Rein lifted a hand toward the floating monitor, and the surface rippled. Moments later, Rhys’s past unfurled before their eyes—memories projected as though broadcast live.
“I apologize for intruding on your life,” Rein said calmly. “Waiting for you alone in this place grows dull after a while. And with Mana Vision, I can reshape lingering mana within this realm into… anything, really. Mimicking the devices of your world simply makes explanations easier.”
Rhys swallowed his discomfort. “Fine. I get the idea. Turn it off.”
So that was where the tea had come from.
Rein obliged, then continued as the images dissolved.
“The troublesome part is having to watch that man kill me over and over. After a while, the shock fades, and curiosity takes over. I began wondering how he could do such a thing. And more importantly… why. The first answer that made any sense was the existence of a magic item powerful enough to turn back time.”
Rhys blinked hard.
“Time travel. That’s—utterly absurd.”
The physicist pressed both hands to his temples. Magic and physics collided so violently in his mind that it felt as though pressure were building behind his skull.
Time reversal was considered impossible in modern science. No theory supported it. Nothing in his world had ever approached it. But Arath was not his world.
He still hated the idea.
“What troubles me,” Rein said softly, “is that he kills me with such hatred… even though I have no memory of him at all.”
The boy waited, gaze steady.
Rhys supplied the most reasonable hypothesis.
“If he’s someone from another point in time, then in that timeline you must have ruined his plans. Maybe he couldn’t kill you then—maybe you were too powerful. So he traveled here, to when you’re weaker, to change the outcome.”
A science-fiction plot if there ever was one.
Rein nodded with a contemplative hum.
“Possible. Yet it does not explain why he repeats it endlessly. Or why? he chooses to seal my powers instead of killing me.”
Rhys thought for several long seconds.
“Maybe killing you didn’t alter the future the way he expected. Or maybe it created a paradox—something unstable that trapped him. He keeps looping back, trying again and again, and eventually realizes that sealing you is the only way out.”
He set his teacup down and tapped the table with two fingers, the rhythm quick and precise.
“If sealing you breaks the loop, that’s the path he would choose.”
Rein’s eyes brightened in agreement.
“That seems likely. It also explains why he avoids killing me. He does not know that slaying me sends a Heroic Skill back to the Divine Realm. Such a transfer has never occurred since the age of myth.”
He leaned forward, voice lowering. “Doctor Rhys, imagine what would happen if the gods learned that Arath no longer possessed a Hero.”
Rhys sighed and lifted his tea once more.
“My apologies, but in my field we usually assume the gods are dead.”
Rein burst into laughter, delighted by the irreverence, then continued in a more composed tone.
“In truth, the gods cannot intervene because the Heroes exist. They function much like an anti-virus or firewall in your world. Their presence prevents both gods and demons from interfering directly. Heroes were created for that purpose.”
Rhys blinked at him.
“Hold on. You know what an antivirus is?”
“Of course. I watched your life on repeat, remember? And I was considered a prodigy in Arcadia. I may not understand physics the way you do, but calculus? I worked through problems for fun.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Rhys muttered. “You breeze through calculus, and I can’t even cast the simplest spell. Very fair.”
Rein ignored him entirely and pressed on.
“During the Mythic War, it was the Heroes who destroyed the avatars of the Forsaken Gods.”
“Wait. Earlier you said Heroes were created by the Divine Realm. Why would divine creations destroy divine avatars? That sounds contradictory.”
Rein folded his hands upon the table.
“The war between the Forsaken Gods and the Divine Realm spiraled far beyond control. Many factions joined. Arath itself reached the brink of annihilation. The gods needed a solution that did not break their own prohibition against direct intervention. So they exploited a loophole.”
“A loophole?”
“Heroes. Humans entrusted with sealed divine abilities—dangerous enough to kill gods and demons alike. They were meant to end the war.”
“And they succeeded.”
“Yes. The Forsaken Gods and their followers were defeated and banished. But afterward, the gods attempted to reclaim their weapons.”
Rein’s expression darkened.
“The Heroes refused. They rebelled. And in the final clash, the last divine avatar fell. From that moment on, neither gods nor demons could cross the boundaries the Heroes erected.”
