I Refused To Be Reincarnated

Quintella picked herself up a moment later, panting, face flushed, and lips quivering. "Push-ups are harder than I thought..."

Her pink eyes welled up with tears, her pleading gaze making Adam sigh. He kneeled and raised her head. "Don't worry. You failed today, but tomorrow you'll make one."

"Really?" She lunged forward, trembling, and buried her face in his chest, the weight of the failure making her feel both powerless and ashamed.

It was Matthew who answered. "You'll have your own classes to attend. You don't have time to coach anyone, but fret not. Student Quintella will receive the best training from Grimhilde, our beloved instructor." He continued in a cheerful voice, smiling reassuringly. "I've seen her turn students weaker than you into proud mages. You really shouldn't worry and look forward to her lessons."

He retrieved a quill and jotted down Quintella's results in her form, adding an exclamation mark inside a triangle and a note about urgent need for physical training.

Done with her enrollment, he extended his palm toward Adam, who nodded and shook it. The same process started over again: a drop of the teenager's blood was fed to his bracelet, and he examined his record through the blood registry.

However, his eyes widened at the Prestige column and his rank. Sixteen years old yet already a count? He was positive the Laurentius Lux Aeterna house was a forgotten relic of past glories, an echo of brave mages that had long faded from memories—like the other houses older than the Great Resettlement. So how?

This duo interested him more with each passing second. Perhaps he would uncover more surprises.

"You can return the crystal." He let go of the teenager's hand, stretching his palm.

But Adam noticed the barely restrained eagerness that made it tremble. Well, if Matthew wanted something spectacular, he would oblige.

For once, he wouldn't hold back.

He tossed a crystal that shone like the core of a star into Matthew's palm.

Lightning crackled, spreading in chaotic patterns over rushing tsunamis. Gales roared into swirling typhoons that blasted condensed earth, molten lava, lush trees, and icy tundras.

Matthew forgot to breathe for a moment, eyes wide on the microcosm raging in the crystal. Too many affinities. Too perfect. Even mana danced in sky-blue fractal patterns and actually took up most space. As for the mana strands? There were so many that they became indistinguishable from the crystal's smooth surface.

"Impossible," he finally breathed out after ten seconds of tense silence. Icy sweat stuck his robe to his back, and a terrifying idea clawed at his mind.

Instantly, his eyes darted across the affinities in a careful sifting. He hoped not to see it, but if he did...

Mana began to rumble in his circuits, not to conjure playful shapeshifting spells, but to unleash utter destruction on the spot. Adam's impossible talent didn't matter. Anyone who possessed soul affinity had to die!

Across from him, relaxed and smirking, Adam tilted his head in fake curiosity. "Is there a problem with my affinities?"

The question hung, innocent yet heavy, simple but complex, asked with carefree amusement while Matthew's eyes narrowed into slits. Two wisps of mana spilt from the wrinkled corner, thickening the air.

One last intense glare at the crystal's swirling elements. Another at Adam.

"Tell me the truth," Matthew growled, like a starved beast. "Facts don't lie. Neither does the crystal. You possess the rarest affinity—so rare, only one person in history ever wielded it."

Taken off guard by Matthew's sharp deduction, Adam's eyes widened. But before he could ask about that other individual, the mage continued.

"Mana is the source from which affinities manifest like streams. Therefore, by controlling the source, you control the streams." His hand reached for his pouch, fingers tightening around something that seemed larger than in its container. "So, why can't I see soul affinity among the others?"

"Soul affinity? I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint your expectations." Adam tucked his fingers around his chin, waving his other hand dismissively. "I find toying with souls highly distasteful. This could be the reason? Anyway, the crystal doesn't lie. Your words."

Even if Matthew didn't answer, the mana spilling from his eyes turned into rivers. His muscles twitched, veins bulging like snakes ready to lunge. Yet, his hand trembled inside his pouch. He was trapped. Not because of Adam's strength—he knew over two thousand spells that could erase a toddler like him from reality itself—but because of his own words. Either he doubted the crystal and passed for a fool who couldn't be taken seriously, or he doubled down without proof.

"We have methods," he finally said. "Seers, mages specialised in matters of the mind, and rituals that can unravel your life. No matter what you hid, no matter how intricate the spell is, we'll find out the truth. So I'll ask you one last time: do you have soul affinity?"

Adam raised his hands in exaggerated movements, which somehow managed to be more insulting than active contempt. "Since facts matter less than baseless suspicions. Since you seem hell bent on troubling a student on his enrollment day. Since words can't convince you. Do try your methods." He opened his arms wide, smirking. "I promise not to resist."

Now the trap truly closed on Matthew, serrated edges digging into his ankles. He wanted to act like a wolf? Then Adam was the hunter, patient, meticulous. And there was no escape.

Matthew understood it. Shudders jolted his shoulder, his hand loosening in his pouch. Pupils constricted, breath refusing to come out of his open jaws. If he proceeded and found nothing, the college would take measures against him for abusing his authority. On the other hand, backing down was no better. He would lose all credibility, appearing weak to his colleagues who frowned at him solemnly ever since his mana erupted.

No! He would gamble. His instincts, the records—they all screamed that Adam had soul affinity. He tried to clench his hand again, yet his nerveless fingers mirrored his incertitude. Something was wrong—incredibly so.

Then, it struck him like a hammer blow. Could Adam hide an affinity among dozens by himself? What if... his show of supreme confidence was a veiled threat, something like, 'I don't care even if you find, for those who sealed my soul affinity will handle the situation along with your curiosity.'

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AN: Felt like writing a bit of mind games. I'll explain why Adam did that in the next chapter :D