Chapter 4: His Eternal Curse

Seraphina opened her mouth to say something else but then…

“RAZIEL!!”

Lucian’s scream from outside, in the library, cut the air like a knife.

Shit.

Raziel tensed up. How long had his friend been standing there? Did he hear something?

Lucian’s carefree smile suddenly didn’t look so friendly.

“I think it is time for you to go back, don’t you think?” said Seraphina, changing her mystery tone to her usual formal tone.

Raziel went back to the student area in the library and saw how Lucian was surrounded by his other friends.

One of the other initiates, a big guy named Gideon, elbowed Raziel.

“What are you looking for there, Raz? Plans to dominate the world? Secret love letters for Sister Seraphina?”

“I’m just reviewing some strategy before Jericho’s class,” he said sharply, pointing at the book he had in his hand.

“Thought I could use a bit of an advantage for what’s coming.”

His jokes sounded hollow.

Every laugh, a possible echo of a future betrayal.

’Could I trust them? Any of them?’

The answer was a solid no.

They were cattle waiting for the slaughterhouse, and he was the only one who saw the butcher.

“Ah, that book,” intervened the third initiate, a tall and skinny guy named Tobias.

“Even Jericho struggles not to fall asleep in that class. Maybe you can improve it, Raz, just put a dragon in it, a damsel in distress, maybe a forbidden romance.”

Lucian’s laugh bounced off the shelves. The sound bothered Raziel more than usual.

“Maybe Raziel is trying to figure out how to become a hero,” said Lucian, with a fake seriousness.

The amusement in Lucian’s eyes disappeared when he crossed gazes with Raziel.

“Everything good, Raz?” he asked, with a touch of doubt in his voice, which was rare for him.

Raziel shrugged, keeping his face neutral.

“Just a headache. Too much studying, I guess.”

He put the book in its place, very aware that the conversation with Seraphina had been left incomplete.

“Sure, sure, of course,” said Lucian, quickly recovering his usual arrogant attitude.

“Well, enough boring stuff, the instructor is going to kill us if we arrive late to his training.”

He took Raziel towards the exit, grabbing him strong by the arm so he couldn’t protest.

Seraphina’s words about the Paragon, Lucian’s casual mention of the “darkness”, the feeling of being watched… it was too much coincidence.

Raziel looked back, to the restricted section, but Seraphina had vanished.

***

The noise of wooden swords clashing filled the training field.

Raziel struggled to keep his practice sword raised, his muscles protested with every movement.

His opponent, a strong rookie named Gregor, smiled while his thick arms pushed with force in the attack.

“Come on, Raziel,” Gregor mocked.

“Is that all you got? I thought you were all discipline and whatever.”

Raziel blocked clumsily and the impact of Gregor’s hit sent a lash of pain through his arm. He stumbled back, breathing hard, hating feeling so weak.

“Come on, Raziel,” insisted Gregor, taking advantage of his lead.

“I thought you were a man of Zhalyr. Where is your divine strength, huh?”

Raziel grit his teeth, ignoring the mockery. He couldn’t let Gregor get under his skin.

Instructor Jericho, an old and hard Paladin who was missing an eye and had a face full of scars from a life of battles, yelled orders from the middle of the courtyard.

“Footwork, initiates! Balance is key! Don’t throw hits like crazy, think! Anticipate your opponent’s movements!”

His gaze fell on Raziel and he narrowed his only good eye.

“Celeste! Stop being in the clouds! This is not a theological debate, it is about staying alive!”

Raziel held his gaze, with a spark of rebellion in his eyes, and adjusted his grip on the sword.

“Gregor,” he said with a clear voice, “you spread your legs too wide, like that you are leaving your left side exposed, with a good hit and…”

“You would be dead before finishing that sentence,” Gregor mocked, launching another attack.

But this time, Raziel was ready.

Gregor’s mockery faded away.

For an instant, Raziel’s body moved on its own.

It wasn’t his memory, it was muscle memory, an echo of a man who had fought in a hundred battles.

The side step, the heel turn… he didn’t think it, he executed it.

The wooden sword felt like an extension of his soul, not a piece of wood.

He took a step to the side, pivoting on his heel, and raised his wooden sword in a fast arc.

CRACK!

He hit Gregor’s exposed side, making the big rookie stumble.

For a second, translucent letters floated in his vision:

[WARNING: PARTIAL SYNCHRONIZATION WITH UNIDENTIFIED COMBAT ECHO]

[EXPERIENCE FLOW DETECTED: 0.01%]

The notification blinked and disappeared so fast that Raziel thought he had imagined it.

But the tingling in his arm was real.

Gregor looked at him with his mouth open, surprised.

“What the hell?”

Jericho’s laugh cut the first round.

“Well done, Celeste! You might not have the muscle of a bear, but you have the cunning of a fox. Remember well, initiates, a sharp mind is as deadly as any sword.”

The other rookies watched and murmurs of surprise were heard among them.

Even Lucian, who normally enjoyed seeing Raziel suffer, nodded slightly at the instructor’s words.

“Not bad, Raz,” he said, with a touch of respect in his voice.

“Maybe you have a warrior inside after all.”

Raziel just shrugged, his chest heaving from exhaustion.

That hadn’t been him.

Not completely.

***

The night fell heavy over St. Celeste.

In the dorm, the only sound was the deep snoring of his roommate.

But Raziel couldn’t sleep.

His eyes were fixed on the stone ceiling, reviewing the day over and over again.

The conversation with Seraphina.

The feeling of alien power in his hands when he disarmed Gregor.

The letters floating in the air.

It was too much. A knot of questions tightening in his throat.

He got out of bed, walked to the small window and kneeled, joining his hands like they had taught him since he was a child.

It was the only thing he had. The last refuge.

’Mother of Light… if you even exist… am I crazy? Are these the whispers of the demons the texts talk about? Or is it the price for remembering their deaths over and over?’

He closed his eyes tight.

’I feel their screams in my dreams. If this is a test, I am failing. If it is a punishment, I can’t take it anymore. Give me a sign or let me die forever this time.’

He waited and waited.

But he felt nothing.

No peace, no comfort.

Only the cold of the stone under his knees.

He opened his eyes, defeated.

Then he saw it.

In front of him, floating in the dark air of the room, there was a screen.

It was a pale blue window, with white and perfect letters, of a type he had never seen. They were organized on it.

[STATUS: RAZIEL CELESTE]

[TITLE: THE REGRESSOR]

[CONDITION: MENTAL EXHAUSTION (SEVERE), CONFUSION, INCIPIENT PARANOIA]

[UNIQUE ABILITIES]

[ETERNAL REGRESSION (PASSIVE)]: Upon death, the host returns to a predetermined save point. Cost: Sanity.[ECHO ABSORPTION (LOCKED)]: Requires catalyst.[LIGHT OF THE PARAGON (LATENT)]: Potential unawakened.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep