Glimpse of Eternity [A Reincarnation Isekai Fantasy]

Reivan ended up being right about Aldimir setting up a drinking party to celebrate his win.

But the plans ended up going awry when all the girls decided to turn in early, too concerned with learning the spells they were supposed to learn. It was, perhaps, to be expected, seeing as they worked far too hard for their place as battlemages just to jeopardize it by fooling around too much.

Aldimir was quite obviously not happy about it but he didn’t particularly oppose their decisions, opting to go to bed too. As for Reivan, while he couldn’t deny that a small part of him was disappointed that nothing happened, he felt mostly relieved by the development. Reivan respected them all the more for it.

He still remembered Aldimir's rare bout of wise words about not sowing seeds of trouble among potential squad members. Though Reivan didn’t plan to stick around long enough for it to matter too much, he still needed to ensure that his time in the Tower went smoothly — that way, he could divert his efforts to what really mattered. And as far as problems were concerned, romantic ones were some of the worst kinds to have. He already knew that he wasn’t immune to forming unwanted attachments, even when the relationship was mostly physical. As such, he was a bit wary of bedding anyone he may form deeper connections with.

No strings attached was the right way to go. Oddly enough, that was the Arkhanian way of doing things and he was starting to see the beauty of it.

Empty beds aside, Reivan was gradually coming to understand why some people became alcoholics. The booze in his system simply numbed his brain to just about everything, leaving no room for anything extra. At the very least, he didn't suddenly wake up in the middle of the night, cold sweat dripping from every pore in his body as dead people haunted his dreams.

Sadly, sleeping smoothly didn't mean he was suddenly immune to hangovers though.

"Agh, fuck my head…” Reivan glared at the ceiling and massaged his throbbing temples. He forced his body out of bed, pushed his glasses into his face, and poured himself some water from a pitcher. “I should hold off on alcohol for a while…"

‘I don’t think the pros outweigh the cons. At the very least, I think I despise being hungover. It definitely wasn't this bad when I'm my real self...’

Getting some H2O into his system was refreshing, but it didn’t do much to prevent him from struggling to dress himself. He nearly fell face first into the floor while trying to put on a loose shirt and some pants — clothes fit for exercising in.

“That was way harder than it had to be…” Reivan pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his orb around his neck. After making sure he didn't have anything drawn on his face, he headed out the door — only to rush back inside because he forgot to take a fresh towel with him. Once he stepped into the hallway, his gaze unconsciously lingered on the door to Room #100, but he snapped out of it at some point and proceeded to the Mess Hall. He didn’t dawdle there though, using the large platform in the middle to teleport to the training hall.

‘Oh? It’s still so early but there sure are a lot of people…’

Same as most halls in the Tower, the teleportation pad reigned supreme, resting smack dab in the middle of the room. On the northern half were numerous dueling pits, which, judging by the noise, were already filled with people trying to knock each other out with a stun bolt to the face.

Meanwhile, the southern half served as a firing range of sorts, looking very similar to the ones he frequently saw in Western films. Instead of cardboard targets cut into the shape of a person, there were numerous little plates flying from one side of the range to the other, tracing unpredictable flight patterns of equally erratic speeds. They were the kinds of targets that a sober person would have trouble hitting, and a hungover one, such as him, would have absolutely no chance. Staring at a wall and hoping it crumbled had a greater chance of success, probably.

Unlike the fighting pits where he had to go off sound, Reivan could actually see that the range was full of people, with not a single vacant cubicle. if he had to guess, they must have been trying to successfully cast the penetration spell — one of the spells that all first years were supposed to learn within the next six months.

Not many of them actually achieved more than a slight glow from the tip of their wands, but one couldn’t fault them for trying. Reivan supposed that result was much more favorable than an exploding stick, sending shards of wood flying into your eye and all the other soft parts of your face. He would take the useless glowing over a mutilated face any day.

‘Aldimir’s a bad example, but I suppose everyone who made it here’s a hard worker in their own right.’

