"A-Ack... you... you asshole..." A cold blade cut William Wade’s throat.

He should have known it was coming after spending his whole life training soldiers, reading body language, and predicting enemy movements, but he didn’t see the betrayal until it was too late.

His best student stood in front of him with tears streaming down his face and a knife shaking in his hand, whispering apologies that William would never accept. "I’m sorry, Master Wade."

"Everything was supposed to be mine, like he said, starting with my family, my future... I couldn’t say no."

The irony was a sharper pain than the blade itself. William had personally shaped him, transforming a timid soul into a warrior whose name struck fear into the hearts of men across three kingdoms. The boy was now employing every lesson William had imparted, but for a far different purpose.

The darkness consumed him instantly, before he could even utter a curse against the traitor, just a simple "Fuckin’ hell..."

"Does everything have to end like this...?"

"I’m going to hell, am I...?"

"After everything I went through, I don’t deserve a peaceful afterlife other than hell itself."

---

He thought there was nothing after death because he didn’t see any afterlife, but then something hit him inside his mind that made him blink awake, his gaze fixed on an unfamiliar ceiling. "Wait... What... the fuck...?"

He sees stone arches looming above, their surfaces etched with elaborate designs that pulse with a subtle, almost magical light. The mattress was a cloud, a far cry from the firm cot he’d known for years.

His body felt different, somehow lighter and even younger. "This ain’t no hell..."

He propped himself up, the movement deliberate, and stared at his palms. They had no scars or calluses from years of combat training, so they felt smooth.

His arms appeared frail, lacking strength. He felt a wave of panic wash over him, and he staggered toward the mirror that hung on the wall.

The reflection in the mirror was a stranger. "What the hell...!? Who the fuck is that?!"

"That ain’t me because I didn’t look this handsome and young!" William’s panic only grew as he caught sight of his increasingly handsome reflection.

It had belonged to a younger person, perhaps in their mid-twenties. He had messy brown hair, and his green eyes were weary.

The jawline was softer, and William didn’t feel an itch because there wasn’t a single facial hair, and even the shoulders were narrower. The body appeared as if it had never even grasped a sword correctly.

"What the hell is this?" William’s words were a mutter, his voice sounding odd, almost as if it had been pitched up. "I look so young and... yeah... enough criteria to get a lot of bitches probably."

Before he could even begin to make sense of it all, foreign memories surged into his consciousness, making him scream in pain with the memory of images, feelings, and facts he’d never encountered. "Arrrggghhhhhh...!!!"

This William Wade was not the same as the one whose name was on the gravestone. Once a promising instructor at the Astraea Combat Academy, a school of some repute, he had fallen from grace.

A man constantly belittled, overlooked, and generally treated with disdain by those in his life.

William Wade, the original, had succumbed to alcohol poisoning three days prior. He’d drowned himself in drink, a final act of self-destruction after yet another public shaming.

And now, a different presence resided within him.

William’s fingers curled around the sink’s edge, a lifeline as the flood of unfamiliar recollections receded, as he knew that the world wasn’t his because he got the memory about magic thriving in this place alongside creatures that prowled outside the city’s boundaries. Young nobles were schooled in the arts of combat and sorcery at the academies.

The powerful held sway, their authority unchallenged, while the vulnerable were ground down. What of the person who once inhabited this form? He’d always been the most vulnerable.

A Zero-Class Instructor. This position is the most junior role available at Astraea Combat Academy.

His position was so weak that students could openly insult him without fear of punishment. His pay barely covered a daily meal, and he lived in a basement room adjacent to the storage area.

His standing was so tarnished that parents voiced their discontent whenever their children were placed in his classes.

"What a fucking perfect start for a reincarnation, even though I would rather rot in hell than be reborn as a loser," William muttered, his voice laced with a bitterness he couldn’t quite hide, as he raked a hand through his hair, which felt strange to him.

After weathering a betrayal, he found himself facing an even grimmer reality upon waking. "Well, at least it’s an improvement over the alternative."

He needed to know where he stood and what choices were available. Before he could even begin to strategize, a sudden, forceful knock resounded from the door.

"Wade! Open the fuck up!" The voice outside demanded, its tone sharp.

William paused, then crossed the room and opened the door. A middle-aged man occupied the hallway.

He sported a bushy beard, and his face was a mask of disdain. The silver trim on his dark blue uniform as an academy instructor clearly indicated his superior rank compared to William’s.

"Instructor Gareth," William said, the name a careful retrieval from his borrowed memories.

"Spare me the pleasantries," Gareth said, his voice dripping with disdain as he sized William up, his gaze a thorough inspection. "I heard you finally fucking got your act together."

"The headmaster has called for all instructors to be present at the assembly for the new semester, which begins in one hour..."

"Don’t make a fool of yourself, okay?"

"Understood," William said, his voice steady. ’Yeah... this is just worse than hell at this point...’

Gareth made a noise that could only be described as a snort. "Frankly, I’m at a loss as to why they haven’t let you go."

"Zero-class garbage like you shouldn’t even be allowed near students." Gareth shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose the academy needs someone to tidy up the training grounds, after all."

He spun on his heel and strode off, the sound of his boots resonating against the cold stone walls of the corridor. "Wow..."

"What a fucking dick... He’s got a tough-guy act, but it’s all just for show."

"If only I can give him some good ass-whooping next time, but I’m still not sure what I’m capable of right now..."

William shut the door, letting out a long breath. In a previous life, he’d have flattened that guy for the way he talked. But this wasn’t his domain any longer, and this frail form couldn’t muster the power to make good on any of his bluster.

His gaze swept the small, cluttered space. The space was cramped, just enough to squeeze in a bed, a desk, and a modest wardrobe.

It felt cold and unwelcoming, as the walls were made of bare stone. The original William Wade’s existence was a sorry affair, plain and simple.

William Wade, the renowned combat instructor, wasn’t destined to languish in obscurity. "Alright... If this is a prank, then count me in."

He pulled on the standard instructor’s uniform, the one that always hung in the wardrobe, and then headed out into the corridor. "Let’s see what kind of new life awaits me."