ringed by lecture halls, laboratories, and research rooms.

  From above, the entire building would resemble an enormous rectangle, large enough to swallow two full-sized football fields and still leave space for gardens, ponds, and training grounds.

  Three floors in all. White-green stone for the structure, some walls draped in vines hinting at its age. Overhead, the corridors were covered by crystal-clear glass roofs that flooded every walkway with sunlight.

  “Tuition must be outrageous…” Rhys muttered.

  Ingrid shot him a glare.

  “You’re hardly one to complain. You ranked first in the entrance exam. Top one hundred get a full scholarship. The rest pay tuition— not too high thanks to funding from the Crown and the Council of Mages, but still enough to hurt.”

  She exhaled, her expression dimming.

  “What really kills us isn’t tuition. It’s the equipment costs. Spell components, alchemical reagents… commoners like us struggle with that. Unlike the nobles, who get everything paid for with a smile.”

  Rhys was silent for a moment.

  At MIT, he’d been on scholarship too, but he’d also had a family who could help if things got tight. In the eyes of this world, that made him no different from a noble.

  Rein, on the other hand, had nothing.

  A child who had clawed his way to the very top through talent and grit alone. And he hadn’t just passed the exam; he had ranked first.

  The silence lingered until Rhys gestured to a structure at the center of the courtyard.

  “Is that… a greenhouse?”

  A glass building roughly the size of a large residence stood there, filled with exotic plants.

  “That’s the Forbidden Garden,” Ingrid explained. “Don’t even think about going in unless Master Chloe gives permission. Everything inside is rare, some even priceless. A few idiots tried sneaking in before. Broke a plant. Got expelled and lost their scholarship immediately.”

  Rhys winced.

  “Harsh.”

  “Well-deserved,” she said with a shrug. “Anyway, past that is the statue of Lady Luminara and the Sacred Fountain. We use that water to craft most healing solutions.”

  “Wait, if you have healing magic, why bother with healing potions?”

  Ingrid looked at him as if he’d just asked why people breathe air.

  “How many healers do you think exist in the entire continent? We’re less than one-tenth of all mages, and we can’t be everywhere. If Master Chloe hadn’t found you when she did, you’d be dead. If someone else found you without high-grade elixirs, you’d still be dead.”

  She jabbed a finger at his chest.

  “And healers have limited mana. Use too much too early and someone will die when it counts.”

  The lecture ended with her taking a deep breath. Rhys raised both hands in surrender.

  “Okay, okay. I get it.”

  They headed back inside, passing several classrooms. One caught Rhys’s eye, prompting Ingrid to escort him inside after a quick word with the instructor.

  Class was in session. Students were practicing healing magic on a small creature that resembled a white rabbit except for the single horn sprouting from its brow. When one student successfully mended its injured leg, she bounced in excitement.

  There were seventy to eighty students in the room, mostly girls. Many glanced their way, whispered, then giggled.

  Rhys suddenly felt every one of his forty years from the previous life. Sitting among teens felt… dangerous, as though at any moment someone might accuse him of being a suspicious old man trapped in a young man’s body.

  “Are there always more girls than boys in this department?” he whispered.

  “In truth,” Ingrid said slowly, choosing her words with care, “many women prefer not to tread the path of violence. Combat spells are brutal and unforgiving. Not everyone dreams of standing on the front lines of a war. And besides, those who finish their studies here can open a Healing Atelier of their own. It pays well enough and is far safer than facing monsters or wandering into dungeons.”

  “So you’d think more people would enroll in the Healing Department, then,” Rhys murmured, genuinely puzzled.

  She shook her head immediately.

  “Not at all. The Healing Department is the smallest division in the entire Arcadia Academy. Like I told you earlier: healing spells require a very particular talent. It’s not something anyone can simply pick up and learn. Most people just… can’t.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Only a few minutes later, they excused themselves from the classroom.

  As they walked, Ingrid explained that there were four such healing classrooms in the western wing, each capable of seating nearly eighty students. The one they had visited was for first-years—two rooms in total—while the remaining two belonged to second- and third-year apprentices.

