The steady clack of a metal pendulum pulled Rein’s consciousness up from a dark, drifting haze.
His eyelids slowly opened. The first thing that met his eyes was a tall grandfather clock carved from dark wood, its intricate patterns standing proudly in the corner of the room. The position of the hands told him one thing clearly—this hadn’t been a short nap. He had likely been unconscious for a full day and night.
The heaviness that had once crushed his body like a slab of stone was gone, replaced by an almost unsettling lightness. The burning heat that had scorched his chest as if seared by fire had completely vanished, leaving behind only a cool, refreshing sensation flowing within him.
His mana—and his Core Mana Circle—had fully recovered.
No… it felt even more stable than before.
Rein let out a quiet breath of relief. He owed special thanks to the Vault and Master Chloe. Had he been treated anywhere else—without inscribed healing magic circles—he would likely still be bedridden for several more days.
He slowly pushed himself upright and raised a hand to wipe the corner of his eye—only to feel a cold, damp trace of moisture.
…It was as if he’d cried in his sleep last night, without even realizing it.
Rein shook his head lightly, trying to clear the lingering fog as he searched his memory for what he’d dreamed. He could vaguely recall something—a deep sense of longing and sorrow still clung to his chest—but no matter how hard he tried, the details slipped away.
An old, crumbling church.
Golden leaves falling to the ground.
Fragments of imagery scattered across the halls of his memory.
The harder he tried to grasp them, the faster they dissolved—like mist burned away by sunlight.
Rein gave up with a small shake of his head.
“Whatever… people forget their dreams all the time.”
He rose from the bed, his bare feet touching the icy floor. The chill shot up through his soles, fully waking him. After stretching to work the stiffness out of his limbs, he headed into the bathroom to take care of himself—preparing for whatever the new day would bring.
Not long after, he emerged looking far more put together. He slipped into his mage student uniform, neatly folded on the bedside table, and glanced around the room as he did.
The items that had been ransacked and scattered the day before were now neatly restored to order.
As expected—Ingrid’s handiwork.
Then his gaze stopped on something unexpected.
An ancient metallic box sat prominently on Master Chloe’s work desk.
He remembered clearly that it was usually kept inside a glass cabinet, mixed in among medicinal vials, mana crystals, and various obscure artifacts whose names he didn’t even know.
“…Or could it be…?”
His brows furrowed in suspicion.
Just then, the heavy door of the Experimental Treatment and Critical Cases Chamber—more commonly known as the Vault—swung open.
Rein turned sharply to see Master Chloe standing in the doorway, with Ingrid right behind her. Ingrid was carefully carrying a tray of food and a glass of water.
“Oh, you’re awake? I was starting to think you were imitating a Dormoss.”
The blonde girl adjusted her glasses as she spoke, her calm tone laced with mischief.
“What’s a Dormoss?” Rein asked immediately.
“That ultra-sluggish monster that does nothing but sleep until moss grows on its fur. Adventurers like to call it ‘a walking mossy rock.’”
Ingrid replied with a faint smirk—clearly pleased to finally know something Rein didn’t.
Rein pressed his lips together, thinking to himself:
Does she really think I’m so lazy I’d grow moss?
Master Chloe sighed softly and stepped closer, her voice gentle with concern.
“How are you feeling today, Rein?”
Rein finished buttoning his uniform and straightened himself before answering more brightly,
“Much better than yesterday.”
“That’s good. After a bit more rest and two thorough checkups—which shouldn’t take more than two days—you should be able to return to class as normal.”
She paused, then slowly shook her head as if still struggling to believe it.
“Normally, someone who’s suffered mana overload severe enough to damage their Core Mana Circle the way yours did would need at least a week of bed rest.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him.
“But you… you’re recovering extraordinarily fast.
Abnormally fast.”
“It’s as if your body, your Core Mana Circle—even your mind—are already accustomed to bearing overwhelming strain again and again.”
She fell silent, staring at him fully.
To most people, Rein was just an ordinary mage student. But as the healer who had treated him, she knew the truth—beneath his clothes, his body was layered with old scars upon old scars. Some had faded thanks to healing magic, but the marks of relentless struggle for survival were still unmistakably etched into him.
“I don’t know what kind of madness you went through before coming here… but Rein—”
Her voice softened, no longer that of a strict healer, but of a caring adult.
