After the final examination confirmed—without a shadow of doubt—that his Core Mana Circle had stabilized at one hundred percent, Master Chloe didn’t waste a single second. She flicked her cloak over her shoulder and marched out immediately, a thick stack of reimbursement reports and reconstruction budget documents cradled in her arms.
It was almost funny.
To her, battling the Academy’s administrative board looked far more exhausting than fighting undead.
She left the remaining logistics to Ingrid…
Which, translated into plain language, meant: escort the “patient” back into the world outside.
Rein stood by the bed he’d been using for several nights, packing up.
Not that there was much to pack.
The only truly valuable thing he owned was Nightfall—the cursed black saber—now reduced to a short, dark metal rod—unremarkable at a glance. He slid it into a hidden loop beneath his freshly issued student cloak with practiced ease, making it disappear as neatly as a magician’s trick.
At least to normal people, it’ll just look like some weirdly designed magic staff, he told himself.
He bent down and pulled on a new pair of leather boots.
The uniform, the gear—the whole set—had been arranged by Master Chloe as a “thank you” for what he’d done during the intruder incident and the library chaos a few days ago. The premium dark knit fabric and that unmistakable scent of “new” made him feel like he’d been reborn.
Or at least… like he looked more human than he had on the first day he’d stumbled into this world.
Yesterday, Ingrid had taken him outside for a short walk around the Healing Department’s training wing.
And that was when Rein finally realized something.
The Arcadia Academy of Magic wasn’t merely a boarding school.
It was large enough to be a city.
Endless green lawns stretched as far as the eye could see. Every tree was placed and trimmed with the precision of high-level landscape design. There was even a small lake—clear enough to reflect the Gothic silhouettes of the academy buildings like a mirror. Ingrid had explained with proud certainty that this was the Academy’s “central park.”
But to Rein…
It felt less like a campus park and more like standing in the heart of Central Park, New York.
The scale alone spoke of grotesque power and resources. Guarded by towering walls and elite filtering magic…
This independent city-state wasn’t built just to teach magic.
It was—unmistakably—a fortress for the ruling class.
…
Back in the present—
In the quiet room, Rein knelt and tied his bootlaces slowly. Light from the mana lamp cut through the air, dust motes dancing in the beam like tiny spirits.
The peace was so complete it felt… unreal.
And without thinking, he hummed a melody buried deep inside his memory.
“Such a pretty house… and such a pretty garden…”
The tune—Radiohead’s No Surprises—slipped out of his throat in a soft, careful line. A song about comfort that suffocates—beauty lacquered over boredom and despair.
“No alarms and no surprises…
No alarms and no surprises…
No alarms and no surprises… please…”
Ingrid—who had been reorganizing jars of herbal remedies across the room—froze mid-motion. She frowned slightly, tilted her head to listen—then turned to him with suspicion.
“What song is that?” she asked, adjusting her glasses. “The melody is… strange. It’s bleak, but somehow… really beautiful. I’ve never heard anything like it from any province.”
Rein raised his head from his laces.
And for the first time in days, he smiled—an actual smile that made him look like a normal teenager again.
“Wow,” he said lightly. “Your taste isn’t bad at all, Ingrid.”
Ingrid’s ears reddened—just a little. She snapped her head back toward the cabinet and shouted over her shoulder in typical Ingrid fashion.
“I’m praising the song, okay!? Not you, Rein!”
Rein laughed softly under his breath.
A laugh with no weight in it.
No wariness.
No calculation.
He let Thom Yorke’s melody loop in his mind, almost indulgently, and then murmured the chorus under his breath as he stood.
“Get me out of here…”
He flashed Ingrid a grin—while she was still pouting—and turned toward the massive Vault door without a shred of nostalgia.
“Wait! Hold on!” Ingrid’s footsteps pattered after him. She hastily set a jar down, grabbed her cloak, and jogged to block his path.
“Master Chloe told me to look after you,” she declared. “At the very least, I’m walking a memory-defective idiot like you all the way to the Department of Variant Elements. Properly.”
