The moment Valerius’s Introduction to Magic Circuit Topology class came to an end, Rein swept his books into his bag with practiced efficiency and turned, intent on vanishing from the room before anyone could stop him.

  He didn’t make it two steps.

  Valerius called him back.

  The impeccably dressed master was still clearly preoccupied with the Corvus structure that had just been dismantled and reassembled on the board. His gaze lingered a fraction too long, sharp and restless—the look of a scholar who had just stumbled onto something new, and already couldn’t let it go.

  Rein answered the remaining questions with sentences trimmed down to their bare essentials, cutting straight to the point, even as his thoughts kept drifting back to the ticking clock in his head. Every second felt like it was pulling him further away from Boris’s appointment.

  Eventually, Valerius noticed.

  A brief pause. A faint nod.

  Dismissed.

  The moment Rein stepped out of Room 402, he ran straight into a new obstacle.

  A tall, slender student leaned against one of the stone pillars along the balcony. His uniform was neat to the point of excess, his posture calm, almost deliberate. A thick book was pressed against his chest, and his face—unremarkable at first glance—carried a sharpness that lingered.

  What stood out most was the monocle resting over his right eye, catching the dim light of the corridor.

  He waited until Rein drew close before smiling.

  “Hey, Rein. It’s been a while since we—”

  Rein lifted his right hand without slowing his stride. “Sorry. I’ve got an appointment. And I’m late.”

  He headed toward the library immediately.

  Rein couldn’t remember the guy’s name—but the intent was obvious enough from the gleam behind that lens. This was about Corvus. Of course it was.

  “Just a minute, Rein!”

  The monocled student half-walked, half-jogged after him, words tumbling out in a rush.

  “Ask Valerius,” Rein replied briskly as they crossed the cloister, sunlight filtering faintly through the narrow windows of Devil’s Den. “He’s already got ninety percent of it. He might still be confused about Nodes Two and Five—I adjusted the mana reflection paths there—but Node Seventeen shouldn’t be a problem at his level.”

  “But it’s way easier to understand when it comes from you!” the other protested. “Valerius has a talent for turning difficult things into something borderline impossible.”

  That made Rein slow, just slightly.

  He frowned and glanced sideways. “Are you actually interested in this… or just following the hype?”

  For a split second, Rein felt like he was hallucinating.

  He saw himself—Rhys, back in another life—chasing after a professor after lectures, wearing that same hungry look.

  “Yes,” the student said firmly. “I really am interested. That’s why I wanted to invite you to our party tonight.”

  Rein grimaced as he started up the stairs toward the fifth floor.

  “A party? …Our?”

  “Not just me. There are others too—members of the Beyond the Enigma Society. Everyone was amazed by how you handled Corvus topology.”

  “Beyond the Enigma?”

  Rein repeated the name, one eyebrow lifting before he could stop it.

  Beyond the Enigma Society.

  So that’s it. A long-winded name engineered to shorten into BESt. A pastime for bored elite students with too much time on their hands.

  “Yes. We’re a group devoted to solving mysteries—pushing magical research beyond its existing limits. And honestly… you feel like one of us.”

  The monocled student spoke with quiet pride. “This is probably the tenth time I’ve invited you. You’ve turned me down every time.” His tone softened. “But just giving us some guidance… you wouldn’t be that cold, would you?”

  Rein stopped in front of the library.

  The twin red doors loomed before him.

  To Rein, the Devil’s Den library wasn’t a treasury of knowledge—it was a prison dressed up to look respectable. Its only redeeming feature was the narrow strip of light that offered a distant view of endless pine forests.

  Before he could refuse—

  Mira and Boris appeared in his mind.

  In that vision, the red doors opened. The two of them stepped out, smiling, speaking in perfect unison:

  “Oh—Rein? You’re here with… Kellen?”

  CRACK.

  The image shattered.

  Rein clutched his temple, a chill running down his spine.

  Deja vu… again?

  The episodes had been happening more frequently since he left the Vault. Sometimes it was just a flicker—like a reflection on water. Other times it came as a scent, or a sound, hitting his senses with the certainty of something already lived.

  A residue, perhaps—something left behind by the one who had lived in this body before him.

  He lowered his hand and took a deep breath.

  At that exact moment, the real red doors opened.

  Mira and Boris stepped out—smiling, moving exactly as they had in the vision.

  Rein’s lips moved in sync with Mira’s, as if he were reading from a script he already knew.

  “Oh—Rein? You’re here with… Kellen?”

