Chapter 1

PART 1

Royal Voltara Academy
Administrative Building's courtyard.
Six months ago.

“Name?” the registrar asked without looking up from her clipboard.

“…Caden Tassad.”

The name felt awkward in his mouth, like a suit that didn’t quite fit.

The courtyard beyond the registration table buzzed with life—students in fresh uniforms milled about, the air full of chatter and the clink of luggage wheels on cobblestones. Above, banners of the Academy’s gold and blue fluttered lazily in the warm summer breeze. Beyond the outer gates, the sharp spires of the main hall caught the morning light, a promise—or a threat—of the years to come. Somewhere in there, the magic affinity orbs up awaited.

Caden stepped aside to let the next student through and gripped the strap of his satchel tighter. He kept his pace slow, deliberate, as though walking too fast might draw unwanted attention. A part of him still hoped he’d wake up in his own bed, in his own world. But every detail here was too crisp, too alive: the scent of freshly cut grass, the distant toll of the Academy’s bell tower, the weight of this new body’s limbs.

Caden paused beside a tall window by the training facilities, catching his own reflection in the glass. The boy staring back was unfamiliar yet strangely compelling—a lean figure framed by tousled light brown hair that fell just enough to soften his youthful face. His brown eyes, though edged with exhaustion due to a night without sleeping, held a flicker of quiet kindness. He was the epitome of a guy with a childish face, gentle enough to nullify any ill intentions towards him, but old enough to barely pass as a high school student.

"Why do I have the feeling I've seen this face before?" he muttered.

Caden Tassad...

Even the name seemed familiar.

But for the life of him, he could not remember. 

He blinked a few times, tapped his ears, adjujsted his strap once more, and kept walking.

Just play along, he said, it'll all make sense... I hope.

Soon, Caden fell into step with the flowing tide of students moving through the building’s stone corridors, their footsteps echoing against cold walls. The air grew charged with anticipation, whispers of magic crackling faintly beneath the surface. Ahead, the sprawling training grounds awaited—an open hall where destinies would be measured by the glow of affinity stones placed on a dais on the other side of the room. His heart thudded unevenly in his chest as he adjusted the strap of his satchel yet again, muscles tense beneath his thin frame.

Caden watched as the students before him stepped up one by one to grasp the pitch-black orbs resting on stone pedestals. Each orb seemed inert at first, but the moment a hand touched it, a vibrant glow bloomed within—colors swirling and shifting like captured storms. Some orbs deepened into earthy browns, others flared fiery reds or shimmered cool blues. 

"You look puzzled, man," a calm but deep, resonant voice. "Don't tell me you coming to Valtara Academy without knowing what's going on?

Caden turned to see a tan, muscled young man whose height surpassed the average student. His clothes barely seemed to hold, and he had a gentle, white smile and short, almost shaven black hair. With such a towering and bulking frame, Caden wondered how he had not noticed him before.

"Maybe? I was kind of forced to come..." he said, hoping this excuse would make sense.

"Mmm I see, a spoiled brat who's never bruised their legs running..." the giant said, where you come from?"

"Erm, western provinces...?"

"Is that so? I bet you're a windy guy, just by looking at your messy curly hair, I can tell you like gushy grasslands."

"This? I just didn't sleep well, that's all."

"Ooh, we're nervous? Yeah, I guess nerves can crack someone into forgetting basic affinity tests—I'm Gael Lehyr by the way... Far western islands. That is the Patrician territory for you too right?"

"Right, nice to meet you, I'm... Caden."

"Well met, Caden, now, if you're not going, then watch how it's done!"

Gael stepped forward with the easy confidence of someone who owned the earth beneath his feet. His large hand closed around the orb, and instantly, a deep, rich brown radiated outward, thick and steady like the roots of an ancient tree. The color pulsed strongly and sure, drawing a few impressed murmurs from the crowd. Gael’s lips curved into a lazy smirk as he glanced back at Caden, eyes gleaming with burning pride. 

“Not bad at all!” he said with a low chuckle before tossing Caden a playful wink. Gael proceeded to show off his biceps and triceps before being kindly asked to step down.

"That guy can't have enough of himself," another voice said behind Caden, a feminine, gentle voice.

Caden’s attention shifted as a girl stepped forward. 

