《Reincarnation Error: Stuck In My Own Story》


 Prologue: The System鈥檚 Awakening

    I was just a writer. An engineering student who found solace in the worlds I built with words, more so than the equations I struggled to solve. My greatest creation¡ªa fantasy novel¡ªwas a sanctuary, a place where gods ruled and demons lurked, where elves whispered to the winds and humans fought to survive.


    It was supposed to be just a story. A tale of escapism.


    But something went wrong.


    I died. Not in a glorious battle or a tragic accident. No, I died in a quiet, unremarkable way. A sudden illness that I never saw coming. The kind of death that most people brush aside in their minds as they live their busy lives.


    Except... the gods of my world didn¡¯t brush it aside. They mourned. They wept for me, for a life snuffed out before it could bloom.


    They didn¡¯t understand. They couldn¡¯t comprehend that I was nothing more than a man¡ªa human who created them for my own amusement. I never asked for their intervention. I never sought to become part of their world. Yet, despite my death, they yearned for my return. They couldn¡¯t let go.


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    So they did what any divine beings would do. They tried to fix it. They tried to revive me.


    But in their haste, in their desperate attempt to pull me back, something went wrong. A glitch. A failure in the very fabric of reality they controlled.


    Instead of returning me to my world, they did something far stranger. They reincarnated me into the very world I had created, as if my own story had become my prison.


    At first, I didn¡¯t realize what had happened. I didn¡¯t understand why I was here, why I remembered things that didn¡¯t belong to me. The world felt familiar but distant, like a dream I could never fully wake from.


    I didn¡¯t even know I was in my own creation, walking among characters I had crafted, living out events I had written down, unaware that I was Haider, the man who had created it all.


    But the gods knew.


    They knew who I was. They knew what I had done, and they did not treat me as a mere mortal. To them, I was still something more¡ªa creator, a force that should not exist in this world.


    But I wasn¡¯t a god. I wasn¡¯t even a hero. I was just... another person, caught in the middle of their mistake.


    And now, as I walk through the lands I once imagined, I can feel it¡ªthe pressure, the weight of my own story pushing against me. The rules of the world are no longer just words on a page. They are the laws that bind me, that define me.


    I know the secrets of this world. I know its history, its dangers, its people. And yet, knowing doesn¡¯t mean surviving.


    I am not the hero of this story.


    I am not the savior, nor am I its destroyer.


    I am simply a person trying to understand why I was brought here... and whether I can survive long enough to uncover the truth of what the gods did to me.


    Because if I don¡¯t, I might never escape this world.


    And if they succeed in their plans, the very system they created¡ªthe one that keeps everything in balance¡ªmight unravel, and with it, everything I know.


    I don¡¯t know what¡¯s coming next. But I


    do know this: my story has only just begun.

 Chapter 1: A World Awaits

    I lay there for a moment, staring up at the surreal sight, unable to grasp what had happened. My thoughts were a tangled mess, like someone had ripped apart the pages of my life and tossed them into the wind. There were no answers. No explanations.


    Just... emptiness.


    And then, slowly, the memories returned.


    My name. Haider. I was supposed to be an engineering student, nothing extraordinary, just a person caught between exams and dreams. But something had gone terribly wrong. I was dead. I had been dead. There was no mistaking it.


    And yet, I was here. In a world that felt like home but wasn¡¯t. In a place that seemed so familiar, but I couldn¡¯t place exactly why.


    I sat up, taking in my surroundings. The ground was soft, like moss, but it didn¡¯t feel like any moss I had ever known. The air carried the faint scent of wildflowers and something metallic¡ªan odd combination. A sprawling forest of towering trees stretched around me, their leaves glowing faintly in the golden light. The trees weren¡¯t ordinary either. They had intricate carvings on their bark, symbols I couldn¡¯t read but that seemed to hum with some sort of silent energy.


    And I... I was here.


    I reached for my chest, half-expecting to feel a wound¡ªsomething, anything, that would prove I wasn¡¯t in some twisted dream. But I felt nothing. No scars. No pain. Just... the cool sensation of the air on my skin. The soft rustle of leaves as they swayed gently in a wind that seemed to be always present, even when still.


    I glanced around, trying to make sense of what was going on. There was a river nearby, the sound of water flowing clear and soft, but as my eyes traced its path, I saw something else¡ªfigures. People. No, not people. At least, not humans.


    In the distance, barely visible through the trees, stood what looked like a pair of tall, elegant beings. Their skin was pale, like marble, their hair long and flowing, with strands shimmering in the light. They wore flowing robes, intricately embroidered, and their eyes glowed faintly¡ªa soft gold, the color of dawn.


    Elves.


    I recognized them instantly, despite never having seen one in person. They were a race I had created, one of the many species that inhabited the world I¡¯d written in my novel. But it couldn¡¯t be. I couldn¡¯t be here. I wasn¡¯t supposed to be here.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    I stood up too quickly, dizzying myself in the process. My head spun, and my breath hitched. The forest around me seemed to close in. Was this some kind of hallucination? Was I dying again?


    "Calm down," I muttered to myself, as though the words could steady my racing heart.


    But they didn¡¯t. The realization was settling in now¡ªthis wasn¡¯t a dream.


    This was real.


    I wasn¡¯t in my world anymore. I wasn¡¯t in my own body, either.


    I was in my story.