  Her bright voice drowned out the whisper Rein had mouthed a fraction of a second earlier.

  “…Huh?”

  He frowned, shaking off the lingering unease.

  “Uh—yeah,” Kellen answered quickly, far more animated than his earlier calm suggested. “We’re hosting an academic party tonight. If you’re interested, we’d love for you to join us.”

  “A party?” Mira turned to Boris. “What do you think?”

  “I’m fine either way,” Boris chuckled, then glanced at Rein with a knowing grin. “Though the real question is whether today’s star is willing to spare the time.”

  Rein paused.

  He felt Mira’s gaze and looked back at her—right on cue, she winked.

  She’s definitely been spreading this everywhere… and exaggerating it, too.

  Rein sighed inwardly. If this kept up, his name was going to turn into some kind of urban legend around DVM.

  The first-year who dismantled Corvus with his fingertips.

  “In addition to summarizing today’s Corvus topology for those who missed it,” Kellen continued carefully, “we’ve also prepared some excellent food and drinks.”

  Boris straightened instantly. “Food, huh? Any good steak?”

  Kellen frowned slightly, thinking. “Of course. We ordered from a well-known place in the Kingdom district. None of the cafeteria stuff—almost everything’s brought in from outside.”

  “Wow…”

  Mira’s eyes widened as she glanced at Rein, unmistakably pleased. Kellen’s seriousness only made the bait more tempting.

  Rein let out a quiet breath, maintaining his neutral expression.

  “…Fine. I’ll think about it,” he said. “We’ll talk after The Ranking Matches.”

  “Wait—are you really entering The Ranking?”

  Kellen blurted it out, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. The enthusiasm in his voice was so intense that Rein felt an irrational urge to step half a pace back—just to get some air away from that ridiculous monocle. Rein didn’t answer. He only offered a thin, noncommittal smile.

  “That’s amazing! Everyone in our society’s been a fan of yours ever since the AGMT,” Kellen went on, then seemed to remember something and clapped his hands once. “Right—sorry! I won’t bother you any longer. I should go let the others know. They’ll definitely want to come cheer for you.”

  Before Rein could respond, Kellen was already half-running toward the corner of the building. He even turned back to wave, grinning broadly.

  “Congratulations,” he called out. “You’ve got a real fan club now.”

  Mira laughed lightly at his antics—but the sound didn’t land the same way for Rein.

  Her laughter echoed, stretching and warping, until it pulled him backward into a memory that didn’t belong here.

  A vast auditorium. Soft white spotlights.

  A circular red carpet at the center of a stage.

  For a moment, the stone corridors of Devil’s Den were overlaid with the polished interior of a TED hall. Silence pressed down from every direction, heavy enough that he could hear his own breathing. Back then, Dr. Rhys Rattana had stood on that stage, facing an audience of people who shaped the world, speaking under the title:

  The Probability Field: Redefining the Architecture of Reality.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  He remembered the effort it had taken—to strip down an impossibly complex theory and rebuild it into words that sounded almost inspirational.

  “We’re not merely talking about fate,” he had said, one hand moving through the air as holographic models of molecular vibrations bloomed in response. “What we’re dealing with is the manipulation of probability density at the particle level. If we can construct a field that compresses countless possible states into a single desired outcome, then future technology will no longer be constrained by what is ‘possible’—it will be driven by what we choose to make real.”

  And when he ended with—

  “In a probability field, the limits of technology aren’t defined by hardware, but by our imagination in defining reality itself,”

  —the applause had erupted. Loud. Immediate. Rising in a clean wave from the front rows before the rest of the hall followed.

  Most of it, he knew even then, had come from former colleagues, alumni, people who had already decided the narrative and simply needed a cue to clap.

  Damn it… so it comes back around after all. Different scale. Same pattern.

  Rein let out a long breath and pushed the memory aside as he followed Mira and Boris toward the cafeteria. His jaw tightened as he locked onto a far simpler, far more urgent goal.

  Goodbye, you miserable survival bread. Lunch today is the last time we meet—hopefully.

  He headed straight for registration. Boris had already paid the entry fee and handled the paperwork, but Rein still needed to confirm his identity in person. The third-year student manning the desk stared at him for a second longer than necessary, clearly surprised.

  After the chaos of the cafeteria finally subsided, Boris filled him in on the schedule. There were two hours left—no more—before The Ranking Matches began that afternoon.

  Rein returned to his room.

  He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, letting his scattered thoughts settle. When his sense of time told him it was close, he got up, washed his face, and let the cold water burn the fog away.

