THE TRANSMIGRATION BEFORE DEATH

Avin stood there, panting heavily, the sound of his breath rasping through the silence like sandpaper against metal. Every inhale burned, every exhale came out uneven — as though his lungs had forgotten how to work properly. His arms trembled as he tried to steady his sword, and his legs, gods, his legs felt as though they might crumble beneath him at any second.

His entire body screamed.His skin felt raw, as if it were peeling itself away from him; his bones ached deep within their marrow, the pain of the impact reverberating through his frame. His muscles twitched uncontrollably, spasming like he was caught in an unending current of pain — an eternal cramp that refused to release.

And yet, through all that… he smiled.

It wasn't the grin of arrogance or mockery. It was the weary, cracked smile of a man who had given everything and won, if only barely. His teeth gleamed faintly under the pale light as his head tilted toward Henry — who lay sprawled across the floor several meters away, Avin's dagger lodged cleanly in his chest.

Avin's entire body screamed for rest, but in that instant, he didn't care. The exhaustion, the bruises, the pain — none of it mattered. Because he knew one thing with absolute certainty: he had won.

No matter how powerful Henry's glowing dragon technique had been, no matter how spectacular it looked, it was Avin who was still conscious and standing, and it was Henry who was on the ground. To Avin, that was victory enough. Flashy moves were just fireworks — pretty, loud, and gone in seconds. Strategy, wit, and stubbornness — those lasted.

A low chuckle rattled out of his throat, and for a moment he forgot how much it hurt to breathe.

But as he tried to take another step, his legs gave way. His balance slipped; his body caved inward, collapsing like a puppet cut from its strings. He hit the ground hard, his sword clattering beside him.

He twitched once, twice — the spasms rippling through his limbs like waves. His vision dimmed around the edges. The crimson glow in his eyes flickered violently, the mana inside him unstable, faltering like a dying candle. His chest rose weakly, his fingers clawing at the ground.

And then —

A shock of energy rippled through him.

Avin's eyes flew open wide, his body convulsing as warmth surged through every nerve. His bones creaked, realigning themselves with sharp, clean snaps that echoed faintly in the silent arena. The spasms stopped; the ache subsided. His skin, raw and split, began to smooth over with a faint shimmer of light.

He recognized the sensation immediately."Healing magic…" he muttered under his breath, voice hoarse.

It wasn't like Ashborn's — not that overwhelming flood that had once pieced his dying body back together. This was gentler, more focused, refined. The magic didn't burn through him; it wrapped around him like invisible silk.

Avin's eyes glowed faintly again, scanning the air around him. He saw the mana trail, faint, luminous, floating above him like silver mist. He traced it back to the source — and there she was.

The princess.

She sat with her usual, unreadable expression, her posture perfect, her gaze calm and detached. The soft aura of healing energy pulsed faintly from her hands, enveloping him and, a few meters away, Henry as well.

For a brief moment, Avin just stared at her — then sighed. "Guess I should thank her later," he mumbled, dragging himself upright.

As he stood, he could feel the strength returning to his limbs — not entirely, but enough. His breathing steadied, his mind cleared. When he glanced over at Henry, he saw that the other boy was also starting to stir, rubbing his chest where the dagger had been. The wound had closed, leaving only a faint red mark beneath the fabric.

With slow, measured steps, both of them made their way toward the benches that lined the edge of the arena. The sound of their boots echoed softly on the cracked tiles.

Henry was the first to speak. "Wow," he said between shallow breaths, his lips curling into an exhausted grin. "You were very strong."

Avin's brow furrowed immediately, the faint satisfaction on his face twisting into a glare. "Are you making fun of me?" he asked flatly, his tone sharp despite his tiredness.

Henry chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of his head. "What? No! I'm serious! The rumors I heard said you couldn't even lift a proper sword or release mana. But clearly, rumors are rumors."

He leaned forward a bit, his grin widening. "And even though I completely overpowered you, you still outsmarted me. That's rare."

Avin squinted at him, trying to gauge whether that was meant to be praise or provocation. But when Henry's chuckle broke into a genuine laugh, Avin felt the edges of his own mouth twitch. He quickly turned his head to the side, pretending to adjust his wristband, hiding the faint smile creeping across his face.

"Yeah," he muttered under his breath, scratching the side of his nose, "I did do that, didn't I?"

He tried not to sound proud, but even he could hear it in his voice.

