Re:Birth: A Slow Burn LitRPG Mage Regressor-Chapter 30. I Am Regretting This

Gale.

Mr. Fox's right-hand man, according to Professor Kim. And Mr. Fox had been funding the professor's research for years.

If Gale was the knight employed by the Children of the Moon, and he answered directly to Mr. Fox, then that meant either the man was a big shot among the Children or...

"He's the founder of the Children of the Moon, and its current boss," Cisco said. "His true name is Ernest Boyle."

"And that knight..." Adom's voice trailed off.

"You said you knew him as Gale?" Cisco shifted in his chair. "We managed to find some information about him, he is a noble, from fallen House Coeur-de-Lion. Galahad Coeur-de-Lion."

"Galahad Coeur-de-Lion," Adom repeated, tasting each syllable. "Ernest Boyle. The Children of the Moon."

New names. New pieces on a board he was only beginning to understand. A noble house he'd never heard of. An organization that seemed to have its fingers everywhere. Were these the people that would eventually assassinate Professor Kim? The same people who would put Dragon's Breath out there, triggering the future he was trying to prevent?

It made too much sense. The professor's funding. The Celestial Tears hidden in that facility. All the pieces were falling into place, forming a picture that made his blood run cold.

Because if he was right: if these were indeed the players who would shape that dark future: then he wasn't just dealing with common criminals or ambitious nobles. He was up against an organization with the resources to create magical mass destruction weapons, the connections to silence renowned professors, and the audacity to sell apocalypse to the highest bidder.

He'd always assumed Professor Kim was assassinated because the project was publicized, drawing unwanted attention from power-hungry vultures. Now he realized the bitter truth: whether the professor went public or not was irrelevant. The very people he desperately tried to keep in the dark hadn't just known about the project: they'd been bankrolling it years before Adom drew his first breath.

The stakes hadn't just risen. They'd exploded.

But with hardships came ease.

The path ahead had crystallized. Two objectives, clear as day: stop turning around the bush, and destroy the prototype then get the professor out of the equation. Not dead: god, he'd had enough of death already. But out. Safe. Away from the Children of the Moon.

Could he just... tell Kim the truth? "Hey, professor, your benefactor is actually the head of a secret organization that's going to kill you and use your invention to create magical weapons of mass destruction. How about we grab some coffee and discuss your retirement plans?"

He snorted. Right.

But then again... Kim wasn't stupid. The man was brilliant, even if he currently trusted his benefactors. That was the problem, wasn't it? The professor was too focused on his research to see the wolves in sheep's clothing. Too grateful for the funding that let him pursue his life's work.

Adom's chair scraped against the floor as he suddenly stood, anger flashing in his eyes. "Cisco. You told me he was in Meridian District. Your letter specifically said the window was clear!"

Cisco's whiskers twitched, his usually composed demeanor showing a crack of genuine concern. "That's what has been bothering me since last night. My man watching him swears the Knight was there, then..." The mouse beastkin's paws gestured in frustration. "One moment he was in Meridian, the next he was moving at impossible speeds toward your location. No warning, no indication. Just sudden movement, as if he knew exactly where to go."

"That doesn't make any sense," Adom said, pacing now. "How could he have known? The only people who knew about the operation were-"

"We're still looking into it," Cisco cut in, his tone grave. "But I assure you, the intelligence breach didn't come from my end."

Adom opened his mouth to argue further when Marco burst through the door, slightly out of breath.

"The operation," Marco said, excitement breaking through his usual professional demeanor. "It worked. They definitely lost significant assets."

Adom's anger momentarily subsided. "How much are we talking about?"

Marco shook his head. "Hard to tell right now. We haven't gotten all the intel yet, but-"

Adom's mind was already racing again. The Knight's impossible appearance, the speed, the timing... something wasn't adding up. How had Gale known? And more importantly, what else might he know?

He straightened in his chair.