Rhys studied him, stunned. He could not decide whether this was ancient history or a beautifully woven conspiracy with cosmic implications.
“So what does that make you? A Hero?”
Rein gave a small smile.
“No. I am only a mage. I inherited a Heroic Skill through a transfer rite. Everything I know came from the one who passed it on.”
The tea in his cup rippled, delicate rings spreading outward.
“The last true Hero died centuries ago. The man who gave me the skill wasn’t a Hero either—he inherited it as I did. As far as I know, only one Heroic Skill remains in existence.”
“Mana Vision,” Rhys murmured.
“Correct. I have no idea what became of the others. But none have returned to the Divine Realm. If they had, something catastrophic would have already occurred.”
Rhys resumed tapping the table, deep in thought.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“So the Warlock has no idea you possess a Heroic Skill. Killing you would trigger divine interference, ruining whatever future he’s trying to protect. Sealing you avoids that risk. And since he can’t predict me—since I wasn’t part of his timeline—I’m the unknown variable in his equation.”
Rein’s smile widened with genuine admiration.
“Brilliant, Doctor Rhys. Unfortunately, I understood these things only after my death.”
He lifted a thick white volume and slid it across the table toward Rhys.
“With Mana Vision still active, I can access what remains of its instructional records. This book is… the beginner’s manual.”
Rein placed the volume before him. Rhys stared at the title stamped in crisp black letters on the immaculate white cover.
A Beginner’s Guide to Mana Vision.
“You’re joking. A user manual. An actual user manual.”
His voice cracked with disbelief.
Rein chuckled softly.
“It has been here for ages, likely since the first Hero. This Mana Realm awakens whenever a skill-bearer dies and the next inheritor connects. The two meet here to complete the transfer.”
A faint shadow crossed his expression—subtle, but unmistakable.
“When I received Mana Vision, I understood almost nothing. I was young, frightened. I thought it was a dream. I learned about this place far too late.”
The quiet that followed settled like drifting snow, gentle yet strangely heavy.
Only then did Rhys notice how worn the boy appeared beneath the calm—how much weight he had been carrying alone.
“Why me?” Rhys asked. The question escaped before he could temper it.
Rein lifted his gaze. The blue of his eyes shone with a clarity far older than his years.
“I wanted to ruin the Warlock’s plan. To pass the skill to someone I trusted. The transfer rite demands sacrifice—my life in exchange for the successor’s. But I did not know someone had to be near the dying bearer to complete it. With no one there, the ritual stalled. I became trapped here.”
He exhaled, the sound almost too soft to hear.
“But then you died. Your consciousness crossed into Arath, into my body—something neither I nor the Warlock could have predicted. And Master Chloe kept the body alive long enough for you to settle.”
Rein’s expression warmed—wry, thoughtful, almost proud.
“In the language of your world, you are the variable no one accounted for. The Warlock cannot read you, cannot predict you, cannot prepare for you. That uncertainty is my final weapon.”
He paused, fingers laced together on the table.
"I did not know who would come. I still do not know why it was you specifically. But I prepared for whoever it might be." A faint, deliberate smile. "The manual. The tea. This room. I had time, and nothing else to do with it."
He met Rhys's eyes directly.
"Whoever arrived here would inherit a sealed body, a world they did not understand, and an enemy they had never met. So I left what I could. Knowledge. Context. A starting point." The smile faded into something quieter.
"It was the only move left on the board."
He rose from his seat, straightening with quiet resolve.
“I waited a long time. And now that you are here, the transfer is complete. You are the next bearer of Mana Vision.”
He bowed—formal, sincere.
“I am sorry for pulling you into this.”
Rhys stood as well.
“Hold on. If I hadn’t ended up in your body—if I’d just stayed dead in my world—then that would’ve been it, right? Truly gone?”
“Yes. You would have passed on. Your arrival in my body was not caused by Mana Vision. I have no explanation for it.”
“…Then you have nothing to apologize for.”
Rein shook his head gently.
“No. The burden ahead of you is heavier than you realize. One day you may look back and think dying quietly would have been simpler.”
Rein said it without flinching, steady and sincere.