    And somehow, I¡¯d ended up at the edge of the world I had created¡ªa place where gods, demons, elves, and humans all existed. A place where the laws of nature were more like rules to be followed than mere suggestions. A world that I had written with nothing more than the flick of a pen, the click of a keyboard.


    But now, I wasn¡¯t a writer anymore. I wasn¡¯t a god, either. I was just... another person.


    And as I took in the sight of the elves¡ªmy creations, no less¡ªI couldn¡¯t help but feel the weight of what had happened. This was my world, yes, but it wasn¡¯t my home.


    I didn¡¯t belong here.


    ¡°Do you need help?¡± a voice said suddenly.


    I turned quickly, almost startled. A figure stood not far from me, a woman with silver hair that glistened like moonlight. Her robes were different from the elves, darker in color but no less intricate. Her eyes, too, were different¡ªdark as the night sky, with a sharp, assessing gaze. She stood with the ease of someone who had seen far too many battles, her posture both regal and wary.


    I should have recognized her immediately. Kara. The enforcer of the System. The one who ensured that the laws of this world remained intact.


    She had always been a part of the world I wrote¡ªan omnipotent force that upheld the rules of reality. But now, seeing her in person, I felt the faintest tremor in my chest, as if something deep inside me knew that I was about to meet someone far more dangerous than the gods themselves.


    "I... I don¡¯t know," I said, my voice sounding foreign in this place. "What happened to me?"


    Kara tilted her head slightly, her gaze softening just enough to indicate she wasn¡¯t completely indifferent to my confusion. "You were¡­ sent here," she said, her tone even, like she was explaining something simple, though I knew it wasn¡¯t. "You¡¯re in the world you created. That is all you need to know for now."


    ¡°But why?¡± I asked, taking a step toward her. ¡°Why am I here? I didn¡¯t ask for this. I didn¡¯t die here!¡±


    Her eyes narrowed, just slightly. ¡°It¡¯s not for you to ask why. But you will need to understand. This world isn¡¯t just your creation anymore, Haider. It¡¯s real. And now that you¡¯re part of it, you¡¯ll have to follow the rules.¡±


    I wanted to shout, to scream that none of this made sense. But I couldn¡¯t. Something in her eyes told me that this was no mere coincidence. That whatever happened, I had become a part of this world¡ªwhether I wanted to be or not.


    And the worst part? I couldn¡¯t even remember why it had happened. How had I ended up here? What had the gods done to me?


    Kara stepped closer, her voice low and almost sympathetic. ¡°The System has brought you here for a reason, Haider. And it¡¯s not just to see your world come to life. You will learn that soon enough.¡± She turned away, her robes billowing with the movement. ¡°Follow me. There¡¯s much more you need to understand before you can decide what to do next.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what else to do. So I followed.


    I had no choice.

 Chapter 2: The World I Thought I Knew

    I followed Kara through the forest, my mind racing with questions. She walked with the effortless grace of someone who knew exactly where they were going¡ªwhile I stumbled over roots and uneven ground, still getting used to my body.


    It didn¡¯t feel wrong, exactly. Just... different. Lighter. Stronger. Like something had shifted in ways I couldn¡¯t fully grasp.


    Kara didn¡¯t speak as we moved through the trees, and I wasn¡¯t sure if that was because she was deep in thought or because she simply didn¡¯t care to explain things to me yet. Either way, I had too many questions swirling in my head to stay silent for long.


    ¡°So,¡± I said, clearing my throat, ¡°you¡¯re telling me I was... sent here. Into my own story.¡±


    Kara glanced at me over her shoulder. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And the gods had something to do with it?¡±


    She hesitated, just for a second. ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it.¡±


    I frowned. That wasn¡¯t an answer. But before I could press her, the trees thinned, revealing a clearing. And in the distance, rising above the landscape like a fortress of glass and marble, was something I knew all too well.


    A city.


    No¡ªthe city.


    Solmaris. The capital of the human kingdom.


    I stopped in my tracks. My heart pounded in my chest as I took in the sight. The towering walls, the sprawling districts, the massive spires that reached toward the sky, glowing faintly under the perpetual twilight of this world. I had written this city. I had built it with words, described its every street, its every secret.


    But seeing it now? Feeling it?


    This wasn¡¯t a world on a page anymore.


    Kara paused when she noticed I wasn¡¯t keeping up. She studied me, her expression unreadable. ¡°Something wrong?¡±


    I let out a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I was holding. ¡°No. It¡¯s just... different, seeing it in person.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll need to get used to that.¡± She turned and started walking again. ¡°The System doesn¡¯t wait for hesitation.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I forced my legs to move, still overwhelmed by the sheer reality of it all. The dirt beneath my boots. The distant sounds of the city¡ªmarket vendors calling, blacksmiths hammering, the murmur of thousands of lives going about their day.


    Everything felt too real.


    And the worst part?


    It wasn¡¯t just the world that felt real. It was the rules.


    The System.


    I had written it as a guiding force, an invisible hand that ensured balance. It wasn¡¯t something that could be broken, not without consequences. And Kara¡ªshe was its enforcer.


    Which meant if I was here, in this world, then I was bound by those same rules.


    I swallowed hard.


    What did that mean for me?


    A World That Moves Without Me


    We reached the outer gates of the city, where a line of travelers and merchants were waiting for entry. Guards in polished armor stood watch, their spears glinting under the golden light.


    Again, I felt the weight of my own writing pressing down on me. I had designed their uniforms, their weapons, the way they would act in the presence of strangers. And yet, they were more than just characters in a book.


