Reincarnated as the Only Male in an All-Girls Magic Academy!-Chapter 27: First Carving!

The sun crept in through the glass of the dorm window like a nosy old neighbor, painting soft orange streaks across the room as Ren's eyes fluttered open.

There was a lingering warmth on his skin, the kind that whispered, Today is important.

He yawned, stretched like a cat waking from a nap after a decade, and rolled off the bed with a bit more elegance than necessary.

His feet touched the cool floor, and a shiver ran up his spine—not from the cold, but from anticipation.

Today, he would make history... his history. But first, the basics.

He showered quickly, humming a tune that suspiciously sounded like a boss battle theme, then wolfed down a hearty breakfast of spiced meat rolls, sweet buttered toast, and a cup of something suspiciously caffeinated.

There were classes this morning—just a few orientation sessions introducing the basic rules of the surface, the academy, some do's and don'ts of the loom, and an overly cheerful instructor who looked like she had never held a weapon in her life but insisted on using words like "soul synergy" and "danger zones" in every sentence.

Ren took it all in with the grace of a smart scientist pretending to be a student.

He paid enough attention to not get kicked out, took mental notes where necessary, and when the classes wrapped up by noon, he practically vanished from the room like a ninja escaping a paperwork ambush.

One odd thing lingered in his mind though.

Where the hell was Lia?

He hadn't seen her since yesterday. Not in the dorm, not in class, not even lurking around with her usual focused presence like a mum who enjoyed judging your life choices.

It was weird and strange. Still, he had more pressing things to worry about.

It was time to carve!

Ren returned to his dorm room and closed the door behind him like he was about to perform surgery. Which, in a way, he was.

Carving a rune onto your body sounded like something out of a horror movie, but in this world, it was just step one in becoming superhuman.

And the funniest part? The process was ridiculously simple. All you had to do was draw the rune on your body. That was it.

Of course, the tricky part was that the rune had to be precise. Not kind-of-right, not "this line is close enough"—perfect.

Like copying an ancient symbol where one wrong wiggle turned it into something completely different.

And you had to draw it yourself. No friends, no help, no tracing with a pencil. Your hand, your tool, your pain.

Thankfully, Ren could draw. He wasn't a master artist or anything, but he had steady hands from his old life as a scientist, where even a tiny miscalculation could mess up an entire experiment.

Drawing accurate shapes was second nature by now, so at least he didn't have to waste time attending "Drawing 101 for Dumbasses" like half the other new prospectives.

He sat on his bed, legs folded, and stripped down to just his trousers. The air was cool against his skin, making his nerves stand on edge. This was it.

He reached for the carving dagger—a sleek, curved blade that looked more ceremonial than deadly—and held it in front of him. One drop of his blood onto the hilt.

Plip!

The dagger glowed faintly with a deep red shimmer for a few seconds, pulsing like a heartbeat before dimming back to normal. It was ready.

He unrolled the rune scroll in front of him and studied it one last time.

The Phantom Panther Rune—Stage One.

It wasn't complex, but it was elegant. It was supposed to increase one's agility, speed, and reflexes—all qualities he very much needed if he was going to train with a murder-blade-on-a-chain.

Especially its special effect...

It was simply too cool!

Ren took a deep breath, opened his left palm wide, and pressed the tip of the dagger to the skin.

The first line was clean.

The blade sliced through the skin like it was silk, but instead of blood spilling out, the dagger absorbed it. Every drop.

That was one of the hidden perks of the carving dagger—it drank the blood as it cut, making sure the lines stayed neat and visible.

No smudges. No mess. It was like a magical tattoo pen designed for masochists.

He moved to the second arc of the rune. The line curved beautifully into place...

Then he froze.

A weird, dull tug pulled at something inside his chest. It wasn't physical pain, not like stubbing your toe or getting punched.

It was deeper. It was like a violin string in his soul had just been plucked too hard.

Ren blinked. "Oh. That's... new."

He paused, dagger still in hand, and took a second to analyze the sensation. It wasn't unbearable, just... uncomfortable.

A sort of tugging pain that made you aware of places in your body you usually never noticed. This had to be what they meant by soul pain.

"Alright," he muttered, flexing his fingers, "so that's what it feels like."

It was bearable, for now.

He resumed.

Third line. Fourth arc. Then another. With each carved mark, the rune began to take shape, glowing faintly with a dark violet light that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

It was working. He could feel the magic anchoring itself into his soul, like roots growing into fresh soil. But along with it came the pain, and this time, it didn't stay mild.

By the time he reached the fifth line, his whole body had begun to tense up. The pain had gone from a soft string pull to a full-on buzz in his bones.

His jaw clenched. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. It wasn't just annoying anymore, it was sharp. Like his soul was being peeled open and something invisible was sewing itself into the gap.

