The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of the modest cottage in Silvermere, waking Alaric from a restless sleep. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he was disoriented, unsure of where—or when—he was. Then the memories flooded back. The Demon Lord. The ruined city. The countless lives lost. The desperate gamble to turn back time. His heart pounded as he looked at his hands, smaller and softer than he remembered.

He was fifteen again.

The realization sent a shiver down his spine. The gods had granted him a second chance, and he was not going to waste it. This time, he would change everything.

“Alaric! Are you awake?” his mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

“Coming, Mother!” he replied, forcing a smile.

Elenna greeted him with her usual warm smile, her auburn hair tied neatly behind her head. She was bustling around the small kitchen, packing food for the day. Darion, his father, sat at the table, sharpening a blade with steady hands. Both looked up as Alaric entered the room.

“Today’s the big day,” Darion said, his deep voice filled with pride. “Our boy’s becoming a man today.”

Elenna chuckled, placing a hand on Alaric’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe how quickly you’ve grown. It feels like just yesterday you were running around the village with mud on your face.”

Alaric smiled faintly, the warmth of their affection tinged with the bitter knowledge of what the future held. His parents had always been his greatest supporters, and he couldn’t bear the thought of failing them again.

“You must be excited,” Elenna said. “The Class Awakening Ceremony is a blessing from Ion. Whatever class you’re assigned, it’s your path to greatness.”

“Yes,” Alaric said softly, his resolve hardening. “Whatever class I get, I’ll make the most of it.”

Darion nodded approvingly, clapping his son on the back. “That’s the spirit, lad. No matter what, remember: your worth isn’t just in your class. It’s in how you use it.”

The Class Awakening Ceremony was held at the Temple of Ion, a grand structure in the center of the village. Its white stone walls gleamed in the sunlight, and its spire reached high into the sky, a testament to the God of Transcendence and Transformation. The temple’s great hall was packed with villagers, all gathered to witness the moment when the year’s fifteen-year-olds would be assigned their classes.

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Alaric stood among his peers, trying to quell the nervous energy buzzing in the air. He already knew what was coming—he would be assigned the Essence Sage class again. But this time, it wouldn’t be a curse. It would be his weapon.

One by one, the children stepped forward to receive their class. The temple’s priest, an elderly man with a voice that carried the weight of the divine, called their names, and as each child’s class was revealed, the crowd erupted in cheers or murmurs of disappointment.

Finally, it was Alaric’s turn. He stepped forward, his heart steady despite the stares of the crowd.

The priest placed his hands on Alaric’s head and began to chant. A soft, golden light enveloped him, just as it had in his past life. The warmth of Ion’s blessing coursed through him, and the priest’s voice rang out.

“Essence Sage.”

A hush fell over the crowd. Murmurs began to ripple through the onlookers.

“Essence Sage? What’s that?”

“I’ve never heard of it before.”

“It doesn’t sound like a combat class.”

Alaric turned to face his parents. Darion’s proud expression faltered, and Elenna’s smile wavered. They exchanged a glance, trying to mask their disappointment, but Alaric could see it in their eyes.

The priest continued, explaining the class and its skills. Essence Extraction—the ability to draw essence from objects, living beings, and skills, with a 1% chance of gaining the extracted skill. Essence Infusion—the power to temporarily imbue oneself or others with the extracted essence as buffs.

“The class excels in support and enhancement,” the priest concluded, his tone neutral.

Darion forced a smile and clapped Alaric on the shoulder. “Well, it’s… unique. You’ll make it work, son.”

Elenna nodded, her voice gentle. “It may not be what we expected, but you’ve always been resourceful, Alaric. You’ll find a way to use it for good.”

Alaric met their gazes, his determination unwavering. “I will,” he said firmly. “I’ll make this class strong. Strong enough to protect you, protect our village, and protect Eryndor.”

His parents exchanged a surprised look, but Darion chuckled, ruffling Alaric’s hair. “That’s the spirit. Show the world what an Essence Sage can do.

As the ceremony ended and the crowd began to disperse, Alaric lingered in the temple, staring up at the statue of Ion. The god’s serene visage seemed to watch him, a reminder of the burden and the blessing of his class.

“I won’t fail this time,” Alaric whispered. “No matter what it takes, I’ll become stronger. I’ll master this class, even if I have to risk everything.”

He clenched his fists, his heart burning with resolve. The path ahead would be long and perilous, but Alaric knew one thing for certain: this time, he wouldn’t let the future slip through his fingers.