Rein stopped and looked at her—slightly out of breath, slightly irritated, and entirely Ingrid.
A corner of his mouth lifted into the kind of smile that made her eyebrow twitch.
“Don’t get the wrong idea!” she pointed at him, flustered. “I’m just worried you’ll wander somewhere stupid, cause trouble again, and then I’ll get scolded too. That’s all!”
“Yes, yes. I understand, Secretary,” Rein replied flatly—though his eyes were unmistakably teasing. He stepped aside and made an exaggerated gentlemanly gesture.
“Then please—lead the way, Miss Ingrid.”
Ingrid lifted her chin.
“Hmph. Fine.”
She turned and walked to the heavy steel door. The moment her slender palm touched the icy surface, pale-blue magic circuits flared to life—answering her like a living thing.
Grrrrrrrr—
The ancient mechanism engaged, and the giant door slid open on its own, revealing a long corridor flooded with light—so bright it almost felt like the outdoors.
Crystal fixtures embedded in the ceiling and mana lamps simulated sunlight with uncanny accuracy, making it hard to believe they were still deep underground.
They walked side by side in silence.
Not an awkward silence.
More like the kind you didn’t want to break—because breaking it meant admitting the moment would end.
Their footsteps echoed faintly as they climbed the long spiral marble stairs toward the surface.
When they emerged from the underworld into the main hallways of the Healing Department, the atmosphere changed completely.
Rein swept his gaze around. Scars from the battle a few days ago still remained—certain hall sections sealed behind heavy tarps etched with protective runes. A conspicuous notice hung in front:
[EMERGENCY RESTORATION IN PROGRESS]
But outside those sections…
Life at the Academy continued as if the world hadn’t nearly broken.
It was Monday morning—the most chaotic start of the week.
Healing Department students moved everywhere. Most wore pristine white uniforms beneath black cloaks trimmed in gold—symbols of purity and restoration. Some carried thick tomes pressed to their chests. Others balanced trays of glass bottles filled with shimmering liquids in careful hands.
And yet—
When Rein passed by, the movement around them stalled.
Heads turned.
Conversations that had been loud seconds ago dropped into whispers.
A patrolling instructor clapped their hands to break up a crowd and shoo students toward class—but Rein still noticed it.
Even the instructor looked at him with an unreadable expression.
Not admiration.
Something closer to wariness—mixed with curiosity.
They pushed through the stream of people and reached the front hall of the building. Rein glanced at the girl beside him—who kept her gaze down—and finally broke the silence.
“They’re talking about me,” he said. Calm. Certain. “Aren’t they?”
Ingrid slowed slightly. Her lips pressed together as if she were weighing the truth, then she let out a quiet sigh and kept walking.
“It’s nothing,” she said, forcing her tone into something normal. “Just… the usual.”
She didn’t look at him.
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“You went through something big. And you survived it—like a miracle. It’s not strange that your name’s become famous. People want to see your face.”
She cut the conversation short, then led him through the enormous arched gate of the Healing Department, stepping out into the outside world—properly this time.
They walked side by side until they reached an old stone bridge spanning a narrow stream. A gust of wind whistled past, sweeping pale brown leaves across their faces before they drifted down onto the water.
The leaves spun in place for a moment, then were carried away by the current, powerless to resist—
like the hands of a clock that never turned backward.
“So… I guess that makes me famous now.”
Rein said casually, his gaze following the leaf as it floated away, before dropping to his own reflection rippling on the water’s surface.
“You were already famous after taking third place in the Arcadia Grand Magic Tournament,” Ingrid replied without looking at him. Her voice sounded noticeably heavier than before. “But now… it’s on a completely different level.”
Rein caught the shift in her tone immediately. He stopped in the middle of the bridge, forcing her to halt as well.
“Hm… judging by that voice, I’m guessing it’s not the good kind of fame?”
Ingrid turned back to him. Behind her glasses, her eyes wavered—uneasy, conflicted. She hesitated, then gave a small shake of her head.
“To scholarship students and commoners, you’re a hero,” she said quietly. “But to the elite…”
She bit her lip.
