Regulus Bartholomew Frontera.
That's my new name. To be more precise, the name of this body which I now inhabit, you see.
It may appear weird (and it is), but I must make it crystal clear, for the sake of my own sanity, so that I don't lose myself within this new identity of mine.
I will get straight to the point: I delved deeper into "myself."
This time, I was much more diligent and even sought the assistance of the faculty to gather information that was previously unavailable to me.
It appears that I have a family in this world: parents and an older sister. And it seems that I am adopted as well.
Technically, "they" belong to the original Regulus Frontera, wherever he may be at this moment.
That's something that has plagued my thoughts ever since my soul took refuge in this vessel: What the hell happened to the real Regulus Frontera?
Since I arrived here, I haven't had a moment of peace to engage in a quiet discussion with myself about everything that has been happening.
If only my classmates weren't so chatty and problematic, I believe I could have focused for much longer and completed my overall analysis of the situation I find myself in.
First of all, Regulus Frontera doesn't seem to have a good relationship with his family, considering he chose to spend his summer break at the magical academy instead of with them.
And with the photos of his parents and sister, their faces blurred in every picture frame on his desk, I could only deduce that some sort of conflict occurred before I arrived here.
Secondly, this boy doesn't seemed to have any friends.
I have been completely isolated since the moment I arrived. My housemates don't even glance in my direction.
Not that I care, but it must have been an incredibly lonely life for ''him''.
Thirdly, it seems that I either can't or am unable to use magic.
I attempted to manifest it as soon as I grasped what was happening around me, yet nothing occurred.
According to the records, Regulus Frontera is a magic practitioner who is striving to become a battle mage specializing in the element of fire.
This academy not only produces mages but also their variations, such as swordsmen and archers infused with magic.
From what I've read, there are even firearms in this academy for training purposes, although it is said that firearms like rifles and pistols are incapable of storing magic within themselves, only their bullets.
Nonetheless, they may prove useful to me since I am incapable of manipulating any element.
I wonder if this will somehow affect my life here once they discover that, for some unforeseen reason, poor Regulus Frontera has lost the ability to summon magic.
Well, honestly speaking, delving into that matter is a luxury I cannot afford at the present time.
I have other pressing concerns to occupy my mind, such as my own strength.
I've reiterated it time and time again, but I can't envision myself as a formidable force.
This body, oh, it's woefully unprepared, as if its previous "tenant" cared not a lick about honing its skills, whether through the barest minimum of training or otherwise.
Countless attempts I've made to exercise, only to face the same inevitable outcome: me sprawled on the ground, wheezing like a pig that has indulged in a grand feast.
I've been forced to concoct a rigorous regimen, hoping against hope that it might bestow upon me the strength I seek.
The predicament I found myself in was that "I" had become so accustomed to a sedentary lifestyle that I had to adapt my adaptation.
The situation spiraled out of control with alarming speed, forcing me to construct a routine so basic and laughable that even a novice would scoff at it.
Yet, it proved fortunate that I had embarked upon physical conditioning.
Though inconsequential—a mere week would hardly yield any significant changes—it was a start.
Yesterday, just before class, we faced a practical examination—a physical one, much to my misfortune.
It seemed that the other days of the week were solely dedicated to intellectual tests, each one designed to showcase the intellect's capacity for humbling feats.
The memory of those scenes remains etched in my mind, its frustration lingering even to this moment.
"Here's a ball," an instructor said, handing it to me. "Hit the ball, please. We must proceed quickly."
I swung with determination, pouring all my energy into it. To my dismay, nothing happened.
Disheartened, I was urged to move on.
Stepping onto the track of a modest athletic field, I embarked on a seemingly simple task—running a short distance.
Little did I know, it would prove to be a humbling ordeal, leaving me gasping for breath and questioning my endurance.
I lost count of the number of times I had to pause, my chest heaving, desperately seeking respite.
With aching muscles, I engaged in some light exercises, hoping to regain a semblance of strength.
