"Hey! Raziel! Wake up!"
A sharp hit to the ribs yanked him out of the void.
Raziel shot upright, his hands flying to his chest, searching for the wound the sword had left.
His heart was pounding, his breathing coming out in short gasps.
'Where is she? Where is Zion? Where are the bodies?'
But there was no blood, just his novice robe, wrinkled and stained with ink.
He blinked.
There were only wooden benches, colored stained glass, and the smell of cheap incense.
He was in a classroom.
"Dreaming about Judgment Day?" Lucian was looking at him with one raised eyebrow and that smug smile he was known for. "You were mumbling weird stuff, something about forgiving someone."
Lucian.
The name hit Raziel like a memory that hadn't happened yet.
Lucian Valerius Nyxian, heir of the Duchy, dead in the Invasion, pierced by a black crystal spear while trying to protect civilians that couldn't be saved anymore.
Raziel stared at him. The noble in front of him was young, fifteen, same as him.
Arrogant, shallow, annoying, but alive.
"What's your problem?" Lucian lost his cool under that stare. "You're freaking me out, Celeste."
"Sir Raziel."
Sister Elena's voice cut through the moment.
The instructor was glaring from the front of the room, the textbook closed, her patience clearly gone.
"Since your conversation with young Valerius is so important, would you like to share it with the class?"
Raziel lowered his head automatically.
"Sorry, Sister, I just had a nightmare."
"Nightmares are for nighttime, not for my class, so don't let it happen again."
The lesson kept going, but Raziel wasn't listening. His mind was working like crazy, trying to process the impossible.
'I remember dying, I remember Zion, and I remember... other lives?'
The fragments were messy, contradictory.
A battle here, a betrayal there, faces he recognized but couldn't name.
But then he looked at his young hands, no calluses, no scars.
The hands of a teen who'd never held anything heavier than a practice candelabrum.
But inside his skull, something had changed.
He could feel it, a weird presence, like static under the skin.
Zion's "gift."
He closed his eyes and searched inside himself, like he'd search for the flame of faith during a prayer, and he found it.
'How many times have I regressed?'
The system in his head blinked an answer.
[STATUS: RAZIEL CELESTE]
[LEVEL: 1]
[CLASS: NOVICE (NO SPECIALIZATION)]
[TITLE: THE REGRESSOR]
[UNIQUE SKILLS]
→ [ETERNAL REGRESSION (PASSIVE)]: When you die, you go back to the last save point. Cost: Sanity Fragment. Memories from previous cycles: CORRUPTED.
→ [ECHOES OF THE FUTURE (PASSIVE)]: Fragments of past timelines remain as instinct. Accuracy: 8%.
→ [PARAGON'S LIGHT (SEALED)]: Unawakened potential.
[WARNING]
[Multiple regressions degrade mental stability.]
[Full memories from previous cycles: INACCESSIBLE]
Raziel closed his eyes, processing.
'I don't remember how many times I've died, I only know it's happened before.'
It was terrifying, and also a blessing in disguise.
If he remembered every death, every failure, every person I couldn't save... he'd already be insane.
The bell rang, and that's when the other students started moving.
The bell rang, marking the end of class.
Students started to move, packing their stuff and chatting with each other.
"Hey, Celeste."
Lucian blocked his path, flanked by his two usual friends: Gideon, the big guy, and Mark, the quiet one.
"That dead face you had..." Lucian tilted his head, studying him. "What did you dream about, exactly?"
Raziel weighed his options.
In his previous life, he'd treated Lucian like a minor obstacle, an arrogant noble who didn't deserve his time.
Now he knew Lucian would die trying to be a hero, so yeah, there was something under that privilege mask after all.
"I dreamed about the end of the world," Raziel said, totally honest.
Lucian blinked, thrown off by the direct answer.
"What?"
"Fire falling from the sky, demons walking the streets, everyone we know, dead." Raziel looked him in the eyes. "It felt real."
Silence stretched out. Gideon traded an awkward look with Mark.
Lucian let out a forced laugh.
"You're nuts, Celeste. Too many prophecy books before bed."
"Probably," Raziel admitted. "But just in case... you should learn how to use that practice sword for real, Lucian."
Raziel stood up, and something weird happened.
He saw Gideon raise an ink jar behind Lucian, predicted the angle of his arm, the likely path, and his body moved before the jar even flew.
He turned on his heel, caught the jar in midair, and set it down gently on the nearest desk.
The classroom went silent.
"How... how did you do that?" someone asked.
Raziel looked at the jar in his hand, just as shocked as everyone else.
[ECHO ACTIVATED: Combat Reflexes (Fragment)]
[Origin: Unknown Timeline]
[Duration: Temporary]
"Good reflexes," he said simply, and left the classroom before they could ask more.
He walked through the cloisters of St. Celeste, his mind sorting what he knew.
'What I know is I've died before and probably a lot of times, too, my memories are fragmented, but my instincts survive.'
'What I don't know is how many times I've regressed, or why I keep failing.'
It was like waking up in the middle of a chess game without remembering the earlier moves.
All that was left were the pieces on the board and the vague feeling he'd already lost before.
But this time would be different, it had to be.
He reached a fountain in the central garden and knelt, hands together.
"Zhalyr, Mother of Light," he whispered. "I don't know how many times you've given me this chance, I don't know if I deserve it. But I promise you..."
[PRAYER DETECTED]
[SINCERITY: 100%]
[RESONANCE WITH PREVIOUS TIMELINES: HIGH]
[BONUS APPLIED: +1 WILLPOWER, +1 MENTAL STABILITY]
When he opened his eyes, he saw an extra message:
[MEMORY FRAGMENT RECOVERED]
[Timeline #???]
[Content: A familiar voice.]
And then he heard it deep inside his mind.
A female voice, warm but broken by pain:
"The key isn't being stronger than her, Raziel. It's being smarter. She expects you to play her game. Don't—"
The voice cut off hard.
Raziel went still.
There was no face, only the voice. An echo of someone who, in another life, had given him an advice.
Change the rules.
Don't play her game.
"Got it," he muttered to the air. "Whoever you are... thanks."
He stood up and looked toward the library in the distance.
---
[QUEST UPDATED]
[OBJECTIVE: Infiltrate the Restricted Section]
[NOTE: In previous timelines, this objective had... varied results.]
[PROCEED WITH CAUTION]