That said, the information that they were practicing the spell was somewhat relevant to Reivan — since that meant that all of these people already cracked their orbs even though it had only been a few days since they were given the spellbooks. He wasn’t quite sure if that was fast though, since the only basis he could go off of was that Clover would have learned it in a couple of hours. Since the real Clover was a bit of a genius, he wasn’t a very good unit of measurement though.

Still, that meant that not even a week after obtaining their orbs, every single first-year battlemage already had a spirit beast under their command.

‘If the Tower had an unlimited number of those orbs… Gods help the imperial infantrymen.’

A bunch of weak spirit beasts wouldn’t faze Aizen in war, but it would be a tremendous boon against Argonia’s tendency to field massive armies of the mundane.

The real worst-case scenario was if the Spirit Tower figured out a way to bypass the entry restrictions in the Sanctuary and produce a near-unlimited number of orbs. That would mean they could just drop a single Ascendent inside and have them catch all the strong spirit beasts easily, forcing them into temporary contracts like nigh immortal mercenaries.

‘Oh, wait. There’s an even worse scenario, now that I think about it.’

A horrifying thought bloomed in Reivan’s head — what if the Tower was hiding a sanctuary filled with Ascendant spirit beasts instead of mortal ones? And what if the Sage King could enter it and catch everything with a whole bunch of orbs?

The Tower would have an army of deathless Ascendants that revived again and again.

‘Yikes.’

Just in case he raised any flags by thinking something stupid, Reivan decided to cut off his thoughts right there. Hopefully, the doom scenarios he thought up in his head didn’t end up making it to reality.

Instead, he tried to fill his mind with inconsequential thoughts, like how long it would take Kantor to annoy Aldimir to death with repeated duel requests. Honestly, Aldimir was starting to look like he didn't actually mind. Maybe he just needed a bit more of a push — and by push, Reivan meant insults and name-calling. He'd spent quite a lot of time learning Arkhanian inside a fragment of authority, and now was the time to put his vocabulary to good use by finding creative insults. Calling Aldimir's gender into question or asking how many testicles he still had left would probably receive more of a result though. That was simply the way men were.

'He'll probably give in easily if I goad him into it some more.'

In any case, if Reivan wanted to get to where he wanted to go, he had to pass near the firing range. So he tried to do it without disturbing anyone, heading straight for the door at the end of the training hall.

Unfortunately, yesterday’s little event made him something of a celebrity, so a few people stopped to say hi to him. Of course, he didn’t want to be viewed as the local asshole that ignored greetings, so Reivan tried to politely return each one, no matter how casually it was thrown out. Like dominoes, each greeting alerted someone else to his presence and they stopped to say hi too, prompting even more people to offer their own good mornings and polite queries about his well-being.

Reivan didn’t know what to make of it, really. Did he seem like the type of person who normally greeted everyone he was vaguely acquainted with? He remembered a time when he entered the tower with the intention of being a somewhat reclusive mage who was unwillingly trying to be more social after being told off by a scary elder.

‘I wonder where exactly it all went wrong…?’

A few of the people practicing, he noticed, were the girls he drank with last night. It seemed their words about getting some practice in early weren’t just a hastily cobbled-together excuse to get away from him and Aldimir — they had truly intended to start practicing in the early hours of the morning. How very respectable indeed. Now they just needed to keep their legs closed more often, though he supposed it was a bit useless to tell an Arkhanian from the big cities to do that. Everybody just wanted to exercise their God-given right to procreate here, entirely skipping the part where they birthed a new life.

After somehow managing to exchange greetings with just about half the range, Reivan, finally, ducked into a smaller side hall that was adorned with all sorts of exercise equipment.

The influence of a literal otherworlder in the form of Aizen’s founding father and all sorts of supernatural mumbo jumbo blurred the lines a little, but the world was, culturally, somewhere in the medieval or renaissance era — and in some places, maybe even the early dark ages. That meant “exercise equipment” consisted of basic things, such as sandbag weights to be worn on the body, large angular rocks that were meant to be rolled forward with pure pushing power, and golems that could apparently be used as sparring partners.