And for a brief moment, Rhys found himself thinking that—despite everything—the kid wasn’t half bad.
But the physicist drew himself up, arms crossed.
“Maybe. But I’m grateful for a second chance. And honestly? A mystery like this… I could never walk away from it.”
A sharp, foxlike smile curved Rein’s lips.
“I was waiting for you to say that. I wondered what I should do to persuade you, but it seems you volunteered.”
“Wait—what?”
A sudden sting erupted behind Rhys’s eyes. He winced, hands flying up, tears spilling down his cheeks unbidden.
The sensation vanished as swiftly as it came.
Rhys lowered the cup—then caught a glimpse of his reflection in the surface of the tea.
For a heartbeat he thought the light was playing tricks on him.
Then the truth struck.
His eyes were no longer black.
A deep, crystalline blue stared back at him from the rippling surface.
Rein’s blue. Rein’s gaze.
Now embedded in his own face.
“Oh, wonderful. I take it back—you really are a little bastard.”
Rhys snapped, half-groaning, half-grumbling under his breath.
Rein roared with laughter, clutching his stomach, utterly delighted.
Of course he was—Rhys had fallen right into his trap and spoken the acceptance himself.
With those words, the last condition of the transfer was complete.
Everything clicked into place.
Rein gave him an exaggerated, teasing bow before turning around.
Behind him, a white, seamless door now stood where nothing had existed moments ago—a doorway conjured the instant Rhys’s eyes turned blue.
“Hey—wait! Where are you going? Why not return to your body? And… honestly, you could’ve just let me die instead, couldn’t you?”
Rhys shouted after him, a knot of hesitation and guilt tightening in his chest.
Rein stopped at the threshold and turned slightly, his voice soft but unwavering.
“I am already dead, Doctor Rhys. My time ended long ago. And you died in your own world as well—your time there is over. But here, in Arath… your time is only just beginning.”
He smiled—and the sight of it struck straight through Rhys’s chest.
A quiet, brilliant smile, emptied of burden, of fear, of every weight the boy had carried in life.
It was the smile of someone who had finally set everything down.
And Rhys knew it instantly.
It was the exact same smile—the final, fading expression he had seen in that dream.
Rein’s last smile.
The boy lifted his gaze to him, clear and unwavering.
“From here on… I leave the rest to you, Doctor Rhys.”
He hesitated, then corrected himself with a softness that carried the weight of a farewell.
“No—not Doctor Rhys. Rein. From this moment forward… you are Rein.”
Rein reached out and pressed a finger lightly against Rhys’s chest.
“When your heart accepts who you are… Rein… the Skill will awaken in full. Every battle instinct carved into this body will return to you. You will no longer be helpless before magic. However…”
“However?”
The question slipped out, quiet and tight, because some part of him already knew—
Once the boy walked through that door, their paths would never cross again.
Rein’s eyes dimmed with something like regret.
“You must find a way to break the Dragon’s Speech Curse. If you fail… your magic will remain sealed at the Troposphere tier forever.”
He turned his hand slowly toward the far end of the chamber.
A massive black door erupted into existence—etched with sigils twisted like bound chains.
Dark mist seeped from its seams, cold and suffocating.
Rhys felt the weight of it crush against his lungs.
“I couldn’t break it,” Rein whispered. “But you… you might.”
He looked back—truly looked—and for a brief moment Rhys saw pure, unwavering faith shining in the boy’s deep blue eyes.
“One last warning,” Rein said softly. “Beware that Warlock. And do not trust anyone lightly… not even those within the Arcadia Academy.”
Rein lifted his hand in a final, gentle wave.
The white door behind him stirred as if breathing.
Its seamless surface parted in a slow bloom of brilliance, and a column of pure light spilled into the chamber, brighter than dawn, softer than snow.
The glow caught the boy’s silhouette.
For a moment he remained whole—a slight frame, a calm face, a smile that carried both apology and hope.
Then the light claimed him.
His outline shimmered. Edges softened.
His body fractured into drifting motes, each one a fading ember of who he had been.
As he vanished, his voice rose—clear, steady, echoing through the vast white silence like a final blessing.
“This chamber is yours now.
Good luck… and farewell.”
