Prologue “Winds of Wings”

Pain. A deep, suffocating pain—like drowning in a sea of ice.

The ocean swallowed me as I sank deeper, the weight of my gear dragging me into the abyss. Above, the last echoes of the warship's explosion roared across the waves, metal splitting, men screaming, fire reflecting off the water's surface. The Third World War raged on, yet for me, it had already ended.

I was dying.

My vision flickered—darkness, then blinding light. My chest burned, my limbs numb, my thoughts slipping between clarity and oblivion.

Then, warmth.

Then, breath.

Then, silence.

An emptiness stretched before me, vast and consuming, beckoning me into a peaceful abyss…

But then, sensation returned. A weight—a soft, fragile warmth pressing against me. Fingers twitched, hands clenched, lungs expanded. My body felt… small. Weak. A newborn's wail pierced the air, raw and desperate.

I heard myself crying, yet the emotions felt distant, outside of me. My mind reeled, struggling to grasp my existence.

Where am I?

Memories surfaced—gunfire, explosions, the sharp sting of metal in my hands, a sky choked with smoke, the steady march of soldiers on steel decks. My name—what was it? It slipped away like sand through my fingers.

And then it hit me.

I died.

Panic seized me, an instinctual terror that made my cries sharper, more frantic. But before I could spiral further, something enveloped me—a gentle, familiar warmth. A body. A heartbeat. The steady rhythm soothed the chaos in my mind, and my cries softened.

For now, I surrendered to the embrace.

Years Later – Age 3

The first thing I did when I woke up was sit up. It wasn't easy—my body was small and unsteady, but I forced it. I was no longer a soldier, no longer the man who had fought and died. Now, I was a child, reborn in an unfamiliar world.

And I wasn't dreaming.

I had accepted it after years of resisting, of trying to wake up. This world was real.

I sat in the corner of a vast chamber, surrounded by towering bookshelves filled with thick tomes and scrolls. The scent of parchment and candle wax filled the air. A wooden crib sat behind me, a faint reminder of my new reality. But what truly captivated me was the window—a massive, arched opening that overlooked a sprawling city beneath a sky with three moons.

A city of mages.

I had heard them speaking, the robed figures who passed through the halls. They called this place the Rising Tower, one of the great mage strongholds of the world. They called me gifted, but not in the way they wanted.

I had learned quickly—faster than they expected. But it wasn't magic, just knowledge, observation. My mind was still that of my past life. And the more I understood, the more I realized my predicament.

I was not special.

Eavesdropping on Fate

"…Low affinity."

The voices drifted through the chamber. I pressed myself against the doorway, small hands gripping the stone wall.

"…barely an ignition of a spark…"

"…another wasted birth…"

My heart pounded. I knew they were talking about me.

A heavy sigh followed, belonging to an older woman—a mage of high standing, her deep blue robes lined with silver trim. Her face was stern, elegant, but marked with disappointment.

"His mana is weak," she muttered. "His affinity is even worse. It's a miracle he's alive."

A younger mage beside her, a man with silver-threaded hair, scoffed. "Then he's useless. Perhaps we can have it as a conduit charger?"

A chill ran down my spine. I didn't fully understand the term, but my instincts screamed danger.

Useless? Conduit?

I clenched my fists. In my past life, I had been a soldier. I had fought, survived. I refused to be discarded like a broken tool.

The older mage sighed again. "Regardless, he is still of the Rising Tower. For now. We will name him and raise him, as is our duty. But he will never be a true mage."

Then, she turned toward the doorway, her gaze sharp as if she knew I was there. "From this day, his name is Caelum."

The name was foreign, yet it settled in my mind. No longer a nameless soldier, no longer the faceless number I once was.

Caelum.

Fine. I could work with that.

The mages turned away, their robes sweeping across the stone floor as they left. Their words echoed in my mind.

Barely a spark. Low affinity. A wasted birth.

I scowled. They're wrong.

I didn't know the rules of this world yet. I didn't understand the true nature of mana or the power it held. But I knew one thing—

I had been given a second chance.

And I would not waste it.