"First year, too?" she said.

Her chestnut hair caught the sunlight, casting warm highlights that complemented her clear blue eyes. She moved with the unassuming grace of someone raised in the countryside, sturdy yet gentle, like a soft breeze after a storm.

"Er, right." Caden answered as he adjusted his satchel's strap.

"Same, I'm Zara, from the Chaulet barons in the North."

"Caden, from the Tassad patricians..."

"A pleasure... well, if you're not going up there, may I?" she said, eyeing the stairs and the orb.

"S-sure, sure, please, go."

"Don't fret too much, Caden, it's just an affinity test." 

Zara stepped forward with quiet confidence, her chestnut hair catching the light as she reached for the orb. The moment her fingers closed around it, a vibrant green burst to life within—bright, swirling, alive like a fresh breeze through spring leaves. The glow was strong, steady, unmistakable. She glanced back at Caden with a gentle smile, her blue eyes warm and encouraging. 

It was as if she were silently saying, "You’ve got this". The kindness in that look sent a flicker of courage through him, and for a moment, the weight of the test felt just a little lighter.

It was finally his turn. His breath hitched as he reached the steps and reached out to the orb, heart pounding with a mix of dread and hope.

His fingers brushed the cold surface of the orb, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, a faint glow bloomed—soft, cream-colored light, barely pulsing. Yellow. Lightning. It stayed there gleaming on and off as if it were dwindling.

Caden’s heart sank. 

The color was there, but it was so dim, so weak it felt almost like a cruel joke. He glanced sideways at the examiners; their polite nods held a trace of disappointment. The other students’ orbs flared bright and clear, a sharp contrast to his muted shimmer. Despite the spark of electricity inside him, his attunement was fragile—unstable at best.

As Caden stepped back from the pedestal, the faint cream-yellow glow still lingering on the orb, he felt a wave of doubt wash over him. His attunement was weak—far from the dazzling displays around him. But Gael clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Don’t sweat it, Tassad. With enough training, you might just make the cut next year.”

Zara nodded, her blue eyes warm. “Yeah. Strength isn’t everything—sometimes it’s about how you grow.”

Before Caden could reply, the next student stepped forward, reaching for the orb. The moment his fingers grazed the surface, the orb flared a sudden, blinding yellow burst—electricity crackling and snapping violently. A sharp discharge lanced outward, sending the student flying backward into the crowd with a surprised yelp.

"Holy feathered cow," Gael said, his grin even wider, "you planted a bomb, dude?"

"N-no, I..."

The examiners revised their notes and made adjustments; one of them smiled at Caden in acknowledgment.

"Caden!" Zara said, grabbing Caden's hand, "You did it!"

The boy was about to smile, but he looked at the floor, dumbfounded. What the hell did all this mean?

Everything was happening too fast, and many things were familiar. This dream was all too real. 

He had woken up at night, sweating and hyperventilating, as if he had run for hours. The first thing Caden noticed when he opened his eyes was that the ceiling wasn’t his. He was in a room that yelled fantasy, everywhere he looked. Light was ambient thanks to some candles in the corner and the moonlight piercing his balcony. 

He looked in the mirror and saw a different body. He spoke, and a different, softer voice came out. Even his strength had somehow diminished as his arms and legs looked thinner and more delicate than his usual physique.

He had become this... Caden, but deep down, deep down, his true self screamed.

I have a different name!

Everything felt as if he were trapped.

He pushed himself to remember, It's... it's... Va—

"Va-Vachir?" he muttered.

"Bless you, my man," Gael replied with a smile.

A flood of memories rushed in. His school life, his life in a classroom, a beautiful black-haired girl staring at him intently.

Why? Where did all this go? Why was he Caden instead of Vachir?

The sudden cheer and uproar caused by everyone there brought him back to reality.

All eyes turned toward a single figure stepping next to the testing orb—a tall, composed young man whose presence seemed to command the air itself. His unusually red and short hair alongside his regal clothing made Caden's eyes widen. 

“Prince Abelard!” voices echoed, carried by whispers and excited murmurs. Compliments rained down. 

Impressive… unmatched… destined for greatness.

The praise was so high it seemed to be on drugs.

