Cold stone pressed against my cheek, sending a sharp shiver down my spine. I groaned, my limbs feeling heavy as lead, as if I had been dragged from the depths of a dark ocean. Blinking through a haze of sudden, blinding light, I tried to sit up. The glare above was harsh, emanating from floating crystals that hummed with a low, vibrating frequency. Rough wooden grain scraped against my palms as I pushed my weight upward. My fingers caught on deep gouges carved into the desk, remnants of students who had sat here long before me. "Look at him, still dreaming," a cruel voice sneered from somewhere nearby. A few snickers followed, cutting through the heavy silence of the room. Laughter erupted around me, sharp and mocking, echoing off high vaulted ceilings. The sound was like a physical blow, making my chest tighten with a familiar, sinking feeling. My head throbbed with a vicious, pulse-pounding rhythm as I forced my eyes fully open. The world spun for a moment, colors bleeding together before locking into sharp focus. Rows of dark wooden desks curved upward in a massive, amphitheater-style classroom. Heavy stone pillars supported the ceiling, carved with intricate, glowing symbols that pulsed with a faint blue light. Dozens of teenagers dressed in ornate silver and blue robes stared down at me with blatant disgust. Their expressions ranged from amused pity to outright hostility, their eyes boring into me like needles. Strange, glittering runes flickered along the stone walls, humming with a power I couldn't comprehend. It was a dense, suffocating energy that made the very air feel heavy and hard to breathe. Where was I? This wasn't my cramped, messy apartment, nor was it the sterile office where I had spent my miserable, lonely days. Memory fragments sliced through my brain like broken glass, fusing my old life as a lonely, forgotten soul with a fresh, agonizing reality. The sudden influx of information made my temple throb. This body belonged to Isaac. He was eighteen, a student at the prestigious Solaris Academy, and an absolute disgrace to his family name. He was a zero-tier magic outcast at the prestigious Solaris Academy, a useless speck in a world governed by elite nine-core mages. In a society where magical aptitude determined your worth, he was nothing. "Silence," a booming voice commanded from the front of the hall. The authority in the tone was absolute, instantly cutting through the chatter of the students. Standing near a massive glowing crystal orb, an older man with sharp, avian features and robes trimmed in gold thread glared at me. His posture was rigid, radiating a cold, uncompromising aura. Professor Vance looked ready to strike me down on the spot. His dark eyes narrowed as he adjusted the heavy gold collar around his neck. "Isaac," the professor barked, his lip curling in utter disdain. "Step forward for your final evaluation. Or should we simply write down your inevitable failure now and spare us the waste of valuable mana?" Whispers rippled through the crowd, thick with malice and amusement. Several students leaned forward, eager to watch my public humiliation. "Why is a zero-tier trash like him even allowed in the academy?" a boy with slicked-back blonde hair muttered loudly. He crossed his arms, a smug grin plastered across his face. "His family paid a fortune to dump him here," a girl beside him giggled, hiding her mouth behind a manicured hand. "Even they couldn't stand looking at a magicless disappointment. They just wanted him out of sight." Those words pierced deep, striking a raw, familiar wound within my chest. It was the same pain I had carried for years, the ache of being the unwanted child, the one who was always pushed aside. Back in my original life, I had been the invisible one, the guy everyone walked past, the one left behind by everyone I ever dared to care about. I had died alone, and now I had woken up in a nightmare. Now, in this strange new world, the same suffocating feeling of being utterly worthless threatened to swallow me whole. The urge to curl up and disappear was almost overwhelming. My knees shook as I pushed myself up from the wooden desk. The eyes of everyone in the room followed my every movement, waiting for me to trip or beg for mercy. Hands trembling, I gripped the edge of the seat to steady myself. I could feel the cold sweat bead on my forehead, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. No magical light flickered under my skin. Unlike the others, who radiated faint colors corresponding to their magical cores, my hands were entirely devoid of energy. Every other student possessed a warm, glowing aura, but