Then came the unexpected diversion—a peculiar contraption resembling a video game.
With instructions to aim a virtual gun at a target on the wall, I cautiously took aim and fired, my concentration mixed with uncertainty.
In a stroke of respite, I found solace in the water. The pool beckoned to me, its inviting depths offering a temporary escape.
Gliding through the water's embrace, I relished the familiar embrace of swimming, provided my head remained above the surface.
It was a fleeting respite in the midst of the challenges that lay ahead.
And so, for two arduous hours, I found myself confined to a monitored room, surrounded by my fellow students from 2-A.
The task was clear—replicate the intricate movements that flickered upon the screen before us. It was a test of coordination and endurance, as we stumbled, strained, and grappled to match the elusive patterns that danced before our eyes.
My goodness, it was a shitty experience.
Colliding with the bodies of my peers, it felt as though I were trapped in an erratic game of human ping-pong; our bodies serving as the bouncing balls, propelled by forces beyond our control.
At long last, the torment had subsided.
But little did I know, fate had another twisted trick in store for me on the very next day—or should I say, today?
That's right, it didn't take long before I got in the crosshairs of that despicable professor and his "beloved" protégé, Fryz Madrigal.
Ah, well, perhaps I'm being a tad melodramatic.
Admittedly, the whole affair was more theatrically absurd than dreadfully terrible.
It all began with us huddled in the classroom, fixated on a chalkboard adorned with fascinating secrets of the magical world.
In the blink of an eye, the atmosphere shifted. A mischievous gleam danced in their eyes, and their smirks couldn't be concealed.
Suddenly, the spotlight was on me, and laughter erupted like wild dogs on the loose.
Should anyone dare to step in or raise an objection, they too would be swallowed by the brewing tempest.
And there she was, pulling the strings behind the scenes—Fryz Madrigal, the orchestrator of chaos.
Anyway, let me cast this aside for now. Hours have passed since that ill-fated moment.
My muscles protest with every movement, my thoughts wrestle in a relentless duel, and my lips tremble, aching to release a flurry of scathing curses upon the mirthful crowd.
Thank the stars, a respite awaited.
Luckily, now, I can finally savor some moments of tranquility, free from the insufferable presence of that pompous, corpulent oaf, determined to interfere and confront me with his overbearing demeanor.
I mean, here I am, standing in the sanctuary of my own bedroom.
It took a few strides to navigate through the winding corridors and find solace within the dormitories of the illustrious House of the Valiant Black Turtle, Androlbull.
Though its design is modest, there is an undeniable sense of comfort that permeates the air.
You see, anything with a humble bed and a soft pillow would suffice to soothe my weary spirit.
I had grown accustomed to seeking slumber amidst the ruins of my past, finding solace amidst the remnants of a tumultuous journey.
In this very moment, my sole desire is to recline upon the inviting surface of this bed and seek respite from the tumultuous world outside.
A moment of tranquility is a welcome balm for any weary soul.
Even for a former soldier like myself.
*****
Regulus Bartholomew Frontera.
I have just awoken, and my name once again lingered in my mind.
Nevertheless, this time, it wasn't by my own choice or curiosity—it appeared before me, literally flying in a vibrant green holographic display.
[Regulus Bartholomew Frontera confirmed. Cornea reading successful.]
[Error! User not detected or recognized in the Akashic records.]
[Statistics have been restricted.]
[All abilities have been restricted.]
[All functions have been restricted.]
[The System has been restricted.]
[Error! Restricting the System with the current functionality is impossible!]
[Processing...]
[The System has been successfully restarted.]
[A solution has been found: the user must register immediately.]
[Greetings! Welcome again, user.]
[To unlock the functionalities of the System, registration is required. Please enter your name in the designated space for action.]
[Processing...]
[Put your name here: ___________________.]
Okay, okay, okay....
So, wait a moment... Wait, DAMMIT! Since when do I have a System?!
And why?!