“They don’t like you. At all.”
“The rumor going around is that you might be an inside collaborator—someone who worked with the culprit to sabotage the Academy’s reputation.”
The air seemed to chill despite the bright sunlight.
Ingrid turned away and continued walking, slower now, as if unwilling to meet his eyes while saying it.
Rein followed at an unhurried pace. His gaze lingered on the reflections of himself and Ingrid trembling on the water’s surface—warped and distorted by every ripple.
Like truth itself, twisted within this Academy.
He smiled faintly—a crooked smile, amused by the cruel irony of fate.
“Figures…” he murmured to himself.
“As if something good would ever just fall into my lap. Right?”
They stepped off the bridge and headed toward the crossroads ahead without another word. The silence between them was filled only by the wind rustling through treetops and the distant footsteps of other students.
At the junction stood a tall signpost carved from white marble.
The left arrow bore the words [Department of Battlemage Arts], engraved in elegant letters edged with gold—aggressive, powerful.
The right pointed toward [Department of Elemental Magic], no less grand or refined.
But beneath those imposing signs hung a small, crooked plank of black-painted wood—suspended by a rusted chain. Written in faded white, hurried handwriting were the words:
[Department of Variant Elements]
The arrow pointed in the same direction as Elemental Magic.
Rein stopped, staring at the disparity—so blatant it was almost offensive. He frowned slightly.
“…Seriously?”
Ingrid tilted her head, following his gaze, then shrugged.
“If I had to guess… internal budget allocation issues,” she said. “I heard your department shares funding with Elemental Magic, but only gets about twenty percent. Or less.”
She sighed.
“Probably didn’t have enough left for a proper sign.”
With that, she turned and led him to the right.
They passed through manicured gardens shaped into mythical beasts, then by several old academic buildings built from dull gray stone.
The structures stood about three stories tall, their architecture reminiscent of Byzantine design—rounded domes, horseshoe arches, and narrow upper windows like arrow slits.
It felt sacred. Labyrinthine.
Like wandering through an ancient monastery.
After about ten minutes—past a small open plaza paved with gravel—
“We’re almost there,” Ingrid said.
She stepped around a tall hedge.
And in the next instant, the view exploded open into a vast lake—
—and what stood at its center made every image of a “castle” Rein had ever imagined seem utterly inadequate.
Before them rose a masterpiece of architecture, as if torn straight from a Renaissance oil painting.
The Department of Elemental Magic was not merely an academic building.
It was a palace upon water.
Constructed from amber-gold sandstone that shimmered beneath the morning sun, dozens of sharp spires pierced the sky like divine spears. At its heart stood a massive golden dome, blazing so brightly that Rein had to squint.
The palace sat alone on an island, proud and aloof, cut off from the world by deep blue water—declaring that only those deemed worthy were allowed to enter.
A pale white arched bridge stretched across the lake, connecting land to the palace gates. Along it stood statues of legendary archmages, lined up like an honor guard welcoming the next generation of prodigies.
The castle’s reflection lay perfectly still upon the water—so flawless it was impossible to tell where reality ended and illusion began.
Serene. Majestic.
And utterly disdainful of everything beyond its island.
“…That’s basically Schwerin Castle,” Rein muttered, equal parts awed and irritated.
“What did you say?” Ingrid asked.
“Nothing,” he replied with a dry chuckle.
“Just thinking that the missing eighty percent of my department’s budget probably turned into those golden domes.”
Ingrid didn’t deny it. She merely shrugged, then pointed toward the side of the magnificent bridge.
“That’s the main entrance for the four elements. Our department…”
She gestured toward a narrow dirt path skirting the lakeshore, disappearing into dense brush.
“…we go that way.”
It looked more like a gardener’s trail than a student walkway.
Rein didn’t move.
He stood there, silently watching the palace—the white arched bridge crowded with hundreds of students flowing inside in orderly streams.
All of them wore pristine white uniforms, trimmed with colors marking their elemental affiliations.
With a single sharp glance, Rein identified four dominant hues—
Crimson red.