That wasn't the immediate problem. He needed to open Kim's eyes, but how? Wild claims about the future would sound insane. But he had something better: he had seen their facility. He knew their names. He could provide concrete evidence that the Children of the Moon were more than just generous benefactors.

"Would you have anything on Ernest Boyle?" Adom leaned forward. "Documents, records, anything that could prove what kind of man he is?"

Cisco's whiskers twitched once as he reached for his glass. "I'll have Eren bring you a package."

"Thank you."

"No," Cisco swirled the amber liquid in his glass, "thank you. What you pulled off at that facility..." He paused, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You cost them. Significantly. Right now, they're running themselves ragged trying to find the culprit."

He took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving Adom. "My sources tell me they're looking for a fearsome warrior. Tall. Imposing." The mouse beastkin set his glass down. "No offense, but you don't exactly fit that description."

Adom offered a polite smile, not really in the mood for jokes but not wanting to be rude.

"Their own assumptions work against them," Cisco continued. "Makes them blind to... certain possibilities. Keep that advantage. You'll need it."

"I'll keep that in mind." Adom said, getting up.

Before turning to leave, he paused. "While I still have you here - about my order?"

"Ah, yes." Cisco nodded, setting his glass down. "The Water of Jouvance has been obtained. It's already en route." He glanced at Marco. "And the other item?"

Marco straightened. "The wyvern's heart will be here in a week."

"A week?" Adom's eyebrows rose. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Marco replied with quiet confidence. "Our contact in the north is reliable."

"Looking forward to it, then." Adom rose from his chair. "Cisco. Marco."

They exchanged brief nods, the practiced courtesy of professionals, before Adom took his leave.

*****

The autumn chill bit through Adom's coat as he trudged back toward Xerkes. His steps dragged against the cobblestones, each one feeling heavier than the last. He hadn't slept more than an hour or two since last night's operation, and his body was making its protests known.

His stomach should have been growling - when was the last time he'd eaten? Yesterday? But there was no hunger, just a hollow emptiness that matched his thoughts.

Children of the Moon. Celestial Tears. Star Knights and fallen noble houses.

Adom ran a hand through his hair, not caring how disheveled it made him look. How exactly was he supposed to approach Kim about any of this?

Even if Cisco's documents proved convincing enough - and that was a big if - what then? The prototype was already near completion. Who was to say they wouldn't just take it by force? These people had resources, connections, and apparently a knight who could move faster than should be physically possible.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, drawing curious glances from passersby. He couldn't tell if his growing headache was from lack of sleep, the weight of the situation, or both.

Both. Definitely both.

And then there was his own clock ticking away. One month? A little bit more?

He took a glance at the system: 1 month, 18 days, 12 hours, 21 min

The illness lurking in his future felt simultaneously too close and too distant, like a storm cloud that kept changing position every time he looked up.

"Where the hell is he?!"

Adom's head snapped up. A crowd was gathering ahead, their murmurs carrying across the street. More shouts rose above the general din, urgent and afraid.

He should probably keep walking. He was tired, irritated, and had enough problems without-

His feet were already moving toward the commotion.

Because of course they were.

The crowd parted as Adom approached the Adventurer's Guild entrance. Two warriors stood their ground, armor still caked with dried blood, facing a man whose rage seemed to fill the entire street.

"Gankers!" The man's voice cracked with fury. "You left him to die!"

In his white-knuckled grip, he clutched a muscled arm. Just an arm. The severed limb still wore a bronze bracer, its surface scratched and dented.

"Sir, please," the female adventurer tried, her voice steady despite her pale face. "When the dungeon started shifting-"

"Lies!" the man lunged forward, nearly dropping the arm. "My boy was strong! He wouldn't just-"

"The walls changed," the male adventurer cut in. "One moment he was there, the next-"

Adom had seen this before. Everyone did. Dungeons were as much a part of life as markets or taverns.

They appeared without warning, promising riches, artifacts, power. But for every successful raid, there were scenes like this. Parents receiving pieces of their children. Wives becoming widows. The lucky ones got bodies to bury.

