Darkness.
That was the last thing Alan Grey remembered before the world turned to ash.
He had stood alone atop the shattered Tower of Divinity, his katana dripping with the ichor of gods, the skies torn open by his forbidden spells. A thousand armies lay broken behind him. A thousand betrayals burned in his heart.
Then came the spear of divine wrath.
Then came silence.
And now—
Light.
Alan awoke gasping, not in agony—but in power. The surge within him was overwhelming, his core vibrating with magical resonance far beyond what any mortal should possess.
His blue eyes snapped open.
The wooden ceiling above him was unfamiliar, yet... not. He sat up slowly on the modest cot, strands of silky black hair falling over his face. A cracked mirror stood in the corner, revealing a young man—his younger self, sixteen years old, slim but honed, far too handsome for his own good, glowing faintly with magical energy that seemed to warp the air around him.
This wasn't just a second chance.
This was an upgrade.
"Reborn, are we?" he whispered, voice smooth and confident. "Well then... let's break the world properly this time."
He rose, the air around him responding instantly—a storm of blue and silver energy dancing across his skin. The katana, his old companion Midnight Fang, materialized into his hand with a flash, its blade humming in greeting.
He remembered everything. Every spell. Every battle. Every god he'd slain.
And he would do it again.
Only better.
A knock came at the door.
"Alan, you'll be late for the Academy evaluation!" came a woman's voice—his caretaker in this timeline, a kind widow who had once taken him in before tragedy struck. He smirked.
Let them see who they try to test.
He opened the door, now fully dressed in simple medieval tunic and trousers, though the cloth shimmered faintly with protective runes only he could see. The katana was sheathed at his side, but its presence was anything but subtle. Everyone would feel it soon enough.
He stepped outside.
The sky was bright, the village peaceful. He could almost pretend it was a normal day. But Alan knew better. Beneath the surface of this world, fate was already stirring. The gods would feel it—the return of the one they thought they'd erased.
As he walked through the village, whispers followed him.
"Is that Alan? He looks... different.""Did you see his eyes? Like magic itself lives in them...""Handsome as a prince... but dangerous."
At the plaza, a giant carriage bearing the seal of Arcanum Academy waited. Mages in silver robes stood by, holding crystal orbs for evaluations. Alan walked past the line of nervous teenagers, straight to the front.
A robed examiner raised an eyebrow. "Name?"
"Alan Grey."
The man tapped his orb. "Place your hand here for mana affinity."
Alan complied.
The orb didn't glow.
It exploded.
Cracks spiderwebbed from the pedestal as magical pressure surged out like a tsunami. The robed mages fell backward, some gasping, others shielding their faces from the blinding light. The crowd panicked—then fell into stunned silence.
"What... what was that?" one whispered.
Alan turned, his eyes glowing a deep, stormy blue, his voice calm as still water.
"I'm not here to be tested," he said. "I'm here to rewrite the rules."