Azure blue.
Emerald green.
Amber yellow.
Ingrid followed his gaze, stepping closer and lowering her voice.
“Just in case your amnesia wiped out the basics… Elemental Magic has four main branches. Fire—red. Water—blue. Wind—green. Earth—yellow.”
Rein nodded slowly, watching the human tide with calm eyes.
“This is where most of the Academy’s students are, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Most mages in this world have mana circuits aligned with the four primary elements,” Ingrid said, adjusting her glasses.
“As for people like you—Variants—you’re a minority. Or more accurately…”
She hesitated.
“Outliers. With nowhere that truly fits.”
Rein smiled faintly at the corner of his mouth.
Back when I was Dr. Rhys Rattana, he thought,
plenty of physicists called me an outlier too.
Well then.
Being one again… doesn’t sound so strange after all.
He thought it without the slightest attachment, then turned his back on the gaudy golden palace and stepped onto the narrow gravel path that peeled away into the dim gloom of the pine forest.
The trail climbed steadily, becoming a small hill. The stone steps laid long ago were cracked and half-swallowed by dark green moss. Trees crowded in on both sides until their branches knitted together into a natural canopy, strangling the bright midmorning sunlight into a thin, ashen glow that seeped down in scattered threads.
The world grew noticeably quieter. The bustle of students vanished, leaving only the wind tearing through treetops with a harsh, whistling roar—and the brittle rasp of dead leaves underfoot.
He hadn’t pushed through the thick woods for long before he finally saw it.
At the top of the rise, severed from the rest of the Academy like an afterthought, stood a three-story building—modest in size, yet heavy with presence.
It was a stone structure shaped like an early Gothic fortress, built from dull gray limestone aged by time until its surface looked rough and felt cold just to look at.
It shared nothing with the ornate floating palace on the lake.
The building was sealed and severe—more prison than school—more bastion than department. Its windows were small, set high above the ground, and barred with pitch-black iron grates… as if the architect never intended outsiders to peer in—
or perhaps never intended whatever lived inside to look out.
The whole structure felt rigid, alien. A square central tower stood like a stake driven into the hill, encircled by tall stone walls veined with cracks. Dry vines clung and crawled across the masonry like swollen black veins.
No flower gardens. No heroic statues. Only an empty dirt courtyard with an old, sealed well at its center—and an atmosphere that made the skin crawl for reasons he couldn’t quite name.
At the entrance—an enormous oak gate scarred with age—stood an old granite slab. The carved letters were weatherworn, nearly erased… but still readable:
[Department of Variant Elements]
Rein stopped and stared at his “new home,” feeling a cold draft slide across the back of his neck.
It was the perfect setting for a horror story.
“Welcome to the haunted house…” he muttered. “Yeah. This does suit someone like me better than that circus palace.”
Behind him, Ingrid arrived, hands on her hips, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow.
“Honestly… no matter how many times I come here, I never get used to this place.”
She grumbled under her breath, then led him to the massive oak door—its surface gouged with countless scratches. She lifted the lion-headed iron knocker and struck it a few times.
Knock… knock…
As soon as the sound faded, the huge door began to open by itself—slowly, painfully—with a long, drawn-out screech.
Creeeeak—
A hinge’s scream, like it hadn’t tasted oil in a century.
Ingrid drew a deep breath as if gathering courage, then guided him inside.
The corridor within felt like a different dimension.
No sunlight reached here. Only the dim glow of pale violet magical torches, floating weightlessly in the air. The stone walls were damp and icy. The ceiling rose so high it disappeared into darkness.
But what held Rein’s attention most wasn’t the architecture.
It was the living things inside it.
Several male and female students drifted along the hallway at a sluggish pace. Some huddled in shadowed corners, speaking in low voices. Others sat on window ledges reading brittle, ancient tomes.
All of them wore the same white uniform as Rein—overlaid with a pitch-black mage cloak…
that bore no colored trim.
No red. No blue. No green. No yellow.
Only pure black, swallowed by the building’s gloom.
Rein glanced down at his own cloak and understood instantly.