"Where's the rest of him?" The father's voice dropped. "Where's my son?"

"The dungeon's sealed," the female adventurer said. "Won't open for another month. We barely made it out ourselves."

The father's face twisted. With a roar, he charged the adventurers, his son's arm raised like a club. "You cowards! You left him! You-"

Guards appeared, seemingly from nowhere, grabbing the grieving man. He thrashed in their grip, still clutching the arm, screaming accusations as they dragged him away.

The crowd murmured, some shaking their heads, others just watching in silence.

Adom turned away, jaw clenched. As if this day wasn't difficult enough already.

He walked faster, leaving the scene behind, but his frustration only grew. One more thing. One more goddamn thing on a day already overflowing with them.

Adom pushed open the door to his room, the familiar creak barely registering in his exhausted mind.

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Sam was sprawled across his bed, nose buried in a thick tome, legs dangling off the edge. "Oh hey, you won't believe what I found in the library today - there's this fascinating theory about elemental resonance in early morning spellweaving and-" He looked up, his excited grin fading. "Whoa, you look like death warmed over. Where've you been? You missed all of Runicology."

"Not in the mood for classes today." Adom made his way to his bed, letting gravity do most of the work as he collapsed onto it. The mattress welcomed him like an old friend, and he suddenly realized just how desperately he needed sleep.

"Not in the- since when are you not in the mood for classes?" Sam sat up, letting his book fall closed. "Did something happen?"

"Everything's fine." The words came out muffled against his pillow.

Adom just sank deeper into his bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes. His mind felt like it was stuffed with cotton, heavy and useless.

"Sam," he said, not looking up as he took off his glasses and placed them carefully beside his pillow, "wake me at dawn, please."

"Uuh, yeah," Sam said hesitantly, closing his book entirely now. "Are you... are you alright?"

"Yeah," Adom mumbled into his pillow, his voice already heavy with approaching sleep. "Everything's perfectly fine."

The obvious lie hung in the air for a moment, but Sam did not call him out on it, and Adom couldn't bring himself to care. Not today.

"Sleep well then," Sam said softly, setting his book aside with unusual care.

"Thank you Sam."

*****

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Each impact sent vibrations through Adom's arms, sweat already soaking through his shirt despite the early hour. The training room was empty except for him and the punching bag, which swayed with each strike.

[+2 Iron Lungs]

[+1 Boxing Mastery]

His breathing remained controlled, measured, even as his thoughts raced. Ernest Boyle. Gale. The future. His parents. The world. All of it threatened to overwhelm him, so he channeled it into his fists instead.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Adom's arms burned, but he pushed through it. The illness in his blood was spreading: he could feel it. How long until it became noticeable? How long until he became a cripple again?

[+1 Endurance]

The face of Gale flashed in his mind, that smug smile, those calculating eyes. THUD. Then Ernest Boyle, the man giving him such a hard time. THUD. The future he'd seen, his parents' deaths, the world in flames. THUD. THUD. THUD.

His technique grew sharper with each strike, more precise. He couldn't afford to fail. Couldn't afford to die. Too many lives depending on him, too many threads to unravel, too many disasters to prevent.

[Indomitable Will Activated]

The burning in his muscles intensified, but so did his focus. He'd never trained like this before, never pushed himself this hard. But then again, he'd never had to save the world before either.

His strikes became faster, harder. The bag swung wildly, chains creaking in protest. Still, he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not while there was still strength in his arms, still breath in his lungs.

Because if he failed...

No. That wasn't an option. He would succeed. He had to. No matter what it took, no matter the cost.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

"Whoa there brother, way to go!" A sudden voice cut through his focused haze.

Adom stopped mid-strike, chest heaving as he turned around. Kaius stood in the doorway, his tall frame leaning casually against the entrance. Despite the early hour, he was already in his training gear, a towel draped around his neck.