  She guided him back along the cloister encircling the central courtyard, then toward the opposite side of the building.

  “Don’t you have classes today?” Rhys asked.

  Ingrid stopped briefly, rolled her shoulders, and sighed.

  “I do. This afternoon. And I still have to brew another batch of restorative tinctures.”

  She pointed toward a chamber tucked in the corner of the corridor.

  “That’s the Alchemical Workshop. I’ll be stuck in there later.”

  The girl in spectacles let out another weary sigh before continuing.

  “But first, I’ll take you to the second floor of the eastern wing. We have the Infirmary Research Hall there. Most of us call it the Healers’ Battlefield. You’ll see why.”

  They circled the courtyard and stepped into the eastern wing, a grand hall adorned with tall arched arcades and Gothic lancet windows.

  A wide staircase dominated the center, and students in white healer uniforms streamed up and down in a constant flow. Several glanced at Rhys with odd expressions before slipping away again.

  Instinctively, he tugged at his clothes.

  He wore a white long-sleeved shirt and charcoal trousers, simple cotton that felt rougher than he preferred but not uncomfortable. Still, the outfit hung loosely enough to resemble an infirmary patient’s attire rather than a uniform.

  As they crossed the expansive hall, a growing curiosity tugged at him.

  Why does the architecture here look… familiar? Too familiar.

  The stone vaults, the clerestory windows, the pointed arches—none should exist in a magical world shaped by gods and mana. It felt as if someone had imported entire eras of Earth’s architectural history and planted them here without explanation.

  A strange hypothesis — and not one he was ready to pursue just yet.

  Soon they reached a pair of tall double doors marked:

  Infirmary Research Hall – Authorized Personnel Only

  Unfortunately, the assistant instructor standing guard shook her head.

  “Apologies. A third-year combat-healing session is in progress. Master Kael does not permit observers.”

  Rhys felt a flicker of disappointment, though he understood. If they were simulating battlefield conditions inside, an unexpected visitor would hardly be appropriate.

  “It’s fine,” Ingrid said brightly. “Let’s head to the Healing Library instead. It takes up nearly half of the third floor. You like books, so you’ll like it there. The only issue is… well, you’re not enrolled in the department, so the Librarian won’t let you use anything. But if you’re just browsing the space, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  She led him toward the stairwell, climbing the winding steps until they reached the third floor, a quiet vaulted landing.

  Just as she predicted, the Librariant—an elderly woman with thick spectacles perched on a sharp nose—refused to grant Rhys reading privileges.

  But when Ingrid mentioned that Master Chloe had personally allowed him to visit, not study, the woman begrudgingly stepped aside.

  Still, she watched him closely, her gaze cold and vigilant, as though he might erupt into mischief at any moment.

  Rhys stood drinking in the sight before him, awe softening his features.

  The Healing Library stretched out like a sanctum, rectangular in form yet vast enough to rival a cathedral. The vaulted ceiling soared as high as a four- or five-story building. The chamber alone could easily hold more than a thousand students; by his estimation, it was nearly half the size of a football field.

  Walls and arched ceilings were fashioned from pale, silver-veined stone and adorned with flowing sigils that glimmered like living strands, mana-veins pulsing faintly beneath the surface.

  The silence was uncanny.

  Not the gentle hush of a library, but a deep stillness that felt as though sound itself was being swallowed. The only noise came from the crisp whisper of turning pages, like the rustle of robes in a temple.

  Ingrid leaned close and whispered,

  “Inscribed magic circles. They’re sound-dampening wards that keep voices from carrying and disturbing others.”

  Light did not come from torches or lanterns. Instead, a soft white radiance drifted out of small crystal shards set into the walls and ceiling. And there was a scent—fresh, herbal, subtle—circling gently through the air, as if some unseen mechanism were filtering the atmosphere.

  Rhys recognized it.

  The same scent Chloe used in the healing chamber.