my veins felt like hollow, frozen pipes. The contrast was humiliating, a physical manifestation of my inadequacy. "Well?" Professor Vance demanded, tapping a heavy staff against the stone dais. "We do not have all day. Step up to the testing orb, or accept your immediate expulsion." Squeezing my eyes shut for a brief second, I tried to summon any trace of energy from deep within. I searched for a spark, a flame, anything that might indicate a hidden power. Nothing responded. There was only a vast, empty void where my magic core should have been, cold and silent. Panic clutched at my throat, tight and suffocating. If I failed this test, I would be cast out of the academy gates with nothing but the clothes on my back. If I failed this evaluation, I would be expelled, cast out into a harsh world with absolutely nowhere to go. My family would never take me back, and I had no skills to survive on my own. Desertion, abandonment, starvation—the grim future flashed before my eyes. The thought of being cast aside once more, of being completely unwanted, made my blood run cold. Walking down the stone steps felt like marching toward a gallows. Every step was heavy, my boots dragging against the cold stone as the whispers of my classmates echoed around me. "He's actually going to try," someone jeered, throwing a rolled-up piece of parchment that bounced off my shoulder. The room erupted into fresh chuckles. Jeers and soft chuckles followed, a brutal chorus of rejection that made my vision blur. I kept my eyes fixed on the glowing orb ahead, refusing to look at their mocking faces. Reaching the glass orb, I hesitated, my hand hovering over the smooth, pulsing surface. The device was ancient, designed to measure the raw capacity of a mage's core. Deep inside, the orb swirled with rich, oceanic blue light, waiting to measure my non-existent power. It hummed with a quiet power that seemed to vibrate through my very bones. "Place your hand on the conduit, Isaac," Vance ordered, his voice devoid of any warmth. He held a heavy quill over his ledger, ready to write the final verdict. Taking a shaky breath, I pressed my palm flat against the cold glass. The surface was freezing, sending a jolt of cold through my fingertips. Silence stretched over the amphitheater, heavy and expectant. I held my breath, praying to whatever gods ruled this world to show some mercy. For a single, delusional heartbeat, I hoped for a miracle. I hoped that my transmigration had unlocked some hidden, legendary power within me. But the blue light inside the orb instantly died. The vibrant energy vanished, swallowed by a sudden, absolute darkness. It turned a dull, lifeless gray, reflecting nothing but my own pale, defeated face. The silence that followed was deafening. "Zero-tier," Vance announced, his voice carrying clearly to every corner of the room. "An absolute void of mana. Not even a single spark of energy resides within this vessel." Laughter exploded once more, louder and more vicious than before. The students roared with delight, their cruel amusement echoing off the stone walls. "He's literally a black hole of uselessness!" the blonde boy shouted, pointing a finger at me. "How did he even pass the entrance gates?" "Get him out of here! He's embarrassing our class!" another student chimed in. "We shouldn't have to breathe the same air as a magicless pig." My chest constricted so tightly I could barely breathe. The weight of their hatred and disgust pressed down on me, a suffocating force that made my knees buckle. Years of childhood neglect, of being the unwanted orphan, of watching everyone else get chosen while I was left in the shadows, rushed back to drown me. The pain was unbearable, a physical ache in my chest. I couldn't let this happen again. I couldn't let them discard me, leave me to rot in some dark alleyway while they laughed at my misfortune. Refusing to be discarded like garbage, I backed away from the pedestal. My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached, and a sudden, fierce anger flared within my soul. "Isaac, step down," Vance said, reaching for his ledger to cross out my name. "Your expulsion papers will be processed by sunset. You are no longer a student of Solaris." Suddenly, a strange, dormant memory sparked in the darkest corner of my mind. It was a memory that didn't belong to my past life, but to the original Isaac. It was a remnant from the original Isaac's desperate, late-night research. He had spent hours in the restricted section of the library, searching for any way to survive. A forbidden ritual, whispered to bypass mana veins entirely by offering a blood sacrifice directly to the ancient elements. It was a taboo, dangerous method that had been banned for centuries. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. The risks were immense, but what choice did I have? I was already at rock bottom. They wanted to throw me out? They wanted to watch me crawl in the dirt, begging for a scrap of mercy? Fine, let them watch me burn instead. I would rather die fighting than accept their pity. Turning away from the testing orb, I stumbled back toward my desk in the lower rows. My movements were erratic, driven by a desperate, frantic energy. "Where do you think you are going?" Vance barked, but I ignored him. His voice faded into the background, drowned out by the roaring of my own blood. Reaching my seat, I stared at the dark, polished wood of the desktop. My hands were shaking, but my resolve was solid. My teeth clamped down hard on my own thumb. I bit down with everything I had, ignoring the sudden, sharp burst of pain. Pain flared, sharp and grounding, as my teeth broke through the skin. The physical sensation cut through the panic in my mind, leaving only a cold, sharp focus. Warm, metallic-tasting blood welled up, coating my tongue. I pulled my thumb from my mouth, the crimson fluid dripping onto the dark wood. Using my bleeding thumb as a brush, I began to draw. I dragged my finger across the desk, leaving a thick, dark line of blood in its wake. Line by bloody line, I traced a taboo, forgotten summoning circle directly onto the desk. The geometric patterns were complex, etched into my memory by the original Isaac's obsession. My fingers moved with a frantic, desperate speed I didn't know I possessed. The shapes were jagged, imperfect, but they throbbed with a strange, latent intent. "What is that idiot doing?" someone whispered, the laughter slowly dying down. The atmosphere in the room shifted, growing tense and uneasy. "Is he painting with his own blood?" another voice asked, laced with sudden unease. A few students stood up, trying to get a better look. Professor Vance took a step forward, his golden staff humming with warning light. "Isaac! Desist immediately! Blood magic is strictly outlawed in these halls!" Ignoring his commands, I completed the final stroke of the complex geometric array. My thumb was raw and bleeding, but the circle was complete. My vision swam as the loss of blood and sheer exhaustion took their toll. The edges of my sight darkened, but I refused to let my focus slip. But I refused to stop. I had come too far to back down now. "Hear me," I whispered, pressing my bloody palm flat against the center of the drawn circle. I poured every ounce of my desperation, my anger, and my desire to survive into the sigil. For a long, agonizing second, nothing happened. The blood remained dark and still on the wood, and the silence in the room returned. Then, the air pressure in the room plummeted. A sudden, freezing wind swept through the amphitheater, blowing loose papers into the air. A sudden, localized gravitational pull slammed into my chest, making it hard to draw breath. The heavy stone pillars groaned, as if under immense pressure. My blood on the desk began to boil. Tiny bubbles formed in the crimson liquid, hissing as they popped. It hissed, steam rising as the crimson fluid turned into a brilliant, terrifying purple. The scent of ozone and sulfur filled the air, thick and choking. Violet light blazed from the wooden surface, casting long, distorted shadows across the stone walls. The glare was blinding, forcing many students to shield their eyes. Cracks spread outward from my desk, spiderwebbing across the ancient stone floor of the classroom. The structural integrity of the room seemed to buckle under the sudden weight of the spell. "What is this?" Vance shouted, struggling to keep his footing as the ground trembled violently. He slammed his staff into the stone, trying to erect a protective barrier. Students screamed, scrambling away from their desks as the intense gravity dragged loose papers and inkwells toward me. The entire room was descending into absolute chaos. Everything seemed to bend toward the violet light at the center of my desk. The very fabric of space felt like it was warping, drawing all light and air into the rift. My heart pounded in my ears, a frantic rhythm of fear and raw, unadulterated hope. I stared into the center of the brilliant, violent light, waiting for the end. A colossal, sulfurous shadow stretches out of the glowing array, and a deep, melodic voice echoes inside Isaac's mind: 'At last, my fragile little master has signed the blood pact.'

Chapter 1: A Zero-Tier Soul Awakens