"Hello Kaius," Adom managed between breaths, suddenly aware of how drenched in sweat he was.

"Morning, Adom," Kaius grinned, but his eyes narrowed as they fell to Adom's hands. "Hey, your wraps are loose, and those gloves..." He crossed the room in a few long strides. "The way you're throwing those crosses, you'll mess up your wrists. Here."

Adom looked down at his hands. He hadn't even noticed the wraps had started unraveling, or that his form had deteriorated as exhaustion set in.

"Oh," he said, flexing his fingers. "I wasn't really... I mean, I'm not actually trying to learn boxing properly."

Kaius raised an eyebrow. "Having a tough time?"

Adom's throat tightened. He turned back to the bag, adjusting his glasses which had started sliding down his sweaty nose. "You could say that."

"Listen," Kaius said, moving to hold the bag steady. "If you're going to beat up this poor bag, at least let me show you how to do it without beating yourself up too." His voice carried no judgment. "Trust me, nothing worse than having to explain to the healers why your wrists are sprained from improper form."

Adom hesitated, his breath still coming in heavy pants. Part of him wanted to dismiss the offer - he hadn't come here for a lesson, just needed to vent. But Kaius was right; his hands were already starting to ache in ways they probably shouldn't.

"Here," Kaius continued, stepping back from the bag. "First, let's fix these wraps. You want support, not a tourniquet." He gestured at Adom's hands. "Plus, if you're going to channel all that frustration into something, might as well get stronger while you're at it, right?"

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The corner of Adom's mouth twitched despite himself. That was Kaius - always finding ways to turn any situation into an opportunity for improvement. It was probably why he was one of the few upper-years Adom actually didn't mind being around.

Just like all the other club members, really.

"I suppose you have a point," Adom conceded, starting to unwrap his hands.

Kaius expertly rewrapped Adom's hands, explaining each loop and cross. His movements were precise, neither too tight nor too loose. "See? You want to protect these knuckles, but still keep mobility in your fingers. There's an art to it."

While working, he glanced up at the bag. "Got some time before my usual routine. Want to spar a bit?"

"Sure," Adom said, flexing his newly wrapped hands. They already felt better.

Kaius smiled, moving to grab his own gear. As he prepared, he spoke casually over his shoulder. "You know, I used to come here at dawn too. Still do, sometimes. There's something about hitting things that helps clear the head better than any meditation technique they teach us." He paused, adjusting his wraps. "Whatever's eating at you: it doesn't have to make sense to anyone else. Sometimes life just gets heavy, you know?"

Adom watched him, surprised by the mature perspective. He'd gotten so used to seeing his schoolmates as children that moments like these caught him off guard. "Do you have a younger sibling?" The question slipped out before he could stop it. "You seem experienced at... this."

Kaius's hands stilled for a moment. His smile remained, but something shifted in his eyes. "Used to," he said simply.

"Oh." Adom replied. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Kaius shook his head, resuming his preparations. "Made peace with it a while ago. Life's funny like that: throws you curveballs, knocks you down." He finished wrapping his hands and turned to Adom with a wink. "But as my favorite philosopher would say, you can come back from anything: it's all about the mindset."

They moved to the padded area of the training room, Kaius taking a relaxed stance while Adom settled into a more rigid position. Despite his earlier exhaustion, Adom felt his focus sharpening.

"Remember," Kaius said, bouncing lightly on his feet, "this isn't about winning. Just move, breathe, and let it flow."

The next fifteen minutes were a lesson in humility. Kaius wasn't just strong; he was efficient. Every time Adom threw a punch, Kaius seemed to flow around it like water, responding with light taps that could have been devastating hits if he'd wanted them to be.

[System recalibrating...]

"Good," Kaius would say occasionally, "but guard your left side more." Or, "Nice dodge, now follow through."

By the end, Adom was completely drained, but his mind felt clearer than it had in days. The overwhelming thoughts about Ernest, Gale, and the future were still there, but they'd settled into something more manageable.

