Re:Birth: A Slow Burn LitRPG Mage Regressor

”We should head to the Spell Weaving class,” Sam said, gathering his things. ”Professor Thane hates when people are late.”

”Actually,” Adom said, rubbing his temple, ”I think that duel with Damus affected me more than I thought. I’m going to skip today, get some rest.”

Sam’s face immediately shifted to concern. ”Where are you hurt? Should we go back to the infirmary? Did they miss something? I knew that punch looked too strong-”

”It’s okay, Sam.” Adom cut him off. ”I just need to lie down for a bit.” He paused, then added, trying to sound casual, ”Actually, could you take me to our dorm first?”

”Our dorm?” Sam’s brow furrowed. ”Is it that bad? You can’t even remember- I can stay if you need-”

”Sam,” Adom said firmly. ”I’m fine. Just a headache. But yes, everything’s a bit... fuzzy right now.”

Sam nodded, and they made their way through Xerkes’ winding corridors. The academy hadn’t changed much in sixty years - or wouldn’t change much, depending on how you looked at it. Still, Adom was grateful for the guidance as Sam led them up three flights of stairs, down a corridor lined with enchanted paintings, and finally to a door marked ”214.”

Their shared room was exactly what you’d expect from two teenage boys studying magic - scrolls scattered across desks, crystal formations growing in the window, and what appeared to be a failed attempt at an automated clothing-folding spell still sparking weakly in the corner. Sam’s side was meticulously organized chaos, while Adom’s... well, he’d have to figure out which side was his.

Normally, Xerkes assigned three students to each dorm room - a tradition dating back to the founding fathers of the academy. But either through administrative oversight or luck, Adom and Sam had ended up without a third roommate.

The extra space had quickly been converted into an impromptu potion-making station, complete with a small ventilation charm that Sam had rigged up after their third failed attempt at brewing Clarity Extract had filled the room with purple smoke.

”We should probably put some order in here soon,” Adom said, surveying the room.

Sam let out a surprised laugh. ”You? The guy who thrives in chaos?”

I’m not that guy anymore, Adom thought, memories of his meticulously organized office at the Council floating through his mind. Sixty years of fastidious record-keeping had a way of changing habits.

”Thanks for showing me back,” he said, starting to head toward one of the beds.

”The one on the left is yours,” Sam called out, making Adom correct his course.

”Thanks again.”

Sam sighed, hovering by the door. ”I’ll bring some snacks and ice cream when classes end.” He adjusted his bag. ”Stay safe, man.”

”I will.”

”Bye then,” Sam said, lingering for a moment longer before finally heading out, the door clicking shut behind him.

Adom exhaled deeply as he lay on his bed, staring at the familiar-yet-strange ceiling. Just this morning - was it even this morning? - he’d woken up in his bunker, bones aching, joints creaking with the weight of his 79 years.

The last twenty-four hours felt surreal - from his final moments on that beach to his conversation with that mysterious woman, and now... here. Back in his twelve-year-old body. Back when the world still made sense. When his biggest worries were exam scores and whether he’d embarrass himself in front of Mia Storm.

Back when his parents were still alive...

His chest tightened at the thought. They were alive right now. Not just alive - they were probably going about their daily routines, completely unaware that their son had just lived an entire lifetime without them. He wanted, more than anything, to see them. But from this place...

He should write them a letter soon then.

The lack of long-distance communication crystals in this era meant that correspondence was still largely done the old way. The current crystals could barely manage conversations across a city block, nothing like the continent-spanning network that would revolutionize communication in a few years. For now, his parents were just a letter away - achingly close, yet frustratingly distant.

Adom’s exhaled as his thoughts drifted to all the possibilities this opportunity at a second chance gave him.

Maybe this time he could actually see those places he’d only dreamed about. He could wander through elven cities, explore the depths of dwarven strongholds...

At this point in time, getting a travel permit to any non-human territory would be nearly impossible. The elves especially were notorious for turning away human visitors - something about ”preserving cultural purity,” though everyone knew it was more about the lingering tensions from the perpetual conflicts.

The dwarves were slightly more welcoming, if only because they enjoyed trading their metalwork. Still, they rarely allowed humans past their surface markets. The deeper halls of their cities remained a mystery to most.

An adventurer’s license would help - it was one of the few documents respected across all territories. He’d seen a few lucky guild members brandish those badges like keys to the world. But getting one meant proving yourself capable of handling whatever dangers lay beyond city walls and dungeons. No small feat for a twelve-year-old, even one with sixty years of memories.

He smiled, picturing himself at some small tavern in a far-off port, trying dishes he couldn’t pronounce, trading stories with travelers from across the sea. Or maybe camping under strange stars, sharing a meal with new friends around a campfire. Simple pleasures he’d never gotten to experience in his previous life.

