FROSTFANG ABYSSThe weather at Frostfang Abyss was especially awful. It never rose beyond -60°c. Today felt worse than other days. Even powerful saint realm cultivators would freeze to death if they dared to brave the elements. But Ragnar Storm was outside, tethering dangerously on a jagged edge of the mountain peak. Frost bites covered his hands, his lips bruised purple, hands matted with blood that had frozen over. Exhaustion was an understatement. He looked down, and his heart skipped multiple beats. Below him was a bottomless pit, covered with icicles, snow, and ice element beasts. Ragnar's eyes went to the precious herbs wrapped in the thermal protection wrap, and firmly secured to his body beneath his coat. “I can't give up now. Aria is still waiting for the Ice maw nether grass to ascend to saint realm. I have to make it back. She's waiting for me.”His limbs were losing their functions but he had the tenacity of a tardigrade. Inch by inch, he continued the torturous climb

Imperial elite magic academyA flash of light exploded in Ragnar's mind. Then came the sounds. At first, they seemed muffled, like echoes from another world. But gradually, they became clear. And most of it wasn't anything good. A flower bouquet blocked his vision the moment he opened his eyes. Then he realized he was kneeling. His head snapped up, his eyes going straight to the face of the woman before him. Her jaw was tilted arrogantly, a disdainful smirk playing around her lips. Ragnar was confused. ‘Wasn't I dead?’ He looked around, seeing the throng of students surrounding them and pointing at him. This was the Imperial Elite Academy. The scene felt awfully familiar. He was back to when he was seventeen—fifteen years before the tragedy at Frostfang Abyss. ‘I was reborn!’The realization hit him like a high speed train, then came joy. He truly came back, to before he married the beast. “What are you zoning out for? Aria asked you to kiss her feet.” An auburn haired girl his

Ragnar hurried through the academy's streets which were paved with runic obsidian slabs. If the light would explode like before, he had the perfect place for it, where no one would see it. Imperial elite academy was Vaelon's most important magic academy. Every powerful family in the country wants their kids to attend Imperial elite magic academy—even if they didn't have a shred of magical talent. The Imperial elite differs in the sense that it built a structure where every smart student could be influential after school. From middle school, the mage professors examine students yearly to check for awakened talents. Those with magical abilities were sent to the Mage faculty, and were trained to be powerful combat masters capable of leading interspace battles. For those without magical abilities, they're left in the finance faculty, with an option to divert to sports and entertainment. There, they're trained to be powerful businessmen and super stars. So that even without magic, the

Once Ragnar was sure his roommates had gone to bed, he quickly got to work. They had been all over him, trying to make him confess the reason his bloodline awakened the ability to heal itself. But no matter how they asked, he denied it fervently not admitting he had an encounter. The Void ice archive was a peerless treasure that nearly ruined the world the last time it appeared. Now, people no longer remember what it should look like. He must absolutely never admit he had such a thing. With how weak his current self was, stealing the archive would be as easy as snatching candy from a baby. Ragnar’s fingers tapped against his thigh, his brain working like a clock. After some minutes of consideration, he made a choice. “Best techniques to make money.” He muttered, under the blanket, touching the pendant. A series of information flooded into his brain, listing abilities and what they could do. After thirty minutes of careful consideration, he picked one of the pamphlets floating in

Ragnar’s ringtone kept blazing steadily from his phone—a specialized K2 series note 30. The kind super rich kids used for flex. Of course, he didn't buy it with his own money. It came from his sister. However, this very expensive phone has turned into an annoying nuisance. Whoever that was calling wouldn't stop. As for Ragnar, his eyes were fixed on his computer screen, fingers flying over the keyboard, his ears blocked by headsets. At intervals he would nod in excitement. From a little over seven hundred thousand vaelons in his account the day before, his money had grown to forty-eight million. All thanks to his golden eyes technique. His heart was giddy with happiness, his muscles taut from moving too fast. All he could see were charts and figures. After another clean sweep, he sold some off at the peak and withdrew eight million into his bank account. With the remaining forty, he continued to trade, hurrying to reach his target before the stock market closed for the day. He d