The most noticeable piece of equipment was an elevated obstacle course that hung from the ceiling. According to what they were told during orientation the other day, the course would change its patterns and obstacles, giving one a different challenge with every run. Should one fail, everyone in the side hall would see them plummet straight to the floor — which didn’t even have cushions to soften someone’s landing. Though brutal and hazardous, it apparently served as a reminder: always be ready to use a whisperfall spell.

Honestly, he couldn't even tell them they were wrong. That spell was amazing, to be honest. Completely underrated.

‘That actually looks pretty cool. We should make one for the squires too. Though we probably shouldn’t place it that high… or we could make the course over a lake of freezing water. Stinky goo would be better though. That way, they’ll really be motivated not to fall in… Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll pitch it to Roland when I get back.’

Aizen had its own ways of improving the physiques of its recruits, and while it was most definitely better than the methods of every other country in the continent, it wouldn’t hurt to integrate other ways just to see if it would make a positive difference. It was important to maintain a progressive mindset, and not be too set on the current ways.

In any case, Reivan didn’t come here for the obstacle course. So he reached for the orb hanging from his neck and lightly flicked it. “Hey, girl. Come out, already. We talked about this.”

'Well, I talked about this. But I'd like to think we conversed, you and I.'

A white smoky blur seeped out of the crack in the orb and transformed into a young white panther. Sen landed on the ground before him and stretched, seemingly not in as bad of a mood as before since she wasn’t glaring daggers at him. That was always a good sign. Not looking like they wanted to murder something, that is.

She yawned and looked around the place with a curious glint in her eyes. However, this lasted only for a moment before its face twisted into what probably counted as a grimace for feline predators.

“I know you don’t like being outside.” Reivan crossed his arms in response to its mental whining. “But we have to get you accustomed to the material world and this is the way the book suggested. So we’re going to do this for a few hours every morning. You don’t get a say in this, sorry.”

The tiny white panther yawned once again before lying down on the floor and rolling around in protest, unaware of how adorable it was.

“Stop being lazy, c’mon.” Reivan knelt down next to Sen and rubbed its belly, which it thankfully allowed despite its previous hostility. Maybe Reivan's experience in rubbing animal bellies had something to do with that.

With his other hand, he gestured at the expansive room. “We’ll do a few laps. Then you can go back in your ball.”

The obstacle course loomed above and the various equipment were set along the walls. In the middle, right below the hanging obstacle course, was a vacant lot meant for jogging or even sparring with golems. There were safety hazards everywhere with this arrangement, Reivan noted with mild exasperation. But this arrangement was also to encourage constant vigilance.

Or rather, that was the excuse they were given at orientation.

"Mrawr!" Reluctantly, Sen followed his lead around the hall, trotting along behind him. When he sped up though, the young beast gradually grew more excited, looking like she really wanted to pounce at his back.

‘Oh? Is that fun for you? Alright…’

“Sen. Chase after me. If you touch me anywhere but my limbs, I’ll set you free.” Reivan snickered at the shock in the beast’s surprisingly expressive countenance. He then turned around and bolted. “No attacks! No spells! And the offer lasts for three minutes!”

The white panther remained stunned in silence but eventually snapped out of her stupor, bounding after him with incredible vigor.

Unfortunately, he was already quite a fair distance away because he was a human, and humans were filthy cheaters. Though spirit beasts generally had higher physical capabilities than ordinary people, that was not the case with the two of them yet. Reivan — disguised as Clover Salwyn — was decently fit while Sen wasn’t even a year old.

They actually had very similar physical capabilities at the moment. Which was kind of sad, when their size and ages were taken into account.

In any case, the headstart Reivan took was an enormous advantage that would have meant his inevitable victory if they weren’t in an enclosed space. His stamina was no doubt lower than a spirit beast’s too, so Sen was destined to catch up.

With a full minute killed by his unsportsmanlike behavior, Reivan glanced back just in time to see the little white panther pounce at him. An instant estimation of her trajectory told him she wouldn’t connect as long as he kept running forward.

However, having reached the other end of the hall, there was a vast wall blocking his way and he held no intentions of trying to ram his way past it. Sen had picked an opportune moment to strike, forcing him to lunge to the side just to dodge. He smoothly transitioned into a roll and jumped back to his feet before kicking off the ground to continue running.