Then, when he got tired of all the traveling, he could find a quiet place somewhere, eventually. A little home where he could grow his own herbs and vegetables, invite friends over for dinner, watch the seasons change...

”Ah, damn it.”

Adom’s smile faded as reality crashed back. These sorts of thoughts in his situation should not be welcome. All those dreams meant nothing if he didn’t prevent what was coming. That’s what the deal had really been about, hadn’t it? Not a gift, but a responsibility wrapped in the illusion of choice.

The magnitude of what lay ahead of him was almost overwhelming. He had decades now - decades to prevent the catastrophes he knew were coming. The Valanya Breach. The Fall of Sundar. The Great Collapse. The World Dungeon. Among others. So many others.

All the horrors that would transform the world into the wasteland he’d just left. And he had to do it all starting as a 12-year-old boy who still had to stand on tiptoe to reach the higher shelves in the library.

I guess it could have been worse... He thought as he imagined himself coming back as an infant. Still, that would have left him time to enjoy the little things of life too.

...Okay, maybe this was worse after all.

Anyway!

Adom sat up.

Before he could even begin to tackle that monumental task, there was something else he needed to understand. That blue thing - that strange, shimmering presence he kept seeing today.

It appeared every time he worked with mana now, something he’d never noticed in his first life. Whatever it was, it definitely hadn’t been there before.

As if responding to his thoughts, the blue shimmer coalesced in front of him, transforming into a translucent window of information:

[Name: Adom Sylla]

[Race: Human]

[Life Force: 100/100]

[Class: Mage (Runicologist*)]

[Mana Pool: 387/400]

[Unique Skills]

[Identify] (Very Rare)

[Inventory] (Very Rare)

[Active Skills]

[None]

[Passive Skills]

[None]

[Stats]

[Expand to see more...]

[Physical Condition: Very Weak]

Suggestion: Physical training required. Current body requires conditioning to handle advanced magical output.

”Whoa...” The moment he saw it, an instinctual understanding flooded his mind. The System - that’s what this was.

But how did it work exactly?

He reached for his notebook and quill on the bedside table. ”Let’s test this inventory thing,” he muttered, tapping the [Inventory] section. Five empty slots appeared before him, shimmering with a faint blue light.

Cautiously, he held out the notebook toward the first slot. The item seemed to dissolve into motes of light before vanishing completely. He did the same with the quill in the second slot.

”Interesting... It’s like a dimensional storage bag, but with fixed slots instead of space limitations.”

As if responding to his musing, text appeared below the inventory display:

[Maximum item dimensions per slot: 2m x 2m x 2m]

[Maximum item weight per slot: 200kg]

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

”Oh, so you’re interactive,” Adom said, raising an eyebrow. He retrieved the notebook and quill with a simple thought, watching them materialize in his hands. ”Convenient.”

Then he put them back in.

His eyes drifted to [Identify].

”What’s this about?” he wondered aloud.

[Identify: Reveals basic information about objects, creatures, and phenomena.]

He tested it on his notebook:

[Notebook]

Class (Quality): D (Poor)

Durability: 72%

Notes: Contains various spell diagrams and half-finished homework assignments. Several pages have ink stains.

”Huh.” Adom flipped through the notebook, confirming the accuracy of the description. ”That could be useful.” He turned his gaze to the shimmering window itself:

[System Interface]

Type: Unique

Status: Bonded

Notes: A manifestation of the agreement. Further features will unlock as conditions are met.

Well, that was deliberately vague.

”Wait,” Adom said, frowning. ”This Identify ability, and the Inventory too—I never had these before. These aren’t natural abilities, are they? They don’t even seem to use mana.”

[Correct. Identify and Inventory are unique gifts provided as part of the agreement. They do not consume mana and function independent of normal magical principles.]

”Gifts?” Adom’s eyebrows rose. ”So you do provide some abilities directly.”

[Only these two. All other capabilities must be developed naturally. The System primarily measures and categorizes your existing potential rather than granting new powers.]

The agreement...

His eyes moved down the window, noting the detailed stat breakdown:

[Physical Stats]

Strength: 6

Agility: 8

Stamina: 5

Dexterity: 7

[Mental Stats]

Intelligence: 142

Wisdom: 138

Focus: 91

Memory: 145

[Basic Abilities]

Reading: Advanced

Writing: Advanced

Mathematics: Intermediate

Physical Education: Poor

And dozens more...

”Another question,” Adom said, frowning at the stats display. ”These numbers - what exactly do they mean?”

[Stats reflect measurable physical and mental capabilities. For example: Current Strength rating of 6 indicates ability to lift approximately 60kg maximum weight]

”Just 60kg? I think I can lift more.” He replied, flexing his tiny biceps.

[...No. You cannot. Please refrain from hurting yourself.]