In a world where identity was defined by color, being colorless—No Trim—was a mark reserved for those the system couldn’t categorize.
Or those it had chosen to discard.
The symbol of emptiness… or the inability to fit into a framework.
Ingrid turned right at the corner and brought him to a room with a wooden sign swinging above the door:
[Department Administration]
The inside was worse than a storage closet.
Stacks of documents and rolled scrolls were piled everywhere, towering overhead. Dented metal filing cabinets lined the walls like dominoes waiting to collapse.
And in the very back—behind a large desk carved with knife marks and old scratches—sat a small figure who somehow owned the entire space.
A young woman leaned back in her chair, both legs in combat leather boots propped up on the desk without the slightest hint of shame.
Her jet-black hair fell straight to mid-back, stark against her pale skin. Heavy black smoky eyeliner framed eyes that looked bored with the world—yet somehow sharp, dangerous, and unreadable at once.
Between her fingers was a white paper roll, one end glowing red, sending pale gray smoke curling into the air.
Rein’s eyes narrowed immediately. His brain processed the faint sharp scent and the way it burned.
Not normal tobacco.
Dried herbs mixed with finely crushed mana crystals…
A magical nicotine stick? Seriously?
The woman exhaled, shaping the smoke into a small ring—almost like a miniature spell circle—then looked at them with calm indifference.
“Master Alvira…” Ingrid spoke carefully, voice low. “Master Chloe asked me to bring Rein to report in.”
Alvira didn’t even lower her boots. She only tapped ash into a coffee mug on the desk and replied in a husky, strangely charming voice that sounded like she’d just woken up.
“Oh. So you’re the lightning boy.”
A corner of her mouth lifted—punky, and dangerous all at once.
“You healed up, did you?”
“Come in.” She tilted her chin, amused. “We don’t have a rule against putting your shoes on the desk here.”
The moment Rein saw the thick black eyeliner, the straight hair, the boots-on-the-desk posture—
he swore a song hit Play inside his head, like someone pressed a button.
All this time, you were pretending… so much for my happy ending…
The punchy, rebellious vocals of the Queen of Pop-Punk from his former life erupted in his mind with ridiculous clarity—syncing with the scene before him so flawlessly it was almost terrifying.
So much for my happy ending…
Rein let out a long breath.
Yep.
Goodbye peace. Goodbye slow life.
These entries expand the lore and mechanics introduced in this chapter.
Completely optional—read only if you enjoy diving deeper into the system.
Location
Department of Variant Elements
Type: Academic Division / Location
Affiliation: Arcadia Academy of Magic
Classification: Official Department (Low-Tier Budget Allocation)
Common Nickname: The Outcast Division
Description:
The Department of Variant Elements is one of the lesser-known academic branches within Arcadia Academy of Magic. Unlike the prestigious Elemental Departments—Fire, Water, Wind, and Earth—the Variant department serves as a haven for students whose magical affinities do not conform to any of the primary elements. These include practitioners of rare, hybrid, unstable, or unidentified mana types.
– Located at the far edge of the campus, the department's gothic stone structure is isolated both physically and institutionally. The building lacks a magical security grid, signage, or even proper renovations. It is commonly seen as a dumping ground for misfits, troublemakers, or those too difficult to categorize within the Academy’s elemental hierarchy.
– Despite being part of the Academy, the Variant department receives less than 20% of the standard budget compared to mainstream faculties. Faculty support is minimal, and public recognition is rare. Many upper-tier students from other branches remain unaware of its existence entirely.
– Uniform:
Students in this department wear black cloaks without colored lining—informally referred to as the "No Trim" cloak. This visual absence of elemental affiliation symbolizes their rejection by the core system, and marks them as second-class students within the Academy.
– Reputation & Perception:
The department suffers from a severe lack of respect. Students here are often seen as academically or socially problematic. However, some consider the department a hidden crucible for unorthodox talent—those who defy the norms of magical science.