“This is Arcadia Academy of Magic. Here, you have teachers… and friends… at the very least—”
“Thank you, Master Chloe.”
Rein interrupted politely, bowing deeply. It was a gentle yet firm way of ending the conversation—clearly telling her he wasn’t ready to let anyone step past the walls of his past.
Master Chloe paused, then let out another long sigh.
“Well… either way, the Healing Department owes you quite a bit. If you need anything while you’re here, just say the word. I’ll have Ingrid take care of it.”
With that, she turned back to her desk to deal with her paperwork, leaving the patient to rest.
Ingrid set the food tray down at the same table where Rein usually ate breakfast.
A warm aroma filled the room. Today’s meal was a freshly baked meat pie, served with a large peeled Sweet Glen fruit and a glass of warm milk.
“Grrrkkk—”
Rein’s stomach growled loudly in protest. He hadn’t eaten a single thing since waking up—over a full day now.
As he dug into his meal, Ingrid casually dragged a chair over and sat across from him. Resting her chin in her hand, she watched him eat with clear hunger in his movements.
“Don’t you want to know what happened while you were out cold?”
Rein took a huge bite of pie, chewed noisily, then washed it down with milk. Setting the glass down, he raised an eyebrow.
“Whether I want to or not, you’re going to tell me anyway. Including what disappeared from that metal box.”
Without waiting for her reply, he took another bite, clearly impressed.
“Mm… this is good. What kind of meat is this?”
“Oh. Dormoss meat.”
Ingrid replied calmly, eyes innocent.
“—KHK! KHK—!!”
Rein immediately choked, his face flushing red as he pounded his chest and grabbed the milk to wash it down.
“Ha—ha—ha! I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”
Ingrid burst into laughter, eyes squeezed shut. For some reason, getting one back at Rein felt ridiculously satisfying. She still remembered it crystal clear—back in the library, Rein had saved her from Belle’s magic trap…
…by kicking her.
Yeah, fine, it was an emergency. But kicking her that hard?
At least I’m a delicate young lady, you lunatic…!
The moment the memory of being launched through the air resurfaced, Ingrid’s mood snapped. She crossed her arms, pursed her lips at him, and forced herself back onto the important stuff.
“Tara and Sally were taken in for interrogation by the Forensic Magic Division. In the end, they’ll probably face disciplinary action from the Academy.”
She paused, then continued in that analytical tone she used when she was trying to sound composed.
“Worst case, they get expelled. But with the Wyndfield family backing them—and the excuse that Lucien coerced them—it’ll likely end with a long suspension. “Forensic Magic Division will keep investigating and forward it to the Magic Court, but judging from the shape of the case… it’ll probably end in probation.”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Rein kept eating his pie all the way to the last bite. His expression didn’t shift even once—no surprise, no shock—like he already knew exactly how the world of nobles spun—and would keep spinning.
“As for Lenora and Noah—both of them confessed the truth to Master Rachel. The Academy put them under a formal warning. Honestly, that’s the best possible outcome for commoner students who got tangled up in something this big.”
Ingrid’s voice stayed even, but she emphasized the last part to make sure Rein caught the point.
“And about Librarian Belle… the investigators found the real one. She’d been dead for over a month. The body was dried out—as if all the fluids had been drained—found in her residence outside the Academy grounds.”
The air at the table chilled the moment “the real Belle” became a corpse instead of a name.
“Belle kept to herself and had no family, so no one noticed she’d vanished… The one we met was a fake, one hundred percent.” Ingrid adjusted her glasses, her face tight with unease. “But the problem is—we still haven’t found what she stole. Forensic Magic practically turned the ground inside out at the training yard, and there’s nothing. Not a trace.”
Rein gave a small nod, still chewing calmly. He took another bite of that excellent pie, washed it down with a long pull of milk, then spoke in the same flat, measured tone.
“It was probably sent out already… or someone inside took it.” His eyes sharpened for a brief instant. “And if it’s the latter… that means she had an accomplice still embedded in the Academy.”
Ingrid’s brow furrowed. The thought sent a cold shiver straight down her spine. She stayed silent for a beat, then nodded as if conceding the logic, and continued.
“Mm… and Master Rachel found the forbidden book Poison Domain on the opposite shelf. It really was swapped with a different cover—just like you said.”
