Chapter 1: The Rabbit Reborn
The taste of blood lingered on his tongue. It was bitter, metallic, and unmistakably real. Yet, in the same instant, it was gone, replaced by the crisp scent of parchment and the faint hum of distant chatter.
He blinked, his vision adjusting to the dim light filtering through a large stained-glass window. The ornate design of the ceiling was unlike anything he'd ever seen—gothic arches carved with symbols that seemed both alien and ancient.
He wasn't in his office anymore. No desk piled with papers, no clock ticking toward another late night. He wasn't even in his world.
"How?" The word escaped his lips before he could stop himself, his voice trembling with confusion.
A quick glance at his hands sent another shock through his system. They were smaller, paler, and lacked the faint scars he'd accumulated over decades of hard work. His body felt different, lighter. His clothes were a simple academy uniform—navy and gold, with the insignia of a sword surrounded by laurel leaves stitched on the chest.
"Where am I?"
The answer struck him with a force that left him momentarily breathless. The setting was familiar, painfully so. It was a world he knew in intricate detail—characters, plots, and twists.
He had been reincarnated into *The Chronicles of Veylen*, a fantasy novel he'd read to pass the time during one of his rare breaks. A popular story of magic, heroism, and a looming apocalypse.
But there was one problem.
He wasn't the hero.
---
The name on his enrollment card read "Leon Altheim." A common name, belonging to an extra who appeared in precisely two scenes before being killed off to raise the stakes for the protagonist.
The realization sent a chill down his spine. He had no blessings, no divine favor, and no plot armor. In this world, survival wasn't guaranteed—especially for someone like him.
The protagonist of *The Chronicles of Veylen* was blessed by the gods, destined to slay the outer gods and save the world. Leon, on the other hand, had no such destiny. His death in the original story had been a footnote, a brief mention that most readers wouldn't even remember.
Leon closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.
"I can't afford to stand out," he muttered. "If I draw attention, I'm as good as dead."
His mind raced, piecing together fragments of the novel's plot. The academy arc was the first major section of the story, where the protagonist gathered allies and honed his skills. It was a dangerous time, filled with rivalries, hidden enemies, and the seeds of future conflicts.
But as long as Leon stayed out of the way, he could avoid the chaos. His goal was simple: survive.
He repeated the word to himself like a mantra, clenching his fists. "Survive."
---
The academy grounds were sprawling, with towering spires, lush gardens, and training fields bustling with students. Leon blended into the crowd, keeping his head down as he navigated his way to the orientation hall.
His strategy was simple—be average. Average grades, average skills, average everything. If no one noticed him, he could quietly live out his days in peace.
But even as he resolved to stay low, his mind couldn't help but analyze the situation. He watched the students around him, noting their uniforms, the way they carried themselves, and the subtle hierarchies already forming. Nobles mingled with other nobles, their movements graceful and practiced. Commoners clustered together, their voices tinged with awe and nervousness.
Leon's sharp eyes caught every detail, storing it away for future use.
The academy itself was breathtaking. The central courtyard was dominated by a towering obelisk, its surface inscribed with runes that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Beyond it, a massive auditorium loomed, its stone facade carved with the faces of legendary heroes.
Leon paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on the largest face—a young man with a determined expression and a sword raised high. It was the protagonist of *The Chronicles of Veylen*, the hero destined to save the world.
He shook his head, forcing himself to move on.
---
As he approached the orientation hall, a sudden commotion drew his attention.
"Out of the way!"
A group of students stood in a loose circle, murmuring among themselves. At the center of the commotion was a girl with short, messy brown hair and wide, nervous eyes. She clutched a stack of books to her chest, her face pale as a tall, arrogant-looking noble loomed over her.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to bump into you."
The noble sneered. "Do you know who I am? Apologies aren't enough. You've dirtied my uniform."
Leon recognized the girl instantly. She wasn't an important character in the original story—just a background extra. Yet, something about the scene felt wrong.
The novel's protagonist wasn't here. In the original timeline, this would have been his moment to step in, earning the girl's gratitude and cementing himself as a hero.
But without the protagonist, the situation was spiraling out of control.
Leon hesitated. This wasn't his fight. Getting involved would only draw attention. Yet, as he watched the noble raise his hand, his body moved on its own.
"Is this really necessary?" Leon's voice was calm, almost lazy, as he stepped into the circle.
The noble froze, glaring at him. "Who are you to interfere?"
Leon shrugged. "Just someone who doesn't think making a scene on the first day is a good look." He gestured to the gathering crowd. "Unless you enjoy being the center of gossip?"
The noble faltered, glancing around uneasily. Leon's words had hit their mark. The academy prided itself on discipline, and causing trouble in public was a surefire way to tarnish one's reputation.
"Whatever," the noble muttered, brushing past Leon. "This isn't worth my time."
The tension dissipated as the crowd began to disperse. The girl looked up at Leon, her eyes filled with gratitude.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Leon forced a smile, keeping his tone light. "It was nothing. Be careful next time."
As he turned to leave, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just made his first mistake.
---
Later that night, as Leon sat alone in his dorm room, he replayed the events in his mind. Helping that girl had been a risk—a small act that could have unforeseen consequences.
He stared at his reflection in the small mirror above his desk. His new face was youthful, almost unassuming, with dark hair that fell messily over his forehead. But his eyes… his eyes held the weight of someone who had seen far too much.
"I shouldn't have intervened," he muttered. "But I couldn't just stand there."
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the small window that overlooked the courtyard. The obelisk gleamed faintly in the moonlight, a reminder of the world he now inhabited.
Surviving in this world would require more than just keeping his head down. He would need to think ahead, adapt, and control the flow of events from the shadows.
Leon's lips curled into a faint, bitter smile.
