The Silver Owl Class

The lecture room on the first floor of the **Holy Academy** building was currently bustling with first-year clergy students who had gathered for class.

Holy Academy's class system was largely divided into three categories:

1. Major classes, divided by each class

2. Liberal arts classes, which could be taken regardless of major

3. Field training alternative classes for upperclassmen

At Holy Academy, students were evaluated solely based on their skills, regardless of family background, academic history, or financial status.

Therefore, cadets had to continuously study, work hard, and compete. In particular, major classes were even more intense, as cadets viewed those around them as rivals.

"Hey, good morning!"

"Good morning! But did you miss the morning prayer today?"

"Am I you? I prayed in the chapel from night till dawn and then went to the dormitory for a while!"

Cadets wearing pure white apprentice robes gathered in groups of three or five into the lecture room. With final exams approaching, the primary topics of conversation revolved around the upcoming performance evaluations and final exams.

"I have a class with Professor Sans-Cullotte tomorrow… Ah, my head already hurts."

"That professor always has discussion classes."

"This performance evaluation is also discussion-based. It's so important that it could replace the final exam."

"It's fortunate that it's a group evaluation. I want to be in the same group as the class president."

As the pressure of exams weighed heavily, just talking about schoolwork made the cadets feel tired, and soon they began searching for lighter gossip.

"By the way, did you hear about that story? About that trio of punks. They resigned yesterday and went home."

"What? Why? Weren't they the ones who've had the most power for almost a year?"

"I heard the details. Apparently, they had rabies."

"Huh? Rabies? Did they get bitten by a wild dog?"

"I guess so. It got so bad there was nothing they could do. Everyone said they went crazy."

"I saw one of them being carried away in a carriage. He was a complete wreck. He was talking nonsense like he saw the devil or something."

Right then—

Bang, bang, bang—tick, tock, tock, tock!

Someone was pounding on the podium. The cadets' eyes focused on a female cadet with a stern expression standing at the front.

She had abundant, curly orange hair, bright sparkling eyes, and a confident demeanor. She was the class president of the first-year clergy class, the 'Silver Owl Class.'

"Guys! I have special information!"

The cadets' attention quickly shifted to the class president's words. After a moment, she continued with a smile.

"It's not test-related, so don't expect too much!"

"Hey—what is it?"

"But it's just as important!"

The class president expertly teased the class, raising and lowering their expectations. Finally, she spoke with a serious expression.

"Does everyone know that the school trip is coming up soon?"

Everyone nodded, as if it was no big deal. Knights, wizards, and clerics—every first-year student knew about the school trip where the three classes gathered together.

But then, the class president lowered her voice, her tone becoming more serious.

"…Then, you probably also know about the 'class courage test' on the school trip, right?"

Every year during the school trip, first-year students were divided by class for a class-by-class courage test. It was a traditional event for **Holy Academy**, carried out with the tacit approval of the professors.

Suddenly, the class president clenched her fist in frustration.

"No! They made a bet! Whoever can scare us more during the test of courage will win!"

As soon as she finished speaking, a commotion erupted throughout the classroom. The class president frowned as she continued.

"They probably think they'll see us, the clergy class, trembling in fear at the sight of ghosts. Just thinking about it makes me angry!"

At her words, the Silver Owl Class students snorted in disbelief.

"Wow, they're making a bet like that with us?"

"My pride is really hurt…"

"Who are they to treat us like lab rats?"

"Oh, really? Why are they acting so cocky?"

The class president, having anticipated this reaction, gained momentum.

"Alright, everyone! Let's take down the other two classes during the courage test! Let's show them true terror! The undead is a cleric specialty!"

"That's right! The class president is absolutely right!"

"I didn't like how the knight and magic class guys were acting so full of themselves!"

"They secretly look down on the priests, don't they?"

"How dare they persecute the clergy! Grace and all!"

The tense atmosphere in the classroom had somewhat eased as the talk of the courage test continued.

The class president smiled faintly, pleased to see her classmates' spirits lifted.

At that moment—

"…Uh?"

The class president noticed a shadow quietly slipping out behind the classroom. It was the only male cadet who wasn't paying attention to the conversation that had captivated the rest of the class.

On his chest was a name tag with the word 'Zane' written on it.

Zane Cromwell quietly slipped out of the bustling classroom, moving as if he were a ghost himself, unnoticed by most of his classmates.

His mind wasn't on the courage test or the upcoming exams, but on the strange memories that had begun to surface ever since he woke up in this frail body.

Once outside, Zane leaned against the stone wall of the academy hallway, his gaze distant as he tried to piece together the fragments of his old life.

*A second life…* he thought, still grappling with the absurdity of it all.

*Resurrected, not as the feared black magician, but as this… boy.*

He looked down at his skinny arms and scoffed quietly.

The memories of his old power and the devastation he could once unleash felt like a distant dream, one that he was barely beginning to accept. Yet, the reality of his situation was undeniable.

*666 years…* It was hard to comprehend. A world he once terrorized, now existed without even a trace of fear towards his name.

But one thing was clear—this academy was important. It had stood for centuries, and now, for some reason, he was here, mingling with mere children.

*What could have brought me here?* he mused, his brow furrowing slightly.

The thought that a powerful artifact might have played a part in his resurrection wasn't lost on him, but which one? His past life had been filled with cursed objects, relics, and talismans—any one of them could be responsible.