The last mote dissolved. And the light went out.
The world collapsed into stillness.
No walls. No door. No trace of the boy who had stood before him.
Just Rhys.
Suspended in an endless quiet so deep he could hear the measured thrum of his own heartbeat, each pulse an anchor against the void.
Emotion surged without warning—a tide rising through his chest, impossible to name. He did not try.
This glossary defines unique magical systems, divine artifacts, metaphysical concepts, and key characters introduced or expanded in Chapter 9. Terms will continue to evolve as more lore is revealed in future chapters.
Core Concepts
Heroic Skill
A divine-class ability originally granted to chosen mortals during the Divine War. These skills were created as weapons capable of killing gods and demons. Unlike regular spells, Heroic Skills can’t be learned or taught; they must be inherited through a transfer ritual. When a bearer dies, the skill returns to the Divine Realm unless properly passed on. Only one Heroic Skill currently remains: Mana Vision.
Transfer Rite
The sacred process by which a Heroic Skill passes from one bearer to another. It demands the death of the former bearer and a compatible successor nearby. If no one is present, the ritual stalls—trapping the former bearer’s consciousness in the Mana Realm until a successor arrives.
Heroic Skills
Mana Vision (Update)
A Heroic Skill that allows the user to perceive and manipulate all forms of mana with perfect clarity, including lingering mana trails, magical constructs, and the internal mana flow of living beings. The skill also grants access to a Mana Realm, a liminal space that activates during the skill's transfer between users. It’s implied that Mana Vision is the foundational reason why the gods can no longer interfere directly with Arath.
Realms & Planes
Mana Realm (Update)
A metaphysical space that exists outside time and reality, accessible only during the moment of Heroic Skill transference. Within this realm, the former bearer of the skill meets the successor. It can also simulate environments and replay memories using mana as raw data.
Scientific Theories
Time Paradox
A theoretical instability caused by altering past events in ways that disrupt the present or future. In the story, it’s implied that the Warlock's repeated attempts to kill Rein created a paradox that trapped him in a time loop. Eventually, he resorted to sealing rather than killing, to escape the loop.
Thematic Concepts
Sealing vs. Killing
Killing a Heroic Skill bearer causes the skill to return to the Divine Realm—potentially exposing Arath to divine intervention. Sealing a bearer’s mana disables the skill while avoiding that consequence. This distinction is central to the Warlock’s mysterious behavior
Anti-God Firewall
A metaphor used by Rein to describe the Hero’s role. Similar to a digital antivirus or firewall, Heroes act as protectors that prevent gods and demons from interfering in the mortal realm.
Key Characters
Rein (Former Heroic Skill Bearer) (Update)
A prodigious Arcadian mage and former wielder of Mana Vision. Though already dead, his consciousness was trapped in the Mana Realm due to an incomplete transfer. He ultimately passed the skill to Rhys before vanishing. His role in the war and relationship to the Warlock remain unclear.
Rhys (Update)
A physicist from Earth who died and awakened in Rein’s body. Unknowingly becomes the new bearer of Mana Vision through the Transfer Rite. Despite lacking prior magical ability, he now possesses the potential to surpass even the strongest mages of Arath—if he can break the Dragon’s Speech Curse.
The Warlock (Update)
A powerful mage capable of temporal manipulation. He repeatedly killed Rein across timelines, possibly in an effort to change the future. Ultimately resorted to sealing Rein’s mana instead of killing him, likely to avoid triggering divine retaliation.
Artifacts & Objects
A Beginner’s Guide to Mana Vision
A white-bound instructional volume that exists only in the Mana Realm. It serves as the manual for wielding Mana Vision and is believed to have been created by the first bearer. Passed from one inheritor to the next.
Locations
The White Door
A portal in the Mana Realm that appears once the Heroic Skill transfer is complete. When entered, it dissolves the former bearer’s presence from the realm, marking the end of their role.
The Sealed Door (Black Door)
A mysterious, ominous structure infused with the Dragon’s Speech Curse. Breaking its seal may be key to unlocking Rein’s full magical potential and escaping his mana restrictions.
SPOILER ALERT
See you in the next chapter.
—Re:Naissance