Type: Academic Division / Location
Affiliation: Arcadia Academy of Magic
Classification: Primary Department (Flagship Tier)
Common Nicknames: “Heart of Arcadia”
Description:
The Department of Elemental Magic is the largest and most prestigious faculty within Arcadia Academy of Magic. It specializes in the study and refinement of magic tied to the Four Classical Elements—Fire, Water, Wind, and Earth. Students are admitted into this department through rigorous aptitude assessments, and those who pass are often considered the "true elite" of Arcadian magical academia.
Housed within a grand palace-like structure in the center of campus, the department building is protected by enchanted security gates, elemental wards, and golden insignia etched with ancient runes. Unlike lesser departments, the Elemental Division enjoys immense funding, cutting-edge laboratories, and high-ranking faculty members from royal and noble bloodlines.
– Uniform:
Each student’s robe trim reflects their elemental affinity:
– Red for Fire
– Blue for Water
– Green for Wind
– Amber/Yellow for Earth
The robes are embroidered with gold filigree and bear the Academy’s crest prominently on the shoulder.
– Administrator of the Department of Variant Elements.
– A punk-styled woman with jet-black hair, black eyeliner, and boots on her desk.
– Smokes magical herb cigarettes—mana-infused nicotine sticks.
– Sarcastic, sharp-tongued, and rebellious.
"No Surprises" by Radiohead (1997)
Artist: Radiohead – One of the most critically acclaimed alternative rock bands in history. Known for their experimental sound and lyrics that often explore themes of alienation, modern ennui, and the existential dread of the human condition.
– Genre: Art Rock / Chamber Pop.
– Key Lyric:
Such a pretty house
And such a pretty garden
No alarms and no surprises (get me out of here)
No alarms and no surprises (get me out of here)
No alarms and no surprises (get me out of here)
The History: A legendary track from the album OK Computer, widely regarded as one of the greatest and most influential albums of all time. The song is famous for its delicate, childlike glockenspiel melody—reminiscent of a lullaby or a music box. However, the gentle sound masks a much darker core, with lyrics that explore social alienation, exhaustion, and a weary longing for an escape from a suffocating, "perfect" world.
Trivia: In its iconic music video, lead singer Thom Yorke sang while his head was trapped inside a glass helmet as water slowly rose until he was completely submerged. He had to hold his breath while continuing the lyrics in his head, perfectly capturing the metaphor of "drowning" under the crushing weight of society’s expectations.
Context: A melody Rein hums to soothe his own rising anxiety. As he prepares to leave the isolation of 'The Vault'—the only place he’s known since waking up—the song acts as a mental security blanket. The lyrics "No alarms and no surprises, please" are a literal plea for safety. Even for a man with the mind of Dr. Rhys, stepping out into a world of magic and political intrigue with fragmented memories is a terrifying leap into the dark.
"My Happy Ending" by Avril Lavigne (2004)
Artist: Avril Lavigne – The iconic Canadian "Queen of Pop-Punk" who dominated the early 2000s. Known for her rebellious "Skater Girl" persona, heavy smoky eyeliner, and combat boots.
– Genre: Post-Grunge / Pop-Punk.
– Key Lyric:
All this time, you were pretending
So much for my happy ending
So much for my happy ending
(Oh-oh, oh-oh) (Oh-oh, oh-oh)
So much for my happy ending
The History: A masterpiece from the album Under My Skin, released by the "Queen of Pop-Punk," Avril Lavigne, during her peak in the mid-2000s. This track is a raw, high-energy anthem of disillusionment. It stands as a direct rejection of "fake beauty" and "forced happiness," choosing instead to embrace the gritty, unfiltered pain of reality.
Trivia: The aesthetic of the music video—featuring heavy smoky eyeliner, straight jet-black hair, and the moody atmosphere of a crumbling vintage cinema—served as the primary blueprint for Master Alvira’s character design. Her "don't-give-a-damn" attitude and rebellious aura are a direct tribute to this era of alternative rock.
Context: The "Voice" that Rein hears upon meeting Master Alvira. It marks the transition from the Academy’s artificial "Happy Ending" to the raw, unfiltered reality of the Variant Department.
— Re:Naissance