"Water?" Kaius tossed him a bottle from his bag. They sat on the training room floor, catching their breath.

"Thanks," Adom said, both for the water and everything else.

"Same time tomorrow?" Kaius asked casually, wiping his face with a towel. "If you're going to make a habit of dawn training, might as well do it right."

Adom looked at Kaius, a sudden heaviness settling in his chest.

In his original timeline, he'd never heard of a battle mage named Kaius. No notable achievements, no memorable stories - probably just another name lost in the endless casualty lists from the wars that would come. The kind of person whose life would be reduced to a statistic, a footnote in history.

Looking at him now - young, strong, full of easy smiles and quiet wisdom - Adom felt something shift in his perspective.

This wasn't just about preventing an apocalypse. It was about people like Kaius, who deserved more than becoming another casualty in senseless conflicts. People who should have the chance to live, to grow old, to pass on their philosophy about comebacks and mindsets to others.

Kaius was still waiting for an answer, casually wiping sweat from his neck.

"Yeah," he found himself saying. "Same time tomorrow."

[System recalibrated!]

[Boxing Mastery has reached Level 2!]

[Basic footwork and striking techniques have been improved]

[Damage reduction while boxing increased by 5%]

The day unfolded like most others at Xerkes Academy, except it didn't: they never really did.

During the Spell Weaving class, Adom adjusted his glasses as he watched Gus Howl's salamander familiar, Gizmo, set fire to Jason Burke's robes after the latter over-stimulated the creature.

Some students still hadn't learned that magical creatures weren't toys for entertainment.

"He had it coming," Sam whispered beside him, trying not to laugh as the Professor calmly extinguished the flames.

The morning continued with Runicology, where the pop quiz proved to be more entertainment than challenge. After seventy-nine years of life and a previous career that heavily relied on runes, the basic principles felt like reading children's books.

"Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," Professor Wei said as he handed back Adom's paper, a rare smile on his stern face. "The only perfect score in class."

The afternoon's Monster Anatomy class started normally enough with Professor Drake dissecting a cave crawler: until Finn, one of Damus' friends, displaying the kind of curiosity that often preceded disaster, decided to poke the yellow-green organ on the creature's abdomen.

"What's this one do?" he asked, finger already in motion.

Professor Drake's "DON'T-" came a moment too late.

The resulting explosion of post-mortem gases sent students scrambling for the exits, leaving behind half-written notes and dignity in equal measure. The stench managed to accomplish what three years of cleaning spells hadn't: it cleared out the decades-old dust from the classroom's corners.

Hours later, after multiple baths, Finn trudged into the dining hall trailing a unique combination of tomato, lime, and lingering cave crawler essence.

The whispers of "Finn the Smelly" started at the far table and spread like wildfire.

Kids could be cruel.

Between classes, he spotted three fourth-years cornering a first-year behind the library building. Rather than intervene directly, he simply caught Guard Captain Marina's attention as she passed nearby. She handled the situation with her usual efficiency.

As the day wound down and students began heading to their dorms or clubs, Adom turned to Sam. "Hey. Want to help me with fluid control practice?"

Sam's enthusiasm vanished. "No. Absolutely not." He shifted uncomfortably. "Last time I hit you five times in ten minutes, Adom. And that's with me holding back."

"That's why I need the practice," Adom insisted. "The fluid enhancement should help me dodge better."

"Should. But doesn't." Sam ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Look, you're my best friend, and no offence but you're... well, you're kind of an easy target. Even for me. And I'm terrible at combat magic."

"None taken." Some was taken. "Plus, that makes you perfect for practice," Adom pressed. "Come on, I need to figure this out. Just one more session?"

Sam looked at him for a long moment. "Fine. But the moment it gets too rough, we stop. I mean it this time." He pointed an accusing finger at Adom. "And no more 'just one more try' after I knock you down three times in a row."

Adom smiled. "Deal."