  Sitting at his desk again, he pulled out his personal notebook—the one where he had scribbled down notes while dismantling Valerius’s Corvus topology that morning. He skimmed the pages, a quiet sense of satisfaction passing through him, then slid the notebook back into the drawer.

  Just as he was about to close it, something snagged at his awareness.

  A faint sense of wrongness.

  He paused, then reopened the drawer and released the hidden latch at the bottom.

  The three slips of paper he had found on his first day in this room were still there.

  A chill crept up his spine. His hands trembled as he picked one up and unfolded it. This time, he wasn’t looking for anything related to delay casting.

  His eyes went straight to the numbers scribbled in the corner.

  2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13

  The numbers 2 and 5 had been crossed out.

  And after 13—there was something else.

  Not a strike-through.

  An erasure.

  The paper itself had been thinned, rubbed down.

  Rein lifted the note toward the afternoon light filtering in through the west-facing window. Under the glare, a ghost of graphite revealed itself.

  And suddenly, he knew exactly where he had seen them before

  His brow furrowed. He pulled out his own notebook, flipping to the pages detailing Corvus topology, and placed them side by side.

  “…This is—”

  It matched.

  Coincidence? Ridiculous.

  Had the previous Rein been trying to solve Corvus as well?

  But crossing out Nodes 2 and 5 to restructure the system—that approach came from applied physics, from a way of thinking born of his collaboration with LIZ. Even if the previous Rein had been a prodigy, he wouldn’t have dared touch those nodes. They were foundational—flawless at a glance. The problem only emerged once Node 17 was addressed using the method Rein had discovered that very morning.

  He stared at the numbers, unease coiling in his chest.

  If anyone in this world could have reached this solution, it should have been him. Maybe LIZ, if she counted.

  He picked up a pencil and slowly wrote 17 beside the faint, erased mark.

  Then he held the paper up to the light again.

  His breath caught.

  “The handwriting…”

  No.

  It wasn’t just similar.

  All week, he had struggled to mimic the previous Rein’s handwriting, copying it from old notebooks stored in the chest. In the end, he had given up, hoping no one would notice. His own writing—shaped by a lifetime as Dr. Rhys—was rougher, more hurried.

  But the 17 he had just written and the erased trace beneath it—

  They were identical. Same angle. Same faint hesitation at the end of the stroke.

  Had he written it himself and forgotten?

  When?

  He had been here less than a week. He had only figured out this solution hours ago.

  A knock broke the silence.

  “Rein! It’s almost time—are you ready?”

  Boris’s voice snapped him back. Rein flinched, shoved the papers away, and forced his focus onto the present. He checked himself once more and opened the door.

  “There’s been a small change,” Boris said with an easy grin. “You’ll find out when we get there.”

  Rein frowned, silently hoping it wasn’t bad news.

  Boris noticed and clapped him on the shoulder twice.

  “Might be bad for everyone else,” he said. “But for you? Probably good.”

  They walked side by side toward the central arena—a massive open hall rising five stories high, oppressive enough to feel more like a prison courtyard than a school.

  “There was a last-minute change in judges,” Boris added casually. “Professor Barnaby himself decided to oversee The Ranking. Heard he came down personally after learning you’d entered.”

  He said it like it was nothing.

  Rein felt something sour stir in his gut.

  “Who is he?” Rein asked quietly.

  Boris slowed to a stop, then turned back to look at Rein, shaking his head slowly.

  “You really don’t remember him at all?” he said. Then he sighed. “Well… considering the memory issues, I guess that makes sense.” He spread both hands in resignation before continuing.

  “Back at the AGMT, you nearly gave him a splitting headache. The judging committee had to hold emergency meetings just to decide whether the technique you used violated the rules or not. I heard he even got into a shouting match with the aristocratic faction on the panel to defend you. The whole thing dragged on for days.”

  Rein’s expression brightened slightly.

  “So… that means he’s on my side?”

  Boris’s half-smile, half-grimace made him tilt his head.

  “Or… not?”

  “I’d say he’s more on his own side,” Boris replied with a quiet sigh.

  “Barnaby’s the type who cares about results, not spellbooks. Applied magic, applied magic, applied magic—he’s written volumes on it.” He paused, then added dryly, “If anything, he probably sees you as… well… a very promising test subject.”

  Perfect, Rein thought. I’d barely crawled out of the Vault, and somehow I was already back on a clipboard.

  The thought lingered as they reached the entrance to the arena.

  Before him stretched a vast open space at the heart of the building, now converted into the departmental ranking arena. Roughly thirty students stood scattered across the field, preparing themselves.

