Reborn as an Yandere : Yandere X Yandere

Two Hundred Years Ago!...

"Sob... sob... My son, it's all my fault... I should never have pushed you... I'm responsible for your death!" A woman cried endlessly, her body shaking as she clutched the cold tombstone. Beside her, her husband knelt, tears streaming down his face, his hands trembling as he held onto the grave marker.  

They were in the academy’s graveyard, mourning the loss of their son. But they were not the only ones. Dozens of parents stood among the rows of graves, their cries filling the air. Fathers, who once held their children with pride, now stood broken, their shoulders hunched in sorrow. Mothers, who once dreamed of their child's bright future, now collapsed in despair, wailing over the lifeless names carved into stone.  

A terrible tragedy had occurred. A mission gone wrong. An unexpected disaster. And many young academy students had lost their lives.  

But to the Awakened Academy, this was nothing unusual.  

From the very first semester, students were sent on missions—exploring ancient ruins, clearing dungeons, facing dangers far beyond their years. By the second year, the missions became even harder. The risks grew deadlier.  

It was a well-known fact: each year, nearly a thousand students joined the academy, yet only a few hundred made it to the second year. Many perished. Some, fearing death, chose to leave. Others simply could not keep up.  

By the third year, only a handful remained.  

Why? Because the missions given to third-year students were nothing short of brutal. Monster hordes. Warfront assignments. Life-or-death situations where the odds of survival were painfully slim.  

Yet, those who conquered these trials became legends, stepping into a future filled with glory.  

But what of those who fell?  

The students buried here were among them—young souls who fought, struggled, and died before they could reach their dreams.  

Their parents wept, drowning in regret. They had once been proud, watching their sons and daughters enter the prestigious academy, believing it was the path to greatness. But now, standing before their children's graves, all they felt was unbearable grief.  

A short distance away, Principal Elara stood, watching the grieving families with a cold expression.  

His face was unreadable, but inside, he was puzzled.  

Twenty years... It’s been twenty years since he became the principal, yet he still didn’t understand.  

Why do they cry so much?  

They had signed the contracts before they were assigned to mission. They had agreed to let their children face these dangers so that they can earn more credit points. They knew the risks.  

So why did they act so surprised?  

Why did they weep as if they hadn’t known what was coming?

Elara never understood why those parents felt such unbearable pain. Weren’t they the ones who made the choice?  

More importantly, couldn’t they just have another child?  

They weren’t too old. They could still move on.  

He simply couldn’t understand their feelings.  

Until...  

Another twenty-five years passed. In those years, Elara got married and had a daughter.  

She was the light of his life. Every day, he played with her, held her in his arms, and took care of her every need. She was full of energy, always asking questions, always running around with bright eyes filled with curiosity.  

She had a special love for healing magic. From a young age, she would sit beside injured animals, gently placing her hands over them, trying to heal them. She had an affinity for both light and nature elements, making her a rare and gifted healer.  

As the years passed, she grew into a beautiful young woman. At sixteen, she enrolled in the academy, just like many before her. She worked hard, performed brilliantly, and soon became the class representative.  

Elara was proud. He truly believed she had a bright future ahead.  

His wife, a professor at the academy, always watched over their daughter, guiding her, protecting her, and helping her grow stronger. With such talent, such potential, nothing could go wrong.  

That’s what he thought.  

But tonight, in the dead of night, he stood in the academy graveyard. Rain poured from the sky, soaking his clothes, but he didn’t notice.  

His eyes were wide open, unblinking. His body trembled violently.  

Because in front of him, lying cold and lifeless on the ground, were the bodies of his wife and daughter.  

Two soldiers had carried them back from their mission. Their leader stepped forward, bowing his head.  

"We are very sorry, Principal. The dungeon was linked to the inheritance of the Demon Lord of Anomaly. Your wife was assigned as the guide, so she had to go as well. In the end… not a single one survived."  

Elara barely heard him.  

The soldier continued, lowering his voice. "You were… lucky. Their bodies were retrieved intact. Some of the others… there was nothing left to bring back."  

Elara said nothing.  

His hands clenched into fists. His nails dug into his palms so hard that blood trickled down his fingers, but he didn't even feel the pain.  

"You all go. Leave me alone," he said in a hoarse voice.  

The soldiers nodded and silently walked away, leaving him alone in the graveyard.  

Elara stood there for a long time. The rain continued to fall, but he did not move.  

Slowly, he lifted a trembling hand and placed it over his heart.  

"So this… this is what they were feeling?"  

His thoughts were rough, broken.  

Such unbearable, unimaginable pain.  

Tears slid down his face, mixing with the rain, but he didn't care. He cried for a long, long time, his sobs echoing in the empty graveyard.  

When his tears finally dried, he buried them with his own hands.  

After that, everything felt meaningless.  

He fell into deep depression. He took months of leave from the academy, hoping that time would heal the pain. But nothing worked.  

No matter how much time passed, the ache in his heart never faded.  

In the end, he made his decision.  

He would end his life.  

One evening, he traveled far, far away to the tallest mountain he could find—a place so high that it seemed to touch the sky itself.  

The wind howled around him as he stepped to the edge of the cliff.  

Without hesitation, he closed his eyes and jumped.  