She summarized everything, then leaned closer over the table until she was almost pressed in, dropping her voice into a near-whisper.
“And about the thing that went missing…”
Rein picked up a bright green Sweet Glen fruit and chewed slowly. The sweet-tart flavor cleared his head. He looked up at Ingrid—truly serious for the first time this morning.
“Like you said… yes. It’s something that should have been in that old metal box. But the problem is…”
Ingrid raised a hand to shield her mouth, forcing her voice as low as possible so the teacher buried in paperwork wouldn’t hear.
“The problem is… Master Chloe herself can’t ‘remember’ what used to be in that box.”
“I didn't 'forget,' Ingrid. I simply chose not to store it.”
Master Chloe’s cool voice drifted over from her desk across the room. Ingrid jolted so hard she nearly fell off the chair, then turned and flashed an awkward, guilty smile.
Rein, meanwhile, stared into his milk with silent, horrified respect.
He already knew Master Rachel’s hearing was absurdly sharp because she was an elf—but Master Chloe was human, and her senses weren’t any slower.
I really need to watch my mouth in this room. If I slip even once… there goes any hope of a peaceful life.
Master Chloe set down her quill, rotated her chair to face them, and spoke with a calm, unreadable look.
“Who could possibly remember? Most of the junk in this room was scavenged from deep dungeons.”
She jerked her chin toward a dusty corner where assorted objects sat piled together in a chaotic heap.
“If you’re going to claim they came for something valuable… some of those pieces are soul-sealing stones with something-or-other trapped inside. If I had to guess, probably a high-tier dungeon boss.
And that missing piece? Could’ve been a cursed artifact from the demon realm. I’ve heard some of those are fragments of primordial gods—things the Luminara Church still can’t properly seal or destroy, so they dump them here.”
She shrugged like she was talking about laundry, then turned back to her paperwork with a muttered complaint.
“Do the people upstairs think I’m free or something? As if I’m going to catalog every pointless item in this room… Writing the damage report just to request repair funding for the lecture building is already going to shave ten years off my life.”
The blue-haired instructor let out a long, irritated sigh—drowning in paperwork.
Rein froze midair with his milk glass halfway to his lips. The calm in his eyes trembled as he stared at the corner full of bizarre artifacts and old crates with a dawning, indescribable dread.
His face grew more and more difficult to control.
Wait… don’t tell me I’ve been recovering for almost a month inside a nuclear weapons stockpile?
A chill shot down his spine.
The place he’d believed was the safest spot in the entire Academy…
…was actually a collection point for world-ending objects waiting for the day they decided to explode.
Ingrid turned to Rein and silently mouthed, perfectly soundless—yet devastatingly clear:
“Now you understand why this place is called the Vault.”
Rein nodded so fast it was almost a reflex, then downed the rest of his milk in one go like he needed it to steady his soul.
“But I do remember, Master,” Ingrid said, turning back. “A few months ago, when I was dusting the cabinet, that box fell and the lid popped open. Inside was a pitch-black metal rod—about half a foot long—its surface carved with unfamiliar inscriptions. It felt so creepy I got goosebumps, so I shut it immediately and put it back.”
Master Chloe set her quill down again. She frowned thoughtfully, rubbing her chin. After a long moment, she smacked her fist into her palm, as if something finally clicked.
“Ah… I vaguely remember. Years ago I picked it up in some border dungeon mission. Probably a hunt for cultists.”
“Cultists as in… the forsaken god-worshippers recorded in the texts on dark history?” Ingrid asked, voice rising, eyes wide behind her glasses.
“They’re not just in books, Ingrid. They’re alive right now.” Master Chloe answered flatly. “They just like hiding in holes, so they’re hard to track down.”
“And… won’t that be dangerous?” Rein cut in, his expression tense.
Master Chloe exhaled slowly, then swept her gaze across the room.
“This is Arath, Rein. How do you even define ‘dangerous’ in a place like this?”
She went still for a moment—like she was staring at something outside the Academy walls.
“The forests, the waters, even the dungeons beneath our feet—monsters everywhere. And then there are the truly unpredictable things—gods and demons.” Her voice remained calm, but the weight beneath it was real. “Humanity is still here today because magic and skills keep our throats from being torn out. Without them…”
She paused, eyes distant.