"I'll play the innocent rabbit," he murmured to himself. "But if anyone comes for me, they'll find a dragon lying in wait."
The night stretched on as Leon began to plan his next move.
---
Leon's room was modest, like everything else in the dormitory meant for commoners. A simple bed, a desk with an oil lamp, and a small wardrobe. It wasn't much, but it served his needs.
He sat at the desk, spreading out the academy handbook he'd been given earlier. The thick volume detailed everything from class schedules to rules and expectations. For most students, it was probably something to skim through once and forget. For Leon, it was a lifeline.
"Knowledge is power," he muttered as he flipped through the pages. "And right now, I need all the power I can get."
The academy was divided into several factions—noble houses, magical research groups, combat-oriented teams, and more. Navigating these social and political minefields would be critical to his survival. He couldn't afford to offend the wrong people or be caught in the crossfire of a rivalry.
But as he read, his thoughts kept drifting back to the girl from earlier. He didn't even know her name, yet the look in her eyes had stuck with him.
"Why did I step in?" he wondered aloud. "It wasn't my problem. It didn't change anything important."
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The truth was, he couldn't stomach standing by while someone was humiliated. Even if it had been a risk, he couldn't ignore it.
Still, it was a mistake he couldn't afford to repeat.
Leon shook his head, forcing himself to focus. He flipped to the section on faculty, scanning the list of instructors. One name immediately caught his attention—Professor Alaric Veldt.
The professor was a key figure in the academy arc of the novel, a powerful mage who trained the protagonist and served as his mentor. More importantly, he was one of the few characters who could detect the presence of the outer gods' corruption.
"If anyone can spot irregularities, it's him," Leon thought, a chill running down his spine.
The professor wasn't someone Leon could avoid entirely, but he'd have to tread carefully around him. One wrong move could expose him, and there was no telling how someone like Professor Veldt would react.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
Leon frowned. It was late, and he wasn't expecting anyone. He approached the door cautiously, cracking it open just enough to see who was on the other side.
To his surprise, it was the girl from earlier. She stood awkwardly, clutching the same stack of books as before.
"I-I'm sorry for disturbing you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just… I wanted to thank you again."
Leon blinked, caught off guard. He hadn't expected her to seek him out.
"It's fine," he said, opening the door a little wider. "You don't have to thank me. Really."
The girl hesitated, then stepped inside when he gestured for her to enter.
"My name is Emilia," she said, her cheeks turning pink. "I'm in the first-year general studies program."
"Leon," he replied simply. "Same program."
An awkward silence stretched between them. Emilia fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, clearly struggling to find the right words.
"I… I don't have many friends here," she admitted finally. "Most of the students are nobles, and they don't really talk to people like me."
Leon studied her for a moment. Emilia was the type of person who would be overlooked in any setting—quiet, unassuming, and unremarkable. Just like him.
"Well, you're not alone," he said, his tone light. "I don't exactly have a fan club either."
Emilia smiled faintly, relaxing a little. "Still, you helped me when you didn't have to. That means a lot."
Leon nodded, unsure how to respond. He wasn't used to gratitude, and he didn't want to encourage any further attention.
"If you ever need help," Emilia continued, her voice growing more confident, "just let me know. I owe you."
Before Leon could protest, she turned and hurried out of the room, leaving him standing there in silence.
"I don't need favors," he muttered to himself as he closed the door.
But as he sat back down at his desk, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.
---
The next morning, Leon arrived at the main lecture hall early. The room was massive, with tiered seating and a raised platform at the front for the instructors.
He chose a seat near the middle—close enough to appear engaged, but not so close that he'd draw attention.
As the hall filled with students, he spotted several familiar faces. The protagonist of the novel, Alaric Caine, was easy to pick out. With his striking golden hair and confident demeanor, he stood out even among the nobles.
Leon kept his eyes on the protagonist, noting his interactions with the others. Alaric was already forming connections, just as expected. He was charismatic, talented, and destined for greatness.
But Leon wasn't the only one watching.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed a girl with silver hair and piercing crimson eyes sitting a few rows away. Her expression was cold, almost calculating, as she observed the room.
Leon stiffened. That was Celine Veradyn, one of the main villains of the academy arc—and, according to the novel, a key figure in the outer gods' plans.
She was also the one who would eventually become a regressor, though Leon didn't know that yet.
For now, she was just another dangerous piece on the board, and he had no intention of crossing her path.
As the lecture began, Leon focused on taking notes, doing his best to blend in. But even as he kept his head down, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him.
When the class ended, he gathered his things quickly, hoping to slip away unnoticed.
"Leon Altheim, right?"
He froze. The voice was soft but carried an edge of authority. He turned to see Celine standing behind him, her crimson eyes locked onto his.
"Yes?" he said cautiously.
"You're an interesting one," she said, her tone unreadable. "I'll be keeping an eye on you."
And with that, she walked away, leaving Leon to wonder what, exactly, he'd done to attract her attention.
---
By the time he returned to his dorm that evening, Leon's mind was racing. The day had been eventful, and not in a good way.
Between Emilia's unexpected gratitude, Alaric's growing influence, and Celine's cryptic remark, it felt like the walls were already closing in.
He sat at his desk, staring at the academy handbook without really seeing it.
"I need a plan," he muttered.
Staying low might not be enough. If people like Celine were already noticing him, he'd have to find a way to deflect their attention—while keeping himself alive in the process.
One thing was certain: his quiet life as an extra was slipping further out of reach.
Leon clenched his fists, his resolve hardening.
"If the world wants to treat me like a pawn," he thought, "then I'll become the one moving the pieces."
With that, he turned his attention back to the handbook, determined to find the cracks in the system that would let him survive another day.