Chapter Eight

Starting from Scratch– Part One.

“Today’s class will be practical combat sparring,” the teacher’s voice announced from the front of the gymnasium. “Get into pairs, find a space, and start fighting. No lethal magic! Only Two Star Magic and under.”

At the instructions, the congregated uniformed students split into binary groups. Among them, one particular student remained entirely still, appearing to be in deep thought and unaware of the happenings around him.

Aelius was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he had come to the past. Everytime he closed his eyes, he still winced in pain at the memories of his past life.

But while they tormented him, they were also something sacred. They were his scars. His pain. How could Stecia just do away with it all like it never happened? Like it never mattered?

It mattered to him. It hurt him. It changed him. He had turned from a naive and innocent, bright-eyed boy, to… whatever this was now. A monster. An indifferent soldier, jaded and exhausted.

And now, he has to start all over again? Would things really be any different, or would they repeat?

Aelius was in the second to last class, due to his lack of talent in Magic. The only reason he wasn’t in the infamously rag-tag dead last class was because of his book smarts. Therefore, he was in Class 1D.

Ranking from A being the top, all the way down to E, students are divided at the start of each year into where the Academy believes they belong in terms of hierarchy. Being in A was always Aelius’ dream, but it quickly shattered when his younger self failed the combat tests miserably.

The average Star of the students of Class 1D was Third Star with the odd exception being Second Star.

And then, there was Aelius, with no Star at all because he was yet to form a Mana Core. It was unprecedented in the Academy’s history, an institution for nurturing mages, to enlist an ordinary student with no power over Mana. For them to do so was, in many parents’ eyes and teachers’ eyes, to breach the fundamental principles upon which the Academy was founded and based.

Of course, they had all been shut up by Headmaster Polia. But one thing Polia couldn’t prevent was the rampant, incessant discrimination and bullying by students.

As Aelius was still trying to make a sense of the conflicting thoughts in his head, he suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. His eyes widened and his breath seized up.

“Hey nerd–!” His nerves were sizzling– a sensation he was well accustomed to. And almost mystically, he took a step to the side just as the swipe of an arm came mauling at him. His arms moving on their own, Aelius seized the attacking arm and immediately twisted it. In perfect parallel motion with his upper body, his leg swept in a circle on the ground to trip up the attacker, and with a thump, the sudden ambusher hit the ground shoulder-first.

“Oww… what the…?”

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Aelius looked down to find someone with stature and physique far larger than him, clutching their shoulder in pain.

“Hohoho! Dylan, you just got decked by the nerd?” Some voices were snickering and laughing at the commotion.

Aelius frowned as he turned to see two boys watching on in amusement.

“How are you gonna let the nerd do that to you, man?” the boy on the right mocked.

“Ugh, shut up.” Dylan jumped to his feet, rubbing his shoulder. “That must’ve been a fluke,” he growled at his friends who cackled before turning back to Aelius. “Hey nerd, you secretly learn some moves, huh?” he puffed his chest out in a pathetic display of dominance. “I’ll be your practice partner, since you don’t have anyone else to pair up with. I’m gonna get you back for that crap just now,” Dylan licked his lips.

Aelius frowned at him. Why was this kid so unnecessarily hostile? And then a hidden memory surfaced– one Aelius had not recalled in over a dozen years.

Ohhh… right. Dylan was his class bully. The overgrown baby would try to make Aelius’ life miserable in any way he could. Always targeting the weak– Aelius, and joining in on the fun cause everyone else did it. But unlike others, Dylan would always take it too far.

Though, Aelius already got his revenge against Dylan in his first life just before he left the Academy for good.

“Hah…” Aelius sighed.

“You scared?” Dylan taunted him.

“...Sure, whatever. Let’s do it.”

“Hehe, beat his ass, Dylan!” Dylan’s two lackeys cheered. Dylan returned a smug smirk. “Huh, where’s he going?” The three turned to perplexedly find Aelius approaching the instructor. “Is he snitching!?”

“That little mother-” Dylan fumed but then saw the instructor step over to the weapon wrack, fetching a short sword and handing it back to Aelius. “Oh… hahaha. The instructor must’ve just told him to fight it out.”

“He gave him a sword! At a mage Academy! Bahahah!” The three were laughing as Aelius returned, inspecting the blade and giving it a few swings. “I always knew Instructor Williams had it out for him.”

“Hey nerd, I’m gonna mess you up real good, and that sword is not going to save you.”

Aelius glanced at him and then rolled his eyes. “Okay… not everything’s about Conjuring, you know.” At his cold remark, the three bullies frowned. Did he always give off this sense of… intimidation?

One of the boys met Aelius’ eyes and froze. All the hairs on his body stood up on end and he gulped down a ball of saliva with intense difficulty. To him, the mere ‘nerd’ had a gaze of crimson, cold and murderous.

“Hey… that guy– doesn’t he seem a little off to you?” he uttered to his friend. “Like… usually, he’d be quaking in his boots by now.”

“Huh? What are you going on about–?” the other boy turned back, but before they could get to the bottom of it, they heard the whistle blown from the instructor.

“They’re already starting-” something went whooshing past. “...Huh?”

They both turned to look down the other end of the stadium. Sitting in a puddle of red was a single, severed arm. Their breaths caught in their throats and they whipped their heads back.

A single, gleaming tip stuck out of Dylan’s back. It was the sword, puncturing a hole in the right side of his chest.

Then, Dylan’s legs gave out and he collapsed onto the ground, as Aelius stood casually with the blade in his hand. “Healer,” he coldly remarked before he tossed the sword away like a piece of trash.

All the students were watching in shock and awe, the entire stadium silent save for the clicks and clacks of Aelius’ formal dress shoes vacating the hall.

Even long after he stepped out and they heard his footsteps fading, they were still bound in place, until finally Instructor Williams snapped out of it.

“Dylan… Healer! Healer!”