The name struck Caden like ice water. He swallowed hard as a sudden chill crawled down his spine, cold and sharp, twisting in his gut. The name was familiar—too familiar—but he couldn’t place where. His mind scrambled through fragments, hazy memories brushing the edges of his consciousness like ghosts.

Prince Abelard touched the orb, and it flashed a strong red, with flames emerging from it like a furious flame.

"Give it to the crown prince! He's worthy of being called a Valtara!" someone shouted in the crowd.

"You gotta admit, it's very impressive indeed," Gael said, crossing his arms.

"You bet, he's royalty, their magic affinity stands among the highest in the kingdom," Zara remarked.

Prince Abelard turned to the crowd yet ignored the cheering fans, looking straight at Caden. He smiled as if he had beaten him in a challenge.

"You know the prince, Caden?" Gael asked.

The boy's darted back and forth, "No... I mean, maybe?"

Prince Abelard...

Where have I heard that?

They were moved towards a great auditorium. Caden was so taken by his thoughts that he blinked and saw himself sitting next to Gael and Zara in the middle section. He tried as much as he could to grasp at his old name and whatever it entailed.

A simple room with a bed, a desk, some pop star posters, and a computer took form in his mind. He struggled to grasp them again and come back to his old self.

I'm Vachir... I was... I was playing in my room... what was I playing?

The principal stepped forward, an old man with a strong build, a grizzly beard, and a regal tunic. He took a quick look around and then addressed the students.

"Valtaran youth! If you are here, then it means that you have the necessary qualifications to enter, and that your status as scions of the many nobles in Valtara has been recognized before the royal council that presides over this esteemed academy..."

As the principal kept talking, Caden looked around, seeing that he was surrounded by teachers he recognized, and his memories were somehow confirmed. They were, however, behind a screen. Why were they now standing next to the principal like real people?

Sweat began to come down his temple as his breathing intensified.

The principal’s voice rolled across the auditorium like distant thunder.
“And now… Prince Abelard Valtara, representative of this year's first grade.”

Polished boots clicked against the stage as a tall figure emerged from the wings. His uniform was immaculate—deep navy trimmed with silver, the Valtara crest gleaming at his chest. Hair the color of burnished carmine fell just enough to shadow his ice-blue eyes, and when he turned to face the assembled first-years, his posture carried the effortless grace of someone born to stand above others.

Caden froze mid-breath.

No.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

"That’s… Prince Abelard Valtara," he uttered.

"Uh... yeah, we saw him at the testing grounds?" Zara said, "Are you okay? Why are you sweating like that?"

"Maybe he's one of those sweaty people?" Gael joked, albeit with a layer of concern in his eyes.

The name bloomed in his mind with an almost embarrassing clarity, like the memory had just been waiting to ambush him. And along with it came another, older recollection—one of flickering screens and dim lamplight in his old bedroom.

Hearts & Daggers

He’d played it. Not by his own initiative, of course. 

A girl had recommended it to him, and Vachir, being Vachir—soft-hearted, sweet, a little special when it came to his favorite things— had relented.

He hadn’t gone for a 100% completion or anything like that. Just the main story. And for the romance? He’d picked this Prince Abelard’s route. Not because he was particularly invested—just because it seemed the simplest choice at the time. The straightforward, “default” option.

Vachir had seemed to play it just so that he could have a topic of conversation with the girl he had crushed on.

Now, seeing the prince here, in the flesh, a different memory slid into place like a blade between his ribs. He remembered a face like his in the game, but the situation where he remembered the face sank deep into his belly like a piercing sword.

The Tutorial.

Playing as the heroine, being led through the academy grounds by Caden Tassad, a br enight-eyed prodigy who joined the player as their very first companion. Fighting side by side in that first arcane anomaly—monsters pouring from the rift—and then…

Dying.

Caden Tassad was never meant to make it past the tutorial boss. His death was scripted, a noble sacrifice to motivate the heroine’s journey.

His death.

My death.

The auditorium’s walls seemed to close in, the noise of shuffling students receding under the pound of his heartbeat. His palms were damp. His throat felt tight.

Before he realized it, he was already on his feet, slipping between rows toward the exit.