    They were alive.


    As we approached, Kara didn¡¯t stop. She walked straight to the gate, and just as I was about to warn her that we might need to follow protocol, the guards didn¡¯t even look at her. They simply stepped aside, as if an unseen force had commanded them.


    Of course.


    Kara wasn¡¯t just another person. She was part of the System itself.


    I hesitated, but when I moved to follow, one of the guards did stop me.


    ¡°Halt.¡± His voice was firm, professional. ¡°State your name and business in Solmaris.¡±


    For a moment, I just stood there, thrown off by the fact that I had to introduce myself in a world that I had created.


    ¡°My name is Haider,¡± I said, trying to keep my voice steady. ¡°I... I¡¯m a traveler.¡±


    The guard narrowed his eyes. ¡°Where are you coming from?¡±


    I opened my mouth. Then closed it. I had no idea how to answer that.


    But before I could figure out what to say, Kara turned back slightly. ¡°He¡¯s with me.¡±


    The guard stiffened. For the first time, he really looked at Kara. His expression shifted, something like recognition flashing across his face¡ªthough I doubted he fully understood what he was recognizing.


    ¡°I... see.¡± He stepped aside. ¡°Apologies. Please, go ahead.¡±


    Kara didn¡¯t say anything else. She just started walking again.


    I hurried to catch up.


    ¡°So,¡± I muttered as we passed through the gates, ¡°am I just supposed to ignore the fact that you have absolute authority over everything?¡±


    Kara gave me a sidelong glance. ¡°You gave me this authority, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    I tensed. That was true.


    I had written Kara as the System¡¯s enforcer. She wasn¡¯t a ruler, not in the political sense, but she was something beyond rulers. The System¡¯s existence was absolute, and she was its living embodiment.


    And yet, as I walked beside her, I realized something unsettling.


    She wasn¡¯t acting like an all-powerful entity.


    She was choosing to guide me. To let me figure things out at my own pace.


    Why?


    What did she know that I didn¡¯t?


    The First Rule of This World


    As we entered the city, the streets unfolded around us in a dazzling display of life. Merchants hawked their wares, children darted between crowds, the scent of freshly baked bread mixed with the sharper tang of iron and magic in the air.


    I had always imagined what it would feel like to step into my own world.


    But I had never expected to be lost in it.


    Kara led me through the winding streets until we reached a quieter district¡ªone where the noise faded, and the buildings were older, sturdier. She stopped in front of what looked like a modest inn, its wooden sign swaying gently in the breeze.


    ¡°This is where you¡¯ll be staying,¡± she said.


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Just like that? No explanations? No divine revelations?¡±


    She gave me a flat look. ¡°You don¡¯t need divine revelations. You need information. And for that, you need time to adjust.¡±


    I crossed my arms. ¡°You still haven¡¯t answered the biggest question.¡±


    Kara tilted her head slightly. ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡±


    I met her gaze. ¡°Why was I sent here?¡±


    For the first time since I¡¯d met her, Kara hesitated.


    Then, finally, she said, ¡°Because the System doesn¡¯t make errors. And if you¡¯re here, that means something is wrong with this world.¡±


    A cold chill ran down my spine.


    She turned away. ¡°Rest for now. We¡¯ll talk more soon.¡±


    And with that, she left me standing at the threshold of a world I had created¡ªone that no longer belonged to me.

 Chapter 3: The Weight of My Own Creation

    The inn was small but well-kept, the scent of aged wood and faintly burning candles giving it a strangely familiar warmth. The sign outside had read The Silver Hearth, a name I recognized instantly. I had written this place years ago, a minor setting that appeared only briefly in my story¡ªa safe haven for weary travelers, run by an old woman with a sharp tongue and a soft heart.


    But now, standing at the entrance, knowing that I was no longer an observer but inside the world I had created, it felt different.


    It felt real.


    I stepped inside, and a heavy silence greeted me. A few patrons sat in the corner, nursing drinks and murmuring in hushed voices. The moment I entered, their eyes flicked toward me in that wary way people looked at strangers. Not with outright hostility, but with the cautious skepticism of a world that wasn¡¯t kind to outsiders.


    That, too, was something I had written.


    Kara had already disappeared. She hadn¡¯t told me where she was going, just that I should stay here for now. And as much as I wanted to press her for more answers, I knew that forcing them wouldn¡¯t work.


    So, for now, I had to play along.


    Taking a breath, I approached the counter where the innkeeper stood. And just as I expected, she was exactly as I had written her¡ªtall, broad-shouldered, and carrying an expression that could scare off a band of thieves.


    Marla, the owner of The Silver Hearth.


    Her sharp brown eyes flicked over me. ¡°You lost?¡±


    I almost laughed. Of course, she¡¯d say that. That was her personality¡ªdirect, no-nonsense, with little patience for hesitation. But this time, her words weren¡¯t just lines on a page. They were real.


    ¡°I need a room,¡± I said, trying to keep my voice steady.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    She narrowed her eyes. ¡°Got coin?¡±


    ¡­That was a problem. I patted my clothes, realizing for the first time that I had nothing. No money. No identification. No proof that I belonged in this world.


    Marla¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Look, kid, if you think you can¡ª¡±


    Before she could finish, something landed on the counter with a solid clink. A single silver coin.


    Marla and I both turned.


    The coin had come from a man sitting near the corner of the room. He was watching us with an amused expression, his fingers idly twirling a second coin between them.


