The entrance exams were a week away—a tight window, but enough. I spent those seven days wrestling with my new reality. Reincarnation is a messy business; your mind remembers how to move, but the body is a different machine entirely. My balance was off, my center of gravity had shifted, and my reach was shorter than I remembered. I didn't have time to fully polish my swordsmanship, but for the trials ahead, "good enough" would have to suffice.
A more pressing concern was onin my head an that was how the hell i was going to get close to the future Archmage. Typically, knights and mages occupy separate spheres, but a truly gifted mage can claim a knight as their personal guardian, forming a tactical duo. That was my play. I planned to use my past-life combat experience to become Ryan's indispensable shield. Of course my pitiful past life combat skills were not going to be enough but the voice that sent me back in time will most surely make sure I get a powerful blessing so that I can stand side by side with the future Archmage. But with the prestige he was supposed to have, competition for that spot would be fierce.
"It all comes down to the blessing," I whispered to myself, approaching the massive spire of the testing grounds.
The tower was a marvel of architectural sorcery, far grander than anything I had seen as a commoner. I suppressed a manic grin. In my previous life, I had only ever dreamed of standing where I stood now—about to receive the literal favor of a god.
I waited in the throng of aspirants. The Academy was technically open to everyone, but commoners rarely showed; the mockery from the nobility if one failed to manifest a blessing was often more than a person could bear. I scanned the crowd until I saw him: Ryan, the future Archmage. He stood with the quiet dignity of a man destined for greatness. I kept my distance, watching as noble after noble stepped into the circle of light.
Finally, the Overseer's voice cut through the air. "Eres of the Fiscion family! Step forward to manifest and receive the blessing of a god."
I walked through the parting crowd and stepped into the altar's mystical blue glow. I wasn't nervous. If a voice could rip me through time, securing a powerful patron of a god should be child's play.
Suddenly, a torrent of divine energy slammed into me. It felt like molten lead was being poured through my veins. The agony was immense, through the pain, I smiled. Power this violent only meant one thing: a top-tier deity had claimed me. The light subsided, leaving me gasping on one knee.
"Eres of the Fiscion family," the Overseer proclaimed, his voice booming with newfound respect. "You have been blessed by Orburos, the God of Might!"
The crowd hissed with whispers. The God of Might. With this, becoming Ryan's knight wouldn't just be possible—it would be expected. I leaned against a marble pillar, watching the "riff-raff" of minor nobles receive their blessings as I waited for the main event.
"Ryan of the Dracyn family! Step forward!"
I smirked, leaning in. This was the moment that would change the world. In my timeline, this was when the God of Power announced himself, shaking the very foundations of the world. Ryan stepped into the altar, and a storm of energy erupted—but it wasn't blue. It was a shimmering, chaotic green.
The Overseer cleared his throat, sounding utterly bewildered. "The... Goddess of Luck? Ryan of the Dracyn family has received a high-tier blessing from the Minor Goddess of Luck."
The silence that followed was deafening, followed quickly by the cruel snickering of the surrounding nobles. A Dracyn—one of the highest houses in the land—blessed by a minor goddess of chance? It was a humiliation.
I blinked, rubbing my eyes. What? This wasn't right. Luck? How was he supposed to become the Archmage with luck? I watched him walk off the stage, his expression unreadable, and I felt a pit of dread form in my stomach. Did that "voice" screw up? Did it forget to give the hero his actual power?
The following months were a blur of frustration. I excelled in the S-Tier classes, my strength fueled by Oburos, the hod of Might, but Ryan was nowhere to be found. He had become a ghost, hiding from the mockery of his peers. I was panicking. My mission was to guide the Archmage, but the Archmage didn't seem to exist anymore. Fine, I thought. If I can't rely on Ryan, I'll have to become the hero myself. I'll gather my own allies and face the demons alone.
That brings us to today: the Academy Tournament.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" the announcer roared. "Our first match! Elkonn of Class B versus Ryan Dracyn of Class C! Begin!"
I watched from the stands, suprised at Ryan for even showing up. How was he supposedto win with luck. But as the bell rang, Ryan didn't look humiliated. He was smirking. He raised his hand, and a magic circle manifested—one I had never seen in my life.
"Is that a custom circle?" the announcer shouted. "Incredible! But what does it do?"
Ryan's voice rang out across the arena, clear and mocking. "Let's play a game of Heads or Tails. I'll take Heads."
A massive, ethereal coin manifested in the air, spinning with a rhythmic whirring sound. The entire stadium went silent. The coin hit the ground. Heads.
In an instant, the atmosphere shifted. A geyser of raw, terrifying mana erupted from Ryan, the sheer pressure forcing the front row of spectators to lean back. It wasn't the steady power of a mage; it was a volatile, explosive surge that rivaled anything the Archmage had possessed in my past life.
"It's over," Ryan said.
With a casual flick of his wrist, he unleashed a tidal wave of shimmering green energy. It didn't just hit Elkonn; it erased his defense and sent him cratering into the far wall in a single, effortless blow.
I stood up, my hands trembling on the railing. What the hell is going on?