Avin walked toward the princess, stopping in front of her. She met his gaze with the same neutral calm, saying nothing. Avin bowed slightly. "Thanks for the healing," he said simply.

The princess nodded — nothing more. No smile, no acknowledgment beyond that small movement. But Avin didn't expect anything else. "Cold as ever," he muttered as he straightened and walked away.

He found an empty bench and sat down heavily, the wood creaking under his weight. A moment later, Henry flopped down beside him — a bit too close.

Avin blinked, looked at him, then at the rest of the bench, which had enough space to seat three more people comfortably. He stared for a second before finally shoving Henry sideways with his shoulder.

"Come on, man… there's space over there. Shoo."

Henry laughed, sliding just barely an inch away, still leaning close. Avin groaned.

"You really have to learn about boundaries, bro."

Henry waved off the suggestion with both hands, smiling as though he hadn't heard a word.

Before Avin could say anything else, the sound of metal scraping against stone drew his attention forward.

The prince approached.

His golden armor gleamed under the ambient light, polished to perfection — not a single dent, not a single scratch. The sheer opulence of it drew the eye immediately. Even Avin, who had no fondness for nobles or their vanity, couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship.

"You both did well," the prince said, his voice steady, confident, carrying the kind of effortless authority that came from years of being obeyed. "It's good to know I have capable people in my group."

He reached to his side, gripping the handle of his sword. With a smooth, practiced motion, he unsheathed it.

The blade caught the light and flared like the sun.

Avin's eyes widened slightly. The weapon was entirely gold — not just gilded, but forged of the metal, radiating faint magical energy. It wasn't just decorative; it pulsed with mana, alive and humming with power.

"Beautiful…" Avin muttered unconsciously.

The prince's lips curved into a small, confident smile. "But watch how it's done."

He adjusted his grip, stepping into the center of the room.

"The next matchup," Theo announced, stepping forward with his usual calm expression, "will be His Highness… and myself."

A hush fell over the room. Even the air seemed to still.

Theo walked to meet the prince, bowing slightly. "I'm glad to have this honor," he said softly, "to finally show you what I am capable of."

Avin watched them both, his expression tightening. "He really is respectful to this prince, huh?" he muttered. But as the thought settled, his frown deepened.

"Wait…" he murmured to himself, his mind racing. "Did he just see him and immediately start acting like his butler or something? That's impossible… unless—"

He glanced toward the princess, who sat elegantly at the edge of the room, hands folded in her lap.

"Unless they already knew each other."

The realization gnawed at him. The matchings for this test were supposed to be random — yet somehow, the prince, the princess, and someone who clearly served them had all ended up in the same team.

He sighed, shaking his head. "Seems even the best academy isn't free from corruption," he whispered under his breath, leaning forward to watch.

On the floor, the prince tightened his grip on his sword. His posture lowered, both arms steady, knees bent, eyes sharp and focused entirely on Theo.

Theo, meanwhile, raised his fists.

Avin blinked. "Huh?"

He leaned slightly forward. "He's not using a weapon?"

He stared harder. "But he's… skinny as hell."

Theo wasn't built like a fighter. His frame was lean, almost delicate; his arms thin, his stance relaxed. Against a man in full plate armor swinging a blade of solid gold, he looked absurdly outmatched.

And yet, there was something about his calm — that quiet, composed stillness — that made Avin hesitate to laugh.

The prince lunged forward without warning, the heavy clatter of his armor filling the air. Despite the weight, his speed was shocking — a blur of gilded motion leaving streaks of light behind him.

He swung his sword downward in a perfect vertical arc. The air split under the force.

Theo lifted a single fist.

The impact came — and stopped.

The sound that should've echoed like thunder instead rang hollow. The blade had connected… but didn't cut. The edge hovered just above Theo's knuckles, motionless, as if the world itself had frozen.

Avin's eyes widened. "Did he just stop a sword… with his fist?"

He squinted harder, his crimson eyes tracing the faint distortions in the air around Theo's hand.

Then it clicked.

"Ah," he breathed out, realization dawning. "So this is the space thing Henry was yapping on about."

The edges of the sword shimmered faintly, bending light unnaturally.

Theo wasn't strong enough to block a sword like that physically — no. He had twisted the very space between his hand and the blade.

A small, knowing smile touched Avin's lips. "So… he's a space manipulator."

And in that instant, every strange thing — the doors, the impossible transitions, the calm confidence — finally made sense.