Falling…  

The wind roared in his ears, his heart pounded in his chest, but he felt no fear.  

This was the end.  

But suddenly—  

Thump!  

Instead of hitting the ground, he felt himself land on something soft.  

His eyes flew open. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t even hurt.  

He had fallen onto a cloud.  

But instead of passing through it, he felt his entire body being pulled away—teleported.  

Then—  

Thump!  

He crashed onto hard ground.  

Dazed and confused, he slowly lifted his head.  

Darkness surrounded him. The air was damp and heavy.  

A single torch flickered weakly on the cave wall, casting eerie shadows around him.  

He was in an unknown cave.  

Breathing heavily, he pushed himself up, his mind still spinning.  

"What… happened? How did I get here?" 

Elara stood up and saw the torch giving only faint light.

Elara stood up and saw the torch giving only a faint light.  

He walked slowly and approached the torch, closely inspecting it. The moment he got near, he felt a strange heat coming from the flame. It wasn’t normal fire.  

"Nirvana Fire?" he muttered in surprise.  

This fire was legendary, known for its extreme heat and its eternal nature. But it had disappeared around thousand of years ago, ever since it was used to burn Jeanne D'Arc. People started calling it cursed, and over time, its recipe was lost, fading into history.  

Yet here it was, still burning.  

Elara took the torch in his hand and continued exploring the cave. The path ahead was rough, with uneven ground and sharp rocks blocking his way. Strange echoes filled the air, and the deeper he went, the colder it became. He encountered obstacles, but as a top-tier Rank A awakened, he easily overcame them, pushing forward without hesitation.  @@novelbin@@

After what felt like hours, he finally arrived at the end of the cave. But instead of treasure, what lay before him was a ruined library. The shelves were burned, books reduced to ashes, and the air smelled of old, charred paper. Only one thing remained—a half-burned book placed on a half-burned table.  

He stepped forward and picked up the book, his fingers brushing against the rough, damaged pages. Only two pages were still intact. The words were written in an ancient language, but he understood them.  

"Kratos is determined this time. No one is coming forward to save Zeus. He also killed the Fate Sisters. The Divine Rank Essence Stone, Ago, on them is now destroyed. Should I refine it?"  

"I even have the recipe for it, but the materials are very valuable and rare. It will be difficult, but soon I will give it a try. For now, I can only watch Zeus come closer to his end. There is nothing I can do."  

At the bottom of the page, three words were written.  

"Written by Odin."  

Elara's eyes widened. Just how old was this book?  

His hands tightened around the fragile pages. The contents alone were shocking, but what truly mattered was the Divine Rank Essence Stone, Ago.  

Ago was a stone that could send a person’s will and memories back in time.

 Whether it was three days ago or three hundred years ago, it didn’t matter.  

A deep emotion surged in his chest. A rare smile formed on his lips, something he hadn’t felt in years.  

"That means… I can actually save my daughter and wife?"  

His heart pounded with hope, his mind racing with possibilities. But as he read the recipe again, his smile faded.  

The materials needed were rare, some of them completely extinct. And the most important one…  

Four-Winged Divine Pegasus.  

Pegasus only existed in heaven.  

How could anyone reach heaven without dying?  

His fingers curled into a fist. Even obtaining a normal Pegasus was impossible. But he wasn’t going to give up.  

"Either it takes decades or centuries, I'll make a substitute for this recipe," he muttered. Determination filled his voice as he turned to leave the cave.  

There was no exit.  

He didn’t hesitate. Gathering his strength, he clenched his fist and struck the rock ceiling with full force. The impact sent shockwaves through the cave, cracks spreading in all directions. With a final push, the wall shattered, sending debris flying.  

He stepped outside and saw the Vanara Tribe in the distance. Without stopping, he turned away and headed straight back to the academy.

Years passed like a flowing river. Elara never stopped searching, even as time continued to slip through his fingers.  

He wasn’t alone anymore. Over the years, he gathered a few people who shared the same goal. His team was small but extremely secretive—so well-hidden that no one even knew they existed. He had been careful. He never involved Lilith or anyone close to him.  

Because he knew.  

Lilith would never approve of something like this.  

But despite all the effort, despite the years spent chasing the impossible, there were no significant results. No matter how hard they tried, the materials needed were either too rare or simply didn't exist anymore.  

He was beginning to lose hope.  

But then, on a day that would change everything, a miracle happened.  

One of his subordinates returned with something unexpected.  

"Leader, look at this!"  

A man in a green robe came running toward him, panting heavily. His face was flushed, his breath ragged, as if he had traveled a long distance without stopping.  

Elara turned to him, surprised. "Howard, take a breath first. Weren't you in another kingdom for the past few months? How did you get here without any notice?"  

Howard shook his head. "There's no time to talk about that! Look at what I found! We don’t need to modify the recipe anymore. Someone else already did it before us!"  

Elara's eyes widened. "What?"  

"Yes! But it’s in the form of a story." Howard took out a glowing stone, its surface shimmering with strange energy. "We just need to decide what to do with it!"  

Elara recognized it immediately.  

A Bookworm Essence Stone.  

Without hesitation, he refined it. The moment he did, something flashed in his mind—a story buried deep in history—