The protagonist.

Holden had dressed up in the uniform of the Imperial Academy—deep navy blue with golden accents. If someone from Earth saw me in this outfit, they would immediately think I was of military or government background, which was partially true. Most graduates of the Imperial Academy are eventually scouted and recruited by branches of the government, military, or, in some extremely rare cases, the Church.

Holden walked through the hall in the dorms. His feet produced a sound every time he stepped forward. His very way of walking gave off a condescending temperament—the worst part of it was that it felt natural, almost comfortable, even instinctual, like it was sewn deep into his bones, like this was the right way. But that rightness felt wrong to Holden. Who was he now? Had he inherited Alvric's memories, or had Alvric inherited the memories of some man named "Holden"?

Was it even right to change Alvric's fate? His fate surely had important character development moments for the men and women who would decide the fate of this world, and the millions—if not billions—of people who live in it.

Holden thought this as he walked through the ramparts of the Academy's dorms. This Academy was previously a keep built during the Third War Against Chaos, and was one of the last standing bastions in humanity's struggle against the devils of chaos—where the last True Blade and his allies had felled a Chaos Titan, whose head fell into the Great Lake and whose body became the nourishment for the forest that grew nearby, where the great commanders rallied their armies in some of the greatest showcases of strategy known to man.

So frankly speaking, this Academy was built on the corpses of hundreds of thousands of demons who came from Hell. Pretty metal compared to my old school on Earth. Well, it is to be expected from a magical world. But the white marble ramparts, together with the gold and blue banners of the Academy, made Holden let out a breath in awe.

As Holden was briefly caught in the scene, he hadn't noticed the person walking up to him—blond hair, brown eyes, well-built, 6'1", slightly shorter than Alvric—Eric Oakwood. As they locked gazes, Holden reminded himself of who he needed to be.

"What are you looking at, you worm!?" Holden took on the persona of "Alvric" as he spoke in a condescending and annoyed voice with volume.

Eric looked up and down at Alvric, his gaze scanning every part of his body.

Alvric glared. "What???" He spat the question with venom in his voice.

Eric simply lightened his gaze, closing his eyes before speaking. "Look how far you've fallen. But you're still as pathetic as you always were."

Alvric's eyes widened. The grinding of teeth could be heard. He clenched his fists and stomped the ground. "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!!??" he spat the question with rage.

Eric spoke, unperturbed. "I had thought after I beat you and after Meghose punished you, you would've learned your place."

Alvric chuckled, the anger never leaving his face for a moment. "You think this will last long? Just you wait. Soon I'll become stronger than both you and your pathetic posse will—" Alvric quieted at Eric's glare.

Eric spoke in an authoritative tone. "Your fight is with me. Leave my allies out of this." Eric closed his eyes, walking away, as Alvric stomped off.

Once Alvric was out of hearing distance, the anger quickly disappeared from his face—so quickly it was as though a mask had been violently ripped off.

"That look… ehe, that guy will be the death of me." Holden needed to learn the mystic arts fast. Only something as otherworldly as the mystic arts would help him now in his current predicament.

Holden's stomach churned with Alvric's personality. The very thought of using mystic arts filled him with disgust—Alvric saw magic as cowardly and believed swords were the only true way a man should fight.

But to Holden, it didn't matter. To him, magic and swords were the same—tools for violence. And was violence not yet another tool that humans use to get what they desire? What is it I desire?

The answer to that was simple—

"I want to survive. No matter what. That takes precedence over everything else."