Completely missing her target, Sen unceremoniously crashed into the wall and bounced off like a deflated basketball. She stood up with shaky legs, still reeling from the impact. But she quickly pushed through and continued her pursuit.

Reivan repeated the same pattern two more times, killing the last two minutes, much to the beast’s frustration. He then collapsed onto the ground, his lungs begging for air. Despite his legs feeling like they were submerged in hot lava and the sharp pain in his sides, Reivan still managed to chuckle.

"You’re not very smart, aren’t you?"

Sen snarled at this, visibly indignant at losing and being mocked for it. The white-furred beast sat on the floor and turned its face away, eyes closed as if every second wasted looking at him drained her sanity.

This reaction was the last thing that would make Reivan want to stop though. Too out of breath to speak, he teased Sen through the fragile connection between them, enraging it even more. There was no escaping him when their souls were connected like this.

‘If you’re mad, then do better next time. I’ll give you another chance tomorrow. And another one after that. As long as you do what I say and try to get used to the material world as soon as possible.’

Sen cracked one eye open, looking at him as if checking to see if he was lying. Seeing no apparent signs of falsehood, its anger dissipated, replaced by excitement at the opportunity for freedom.

Reivan looked at the spirit beast with mild amusement.

‘Cute little thing. Doesn’t even consider the possibility that I’d renege on my promise. Bless her.'

Of course, Reivan fully intended to follow through if he lost. Maybe he was a piece of shit that killed people, but he wasn't a piece of shit that deceived sentient animals. In the first place, he’d only suggested it since he was confident in victory, fully aware of Sen’s capabilities — or rather, her lack of capability. But he could stop giving her the opportunity when he felt like he was about to lose.

That wasn't cheating or unfair in his opinion. Rather, wasn't he already being kind by honestly giving her any chances at all? Obviously, he would quit while he was ahead.

“Ugh, fuck, I can't breathe…” Reivan rubbed his sides, just below the rib cage. To no one's surprise, playing tag with a quadrupedal predator that was biologically designed to chase prey down, even an infantile one, wasn’t easy. But then again, he meant to improve Clover’s physique so he would have a good excuse to set his Might a little higher.

After recovering enough, he pushed his body even more by wearing weights and jogging with Sen. Significantly slowed, the white panther enjoyed running circles around him with a bewildered look in her eyes, seemingly wondering why he was intentionally making things difficult for himself. Explaining how humans, unlike spirit beasts, didn’t just grow stronger by eating and sleeping would be far too complicated, so he just said that he was doing it because he liked it, solidifying his image as a “weird human” in Sen’s mind.

"Hoo!" Reivan exhaled sharply after working up a lot of sweat, making good use of the towel he brought. He collapsed on the floor and rested all his weight against the wall, trying to even out his breathing while wishing he'd remembered to bring some fucking water.

That was when he noticed someone else enter the hall.

“Oh? Fancy meeting you here, Brother Salwyn.” Prince Alphon smiled, standing by the entrance. He was dressed in a loose white tunic and comfortable pants, obviously meant for working out. “Good morning.”

“Good…” Reivan struggled to stand, almost tumbling from how shaky his knees were. “Good morning, Your Highness.”

“You must have been here awhile. And you were being quite brutal to your body, from the look of you.”

“Someone told me that the pain means it's working.”

“Whoever they are, we’d probably get along.”

"I highly doubt that. They're old and bald and just generally unpleasant."

Prince Alphon chuckled before walking toward some weights. “I didn’t think I’d see anyone else passionately working out so early in the morning when I came to a place that trained sorcerers, but I suppose I underestimated the Tower's talents.”

Reivan sat back down and slicked back his sweaty hair. “I’m sure I won’t be the only one.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. There was another person here these past two days. A woman.”

“Really?”

“Indeed. Pretty little thing, that one,” Prince Alphon spoke carefully while loosening his limbs. “Red hair. Red eyes. Always reading a book. Oh, and I’m pretty sure she’s the president’s daughter. I’ve met her father and all her brothers, but for some reason, I’ve only seen her in paintings and newspapers.”

