Seraphina opened her mouth to say something else.
"RAZIEL!"
Lucian's voice hit the library like a thrown stone.
'Shit! How long has he been there?'
Seraphina closed her mouth, looked at Raziel, raised one eyebrow, and said nothing.
The shift back to a formal instructor's expression took about half a second.
"I think it's time for you to return to the student area," she said.
Raziel turned and walked back through the stacks without looking at her again.
Lucian was in the main reading area, flanked by Gideon and Mark.
Gideon always the big guy, the kind of big that gets used to doors opening for him and people making space.
Mark was quiet instead, tagged permanently to Lucian's elbow like he was afraid of what happened when he wasn't there.
Gideon elbowed Raziel the moment he appeared.
"What were you looking for back there, Raz? Plans to take over the world? Secret love letters for Sister Seraphina?"
"Yes," Raziel said. "And she writes back too. We have a whole correspondence going."
Gideon blinked and Mark made a sound that was almost a laugh.
Raziel filed that away.
Gideon was the type who laughed at everything and remembered nothing that was useful to know.
Lucian had his arms crossed, watching Raziel with that look he got when something didn't add up and he couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or interested.
"You were back there a while," Lucian said.
"Long book."
"It was a farming manual."
"Very long farming manual," Raziel said.
The corner of Lucian's mouth moved. Not quite a smile, but close enough.
"You're weird, Celeste. You know that?"
"I've been told."
"Come on," Lucian said, dropping the subject and turning toward the door. "Jericho will gut us if we're late."
He grabbed Raziel's arm and pulled him along without waiting for agreement.
Raziel went without resisting. He had enough to think about and he didn't need Lucian asking more questions while he was doing it.
He glanced back once at the restricted section as they left.
Seraphina was already gone.
***
The training field was loud with the crack of wooden swords.
Raziel's arms were burning and his chest was heaving.
His opponent, a big first-year named Gregor, was grinning in the specific way when they're enjoying hurting someone smaller than them.
"Come on, Celeste. That all you've got? I thought you were supposed to be the discipline guy."
Raziel blocked another hit.
The impact ran up his arm and settled in his shoulder like a nail.
He stumbled back, breathing hard.
Raziel was weak. That was the truth of it.
Fifteen years old, a body that had held a practice sword three times in its entire life, and he was fighting someone twice his muscle mass with instincts that kept flickering on and off like a broken torch.
Instructor Jericho watched from the center of the yard.
Missing one eye, scar on his jaw, the air of someone who'd seen enough blood to stop being surprised by it.
"Footwork, initiates! Balance is life! You don't swing to hit, you swing to control. Make them go where you want!"
His one good eye found Raziel.
"Celeste! Head in the fight!"
Raziel adjusted his grip.
"Gregor," he said, steady. "Your left foot goes too wide when you wind up. You know that?"
Gregor laughed. "You'd be on the ground before you finished that."
He swung.
Raziel's body moved before his mind finished processing.
It wasn't muscle memory he'd built in this body.
It was something older, borrowed from a man who'd learned combat the hard way over fifteen years of actual fighting.
His feet stepped without him telling them to and his sword arm tracked the arc of Gregor's strike without calculation.
He stepped inside the swing, pivoted on his heel, and brought his wooden sword up in a short arc.
CRACK.
He caught Gregor across the exposed left side.
The big novice stumbled, caught himself on one knee, and stared up at Raziel with his mouth open.
[WARNING: PARTIAL SYNCHRONIZATION WITH UNIDENTIFIED COMBAT ECHO]
[EXPERIENCE FLOW DETECTED: 0.01%]
[DURATION: TEMPORARY]
The window blinked out.
The tingling in Raziel's arm was real.
Jericho's laugh cut through the training ground.
"There you go! A sharp mind is as good as strong arms, remember that! Celeste, good read on the footwork. Gregor, fix your stance before the next round."
Gregor got up, jaw tight, saying nothing.
Even Lucian gave him a short nod from across the yard, then looked away fast, like he'd done it by accident.
Raziel filed that too.
***
The dorm was quiet after dark.
His roommate Elijah was already asleep.
He was thin, studious, always reading.
The kind of person whose most dangerous opinion was about book preservation and right now was steady snoring with no complications.
Raziel sat on the edge of his cot and stared at the stone floor.
He'd lived through a twenty-year war and died miserably.
He knew what Lucian's death looked like.
He knew what the world looked like when it burned.
He was fifteen years old, his body ached from a training session against a boy with twice his muscle, and he'd made exactly one useful contact today.
Not the worst start.
Not good enough either.
He got up, walked to the small window, and knelt.
Hands together.
Not because he expected an answer, but because it was the only habit that kept his mind from spinning off into places it couldn't afford to go.
"Mother of Light, Goddess Zhalyr…"
He started trying to be quiet.
"I don't know how many times I've done this. I don't know how many times you've watched me fail but I'm here again, so I'm going to try again, and I'd appreciate any help you're willing to give."
"I feel their screams in my dreams. If this is a test, I am failing but If it is a punishment, I can't take it anymore. Give me a sign or let me die forever this time."
He waited.
But get nothing, just the cold of the stone floor under his knees and the distant sound of someone moving in the corridor.
He wasn't surprised.
He hadn't expected comfort.
He'd expected silence, and that was what he got.
He opened his eyes.
A pale blue screen was floating in the air in front of him.
[STATUS: RAZIEL CELESTE]
[TITLE: THE REGRESSOR]
[CONDITION: MENTAL EXHAUSTION (SEVERE)]
[UNIQUE ABILITIES]
→ [ETERNAL REGRESSION (PASSIVE)]: Death returns the host to the last save point. Cost: Sanity.
→ [ECHO ABSORPTION (LOCKED)]: Requires catalyst.
→ [LIGHT OF THE PARAGON (LATENT)]: Potential unawakened.
He read it twice.
He had four years. He wasn't going to waste them staring at his own status screen.