  A fragrance engineered, whether magically or otherwise, to clear the mind and sharpen focus.

  Bookshelves carved from pale oak lined the hall, their surfaces inlaid with leafwork and root motifs. Golden ward-sigils sealed each case, glowing faintly whenever a hand strayed too close without permission.

  The tomes were arranged meticulously: Basic Healing Theory, Magical Herbology, Ritual Restoration, Rare Case Studies, and even a locked section ominously labeled Restricted Arts.

  Inside one of the glass cases, reinforced with densely packed runes, sat several chained volumes. Their covers were bound with coils of silver. Rhys frowned, and Ingrid noticed immediately.

  “Those are forbidden texts,” she murmured. “Even healers walk a fine line. Some magic teeters between cure and poison. Used well, it saves lives. Used poorly, it kills. And a few of those tomes contain plaguecraft, rituals that once wiped out entire cities. They’re sealed to prevent misuse.”

  Rhys nodded, though unease stirred beneath his ribs.

  If it’s that dangerous, why keep it at all? Why not destroy it outright?

  But then the answer formed, half-unbidden.

  On Earth, scientists had done the same, preserving deadly viruses and pathogens for research.

  Knowledge was a double-edged blade.

  Researchers, by nature, drifted perilously close to the border between gods and devils. They wandered for a few more minutes before the stern librarian coughed meaningfully.

  Ingrid bowed, and Rhys followed suit. Both fled the room the moment they were dismissed.

  Once outside, Rhys exhaled in relief, almost a gasp.

  It was nearly half past noon—perfect timing for lunch.

  Ingrid suggested they eat at the Department Canteen instead of sending food back to the Vault, and Rhys agreed instantly.

  The Healing Department’s dining hall was the size of a high-school auditorium. It could seat three hundred students and faculty with ease. The ceiling rose two stories high, and tall stained-glass windows depicted Lady Luminara and her sigil, the radiant glyph of restoration. Sunlight filtering through them cast warm, sacred hues across the hall.

  Long hardwood tables lined the central space with open walkways arranged between them. Toward the edges, smaller round tables hosted professors and student groups in hushed discussion.

  The air carried a mingled aroma of fresh herbs and simmering broth.

  Rhys’s stomach growled immediately.

  They chose seats near the eastern wall, where open arches overlooked a small flower garden and a tranquil pond. The breeze drifting in carried hints of sweet blossoms.

  Ingrid strode off to the food counter and returned with a tray—fruit juice, bread, and a restorative soup—for him. Her own tray was piled with greens and fruit.

  “You’re vegetarians?” Rhys asked, raising a brow as he lifted his drink.

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  She deadpanned, stabbing a leaf with her fork.

  “But hold on,” Rhys muttered, still chewing the broth-soaked bread. “I haven’t seen a single piece of meat since I got here. Two whole weeks—nothing. Not even once.”

  Ingrid set her fork down with a small, irritated clack, her golden brows tightening.

  “I’m dieting. You are a patient, and patients shouldn’t be eating meat while they’re undergoing herbal recovery. It disrupts the potency of the restorative compounds that are supposed to mend your Core Mana Circle.”

  She jabbed a finger at his tray.

  “So eat. Quickly. I still need to escort you back to the Vault before my afternoon classes.”

  Rhys fell silent at once. He had stepped on an invisible landmine.

  He finished his meal in something close to a tactical retreat. Before long, Ingrid ushered him out of the Canteen and back through the Healing Department’s corridors toward the secluded ward that students half-jokingly called the Vault.

  On the way, she made a brief stop at a small mailroom tucked between the stairwells and collected a neatly wrapped parcel. Once they reached the chamber, she thrust it into his arms without explanation.

  “I—uh, thanks?” Rhys said, but she was already turning on her heel.

  “I’ll see you later. Don’t wander off.”

  And with that, she hurried upstairs, vanishing into the bustle of the department.

  Rhys looked down at the parcel, curiosity stirring.

  Inside lay a neatly folded set of Academy robes—the same style Rein had worn in his dream, though this set was pristine and freshly laundered.

  He placed the garments gently upon the bed, then exhaled and straightened, decision forming like a crystal locking into place.

  This afternoon, he had no classes, no tests, no lectures. And a long-held question gnawed at him like a quiet fire:

  Could he use magic at all?

  The morning’s lessons, the hours of reading, the scent of mana herbs lingering in the air—everything had been leading to this.

  He cracked his knuckles lightly.

  “Well then…” he murmured to the empty room.

  “Let’s begin.”

  This glossary includes new and expanded terms introduced in Chapter 7. As the story progresses, more entries will be added to reflect the evolving world, systems, and terminology of Aetheria.

  Departments & Facilities

  Healing Library

  A vast, cathedral-sized research library within the Healing Department. Its shelves house tomes ranging from Basic Healing Theory to Restricted Arts. Access is tightly regulated, and high-tier tomes are sealed with magic sigils to prevent misuse.

  Infirmary Research Hall

  A restricted facility used for advanced healing simulations, sometimes referred to as the “Healers’ Battlefield.” Access is limited to authorized students and faculty.

  Forbidden Garden

  A secluded, highly restricted area within the Healing Department, dedicated to the cultivation and preservation of rare, endangered, and magically potent medicinal flora.

  The garden includes a greenhouse, open-air plots, and underground vaults for temperature- or mana-sensitive species.

  Unauthorized access is strictly forbidden. Damaging or removing any specimen without approval results in immediate expulsion from the Academy and revocation of scholarship privileges.

  Alchemical Workshop

  A specialized laboratory for brewing potions, tinctures, and elixirs. Assigned students prepare standard healing compounds as part of their training.

  Department Canteen

  A two-story dining hall for students and staff, featuring stained-glass windows of Lady Luminara and dietary guidelines for those undergoing magical recovery.

  Infrastructure-Based Magic

  Inscribed Magic Circles (Sound-Dampening)

  Used throughout the Healing Library to suppress noise and maintain total silence. These runes prevent voices from carrying, creating a sanctuary-like atmosphere.

  Key Characters

  Master Kael

  A third-year instructor known for overseeing combat-healing simulations. Strict and by-the-book, he does not permit outside observers during training sessions.

  Librarian (Unnamed)

  The strict and enigmatic guardian of the Healing Library. Known for enforcing access protocols with unwavering precision. Rhys was granted limited entry to the Library only under Master Chloe’s explicit authorization.

  Little is known about their true rank, background, or magical abilities—though their presence suggests a deeper connection to Arcadia’s inner workings.

  Further details remain undisclosed—for now.

  Magical Devices & Technology

  Restorative Elixirs

  High-grade magical potions used when healers are unavailable or when mana reserves run low. Essential in emergency situations where healing spells cannot be cast.

  Core Concepts

  Healing Restrictions

  Due to the small number of capable healers, strict mana conservation is required. Most healing spells are difficult to master and cannot be learned by just anyone.

  Culture & Systems

  Healing Atelier

  A private practice run by certified healers after graduation. Offers steady income and safety compared to frontline combat roles. Often preferred by those avoiding direct conflict.

  Gender Imbalance in Healing

  The Healing Department is predominantly female, as many women choose healing over destructive magic. Still, the department remains the smallest in Arcadia due to the rarity of healing aptitude.

  Scholarship System at Arcadia Academy

  Arcadia offers merit-based scholarships to students who demonstrate exceptional aptitude in magical theory, casting, or strategic application. Benefits include full tuition coverage, housing, meal plans, and access to restricted facilities.

  Rein is one such recipient. He earned one of the highest entrance scores in his year, securing a full scholarship despite lacking a noble background or magical lineage.

  Scholarships are conditional: any serious rule violation—such as unauthorized access to forbidden areas—can result in immediate expulsion and permanent loss of benefits.

  Some paths are mapped. Others are inherited.

  Yet beneath the pressure, a spark forms: curiosity turning into intent.

  See you in the next chapter.

  —Re:Naissance