  Crowds packed the surrounding walkways on every level, voices overlapping into a constant roar. Yet the noise gradually died down in an uncanny way as a single, messy-haired first-year stepped forward through the crowd.

  Every gaze converged on him.

  “Good luck, Rein,” Boris said casually. “I’ve put quite a bit of money on you. The odds aren’t great, but people are still betting. The nobles are convinced they’ll find a way to bring you down today. Do your best.”

  Rein stopped mid-step and stared at him.

  “…You’re gambling,” he said slowly. “Seriously?”

  Then, a beat later—

  “Wait. Can I borrow some money to bet on myself?”

  Boris didn’t answer. He just chuckled and waved him onward.

  Mira, who had spotted them, came running over, breathless, and shouted loudly enough to draw even more attention.

  “Do your best, Rein! For all of us!”

  Yeah… for all of us, Rein muttered inwardly. Considering I still owe you money.

  He offered her a crooked smile and a reluctant nod before stepping fully into the arena, where Professor Barnaby’s sharp gaze was already waiting for him.

  At one side of the field stood a modest wooden platform for the judges. Upon it sat a stout, middle-aged man whose build was so round it defied most reasonable geometry. He wore a deep purple robe trimmed with thick fur at the collar, giving him an oddly bulky silhouette. In his hand was a strange birdcage-like staff, which he swung back and forth in apparent good spirits.

  But the most peculiar thing wasn’t his outfit—it was the floating chair he sat on.

  Two towering third-year students stood flanking him, rigid and attentive. Without the levitating seat, the man would have all but disappeared behind the table.

  So that’s why—Professor Barnaby… or whatever.

  Rein watched him swing that ridiculous staff once more.

  Wannabe, he decided.

  As Rein joined the other competitors at the center of the arena, his eyes met Barnaby’s for a brief moment. One eyebrow rose. A smile followed—pleasant, curious, and somehow deeply unsettling.

  The announcer’s voice echoed through the arena via amplification magic. He was a tall third-year standing beside Barnaby’s floating chair.

  “There has been a change to the rules for this month’s The Ranking Matches!” he declared. “Due to an unusually high number of withdrawals during the noon period—nearly seventy percent—we are left with only thirty-two participants. As a result, the competition, originally scheduled to span three days, will now be concluded in a single day!”

  Rein swept his gaze across the field.

  A cluster of third-years—about ten of them—stood together, openly sizing him up. The largest group consisted of second-years.

  And the most pitiful sight of all—

  Only two first-years remained.

  One was Rein.

  The other was a slender boy who had just joined the line, looking utterly lost. The moment he made eye contact with Rein, his confusion transformed into sheer panic, as if he were about to burst into tears on the spot.

  My condolences, kid, Rein thought. Guess you forgot to check the group chat before signing up.

  As he looked away, an irritating voice rang out from the second-year group. A slick-haired blond student stepped forward.

  “This time, Rein,” the boy sneered, “I’ll crush you in front of everyone—just like you deserve…!”

  The tirade continued, but Rein barely heard it. He was busy rummaging through his memory.

  What was his name again… ah. Right. Malfoy’s little brother.

  Of course it was.

  He turned his attention back to the judges’ platform, letting the threats fade into background noise.

  “And by order of Professor Barnaby,” the announcer continued, “to ensure fairness, all unranked participants will begin from the preliminary round!”

  Every eye snapped back to Rein.

  Right… he realized. Out of everyone left, I’m the only one without a ranking.

  The announcer raised his staff and cast an illusion spell. Sixteen glowing match pairings appeared in midair, brilliant and unmistakable.

  Rein stared at the display—not as a mage, but as a scientist.

  Interesting… an illusion-based data interface.

  What’s the mana density required to maintain that level of clarity without dispersion?

  Soon, the competitors dispersed to their assigned positions.

  The first match began.

  It was… dull.

  A third-year and a second-year hurled basic spells at each other in a chaotic mess, devoid of structure or strategy.

  At least safety had been considered. Four crystal-tipped pylons stood at the arena’s corners, generating a transparent geometric barrier that absorbed stray impacts.

  Eventually, the third-year won—not through superior skill, but thanks to a better-upgraded staff.

  The next match was worse.

  Two second-years flailed spells at each other with their eyes half-closed.

  If you’re going to fire Magic Missiles like that, Rein thought, stifling a yawn, you might as well blindfold yourselves.

  Memories of real combat—seven months’ worth from the previous Rein—surfaced unbidden.

