Time slipped away like sand through Akshran's fingers. Three days passed in a blur, and it had now been a week and two days since he found himself in this unfamiliar world.
'I am weak.' The words echoed in his mind as he walked the dimly lit halls of the academy, his footsteps a rhythmic counterpoint to his thoughts.
"I am weak," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible as he passed the bustling cafeteria, the smells of food doing nothing to stir his appetite.
The thought repeated itself, a mantra, a curse. 'My faults are too many in this world. Chief among them: I am weak. Far too weak.'
Akshran's eyes traced the complex patterns of the academy's architecture, but his mind was elsewhere. 'I thought I had inherited a prodigy's body—a boy of unmatched potential. But compared to the others here, I am no prodigy.
His hand grazed the cold stone wall as he walked, the sensation grounding him momentarily. 'To achieve absolute freedom, I have only two paths. The first is to become so insignificant that no one will waste their time on me, knowing it's fruitless. The second…' His lips curled into a faint smile, the idea sharpening in his mind. The second is to become so overwhelmingly powerful that no one will dare to waste their time on me, knowing it's fruitless.'
"Time to grow strong," he whispered, his voice firm despite the quiet.
During history class, Akshran's gaze drifted to the window, his thoughts far from the dull monotony of lectures. 'How do I grow strong?' The question gnawed at him. 'Train endlessly? Push myself until I break? No, there must be something more efficient. Something I've overlooked.'
And then it struck him.
'The orbs.'
His eyes widened slightly. 'Those small, transparent spheres. I ignored them at first because of their randomness, their fleeting appearances. But what if... I can control them? Harness their power, direct their effects? If I can, I won't just gain experience—I'll gain something far more important.'
His fingers drummed lightly on the desk, his mind whirring with possibilities. 'It's ironic, isn't it? What I dismissed as insignificant may hold the key to my strength.'
The corners of his mouth twitched as a thought unfolded in his mind, 'Insignificant things can become significant, just as the most significant things can fade into obscurity. It's all a matter of chance—one thing's failure can fuel another's success.'
But a lingering problem loomed in his mind, tugging at the edges of his confidence. 'I know the solution, but how do I reach it? It's like a math problem where you already know the answer but can't recall the proof that gets you there.'
His musings were abruptly cut short as a duster collided with his head, a faint cloud of chalk dust drifting around him.
'The tenth one today,' Akshran thought with dry amusement, brushing off the powder and sliding the duster under his desk, which was already filled with a small pile of its predecessors.
The lecture dragged on, but Akshran's focus had long since wandered back to his plans. When the class finally ended, he stood and left without bothering to attend the next session.
As he strode through the corridors, his classmates' eyes followed him, a mixture of curiosity and unease in their gazes.
No one approached him. No one dared.
It wasn't something Akshran actively cultivated—it was just the way he carried himself. His walk, his movements, his demeanor... it all felt too deliberate, too real.
"A little too real," someone whispered to themselves as his figure disappeared into the distance.
____________________________________________
As Akshran walked toward his dorm, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridors, he passed by the Student Hall. A wave from the corner of his eye caught his attention.
It was Sophia.
"What is it?" Akshran asked, his voice flat but not unfriendly as he turned toward her.
"You look... intimidating," Sophia remarked, though her face betrayed no emotion. Her tone was casual, almost teasing, but her eyes seemed to study him carefully.
"You're not one for showing much emotion yourself," Akshran replied, his gaze steady.
Sophia tilted her head slightly, intrigued.
"I'd like to pose a question," Akshran began, his tone as measured as ever. "Do negative emotions overshadow positive ones?"
Sophia's brows knitted slightly. "Go on."
"Imagine this," Akshran continued, folding his arms. "You've been working for someone you trust deeply. They've supported you, guided you, been there in your hardest times. Then, one day, they betray you—steal credit for your inventions, your ideas. How would you respond?"
Sophia's lips pursed in thought before she answered, "I'd feel devastated. Betrayal is hard to recover from, especially when trust is involved. I'd probably seek revenge."
Akshran nodded slightly, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Exactly. But what if," he pressed, "this same person had done countless good things for you in the past? Helped you in ways no one else could, contributed to society, maybe even performed acts of charity that changed lives. Would that change your feelings?"
Sophia hesitated. Her hands rested loosely on the desk before her as she considered his words. "It... complicates things," she admitted. "But I'd still feel betrayed. No amount of good deeds would erase what they did to me. It would still be unfair."