“…we would’ve gone extinct a long time ago.”
She spoke while tapping her pen against the desk in a steady rhythm—tap… tap… tap…—and somehow the sound synced unnervingly well with the pendulum’s tick… tock… from across the room. Then she angled the pen tip toward Nightfall—the pitch-black sword leaning casually beside his bed.
“Even you walk around carrying that cursed sword like it’s nothing,” she said, eyes drifting toward the corner. “And sometimes…” her gaze flicked to the towering clock, “that grandfather clock might be a lot more dangerous than the black metal rod that used to be in that box. Who knows.”
Rein snapped his head toward the massive clock—still chanting its relentless tick… tock…—and swallowed hard as a chill ran down his spine.
“That thing?” Ingrid whispered, face pale as she leaned in. “Even I don’t dare dust it. Rumor says someone from the Church touched it once and got trapped in a Recursive Time Pocket—a time loop—repeating the same day for over a hundred days. They only got out because Headmaster Helena intervened. And when they finally came back…”
Ingrid let out a soft, horrified chuckle as she watched Rein’s expression drain.
“They were almost completely insane.”
Rein stared at the objects scattered around the room with a predator’s caution—old crates, odd bottles that looked like something inside was blinking—until a vow formed in his soul with holy conviction.
I swear—until I’m moved out of this room, I’m not touching a single thing unless I actively want to die.
Master Chloe continued as if they were discussing pantry inventory.
“Anyway. Even if we don’t know what that black rod actually does, those people will reveal something sooner or later. When that happens…”
She stopped mid-sentence.
The pause made the air grow heavier instantly.
Rein’s heart kicked into a sprint. He leaned forward without realizing it, bracing himself for the kind of flawless contingency plan only a Mesosphere-tier mage—one of the handful across all Aetheria—could possibly devise.
And then Master Chloe finished, perfectly calm.
“…we’ll deal with it then. For now, I need to finish this expense reimbursement report—or next month’s budget is going to be a disaster.”
The blue-haired instructor nodded to herself with grim determination and plunged right back into combat with the paperwork—like the numbers on the page mattered more than a potential world-ending artifact walking out the door.
Rein blinked. Once. Twice.
His mouth hung open a fraction, and somewhere in his mind, a monster-language scream tried to claw its way out.
No backup plan?
No preventive measures?
Nothing?
I’m sleeping in a room full of apocalypse-grade cursed objects and the official response is
“we’ll deal with it later”!?
Are all of the so-called Five Disciples like this!?
Ingrid—clearly used to her master’s logic—stood up, poured water into Rein’s now-empty milk glass, and slid it over. She couldn’t resist commenting when she saw his expression.
“Drink some water, Rein. Your face looks like you’ve got a Sweet Glen stuck in your throat.”
Rein took the glass with a hand that still trembled just a little.
He wasn’t sure anymore which was scarier—cursed artifacts… or the Academy’s masters and their astonishingly relaxed relationship with catastrophe.
…
After the morning check-up, Ingrid and Rein left the Vault, abandoning Master Chloe to her endless war of reports and expense columns.
Morning sunlight spilled over the open training yard… but it did nothing to lift the heaviness in the air.
The ground that had once been smooth was now scarred with craters from the clash. Rubble from collapsed side buildings still lay in jagged heaps.
Some areas were only half-covered with thick tarps—temporary bandages over wounds that hadn’t even begun to heal.
Rein’s eyes swept over the devastation. He let out a quiet breath.
Ingrid, meanwhile, walked in silence toward a spot near the center of the yard.
There, a small cluster of offerings had formed: bouquets, glass cups holding burned-out candles, scraps of paper with handwritten farewell messages.
The atmosphere grew dense—oppressively so—despite the clear blue sky above.
Ingrid slipped a hand into her cloak and withdrew a pale yellow flower she’d prepared, holding it with careful tenderness. She knelt on cracked stone and placed it among the other blooms—some already beginning to wilt.
She bowed her head.
Her small back trembled for a moment, as if she were reaching for the faces of friends she would never see again.
Rein stood behind her, silent.
He saw only the slight shake of her shoulders, the contained quiver of breath—yet not a single sob escaped her lips.
And as he watched, a sudden heat flared in his chest.
Not the burning fever of mana overload.
Something else.