  Compared to those…

  This is like watching middle schoolers fight over a basketball.

  He barely registered who won the second round.

  Then the announcer’s voice rang out again, sharp enough to snap the entire arena back to attention.

  “Next match—Rein, First-Year!”

  Rein stepped forward. No staff in hand.

  Yet the confidence in his eyes made several students freeze where they stood.

  The arena fell silent.

  This was it—the first internal match featuring the so-called monster of the first year, third place in the most recent AGMT. Pride and controversy wrapped into one.

  “And his opponent is—”

  A hand shot up.

  “I withdraw!”

  The second-year who was supposed to face Rein strode straight to the judges’ platform and announced his withdrawal before his name was even called.

  No hesitation.

  If anything, his face looked… proud.

  His gaze said it plainly enough: denying Rein a stage was victory enough.

  He left the arena with the stride of a true winner.

  The crowd’s anticipation collapsed into a storm of boos and complaints.

  Rein, who had been cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders, froze mid-warm-up.

  “…Huh.”

  These entries expand the lore and mechanics introduced in this chapter.

  Completely optional—read only if you enjoy diving deeper into the system.

  Magical Knowledge

  Node Seventeen (Corvus Topology)

  Type: Arcane Theory / Mana Architecture

  – Context: Rein references Node Seventeen as a key modification point in Corvus topology. It’s the node that, once adjusted, reveals flaws in Nodes 2 and 5. The fact that the previous Rein had already marked it implies deep overlap or continuity of identity.

  – Implication: The synchronization between the erased number “17” and Rein’s new insight suggests memory bleed, reincarnation logic, or a quantum cognition event.

  Key Characters

  Professor Barnaby

  Title: Head Judge of The Ranking Matches.

  – Appearance: Short, rotund figure with levitating chair and an eccentric birdcage-shaped staff. Draped in fur-lined robes.

  – Personality: Ruthlessly pragmatic, cares about results over rules. Authored several volumes on applied magic.

  – Backstory with Rein: Previously defended Rein’s controversial technique during the AGMT judging panel. Not clearly an ally—more interested in Rein as a “promising test subject.”

  Kellen

  – Role: Member of the “Beyond the Enigma Society” (BESt).

  – Appearance: Neat, polite, wears a monocle. Persistent admirer of Rein’s intellect.

  – Function: He represents the bridge between Rein and the elite intellectual societies of DVM, often inviting him to participate and subtly flustered by Rein’s aloofness.

  Location

  The Devil’s Den Arena

  – Type: Combat Arena / Central Hall of the Academy

  – Design: Massive, five-story open structure repurposed into a ranked battle arena.

  – Features: Magical barrier fields using crystal pylons; illusion spell-based interface for match announcements.

  Matches & Tournaments

  The Ranking Matches (Devil’s Den)

  – Structure: Departmental dueling competition to determine rank and prestige among students.

  – Change in Rules: Due to high withdrawal rate (70%), matches are compressed into one day.

  – Rein’s Status: As an unranked first-year, Rein must go through preliminary rounds. His opponent instantly forfeits to deny him stage time—a strategic and ego-driven move.

  Organization

  Beyond the Enigma Society (BESt)

  – Type: Elite student research group

  – Focus: Solving magical mysteries, pushing boundaries of arcane theory.

  – Implied Culture: Prestigious, curiosity-driven, filled with top-tier students. Rein’s dismantling of Corvus earns their attention.

  Phenomenon

  Deja Vu

  – Phenomenon: Rein experiences flashes of memory, emotion, and reflex tied to the body’s former life—likely the previous Rein.

  Physics Reference

  The Probability Field: Redefining the Architecture of Reality

  Type: TED Talk / Scientific Lecture

  Speaker: Dr. Rhys Rattana

  Content Summary:

  A high-level theoretical exploration proposing that the universe is not a fixed, deterministic structure—but rather a probabilistic field in which reality “collapses” based on energy convergence, observer influence, and probabilistic thresholds.

  Dr. Rhys argued that:

  – Reality behaves more like a fluid of possibilities than a chain of cause-effect blocks.

  – Consciousness plays a role in localizing probability waves (a philosophical extension of quantum theory).

  – The topology of probability spaces resembles nonlinear neural networks, echoing the same structure found in biological cognition and arcane mana flow.

  Meta Reference

  TED Talk

  Format: Public Scientific Presentation

  Real-world Analogy: TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design) Talks are globally recognized lecture-style presentations where experts distill complex ideas into accessible, 15–20 minute talks.