”Why do you have to say it like...” Adom trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose. ”You know what? Never mind. Just... how do these numbers increase?”

[Through natural development. Would you like a demonstration?]

”Sure.”

[Perform a push-up]

”A push-up? Is this really necessary?”

[Demonstration optional. Physical exercise one of many methods for natural strength development]

”No, no, I’ll do it,” Adom got down on the floor, somewhat awkwardly. He managed one push-up, arms trembling slightly.

[Again]

He complied, breathing harder this time.

[Again]

By the sixth push-up, his arms were shaking. ”I don’t see how this-”

[Continue]

The ninth push-up was a struggle. His muscles burned.

[Two more. Physical improvement requires pushing limits]

Gritting his teeth, Adom forced himself through the tenth, then the eleventh push-up. His arms felt like jelly.

[One final repetition]

With a grunt, he managed the twelfth push-up before collapsing onto the floor, panting.

A small notification appeared:

[Physical exertion past normal limits has resulted in natural body strengthening]

[Strength: +1/1000]

[Stamina: +1/1000]

”What’s...” Adom panted, still on his hands and knees, ”what’s with the plus one?”

[Progress measured on scale of 1000.]

[Current status: Strength 6 (1/1000) - 0.1% progress toward Strength 7

When progress reaches 1000/1000:

Level increases to Strength 7Maximum lift capacity increases to 70kgProgress resets to 0/1000Same principle applies to all physical attributes]

”So,” Adom said between breaths, ”you didn’t give me those stats. My body actually got stronger from the exercise?”

[Correct. Each full stat point represents significant physical development. Example: Strength 6 to 7 requires approximately:

3 months consistent trainingProper nutritionAdequate restProgressive overload exercisesSystem merely quantifies natural development. Stats will decrease if maintenance exercises are neglected]

In all his years studying magical artifacts and constructs, Adom had never encountered anything quite like this - a system that responded so naturally to thoughts, providing precise information without any visible mechanisms or magical circles. He needed to verify its consistency from multiple angles.

”And my mana pool?” he asked, looking at the 387/400 display.

[Mana capacity develops through two natural methods:

Physical conditioning - healthy body supports larger mana poolMeditation - increases efficiency of mana pathwaysCombat training combines both aspects, leading to natural growth]

”So if I want to increase my mana pool...”

[Regular physical exercise and meditation recommended. Would you like to attempt another set of push-ups?]

”Heh...I think I’ll pass for now.”

Adom’s eyes lingered on his class designation. ”What’s this little star next to ’Runicologist’ for?”

[Indicates current primary specialization path.

Available Mage Paths:

Runicologist (Expert) Diviner (Locked)Battle Mage (Locked)Elementalist (Locked)Alchemist (Locked)Druid (Locked)Healer (Locked)Complete mastery of all paths enables class evolution: [True Archmage]

’True Archmage’...

Among humans, that title had never been more than an honorary position. The current Archmage, Sir Gaius, while undoubtedly powerful, was simply an exceptional battle mage who’d been chosen to oversee the Magisterium—a towering bastion of arcane authority responsible for governing and safeguarding all matters pertaining to mages and magic within the Empire of Sundar.

His role was more administrative than anything: protecting and directing the Empire’s mages.

And because humans needed the position to be filled, if only to avoid the embarrassment of being mocked for having none, someone like Sir Gaius had been the natural choice.

The elves, now they had a genuine True Archmage. Adom had never seen them personally, but tales spoke of their mastery over all seven paths of magic. The dwarves too had boasted one, until their passing two centuries ago. But humans? The task seemed beyond their reach.

Even with magic extending their natural lifespan - assuming they weren’t cut down early - human mages typically lived to around 150 years. Lady Verana had set the record at 202, and even she had only fully mastered two paths. The time required to truly master all aspects of magic, to reach the pinnacle of each specialization... it simply exceeded what even the longest-lived humans could achieve.

So human mages faced an impossible choice - either spread themselves thin attempting to learn everything, becoming mediocre at all, or focus on one path while barely scratching the surface of the others. Even those rare few who managed to master two paths had dedicated their entire lives to the pursuit.

A thought nagged at Adom’s mind as he considered his situation.

In his past life, He had never been intentionally placed on the frontlines. His role had always been more cerebral than physical—he was a researcher, a scholar, someone whose value came from deciphering magical theory, not wielding it in open combat. That position came with protections, but also restrictions. He’d operated under the weight of oversight, protocol, and chains of command. His movements had been limited. His voice, even with its authority, had to be carefully measured.

And in the world that was coming—the one he alone remembered—such constraints could prove fatal.

This time, things had to be different. He couldn’t afford to stand behind the lines, trusting others to act. He needed the freedom to move, to intervene, to act without waiting for permission.