"I'm going to regret this, am I not?"

*****

"I am regretting this."

This was the twenty-third attempt.

[-4 Life Force]

[White Wyrm Body has reached level 4!]

[Fluid Control has reached level 3!]

[+3 Endurance]

[+7 Iron lungs]

[Physical enhancement moderately strengthened]

[Indomitable Will is active]

"One more time," Adom panted, pushing himself up from the ground.

Sam sighed.

Adom smiled.

"Are you a masochist, Adom?"

To any outsider, yes, it might have looked like Adom was actually enjoying the constellation of bruises left by Sam's increasingly potent wind spells (way to go Sam!), the cold air in the pitch, and the distinct feeling that tomorrow's muscles would have some choice words for him. But to Adom, who had a blue screen hovering in his peripheral vision, there was a very good reason to be happy.

[Subject [Adom Sylla] is approaching emergence threshold...]

Something was changing.

Sam exhaled sharply. "Here goes nothing."

"I saw that lip twitch," Adom said. "You're trying not to smile."

"This hurts me more than it hurts you."

"I doubt i-"

The spell cut him off mid-sentence. That little-

Time slowed.

In the last twenty-three attempts, Adom hadn't managed to dodge a single hit. Not one. He'd seen some of the spells coming - translucent ribbons of compressed air, twisting like serpents, distorting the space around them - but seeing wasn't enough. Each failure had taught him something, though. The way wind moved. The way it curved. The subtle differences between a feint and a real attack.

The first few attempts, he'd relied purely on reflexes. That hadn't worked.

Then he'd tried predicting trajectories based on Sam's movements - also a failure.

He'd created scenarios in his head, mapped possible paths, calculated angles. Each attempt added another layer of understanding, another piece of the puzzle. Sometimes the spell would curve when he expected it to go straight. Sometimes it would speed up when he thought it would slow down. Every assumption he made was proven wrong, until he realized he was thinking too much.

It wasn't about thinking. It wasn't about calculating. It was about feeling.

The Fluid enhancement had made him faster, sharper. His eyes could track the spell's movement better now, his body could respond quicker. But that wasn't enough either. He needed something more.

The wind spell was coming. Time seemed to stretch. His eyes tracked the distortion in the air, the way it rippled and twisted. Based on its trajectory, it was aimed at his right thigh - but something felt off. An instinct, born from twenty-three failures, screamed that this wasn't right.

He hesitated. The logical part of his brain insisted the spell would hit his thigh. The angles, the speed, the trajectory - everything pointed to it. But that feeling, that nagging sensation...

Trust it.

The world slowed to a crawl. The spell curved, and in that moment, Adom saw it - really saw it. Not where it was going, but where it wanted to go. Not its path, but its intention.

His body moved before his mind could catch up. He bent backward, feeling the Fluid surge through his muscles, supporting the impossible angle. The wind spell brushed past his chest, missing by inches, and struck a nearby tree with a sharp crack.

Time resumed its normal flow.

"Whoa," Sam breathed.

His heart was pounding - when had that started? Adom panted, still bent at an awkward angle, and from this position he could see the damage on the tree. His eyes widened.

"Were you trying to actually kill me?"

"Huh?"

A piece of bark fell from the deep gouge in the trunk. Sam gasped, his face draining of color.

"Oh gods- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" He rushed to Adom, hands trembling as they checked for injuries. "I lost control, I didn't mean to- I got carried away with the theoretics of wind compression and- are you hurt? I should've been more careful, I-"

Adom started laughing.

Sam stopped mid-panic, staring at his friend. "Did I... did I do something to your head too? Are you alright?"

Trying and failing to contain his laughter, Adom straightened up. "Yeah," he managed between chuckles. "Actually, I'm more than alright."

[New Skill Acquired: Flowing Perception (Uncommon) (Active)]

[Ability: Enhanced prediction and analysis of movement patterns]

[Current Level: 01]

"Let's go home, Sam."