The cold wind blew through the cracks in the underground walls. Eiden stood still, holding a faded parchment in his hands. It was one of the many old notes he found in the ruin beneath the academy. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from recognition.
"This handwriting... it's mine. From the past."
He sat down on a stone bench and stared at the scroll. The letters were written in an ancient language, but to him, they felt natural. His mind began to connect the pieces.
This ruin wasn't just old—it was his. A place he once used in his previous life.
The room was dim. Only the faint glow from the glyphs on the wall gave it light. Dust covered the bookshelves, broken wands, and old training tools. Eiden lit a small light orb with simple magic, then walked slowly through the room. Each step felt heavier. Memories he couldn't fully recall tried to come back.
In one corner, he found a half-broken mirror. He looked at himself. His face was young, but his eyes were different—deep and tired. "I'm still not complete," he whispered.
---
Each night, Eiden returned to the ruin. He practiced simple spells. Just enough to restore his memory and keep his mana flowing. He didn't use strong spells—he had to hide.
One night, he stood in the center of the ruin with his sword drawn. He held a ball of light in his other hand. Slowly, he slashed the sword and moved the light magic with the blade's movement.
A small burst of wind followed.
"Again," he said to himself.
He tried once more. This time, the light followed the sword closely, and a faint trail was left in the air. It wasn't powerful, but it was a start.
"I will combine sword and magic," he said firmly.
---
Outside the ruin, things started to change. In the academy, whispers spread about Eiden's behavior. Some students said they saw him wandering late at night. Others noticed his eyes seemed distant in class.
But no one dared question him directly.
Except one person—Elara.
She watched him from afar. Her instincts told her something was off. She followed him once, but he disappeared. She found no trace. "He's hiding something," she murmured.
Back in the ruin, Eiden continued training.
He began drawing simple glyphs in the air. These were from his past life—spells that belonged to an ancient era. Slowly, he tested their effects. A light push. A quick dodge. A flash of light.
His body adapted fast.
He also trained with his sword every day. Slashes became sharper. Footwork cleaner. The light magic added a strange elegance to his style. It wasn't just swordsmanship anymore—it was something new.
By the fifth night, he stood before the glowing wall and placed his hand on it.
The wall responded. A small compartment opened.
Inside was a crystal.
When he touched it, his mind was filled with a memory.
A battle. Fire everywhere. His own voice screaming spells. Blades clashing. Someone betraying him.
He fell back, holding his head.
"More... I need to remember more."
But he wasn't ready yet. His mana trembled, but it didn't burst.
"I have to rebuild slowly. Or it'll consume me."
---
Later, at the academy, Eiden returned to class with tired eyes. But inside, he felt more awake than ever.
He sat quietly, watching other students practice magic.
His hands were wrapped in cloth—hiding the mana scars from the glyphs.
When the teacher called his name, he answered simply, "Present."
But his thoughts were far away.
Underground.
In the shadows.
With the forgotten arts.
---
At night, in the ruin, he drew a new glyph—a blade-shaped one.
When he slashed through it with his sword, it burst into a beam of light.
His eyes shone softly.
"I remember this move now," he said. "Starfall Edge."
The ruin was silent. But the air around him felt different. Like it remembered him too.
This place was waking up.
And so was he.