Reborn With A Technology System In A Fantasy World

The royal carriage wheels crunched over the gravel path, putting distance between Serena and the Academy gates.

She leaned back against the plush seat, the vibrant energy of the departing students replaced by the heavy silence of the carriage.

She exhaled, the forced cheerfulness she'd shown Karl melting away, replaced by a familiar, low thrum of anxiety for Adrian. She glanced at the figure seated rigidly beside her.

"Hey, Julian."

As expected, Julian gave no sign of hearing. His eyes were closed and his posture was unnaturally still... as always.

Serena wasn't surprised, just saddened. She turned her attention across the carriage.

Opposite her and Julian sat her other siblings. Diana had her eyes closed too, but Serena could tell she was cultivating.

She waved to Fabian too, before occupying herself, reaching out for a story book from her bag and placing it on her lap.

Before Serena could open the book and begin reading, Fabian's voice cut through the silence.

"Who was that guy you were talking to at the gate?"

Serena kept her eyes on the book. 'Ignoring him is safer,' she thought, hoping he'd lose interest. She flipped open the cover, pretending to scan the contents page.

"So you don't want to talk now?" Fabian's voice dripped with disdain.

Serena took a small breath, summoning a sliver of defiance. She looked up, meeting his gaze directly, though her heart hammered against her ribs.

"Why do you want to know?"

Fabian's lips curled into a sneer.

"I don't need a reason to get a reply from you, sister. It's simple courtesy. Or have you forgotten your place entirely, talking with commoners at the gates like a street vendor?"

Serena looked back down at her book, opening it to a random page.

"And I don't need to answer your question either. Those I talk to are my own concern."

Her words struck a nerve. Fabian's posture stiffened and he gripped the edge of his seat tightly.

"Oh, I see now," he hissed venomously. "You're keeping male friends. That's why you're suddenly so secretive. Mum must hear about this!"

Serena's head snapped up, genuine anger flaring in her eyes.

"No! What are you even saying? That's ridiculous!"

The accusation made her panic, in fear for not only herself, but Karl too.

"He's just Adrian's friend! Okay? Happy now?"

The moment the words left her lips, she realized her mistake, but at the end she shrugged it off. It was necessary after all.

"You see, I've told you now. Can you please let me read in peace?"

"Adrian's friend…" Fabian repeated slowly to only his hearing. "I see."

***

Karl watched the royal carriage until it vanished into the streets, the final glimpse of Serena's hand waving through the window etching itself onto his mind.

The moment it was gone, the forced smile he'd maintained crumpled. He turned away from the gates, the boisterous sounds of other students departing suddenly grating.

~Clap! Clap! Clap!~

The sharp, stinging sound echoed in the now quieter courtyard as Karl brought his palms hard against his own cheeks.

Once, twice, three times, each slap delivered with punishing force, the shockwave jarring his teeth. He barely registered the few curious glances thrown his way.

"What is wrong with me?" he muttered under his breath, the words thick with self-loathing. "Why am I such a liar?"

Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!

He kept walking, mechanically placing one foot in front of the other, heading back towards the dormitories.

The rhythmic self-punishment continued, his cheeks burning fiercely under the assault.

He reached his dormitory building, climbed the stairs in a haze of stinging pain and shame, fumbled with the key, and finally slammed the door shut behind him, leaning his back against it.

Only then did he stop the relentless slapping. His chest heaved, not from exertion, but from the storm of emotion raging inside.

He slid down the door until he sat heavily on the cool floor.

His gaze drifted upwards, landing on the polished mirror Adrian had installed.

Now, it reflected a stranger. Karl's face was a livid, mottled red.

"Stop looking," he rasped at the reflection. The face in the mirror seemed to mock him.

A sudden, violent surge of anger erupted. He pushed himself off the floor in one fluid, explosive motion and his right hand snapped out, aiming a devastating palm strike straight at the center of the mirror.

He wanted to shatter it, and then—

~Thwack!~

His left hand shot out faster, grabbing his own right wrist just inches from the glass. The force of the arrested blow vibrated up his arm.

He stood frozen, trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Control yourself, Karl," he whispered harshly, the command directed inward. His left hand tightened its grip on his right wrist. "Contro yourself."

He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take a long breath in, holding it before releasing it slowly, trying to expel the fury and despair.

He opened his eyes, staring at his trapped hand, then slowly lowered both arms, releasing the tension.

The mirror remained intact, reflecting his flushed, anguished face and the internal war still visible in his eyes.

"I can't return there. I can't go back to that scum of a place. Never again."

The images flooded him. The small, warm cottage that had stopped being home the moment his parents died.

He was just eight, but then his father's brother took him in, after accessing that he had great potential.

But when his tenth birthday came, their hopes were breathed when he was declared a dud.

The crushing silence when no spark ignited, and when the murky greyish smoke began to swirl.

The change was immediate and brutal. The courtesy vanished, replaced by contempt.

Within a week, Karl found himself standing outside his own house with a small bundle of clothes and a few copper coins.

The door was locked. He was only ten years old, yet alone, and unwanted.

The streets became his home. He learned to move silently, to pick pockets. He learned who to avoid, which market stalls were careless, which taverns had warm stables he could sometimes sneak into.

He trained his body relentlessly, the only thing he felt he could control, was swinging sticks and practicing footwork on rooftops.

He failed the yearly Academy entrance exam for the Knight track twice, but the third time, it felt too easy for him.

He looked back at the mirror, seeing not just the red marks, but the years of hardship etched beneath the surface.

"Just when I thought life was finally changing," he murmured, "Just when I clawed my way out... I stand here actually considering crawling back to that place? To them?"

A fresh wave of revulsion washed over him. He pushed himself fully upright, squaring his shoulders, planting his feet firmly on the floor.

The hollow feeling was replaced by a fierce, burning resolve.

"Never." The word was a vow, spoken with absolute conviction. "No. No, no, no. Never. I'm never going back. Not that town. Not to them."

The decision crystallized in his head. He wouldn't stay at the Academy either.

The empty dorm was a constant reminder that he was wasting his time. He needed purpose. He needed to be away.

He sighed and moved to his bed, knelt, and pulled out a plain, slightly battered wooden box from beneath it.

Inside were his few possessions. He shifted the clothes aside, and found a small pouch.

Lifting the pouch on, Karl loosened it.

"One… two… three… four… five… six… seven." Seven gold coins.