Something tight and crushing—strangely familiar—like an old wound reacting to a scent it recognized.
For a split second, blurred images flashed in his mind: tears striking dirt… hands smeared with dust… a silent, unbearable grief—
Then the fragments dissolved as quickly as they came, slipping through his thoughts like mist in sunlight. Rein couldn’t tell when it happened. Or to whom.
He frowned, pressing a hand lightly to his chest.
Ingrid’s grief—so raw, so carefully hidden—had stirred something inside him. A leftover shard from the “fading dream” he’d dismissed last night.
A tremor in the ruins of a memory.
…
A moment later, Ingrid drew a deep breath. She adjusted her glasses and quickly wiped away the tear that had almost fallen, then turned to him with a smile she forced into brightness—like the weakness from seconds ago had never existed at all.
“Today’s a day off, you know. And in a few days you’ll be back to classes like normal.”
Her voice was a little too cheerful, just slightly too light—trying to bury the tremor still lingering in her eyes.
“Want to take a walk around the Academy? You’ve been stuck inside for a full day.”
Rein studied the smile—the effort behind it, the strain held at the edges.
He didn’t press her. He didn’t point at the weight she was carrying.
Instead, he returned a small smile of his own—the most relaxed one he could manage.
“Sure. Then today you’re responsible for taking care of me… since I’m still a ‘patient.’”
The half-joke made Ingrid freeze for a beat.
Then, finally, real life returned to her eyes.
She pushed her glasses up with a tiny, sharp motion and lifted her chin.
“Obviously! If Master Chloe’s patient gets worse, I’ll be the first one to get scolded. Come on—this way, Rein!”
She stepped forward, her pace steadier now.
Even with the broken ground and the memorial flowers behind them—silent proof of loss—the small back leading him onward looked stronger than it had a moment ago.
Rein followed at an unhurried pace, letting the morning wind pass through him.
The heat in his chest slowly faded… replaced by a different warmth, quieter and gentler.
He knew his shattered past still hadn’t found all its missing pieces. He knew the dream remained blurred and unfinished.
But right now…
At the very least…
Neither of them was standing alone in the debris anymore.
These entries expand the lore and mechanics introduced in this chapter.
Completely optional—read only if you enjoy diving deeper into the system.
An elite medical and magical recovery chamber located in Arcadia Academy, officially known as the Experimental Treatment and Critical Cases Chamber.
– Known for its powerful inscribed healing magic circles.
– Also serves as a storage location for obscure or potentially dangerous magical artifacts.
– Contains unregistered or unsealed magical objects, including items rumored to be fragments of primordial gods or demon-realm artifacts.
– Considered by Rein as a "nuclear stockpile of cursed artifacts."
Monsters
Type: Monster
A slow-moving creature, often mistaken for a moss-covered boulder.
– Known for near-constant hibernation.
– Adventurers nickname it "a walking mossy rock."
Type: Magical Object / Artifact
An old clock kept in the Vault, possibly cursed.
– Suspected to be the cause of a recursive time loop.
– Its rhythmic ticking (“tick… tock…”) is symbolic throughout the chapter, often associated with memory, repetition, or hidden dangers.
– Considered one of the most dangerous objects in the Vault by those familiar with its effects.
Type: Unknown Artifact
A small, six-inch-long pitch-black rod inscribed with unknown symbols.
– Once stored in a locked box in Master Chloe’s cabinet.
– Possibly related to dark cults or forsaken god worship.
– Presence linked to an ongoing mystery involving the fake Belle and her accomplice.
– Master Chloe claims she deliberately didn’t catalog it, adding to its enigma.
Organization
Type: Organization (Dark Cult)
A secretive group of magic users or zealots who worship ancient or forbidden deities.
– Referenced in dark history texts.
– Still active in the current age, though elusive.
– Linked to forbidden magic and untraceable relics.
Magical Anomaly & Cursed
Type: Magical Anomaly
A dangerous time-loop effect that traps victims in a repeating cycle.
– Rumored to have been caused by contact with the grandfather clock in the Vault.
– One Church member was reportedly trapped for over 100 cycles before being rescued by Headmaster Helena.
– Victims often return with signs of psychological trauma or madness.
They stay—quiet, unseen—waiting to be remembered.
Not a continuation of conflict, but the residue it leaves behind.
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— Re:Naissance