    He had sharp, well-defined features, dark auburn hair, and a presence that immediately set off alarm bells in my head. Not because he looked dangerous, but because he carried himself in a way that told me he was comfortable in dangerous situations.


    And when I saw his eyes¡ªpiercing gold, flickering with mischief¡ªI knew exactly who he was.


    Oh, you¡¯ve got to be kidding me.


    Ryn Kessir.


    A rogue. A mercenary. And, more importantly, one of the most unpredictable characters I had ever written.


    ¡°Let him stay,¡± Ryn said lazily, flicking the second coin into the air before catching it. ¡°Consider it an act of kindness.¡±


    Marla scowled but didn¡¯t argue. She swept the coin into her palm and jerked her head toward the stairs. ¡°Room¡¯s upstairs, second on the left. Try not to cause trouble.¡±


    I barely heard her. My attention was still locked on Ryn, who was watching me with a knowing smirk.


    He didn¡¯t know me. He couldn¡¯t. To him, I was just some random traveler. And yet, the way he was looking at me sent a chill down my spine.


    I had written him as a wildcard¡ªsomeone who always knew more than he let on, someone who could see things others didn¡¯t.


    And right now, he was looking at me like he had already figured something out.


    A Conversation I Wasn¡¯t Ready For


    I didn¡¯t go straight to my room. Instead, I made my way toward Ryn¡¯s table. I needed to know why he had helped me.


    He raised an eyebrow as I sat down. ¡°Didn¡¯t take you for the chatty type.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± I leaned forward slightly. ¡°But I don¡¯t like owing favors.¡±


    Ryn chuckled. ¡°That so? Well, lucky for you, I don¡¯t mind being owed one.¡±


    I studied him carefully. I had always imagined what it would be like to interact with my characters, but this was something else entirely. Ryn wasn¡¯t just words on a page¡ªhe was real, with his own thoughts and motivations. And that meant he wasn¡¯t predictable anymore.


    ¡°You don¡¯t even know me,¡± I said.


    ¡°Maybe.¡± He tilted his head. ¡°But I¡¯ve got a good eye for people. And you...¡± He let the sentence hang, as if considering his next words. ¡°You don¡¯t fit.¡±


    My heart skipped a beat. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Ryn twirled the coin between his fingers again. ¡°You move like someone who doesn¡¯t know where they belong. Not just in this city, but in this world.¡±


    I forced myself to stay calm. ¡°That¡¯s an interesting observation.¡±


    He smirked. ¡°It¡¯s what I do.¡±


    And that was the problem.


    Ryn had always been too perceptive. He wasn¡¯t a mind-reader, but he had an uncanny ability to sense when something was off. And to him, I was a walking mystery.


    I needed to be careful.


    ¡°So,¡± he said, leaning back, ¡°why don¡¯t you tell me the real reason you¡¯re here?¡±


    I hesitated.


    I couldn¡¯t tell him the truth. Not yet.


    So, I did what any writer would do when faced with an impossible situation.


    I lied.


    ¡°I¡¯m just passing through,¡± I said.


    Ryn¡¯s smirk didn¡¯t falter. If anything, it grew.


    ¡°Sure,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s go with that.¡±


    And in that moment, I knew¡ªhe didn¡¯t believe a damn word I had just said.

 Chapter 4: A Gamble with Fate

    I didn¡¯t sleep well.


    Even though The Silver Hearth was exactly as I had written it¡ªa safe, neutral ground where travelers could rest without fear¡ªthe weight of my situation pressed against me like a lead blanket.


    Lying on the stiff mattress, I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing.


    Ryn was dangerous. Not in the sense that he¡¯d slit my throat in the middle of the night, but because he was too sharp. I had written him to be a man who saw through lies, who could read people like an open book. And in this world, where my very existence was a lie, that made him a threat.


    Even worse, I didn¡¯t know how much he had already figured out.


    When I finally drifted into sleep, it was restless¡ªfilled with fragmented dreams of places I had written, voices of characters I had created, and a lingering sense that I was walking a tightrope with no safety net below.


    Morning and an Unwanted Invitation


    When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the faint smell of bread and spiced meat drifting from downstairs.


    The second thing I noticed was the piece of paper slipped under my door.


    Frowning, I pushed myself out of bed and picked it up.


    A single line was scrawled in elegant but slightly messy handwriting:


    "Come find me. We have unfinished business."


    It wasn¡¯t signed, but I didn¡¯t need a name.


    Ryn.


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    I sighed, rubbing my temples. Of course, he wasn¡¯t going to let this go.


    I got dressed quickly¡ªbasic travel clothes, still slightly worn from yesterday¡¯s journey¡ªthen made my way downstairs.


    The inn was a little livelier in the morning. A few merchants and travelers sat at the tables, eating breakfast, while Marla barked orders at a younger girl¡ªprobably her niece¡ªwho was helping serve drinks.


    I spotted Ryn immediately.


    He was lounging in the farthest corner, booted feet propped up on another chair, spinning a coin between his fingers again. When he saw me, he grinned.


    I didn¡¯t sit down. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    Ryn gestured to the chair across from him. ¡°Sit. Eat. You look like you¡¯ve been thinking too hard.¡±


    I hesitated, then reluctantly sat. ¡°If this is about last night¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, it is.¡± His golden eyes gleamed. ¡°You¡¯re an interesting one, and I like interesting things.¡±


    I tensed slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you think you¡¯ve figured out, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Relax.¡± He leaned back. ¡°If I really thought you were a threat, we wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation.¡±


    That didn¡¯t reassure me in the slightest.