“Oh…”

“You know who I mean?”

Reivan nodded. “I may have noticed her here and there. She’s hard to miss.”

Prince Alphon chuckled and checked the entrance before grinning boyishly. “No man would ignore her with a face and a body like that. I see that you and your friend have been taking the opportunity to sample all the ladies in our year, one at a time.”

“Uh…” Reivan froze, unconsciously licking his lip as he thought of what to say. “I’m not…”

“No need to pretend, Brother Clover. There’s nothing wrong with a man wanting women. That’s just how we are. No need to be ashamed of how the Sun God created us.”

‘Gods fucking damnit… I’m getting a reputation from following Aldimir around!’

He couldn’t blame anyone other than himself though, since in the end, he chose to go along with it.

Reivan sighed at the undesirable state of affairs he’d fallen into. And now that he was thinking about it, why was he having such a friendly conversation with a prince from Argonia?

‘I was trying to avoid getting too close, so how’d this even happen…’

But when he really thought about it, though he knew a bit about the empire, one of its princes would obviously know things he didn’t know. Now was the perfect time to remedy that, and Reivan didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

Sure, avoiding the prince was ideal, but since that was no longer possible, he chose to move on to wheedle some information out of the foreigner. Make the most out of a bad situation and all that.

“What about you, Your Highness?” Reivan hesitantly asked, wiping off the rest of his sweat with a towel while sending a glance at the nearby Sen.

She understood what he wanted and turned into a white blur, returning to his orb.

“Me?” Prince Alphon finished stretching and started fastening heavy sacks to his body. “Hm… Well, I certainly find Arkhanian women attractive too, but I honestly prefer women from back home.”

“Is that so…?”

“Yes. I can’t say I’m a fan of how… Uh, what's the word? I don’t know what it’s called in Arkhanian when they tend to sleep with many people. In Argonia, we just call them not clean. Not dirty. But not clean.”

Reivan's brows furrowed for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Do you mean promiscuous…?”

“That must be it. I’m not sure though, sorry. I’m still getting used to the language. Obviously, the lessons weren’t enough.”

“No, you’re doing fine, to be honest. Uh, so…” Reivan raised a brow. “So you don’t like them to be... experienced? What about it bothers you?”

“What doesn’t

bother me? I don’t understand how menfolk from the republic can marry with the knowledge that their wives slept with at least ten or so different men before swearing their vows in front of Sormon. It’s an insult to the Sun God to be so unclean. I'd understand if they were forced into prostitution, but they do so willingly, no? It shows a lack of discipline, in my opinion.”

“I see… And what about you, Your Highness? Do you partake in women before marriage?”

“Of course, I do.” Prince Alphon shrugged and flexed his limbs to get used to the additional mass he gained. “And I can see where you’re going with this line of questioning. But men and women are different. So they're evaluated differently.”

Reivan hummed in thought, trying to argue as an Arkhanian would. “Does the woman’s past truly matter for imperial men so much? In the end, they chose you, no? They may have had other men before, but they didn’t marry those. She married you. Is that not enough.”

“Their past does matter, Brother Clover. At least, it does to me. Would you use an unwashed spoon that ten other strangers used to shovel ten different dishes into their mouths?”

“...Women aren’t spoons, Your Highness.”

“I know.” The prince sighed and shook his head. “I also understand that I grew up in a completely different culture, so I have very different values. I’m not expecting you to share my views, Brother Clover. I just want you to understand that mine are different than yours. Just as how I understand that yours are different from mine.”

“Of course.” Reivan nodded deeply, before transitioning into a bow. “Forgive me.”

‘I mean, he kind of lost me at some point, but Aizen shares a somewhat similar view on chastity… Interesting.’

In any case, he had wanted to rile the prince up a little to make him reveal his temperament, but Alphon remained calm throughout. Because of that, Reivan wasn't sure if that was his real personality or not. It was a massive flop.

“Bah.” Alphon shook his head. “There’s nothing to forgive. Just two young men from very different places talking about women.”

“Thank you for your benevolence…” Reivan looked up, eyeing the prince curiously. “I must say, you’re not what I expected a prince of Argonia would be like. The stories about the empire don’t exactly paint its nobility in a good light.”

