Five centuries ago, monsters appeared. Humanity should have fallen. Instead…
magic awakened. Some people
gained the ability to channel mana — shaping it into spells, barriers, weapons. They became known as the Arcana, defenders of civilization.
Those without power?
They survived however they could. Laborers.
Refugees. The forgotten. Children
were born in desperate hope that one might awaken. Riven had been one of the discarded ones. Until Viviene found him. Until his power surfaced. Until he became something the world had never seen before. Riven did
not use spells.
He possessed Aura.
A force that did not shape mana…
…but replaced it.
Aura was life force weaponized — pressure, reinforcement, manifestation of will itself.
Only three heroes in recorded history had wielded it. Riven had surpassed them all.
But Aura had limits.
It consumed vitality, not mana. Emotional instability made it surge uncontrollably. Overuse damaged organs and nervous system. Aura was not infinite power. It was
burning life. Both Arcanists and monsters were ranked by Threat potential, not just raw power.
F rank - Initiate
Minor mana control. Basic spells. Civil support roles.
E rank - Adept
Combat capable. Handles small monster outbreaks.
D rank - Specialist
Advanced spell users. Barrier formation, healing, enchantment.
C rank - Vanguard
Professional fighters. City defense units.
B rank - Elite
Military commanders. Can defeat large-scale threats.
A rank - Catastrophe class
Strategic weapons. Can destroy cities alone.
S rank - National pillar
Power that shifts wars.
sS rank - amyth
Living legends. Existences that redefined combat itself.
In his previous life… Riven stood
alone, holding the title of sS. And still…
he failed to protect the ones he loved.
Riven ran through the streets toward the academy. People stared as he laughed under his breath.
"I can change it… I can change everything…"
This time— He would hide his true strength.
Avoid the king's leash. Protect his
family before tragedy struck. No glory. No war.
Just peace.
Arriving at the academy, he was met with a beautifull sight. The academy rose like a fortress carved from light itself. Runed walls.
Crystal pylons. Mana currents humming through the air like distant thunder.
Here… destinies were measured.
A crystal sphere at the center of the courtyard assessed potential — not current
strength, but future ceiling. Housing.
Training. Status. Everything decided in one touch.
Riven remembered exactly what his result had been before.
Top tier.
This time…he would suppress it. He would hide it.
Walking unbothered toward the center of the courtyard with hurried steps, he could
barely suppress his excitment. He didn't
see the boy until they collided.
Silk clothes. Gold-lined boots. Perfume thick enough to choke on.
"Watch where you're going, trash!"
The boy shoved him.
"I am Tristan Welsh — heir of the Welsh Arcana family!"
Riven blinked.
Ah.
That idiot.
Memories of the future resurfaced instantly. Arrogant. Mediocre. Easily provoked. Harmless. Tristan grabbed Riven's collar.
"You bumped into nobility. Kneel and apologize!" Riven sighed. He stepped
aside. Tristan stumbled. A foot caught his ankle. He fell face-first into the
grass. Laughter erupted around them.
Tristan's face turned crimson. He drew his
sword.
"YOU—"
Steel flashed. Clumsy. Telegraphed. Slow.
Riven picked up a fallen branch. Three breaths later— Tristan layed on the ground, gasping, unable to inhale after a precise strike to the throat that disrupted his airway reflex without causing permanent harm. Silence
fell. Students stared.
"That… was amazing…"
"Who is he?"
"Did you see that movement—?"
Riven tossed the stick aside.
"Someone get him a medic."
Then he calmly walked to the back of the evaluation line. Just another student. Just another face.