    Ryn glanced toward the bar and waved a hand. ¡°Oi, Marla! Get him something to eat. My treat.¡±


    Marla grumbled something about lazy rogues wasting money, but she disappeared into the kitchen.


    I exhaled slowly. ¡°I don¡¯t like owing people.¡±


    ¡°Good. That means you¡¯ll pay me back eventually.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°For covering your stay. For breakfast. And,¡± he smirked, ¡°for keeping quiet about whatever it is you¡¯re hiding.¡±


    I froze.


    His smirk widened. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look so alarmed. I don¡¯t know what your secret is. Just that you have one. And that?¡± He leaned forward slightly. ¡°That makes you valuable.¡±


    I didn¡¯t like the way he said that.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know anything about me.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Ryn admitted. ¡°But that¡¯s exactly why I want to.¡±


    I swallowed back my frustration. I needed to turn this conversation around.


    ¡°You work for the Guild, right?¡± I asked.


    His eyes flickered with amusement. ¡°Sometimes.¡±


    The Mercenary Guild. Another piece of my own creation. A sprawling network of hired blades, bounty hunters, and specialists who took on contracts for the highest bidder. Ryn wasn¡¯t officially part of them, but he had worked alongside them enough times that he was considered an ¡°associate.¡±


    Which meant he wasn¡¯t someone I wanted attention from.


    Ryn studied me for a long moment. ¡°Tell you what,¡± he said. ¡°I won¡¯t pry. Not yet. But in return, you owe me a favor.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°What kind of favor?¡±


    ¡°A simple one. There¡¯s a job I was considering taking, but it requires a second pair of hands.¡± He tilted his head. ¡°You look like you can hold your own.¡±


    I almost laughed. Hold my own? I was just an engineering student. The closest I had come to fighting was watching action movies.


    But saying no didn¡¯t feel like an option.


    ¡°What¡¯s the job?¡± I asked cautiously.


    ¡°A retrieval mission. Some noble lost something important, and they¡¯re willing to pay well to get it back.¡±


    ¡°¡­And you need my help?¡±


    Ryn grinned. ¡°Not really. But I¡¯d rather not do all the work myself.¡±


    Something told me he was lying.


    But I had no money, no connections, and no idea where to go from here.


    If I was going to survive in this world, I needed something.


    And maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªsticking close to Ryn for now would be my best chance at understanding the rules of the game I had been thrown into.


    ¡°¡­Fine,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll help.¡±


    Ryn¡¯s smirk deepened. ¡°Good choice.¡±


    I had a sinking feeling I was going to regret it.

 Chapter 5: A Job Worth Regretting

    If there was one thing I knew for certain, it was this: agreeing to help Ryn was a mistake.


    Unfortunately, it was a mistake I had already committed to.


    We left The Silver Hearth after breakfast, weaving through the bustling morning streets. The town of Bellmare was alive with the sounds of merchants calling out their wares, blacksmiths hammering at their forges, and children darting between stalls. It was a scene pulled straight from my own writing, yet somehow more real than I had ever imagined.


    Ryn walked ahead with the ease of someone who belonged here. I, on the other hand, felt like an outsider in my own world.


    "You never asked what we¡¯re retrieving," Ryn said casually, glancing over his shoulder.


    I sighed. "What are we retrieving?"


    He grinned. "A book."


    I stopped walking. "A book?"


    "Not just any book." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "A nobleman''s grimoire. Stolen from his estate last week."


    I tensed. Grimoires weren¡¯t just books. In this world, they were powerful artifacts, imbued with spells, secrets, and knowledge that could alter the course of history. Some were harmless¡ªa collection of basic spells. Others, however, contained forbidden knowledge that could shatter entire kingdoms.


    "And why, exactly, do you need my help?" I asked warily.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "Because the people who stole it aren¡¯t the type to hand it back with a polite apology."


    "Great," I muttered. "And let me guess¡ªthe noble wants it back quietly?"


    Ryn tapped his nose. "Smart man. Public scandals aren¡¯t great for political standing, after all."


    I exhaled slowly. "So where is it?"


    "That," he said, "is what we''re about to find out."


    The First Lead


    Ryn led me to a small shop near the edge of town. The sign above the door read "Sable¡¯s Curiosities"¡ªa name I remembered well.


    Sable was a fence. Someone who dealt in stolen goods, magical artifacts, and rare items that "mysteriously" found their way into the wrong hands. She was also an informant for the right price.


    Inside, the shop was dimly lit, shelves lined with trinkets, scrolls, and potions of questionable origin. A woman sat behind the counter, feet propped up, flipping through a leather-bound book.


    She looked up as we entered, her dark eyes narrowing.


    "Ryn," she said dryly. "What do you want?"


    Ryn leaned against the counter. "Information, as always."


    Sable sighed. "And do you plan on paying for it this time?"


    "Depends on what you¡¯ve got."


    She rolled her eyes but closed the book. "Let me guess. The grimoire."


    I stiffened.


    Ryn grinned. "That obvious?"


    "Half the city knows about it, idiot. The noble''s been asking questions in all the wrong places. If I know, then so do a dozen others."


    "Who has it?" I asked before I could stop myself.


    Sable¡¯s gaze flicked to me, sharp and assessing. "And who¡¯s this?"