“That was rather blunt, Brother Clover. But I can’t really deny it either.” Prince Alphon chuckled sheepishly and sighed. “Just know that the imperial clans and the so-called nobility we send off to govern the provinces are very different.”

“I see… How so?”

“How, huh…? Hm. Let me think…”

The Argonian parroted the question, seemingly surprised Reivan was willing to dive so deeply into the topic. Nonetheless, the prince didn’t seem to see anything wrong, delaying his workout to continue the conversation.

After a bit of thought, Alphon spoke slowly and deliberately. “I suppose the biggest difference would be how we see the world and the empire.”

“I’m not sure I follow…”

“I suppose not. You see, in Argonia, a provincial governor’s position is as fragile as the surface of a frozen lake during winter’s twilight. That’s why, to them, they see their positions as an opportunity. A chance to profit as much as possible before they get ousted by their competitors — the same way they got those positions in the first place.”

Alphon then placed a hand on his chest. “We of the imperial clans, on the other hand, know that our authority is much more stable. It is our right. As long as the First Emperor lives, we, his progeny, can never be ousted. The next emperor will always come from one of the imperial clans. Always. And anybody from the imperial clans can be the next emperor as long as the War God chooses them.”

“So that's how it is…”

“It’s all just one big fucking competition, Brother Clover. A contest, if you will. We were all just competing for the Progenitor’s favor.”

Alphon looked down at his fist, slowly clenching it as he smirked, almost as if he was mocking it.

“And I lost, Clover. That’s why I'm here. But by Sormon's Light, I am not done yet.”

Reivan silently digested the surprisingly enlightening insight into the inner workings of the empire. After all, even though they had many spies in Argonia, none could penetrate into the imperial palace. Leonel, Argonia’s founding emperor and its Transcendent, resided in the capital.

And any spies trying to get close would be placed at enormous risk.

The kingdom of Aizen sent its knights to very dangerous places, and inevitably, some of those knights never made it back. But the kingdom would never send off their people somewhere they were guaranteed to perish, and as such, all spies were forbidden from going anywhere near Argonia’s capital region at the northwestern edge of the Sentorale Continent.

‘I’d love to dive deeper into this, but…’

The imperial prince had generously entertained Reivan’s curiosity up until now, but Reivan didn’t want to test anyone’s patience — especially not a diplomatically important figure for the republic. Right now, Reivan’s identity as a first-year recruit could not possibly afford to truly offend Alphon. Having a cultural disagreement about women wasn't in the same league as being too nosy about imperial matters.

In any case, digging any deeper was far too dangerous so he chose to stop while he was ahead.

For now.

“Thank you for telling me so much about the empire, Your Highness.” Reivan dipped his head.

“Oh, it’s nothing. And please, just call me Alphon.” The prince chuckled, waving a hand as if it truly wasn’t a big deal. He then grinned conspiratorially, leaning a little closer to Reivan. “You seem very curious about the empire. And it pleases me to know my country interests a talented young man such as yourself. Have you ever been there, Brother Clover?”

“Not yet... But I wouldn’t mind doing so someday.”

“Really? I’m happy to hear that. Perhaps I can show you around when I next go back. What say you?”

“I’d be honored…” Reivan backed away with a sheepish smile. “As long as this is truly just an invitation to sightsee.”

“Hah. You’re a smart man, so you must have known that it wasn’t.”

“Then I would have to decline.”

“Is that so? Eh, well, it was worth a shot.” Prince Alphon snickered as he nodded. “Maybe you’ll come around eventually? Say, a few years from now.”

“I mean no offense, but I don’t believe I will. I quite like my current position.”

'I'm a fucking prince after all.'

“Your loyalty is admirable." Alphon shrugged. "But, just know that the offer stands. The empire is a large vessel, and it is ready to accept anyone brave enough to hop aboard. Keep that in mind.”

Leaving those words behind, Prince Alphon waved a hand and started a lap around the hall, leaving Reivan sighing to himself for somehow managing to gain a foreign prince’s attention despite trying very hard not to.