He had heard stories of people fainting mid-carve, of students passing out and waking up with half-baked runes that had to be gradually completed over weeks. He wasn't going to be one of them.

He would finish this.

But as he etched the sixth line, a shaky breath left his lips.

And he realized...

The real pain was just getting started.

He gritted his teeth so hard he could almost hear his molars negotiating a surrender pact.

The dagger trembled slightly in his hand, not from weakness, but from the effort of channeling pure will through flesh and bone.

Every second dragged like a heavy chain, and with each line carved into his palm, it felt like his soul was being peeled, layer by layer, as if the rune was trying to reach the very core of who he was and etch itself into that.

The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced—not as sharp as a stab, not dull like a bruise—no, this was deeper.

It was the kind of agony that had no name, the kind that whispered directly to your nerves and screamed inside your thoughts. And yet, despite it all, Ren didn't stop. He didn't falter.

His body shook, sweat drenched his back, and his breathing turned ragged, but his hands never once slipped.

With a mind honed by years of scientific experimentation and failure, and a will hardened by a life of solitude and self-discipline, Ren powered through every stroke.

He didn't care if it was supposed to be a simple rune. It was his first. His foundation. His mark. It was going to be perfect, even if it took him two hours to finish a rune that normal people would complete in 5 hours!

And then... finally... it was done.

The final arc connected perfectly. The moment it did, the rune pulsed once, then twice, and then surged with a flash of violet light that burned like a second sun in the dim dorm room.

Ren dropped the dagger, letting it clatter harmlessly to the floor as he leaned back on his bed, palm outstretched, watching the glowing rune fade into his skin like ink being absorbed by parchment.

And then the heat came.

It started slow. A pleasant warmth that wrapped around his chest like a soft blanket fresh from a dryer.

But then it deepened and intensified, becoming a furnace that spread through every nerve, every bone, every drop of blood.

His body tensed involuntarily, eyes widening as he realized this wasn't just magic activating. This was transformation.

He clenched the sheets beneath him, and the bed creaked violently under his grip. The heat surged again, roaring through his veins, as though someone had replaced his blood with molten gold.

Every muscle fiber twitched. Every joint ached. Then his bones—his actual bones—started cracking. Popping. Shifting.

It sounded like fireworks going off inside him!

"Ghhah—ah, what the hell is this?!"

His voice was a strangled mix of pain and awe. Steam began to rise from his skin as dark, oily gunk pushed out from his pores.

Impurities, the waste from his old body was oozing out as the rune carved itself deeper into the very structure of who he was.

It wasn't just skin-deep. It was soul-deep. And it didn't stop at the body either. Oh no. Then came the worst part.

His senses lit up like someone had set his eyes and ears on fire. Every sound became too loud, every flicker of light too bright, every breath of air too sharp.

He felt like a newborn thrown into a world where everything hurt. And right when he thought it was done, his brain lit up like a volcano erupting inside his skull.

Boom!

The pain was excruciating. Like someone had taken a rusty drill and was etching runes directly onto his gray matter.

But through it all... he endured.

He didn't scream. He didn't pass out. He endured.

Ren clenched his jaw until it hurt, his fingers digging into the mattress, sweat pooling beneath him, until at last... the heat began to fade.

Slowly. The burning turned to warmth. The popping of his bones stopped. The air around him cooled. And finally... finally... the pressure vanished.

For a long moment, Ren just lay there, chest heaving, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling like it owed him an apology. His skin still tingled, like it was trying to adjust to a new, better body.

And truthfully? That's exactly what had happened.

He waited a full minute before moving just in case his heart decided to explode or something equally dramatic, but when he felt confident enough, he pushed himself off the bed with careful, calculated force.

And shot upward like a damn rocket!

"WHOA—!"

His head almost smashed into the ceiling. He twisted mid-air in panic and landed like a startled cat on all fours, blinking in disbelief.

His muscles felt alive. Not just stronger, responsive, like they were eager to obey his every command.

His body felt... faster. Cleaner. Sharper. Like someone had taken the clunky old machine of his previous self and replaced it with a sleek, upgraded version.

He stood up slowly this time, flexing his fingers, rolling his shoulders, breathing in deeply. The air felt different too. Richer. More vibrant.

Like he could taste the magic particles in it now. His senses had adapted, refined, evolved. Everything felt clearer!

Ren's brain kicked into science mode.

He began calculating, analyzing the sensations, the difference in response time, the ratio of muscle activation to movement, the new density in his bones, the level of flexibility in his joints, the strength of his grip—

"Oh my gods," he muttered, stunned. "I've leveled up in real life."

Using rough estimates, he realized he was at least thrice as strong as before, maybe more. And that was just from one rune!

One rune, properly carved, had done what months of gym training in his old life couldn't have even dreamed of achieving.

He clenched his hands into fists and held them up to his face, watching the veins pulse faintly with power. He couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face.

"The Carving Path... is insane."