    "New friend," Ryn said. "He¡¯s the quiet type. Now, about that book¡­"


    Sable exhaled, leaning back. "Rumor has it the thieves offloaded it to the Crimson Fangs."


    My stomach dropped.


    The Crimson Fangs were a mercenary group, but not like the official Guild. They didn¡¯t care about contracts or honor¡ªjust coin. If they had the grimoire, then getting it back wouldn¡¯t be a simple matter of negotiation.


    Ryn, however, just smiled. "That¡¯s unfortunate."


    "Very," Sable agreed. "But not impossible."


    She leaned forward slightly. "They¡¯re keeping it in their hideout for now, waiting on a buyer. If you move fast, you might snatch it before they offload it. But if you screw up?" She shrugged. "Then you¡¯re dead men walking."


    I swallowed hard. Why did I agree to this again?


    Ryn pushed off the counter. "Appreciate the help, Sable."


    "Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Try not to get killed. Bad for business."


    As we stepped out of the shop, I turned to Ryn. "You knew the Crimson Fangs had it, didn¡¯t you?"


    He smirked. "I had a strong suspicion."


    "And you didn¡¯t think to warn me before dragging me into this mess?"


    "Would you have come if I had?"


    I opened my mouth, then closed it.


    Damn him.


    Ryn clapped me on the shoulder. "Come on, partner. We¡¯ve got a book to steal."


    I had never regretted a decision more in my life.

 Chapter 6: A Thief, A Plan, and A Really Bad Idea

    Why do I keep getting into these situations?


    That thought ran through my head repeatedly as Ryn and I stood outside a rundown warehouse near the docks¡ªthe Crimson Fangs¡¯ hideout.


    The building was exactly what you¡¯d expect from a den of criminals: weathered wood, boarded-up windows, and the occasional armed thug loitering around. A faint glow of lanterns seeped through the cracks, and from inside, we could hear drunken laughter, the clinking of mugs, and the occasional curse.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± I said, keeping my voice low, ¡°why are we standing out here instead of, I don¡¯t know, running in the opposite direction?¡±


    Ryn grinned. ¡°Because you agreed to help.¡±


    I groaned. ¡°I was tricked.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s just how partnerships work.¡±


    I gave him a flat look. ¡°That is absolutely not how partnerships work.¡±


    ¡°Too late to back out now,¡± he said cheerfully.


    I sighed. ¡°Fine. What¡¯s the plan?¡±


    Ryn pulled out a folded scrap of parchment and laid it flat against a nearby crate. It was a crude map of the warehouse¡¯s interior.


    ¡°The Fangs are keeping the grimoire in a strongbox somewhere inside,¡± he explained. ¡°Problem is, they¡¯ve got men posted at every entrance. We can¡¯t just walk in.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± I muttered. ¡°So we¡¯re sneaking in?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°What do you mean, not exactly?¡±


    Ryn smirked. ¡°We¡¯re going to hire someone to do the sneaking for us.¡±


    Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting at a rickety table in one of Bellmare¡¯s less reputable taverns. The place reeked of cheap ale and desperation, but it was where you went when you needed questionable help.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Across from us sat Lena, a rogue-for-hire. She was a slender woman with sharp green eyes, dark leather armor, and an expression that said she was already regretting this conversation.


    ¡°You want me to steal from the Crimson Fangs?¡± she asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ryn said smoothly.


    Lena stared at him. Then she turned to me. ¡°Is he insane?¡±


    ¡°Probably.¡±


    She exhaled, rubbing her temples. ¡°Do you two have a death wish? Because robbing those bastards is a very quick way to get one.¡±


    ¡°Which is why we¡¯re paying you,¡± Ryn said, sliding a small pouch across the table.


    Lena opened it and whistled. ¡°This is¡­ more than I expected.¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s very dangerous,¡± I pointed out.


    Lena studied us for a long moment, then sighed. ¡°Fine. But if this goes south, I¡¯m pinning it on you two.¡±


    ¡°Deal.¡±


    That night, we returned to the warehouse. Lena had already scouted ahead, mapping out the guards¡¯ patrol routes and finding a weak spot in their security¡ªa second-floor window with a broken latch.


    ¡°Once I¡¯m in,¡± she whispered, crouching beside us, ¡°I¡¯ll find the grimoire and toss it down to you. But if I get caught?¡± She shot us a glare. ¡°You¡¯re on your own.¡±


    ¡°Noted,¡± I muttered.


    With a grace that made me question if she was even human, Lena scaled the side of the warehouse and slipped in through the window.


    Then we waited.


    And waited.


    And waited.


    ¡°¡­ Shouldn¡¯t she be back by now?¡± I whispered after what felt like an eternity.


    Ryn frowned. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong.¡±


    Before I could ask what, a loud crash echoed from inside the warehouse.


    ¡°Oh no.¡±


    Suddenly, the door burst open, and Lena came sprinting out¡ªholding the grimoire.


    ¡°RUN!¡± she shouted.


    Behind her, half a dozen armed mercenaries came pouring out, weapons drawn.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Ryn cursed. ¡°Time to go!¡±


    I didn¡¯t need to be told twice.


    We bolted.


    The Crimson Fangs weren¡¯t the fastest, but they knew these streets better than we did. As we raced through alleyways and side streets, I could hear them shouting orders, trying to cut us off.


    ¡°This was a terrible idea!¡± I yelled between breaths.


    ¡°You say that like we had any good ones!¡± Ryn shot back.