At Xerkes, the path-choosing ceremony was a pivotal moment in every student’s third year. After experiencing the basics of all seven magical disciplines in their first two years, students would gather in the Celestial Pavilion during the spring equinox. There, before the Academy’s masters and their peers, they would declare their chosen path. It was more a tradition, really.

In his previous life, Adom had stood proudly before the maesters and chosen the path of runes. He remembered how natural that choice had felt, how right. But next spring, when his turn came again, he’d have to make a different choice.

A different choice...

He would be fighting—there was no avoiding that. Not just wild beasts or dungeon creatures, but people. Mages. Knights. Rogue guilds. Even governments. He’d need to be able to defend himself and strike preemptively when required.

And not just that—he’d be moving constantly.

Across cities, through borderlands, into places most people wouldn’t dare step. The mission he carried wasn’t one that would be served from behind a desk or buried in a library scroll. Freedom of movement was non-negotiable. Waiting for official permissions, asking for escorts, petitioning councils? That would only slow him down—and he didn’t have time to waste.

But the future he remembered held threats far larger than anything one man could face alone. There would be moments where he’d need more than independence—he’d need influence. Authority. The ability to rally others, command forces, mobilize armies if it came to that.

So what kind of mage could do all of that?

One path. Only one.

The Battle Mage.

Crossing his legs, Adom focused on his mana core, that well of energy nestled deep within. The mana pathways throughout his body were still developing - they would continue to do so until he turned twenty-one. Like a second circulatory system, they carried mana instead of blood. He could feel the potential there, raw and untapped.

It was fascinating how knights used the same energy so differently. While mages like himself could manipulate raw mana directly, knights compressed it into what they called ’Fluid,’ transforming it into pure physical enhancement. Battle mages were unique in that they learned both arts - pure mana manipulation and Fluid transformation.

”I wonder...” Adom murmured, trying to recall those basic lessons from his father. Perhaps he could get a head start on the path.

He closed his eyes, recalling his father’s patient instructions from years ago. His old man had spent countless hours trying to teach his academically-inclined son how to transform mana into Fluid. The knowledge was still there, buried in his memories - the theory, the process, the visualization.

”Feel it,” his father would say, ”let your emotions guide the transformation.”

A droplet of sweat rolled down Adom’s temple as he concentrated on his mana core. The energy was there, swirling, ready to be used. But Fluid required something more than just technical understanding. It needed emotion - raw, powerful, overwhelming emotion.

He’d always found that requirement ridiculous. The idea that feelings could catalyze a physical transformation of energy seemed absurd to his analytical mind. Yet history proved otherwise. Every knight, every battle mage who’d ever manifested Fluid had done so through the power of their emotions. Rage, exhilaration, love, despair - any emotion would do, as long as it burned hot enough.

The problem was quantifying that ”hot enough.” How much emotion was sufficient? How did one measure the intensity of a feeling?

Adom focused on his current emotional state. Joy bubbled within him at his second chance at life. Anxiety churned in his stomach about the challenges ahead. Hope burned bright when he thought about changing his fate. He tried to amplify these feelings, to let them fill his entire being.

The mana in his core responded, stirring faster, flowing through his pathways with increased speed. But despite his concentration, despite the sweat now dripping down his face, the crucial transformation remained elusive. His mana stayed as it was - raw, untransformed energy.

With a frustrated sigh, he opened his eyes. Perhaps he needed something stronger than hope and anxiety to trigger his first transformation.

A small window expanded as Adom kept pondering:

[Alert]

[Life Force Status: Currently stable]

[Warning: Potential development of Lifedrain Syndrome detected]

[First symptoms estimated to manifest within 2-3 months without intervention]

Adom’s breath caught in his throat. Lifedrain Syndrome. The magical degradation that had slowly eaten away at his body for decades. It wasn’t until he was in his fifties, after years of research and desperate searches for a cure, that he’d discovered the cruel truth - his body had been prone to it from birth.

His perpetually skinny frame, which no amount of food could ever change, every unexplained exhaustion, every failed attempt to build stamina during his childhood - they hadn’t been normal weakness. They were early symptoms no one knew to look for.

He remembered the concerned looks from the school healers during his second year at Xerkes, He was exactly his current body’s age when the first visible symptoms had appeared in his previous life. The way they’d dismissed the occasional tremors and mana fluctuations as puberty-related magical instability.

As if responding to his mounting dread, a new window materialized:

[System Protocol: Timeline Divergence Detected]

[Initiating Emergency Quest: “The Race Against Time”]

Objective: Cure Lifedrain Syndrome before visible symptoms manifest.

Time Limit: 2 months, 21 days, 14 hours, 48 minutes

Failure Condition: Terminal deterioration

Reward: Survival

Adom stared at the glowing text.

He had spent his entire former life slowly losing a battle he didn’t know had started. Not this time.

This time, he would win.

[Quest Logged]