The Morgain estate was quiet.
Most of the servants had retired for the night, and the floating lights along the corridors had begun to dim, one by one, leaving behind only a faint glow in the main halls. Night had fully settled over the manor, wrapping its ancient stone walls in calm and shadow.
In the guest room, Aubrelle was preparing to sleep.
She wore a simple white silk robe, her long hair cascading loosely over her shoulders like a veil of snow. Standing just outside Trafalgar's door, she held a flickering candle in one hand, her face serene.
"Tomorrow, we leave early," she said softly. "Try to rest, alright?"
Trafalgar stood just inside his room, still dressed. He looked at her from the doorway, his posture relaxed but distant.
"I'll try," he replied.
Aubrelle lingered a moment longer, her eyes scanning his face as if searching for something unspoken. She seemed about to say more, but in the end, she only offered a faint smile.
"Goodnight, Trafalgar."
"Goodnight, Aubrelle."
She closed the door gently behind her, leaving him alone in the silence.
He remained standing for several seconds, unmoving. The bed behind him was untouched. His eyes drifted to the tall window, then to the desk, then finally to the door again.
There was something pulling at him—restless, urgent.
'If I'm supposed to survive in this world… I need to understand how it works, this new game can't be much different than the first one right?.'
Without another thought, he stepped forward, opened the door quietly, and slipped into the dimly lit corridor.
The manor slept.
But he was wide awake.
And he had a destination: the library.
The halls of the Morgain estate were eerily still at night.
Trafalgar moved with quiet precision, his steps light against the cold floor. In his left hand, he carried a single enchanted candle—taken from one of the wall sconces outside his room. It burned with a steady pale-blue flame, casting long, wavering shadows across the corridors.
He turned left at the second hallway, then descended a narrow spiral staircase hidden behind a statue of a forgotten ancestor.
The library waited below.
The door at the bottom was thick, iron-bound, and marked with the crest of House Morgain: a silver raven with wings outstretched, gripping a sword in one claw and a key in the other.
He paused only briefly before reaching for the handle.
To his surprise, it wasn't locked.
The iron creaked as the door opened, and a wave of cool, dusty air washed over him.
The Morgain library was vast.
Two floors of towering shelves surrounded him, filled with books bound in cracked leather, dark cloth, or even metal. A glass window on the far wall let in a sliver of moonlight, casting silver lines across the wooden floor. The entire space smelled of parchment, candle wax, and something older—like forgotten magic.
Trafalgar moved deeper inside, his candle illuminating the edges of spines marked in faded runes and glyphs.
He didn't know what he was looking for exactly—only that he'd recognize it when he saw it.
Then, near the far wall, a single book rested on a pedestal.
Thick, worn, its dark leather cover slightly frayed at the corners. Etched into it in faded silver script:
"Principles of Mana – Foundational Edition, Morgain Archive"
Trafalgar approached slowly.
His hand hovered over the surface of the book, then brushed across it lightly.
'This feels right…'
He opened the cover.
The first line stared back at him:
Mana is the heart of the world.
He stared at it for a long moment.
Something about the sentence resonated—not just with his mind, but deeper. As if the words weren't teaching him something new… but reminding him of something he'd always known.
He read on.
The chapter began with foundational theory. Mana was described as a natural force that flowed through all living things, invisible but ever-present. Everyone was born with a latent mana core, but only through effort and awareness could it be awakened. The first step was sensing it.
He moved to the center of the library, set the candle down on the floor beside him, and sat cross-legged in the open space between the shelves.
The instructions were simple.
Relax the breath.
Center the mind.
Lower the body's resistance.
Let the flow pass through, not against you.
He closed his eyes.
For a long while, there was nothing.
Only the distant crackle of the candle and the faint rustle of wind against the library windows.
Then—
A hum.
Not a sound, exactly. Not a vibration.
A presence.
Warm. Faint. Subtle as a heartbeat under the earth.
It pulsed once. Then again.
And it was inside him.
His chest felt warm. Not burning—just alive. As if something dormant had stirred.
His breathing slowed.
The hum grew stronger.
Mana.
It wasn't rushing in from the outside. It was rising from within.
From him.
Trafalgar opened his eyes, just as the warmth gathered tightly at the center of his body—then surged outward in a wave of clarity that left him breathless.
The candle's flame flared.
And in front of his vision—floating in the air—appeared a glowing, translucent window.
The window hovered in front of him—suspended in the air, glowing faintly blue, as if made of light and thought.
Trafalgar stared, wide-eyed, barely daring to breathe.
Text etched itself into existence, letter by letter:
[System Activated]
[Name: Trafalgar du Morgain]
[Age: 15]
[Status: Mana Core Awakened – Rank: Novus]
[Talent: SSS]
He blinked.
Then read it again.
"…SSS?"
His voice broke the silence, hoarse with disbelief. The echo of it seemed to bounce off the high shelves, as if even the books couldn't believe what they'd heard.
SSS.
In the first game, S was the highest possible talent tier—rare, overwhelming, game-breaking. Most players got stuck with C or B. A was considered lucky.
But SSS?
He had never seen it. Not in his account. Not in forum screenshots. Not in developer leaks.
He rose to his feet slowly, the candlelight flickering against the edge of the translucent window.
A slow grin crept onto his face.
"This is insane…"
He took a shaky breath and exhaled with a laugh. Not one of amusement—but of stunned realization.
This body. This world. This fate.
And now, this advantage.
He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as the afterglow of the mana surge lingered beneath his skin.
SSS.
'What kind of monster could I become with this?'
Trafalgar closed the book slowly, the candlelight casting flickers across its worn leather cover. The mana within him still pulsed—steady now, quiet, as if settling into place.
The system window had vanished, dissolving like mist.
But the truth remained.
He had awakened.
And he wasn't like the boy who had come before.
He stood in the center of the vast library, breathing evenly, gaze fixed on the tall, arched window overlooking the darkened estate.
Moonlight spilled across the floor, bathing the shelves in silver.
His voice broke the silence—low, dry, laced with something sharp.
"Sorry, original Trafalgar," he muttered. "But I'm not a little whining bitch like you."
He smirked, then turned away from the window.
The candle flickered at his side as he walked back toward the stairs, the echo of his footsteps quiet, but certain.
He didn't know what the Academy held.
Or what kind of enemies he'd face there.
But now, with the mana burning in his veins and a talent beyond anything this world had seen—
He wouldn't be forgotten.
He would carve his name into this world with fire and blood if he had to.
And no one would ever control him again.