    Ahead of us, Lena suddenly skidded to a halt. ¡°Blockade!¡±


    I followed her gaze. Sure enough, two mercenaries were blocking the street.


    We were trapped.


    ¡°This is fine,¡± Ryn said, far too casually.


    ¡°This is not fine,¡± I snapped.


    Lena gritted her teeth. ¡°No choice. We fight.¡±


    I had never been in a real fight before. Sure, I had written plenty of fight scenes, but writing and doing were two very different things.


    The first mercenary lunged at me. I barely dodged, stumbling back as his blade slashed the air where I had just been.


    Lena, meanwhile, had already taken down the second guard with a precise strike to the back of the knee. Ryn fought with a speed I hadn¡¯t expected, using quick feints and counters to keep his opponent off balance.


    I, on the other hand, was flailing.


    The mercenary swung again, and this time I had no choice but to raise my arm to block. Pain shot through me as his blade scraped against the bracer on my wrist.


    Then, instinct kicked in.


    I moved without thinking¡ªsidestepping his next strike and slamming my elbow into his gut. He doubled over, and I followed up with a wild punch to his jaw.


    To my utter shock, he went down.


    I stared at my fist. ¡°Huh.¡±


    ¡°No time to be impressed with yourself!¡± Ryn shouted, grabbing my arm. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡±


    Lena had already disappeared down a side alley. We ran after her, our pursuers fading behind us.


    We didn¡¯t stop running until we reached the outskirts of Bellmare. Only then did we finally collapse onto the grass, gasping for breath.


    Lena tossed the grimoire onto the ground between us. ¡°Next time you need a job done,¡± she wheezed, ¡°find someone else.¡±


    Ryn grinned. ¡°Noted.¡±


    I just groaned.


    As I lay there, staring up at the night sky, only one thought ran through my head:


    This world is going to kill me.

 Chapter 7: The Logic of Magic

    The night air was sharp against my skin as we slipped into the shadows of Bellmare¡¯s winding alleyways. My heart pounded, the stolen grimoire clutched tight against my chest. Ryn led the way, his steps near soundless despite the uneven cobblestone. Lena followed close behind, her keen eyes scanning every corner.


    We needed to get out of town before the Crimson Fangs regrouped.


    The heist had been successful¡ªbarely. The mercenaries had been on our heels the entire time, and the only reason we escaped was pure, dumb luck. But something about that felt off. The Crimson Fangs weren¡¯t amateurs. They were ruthless and efficient. They should have had us cornered.


    Which meant either they had been sloppy¡ªor they wanted us to take this.


    My grip tightened on the grimoire.


    It was heavier than I expected, bound in dark leather with intricate silver inlays forming symbols I recognized all too well.


    Because I had written them.


    We ducked into a small abandoned storehouse on the outskirts of town. Lena barred the door behind us, and Ryn leaned against a wooden crate, breathing heavily.


    ¡°Well,¡± he said, running a hand through his dark hair. ¡°That could¡¯ve gone better.¡±


    Lena shot him a glare. ¡°We have the grimoire. That¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered, lowering myself onto an overturned crate, ¡°except we have no idea why they had it in the first place.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Ryn stretched, his usual smirk returning. ¡°That¡¯s where you come in, mystery boy. You¡¯re going to open it and tell us what¡¯s inside.¡±


    I hesitated. The symbols on the cover¡ªit wasn¡¯t just any magic book. It was one of mine.


    More specifically, it was a grimoire that shouldn¡¯t exist in the hands of low-level mercenaries.


    I exhaled and flipped open the cover.


    Immediately, I was met with a page full of mathematical equations and spell diagrams¡ªthe kind of structured spellwork I had designed to give magic a logical framework.


    Mana wasn¡¯t just some mystical force in this world. It obeyed rules, just like energy in physics. I had created formulas to explain how spells functioned¡ªcalculating mana flow, efficiency, and stability the same way an engineer would calculate structural integrity.


    And this? This was my work.


    Lena peered over my shoulder. ¡°What the hell am I looking at?¡±


    I traced a familiar equation with my finger, my mind racing. ¡°A spell formula. A structured breakdown of how to cast a spell efficiently. The average mage learns magic through instinct, but grimoires like this make it possible to calculate magic.¡±


    Ryn raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re saying spells can be¡­ engineered?¡±


    I nodded slowly. ¡°That was my idea, yeah. Magic follows laws, just like physics. And I¡ª¡± I stopped myself.


    I couldn¡¯t just blurt out I wrote this world.


    Instead, I cleared my throat. ¡°I studied these principles before. This book is written with the same logic I used.¡±


    Lena frowned. ¡°You¡¯re saying you understand this?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t just understand it,¡± I murmured. ¡°I can rewrite it.¡±


    The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. If this grimoire was based on my system, then I could adjust the equations. That meant I could modify spells in ways no one else in this world could.


    And if someone else had written this¡­ it meant I wasn¡¯t the only one who understood my system.


    I turned to the next page. Then the next. My pulse quickened.


    ¡°This spell,¡± I whispered. ¡°It¡¯s a mana compression equation.¡±


    Lena folded her arms. ¡°In common words?¡±


    ¡°It allows a spellcaster to store massive amounts of mana in a condensed form, increasing spell efficiency by nearly 300%,¡± I explained. ¡°But¡ª¡± I tapped the margin of the page. ¡°This calculation is wrong. If someone actually tries to use this, it¡¯ll cause a mana feedback loop¡ªwhich means¡­¡±


    Ryn¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Which means they¡¯d explode.¡±


    I swallowed hard.