Onstage, Abelard’s gaze caught him mid-stride. It wasn’t a glare—more a subtle tightening around the eyes, a flicker of disapproval—but it was enough to make Caden’s stomach tighten a stronger knot. The prince didn’t pause, didn’t call attention to him. He just kept speaking, voice smooth and commanding.

Caden didn’t hear a word.

He walked. Down the hall, through the tall archways, his thoughts unraveling faster with every step. Six months. That’s all he had. Six months until the winter break, until the heroine arrived, until the anomaly and—

He didn’t remember how far he’d gone until his legs gave out beneath him.

A bench. Somewhere in the academy’s outer grounds. Cool stone against his back. The whisper of leaves overhead.

And the quiet, suffocating certainty of a fate already written.

Caden sat on the bench, shoulders tight, eyes fixed on the dirt between his boots. The cheering for “Prince Abelard” still echoed in his ears as they applauded him far away.

This can’t be real. It can’t be.

Yet, every smell, every sound, every face in the testing grounds told him otherwise. He knew this place. The layout, the banners, even the faint scent of pine in the breeze—it was all from Hearts & Daggers. The realization slammed into him like a punch: this wasn’t just a dream or some bizarre hallucination.

He cycled through possibilities: maybe he was still asleep. Maybe this was some coma-induced fantasy. Maybe—

The memory returned in a sharp flash—pain, searing in his chest, so intense it stole his breath. His fingers twitched involuntarily. I… I died.

Vachir was gone. He was finishing the game when his eyes closed, and he felt a strong pain that pulsed his life away.

And now… now he was Caden. Six months before the game’s events began. 

His breath quickened. The edges of his vision blurred. The thought of what was coming—the blood, the inevitable jaws that awaited him at the hands of an abyssal, arcane creature—wrapped icy fingers around his lungs. His chest rose and fell faster, faster, until—

A soft, warm touch on his hand.

He jerked his head up.

She was sitting beside him now, her presence quiet yet unshakable. Her hair framed her face in dark, silken waves, her eyes catching the light with a calm, steady glow.

“Hi there~" she said gently, as if sensing the storm in his head. "I’m Zoelle, a second-year here, sorry, you looked like you needed… someone to sit with.”

He couldn’t speak—not right away—but she didn’t push. Her voice carried like wind through a field, unhurried and sure, but a little nervous too, as if she didn't know exactly what to say.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” she continued, “b-but this is just the start of your year. You can still choose where it goes. No one else can do that for you. I didn't know that, and I wish someone would've told me before.”

The words sank in slowly, like stones into deep water. His breathing eased. His fists unclenched.

"W-well! I-I hope to see you around, yes? Cheer up, o-okay?"

And then, as suddenly as she’d arrived, Zoelle stood and left, vanishing into the crowd without looking back.

Caden sat there, still feeling the warmth where her hand had been. She was beautiful, yes—but there was something else. Recognition, buried deep. He’d seen her before, somewhere in the winding storylines of Hearts & Daggers. He just couldn’t place her yet, and she didn't linger enough for him to map her out completely.

He drew in a long breath, and for the first time since waking here, it felt like air was reaching his lungs.

She was right.

Six months was not enough time.

Maybe it was?

It was a short time, but not an impossible one.

Maybe it is enough time, with the right conditions.

He cleared his sweat and drooling nose as embarrassment kicked in from having a girl see him like this.

“I’m not dying in six months,” he muttered to himself, voice firm, eyes clear. “Not here. Not as Caden. Not at all.”

"Oi! Tassad!" 

Gael came walking, waving his enormous hand up in the air as if his gigantic size was not enough to spot him.

"G-Gael..." he said, still fixing himself up.

"Dude, what the hell?" Gael asked, "You just left the ceremony while the prince was talking, you know that's considered a minor offense against the royal family?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Caden said, standing up. He looked at the way Zoelle had disappeared into, but she was obviously nowhere to be seen.

Gael looked at him, concerned, "Dude I barely know you Tassad, but I'll ask anyway, is everything ok?"

Caden gave him a tired but honest smile, "I'm great, eager to start the school year."

"R-right... well, let's go then, Zara wants to show us a place she discovered a few days ago, let's introduce ourselves formally over there."

"Yeah, why not, but I want to be home early..." Caden said as they began to walk, "I have stuff to do."

"Dude, we're minors, what did you expect, that we drink until sunrise?"