"Precisely," Akshran murmured, his voice dropping slightly. "Revenge... it's a parasite. A festering thing that clouds the mind and erodes relationships. It latches onto betrayal, magnifies the wrongs, and snuffs out any memory of the good. Rationality gets swallowed whole, leaving only the burning desire for vengeance. The good someone did? Forgotten. All that's left is the bad."
Sophia's expression shifted, her passive facade giving way to a flicker of curiosity. "Why do you think we're more inclined to focus on the mistakes rather than the good someone has done?"
Akshran's gaze turned distant, his voice quieter now. "Perhaps it's easier. Pain has a way of leaving sharper marks than kindness ever could."
"What brought this on?" Sophia asked after a pause, her voice soft but probing.
"Nothing. Just... thinking," Akshran said, his tone clipped as he abruptly turned and walked away.
He didn't glance back, but his strides quickened, carrying him toward his dorm. The shadows in the corridor stretched ahead of him, mirroring the tangled web of thoughts running through his mind.
Akshran's dorm room was a battlefield of chaos and order. The essentials—books, scrolls, and weapons—were meticulously arranged, but the rest of the space was a mess. Clothes were strewn haphazardly, papers scattered across the desk like fallen leaves, and an empty mug balanced precariously on the edge of a shelf.
As he entered, Akshran tossed his bag onto the bed and flopped down after it.
'Why do I feel so... empty?' he wondered, staring at the ceiling. 'Ever since I woke up in this world, it's been gnawing at me. This hollowness.'
Sitting up abruptly, Akshran crossed his legs into a meditative posture, hoping to still his restless mind. Meditation had been his refuge in his previous life, a tool for clarity in the chaos of his existence.
For ten minutes, he focused on his breathing, letting his thoughts settle. But then, something shifted.
A strange sensation stirred within him, a furious spinning deep in his core. His chest felt tight, the pressure building until it became unbearable.
Gasping, Akshran doubled over, and with a guttural sound, he vomited—except what emerged wasn't bile.
Two glowing orbs hovered in the air before him, their light pulsating rhythmically. Akshran's eyes widened as the orbs twisted and morphed, reshaping themselves into two figures.
Them.
One figure was unmistakably Akshran from his previous life. His jet-black hair, pitch-black eyes, and average features made him look unassuming at first glance. But there was something about his posture—the confidence, the sharpness in his gaze—that made him unnerving.
The other was the boy Akshran had possessed in this world. He was shorter, with softer features and ordinary black eyes, his youth still evident in his appearance.
"You are…" Akshran stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You," the two figures said in unison, their voices overlapping like echoes. "We are you."
The boy crossed his arms, glaring. "Do you know how hard it is to be stuck inside a glowing ball for days?"
"True," the previous Akshran added, his tone deadpan. "But not harder than getting beaten by those bastards in my old life. I can still feel the pain... in places I don't want to mention."
"What the hell is going on?" Akshran snapped, his voice rising. "This isn't funny."
"It is to us," said the previous Akshran coldly, his pitch-black eyes locking onto him.
"While we're stuck in limbo, you're out here wasting time," the boy accused, pointing a finger. "Hanging out with girls instead of training. Flirting instead of improving your influence. You haven't forgotten the goal, have you?"
Akshran's jaw tightened. "No. I haven't forgotten. I'm doing everything I can."
"'Everything you can'?" the previous Akshran sneered. "You should've reached Stage 3 by now. Instead, you're wasting time on pointless matches, making deals, and not even exploiting them properly."
"She is kinda hot, though," the boy interjected, shrugging with a smirk.
"Shut up, kid," snapped the previous Akshran, rolling his eyes. "When you reach my age, girls like her are pocket change—leverage for deals, nothing more."
Akshran raised his hands in exasperation. "Can someone, anyone, explain to me what the hell is happening here?"
The two figures exchanged glances before turning back to him, their expressions unified in irritation.
"This," said the previous Akshran, gesturing to the room around them, "is what happens when you're caught between two selves. You're trying to be everything—and ending up nothing."
"And unless you get your act together," the boy added with a grin far too mischievous for Akshran's liking, "you're going to lose it all. Again."
Their words hung heavy in the air as Akshran stared at the two reflections of himself, caught between their criticism and the undeniable truth of their claims.