    If the Crimson Fangs had been planning to sell this book, or worse¡ªuse it¡ªwhoever cast this spell would have died instantly.


    This wasn¡¯t just a magic book.


    It was a trap.


    And if I hadn¡¯t checked the formulas first, one of us could have been the test subject.


    Lena let out a slow breath. ¡°So, we just stole a book of lethal spells.¡±


    ¡°Looks like it.¡±


    Ryn grinned. ¡°And I¡¯m guessing our employer didn¡¯t mention that part?¡±


    ¡°Definitely not,¡± I muttered.


    I shut the grimoire, my thoughts racing. If someone out there was modifying my formulas¡ªcorrupting them, twisting them into something deadly¡ªthen I needed to find out who.


    Because this wasn¡¯t just a stolen book.


    This was a message.


    And whoever had written it¡­ knew the same magic I did.

 Chapter 8: The Hidden Equation

    The silence in the storehouse stretched between us, thick with unspoken tension. The weight of the grimoire in my hands felt heavier now¡ªnot just because of what it contained, but because of who might have written it.


    Someone had taken the magical system I designed¡ªmy system¡ªand turned it into a death trap.


    And that meant two things.


    One: Someone else understood the way magic worked at a fundamental level¡ªbeyond instinct, beyond tradition.


    Two: They had weaponized it.


    Ryn shifted, breaking the silence. ¡°Alright, genius. What¡¯s the next step?¡±


    I looked up, still lost in thought. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You figured out that book¡¯s a trap. Now what?¡±


    I hesitated, then ran a hand through my hair. ¡°Now¡­ we find out who wrote it.¡±


    Lena frowned. ¡°We already know where it came from. The Crimson Fangs had it.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said, shaking my head. ¡°They weren¡¯t the ones who created it. They were just holding it. This is advanced magical theory¡ªbeyond what a band of mercenaries would understand. Someone gave it to them.¡±


    ¡°And they let us take it,¡± Ryn muttered, rubbing his jaw. ¡°Which means they knew what would happen.¡±


    Exactly.


    This wasn¡¯t a simple theft. It was a setup.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    I placed the grimoire on the crate in front of me and flipped back to the pages with the corrupted formulas. The calculations were close¡ªclose enough that a trained mage wouldn¡¯t immediately notice the flaw.


    But there was something too familiar about the way the equations were written. The handwriting was elegant, precise¡ªeach stroke calculated.


    And then I saw it.


    A tiny, almost imperceptible notation in the margin.


    My blood ran cold.


    Because it was one of my personal shorthand symbols¡ªa mark I had used back when I was designing spells in my notebooks on Earth.


    Only one other person could have written this.


    Me.


    Or someone who had access to my original notes.


    I exhaled sharply and snapped the book shut. My head was spinning. There was no way this was possible. No one else should have known about my magic system¡ªnot unless they had read my notes, my drafts, my theories.


    Ryn must have noticed my expression because he raised an eyebrow. ¡°You look like you¡¯ve just seen a ghost.¡±


    I forced myself to breathe evenly. I couldn¡¯t tell them¡ªnot yet.


    Instead, I straightened. ¡°We need to find out where this book was before the Fangs got it.¡±


    Lena narrowed her eyes. ¡°And how exactly do you plan to do that?¡±


    I hesitated. ¡°We go back to Sable.¡±


    Ryn chuckled. ¡°Ah, I was wondering when you¡¯d say that.¡±


    Lena sighed. ¡°Great. Another night of dealing with her.¡±


    Sable was our best lead. She had been the one to give us the job in the first place, and if anyone knew where the grimoire had come from before the Fangs got their hands on it, it would be her.


    The streets of Bellmare were quieter at night, but that didn¡¯t make them safer. If anything, the real predators came out after dark.


    We moved quickly, keeping to the shadows. The entrance to the Undercity¡ªa sprawling network of tunnels and black-market dealings¡ªwas tucked away behind a rundown tavern. Ryn led the way, exchanging a few quiet words with the bouncer before we were let inside.


    The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and burning incense. Hooded figures lurked in the corners, discussing trade deals, stolen artifacts, and assassinations in hushed tones.


    Sable¡¯s shop was nestled in the heart of it all. A small, cluttered space filled with scrolls, enchanted trinkets, and illicit artifacts. She looked up as we entered, her silver eyes glinting in the dim light.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± she purred, leaning against the counter. ¡°Back so soon? Don¡¯t tell me you already lost the book.¡±


    I placed the grimoire on the counter. ¡°Where did the Crimson Fangs get this?¡±


    Sable raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    I leaned forward. ¡°Because it¡¯s booby-trapped.¡±


    For the first time, Sable¡¯s playful smirk faltered. She studied the grimoire with a more careful eye. ¡°That¡­ was not part of the deal.¡±


    ¡°No kidding,¡± Ryn said dryly.


    Sable ran a finger along the book¡¯s spine. ¡°If you must know, the Fangs got it from an auction in Solmaris. Some noble sold it off to pay his debts.¡±


    Lena frowned. ¡°Which noble?¡±


    Sable shrugged. ¡°Lord Valcairn. Low-tier nobility, but old money. He dabbled in magical artifacts¡ªhad an entire collection of rare tomes before he went broke.¡±


    My stomach twisted.


    Solmaris.


    That meant the book had passed through the capital before ending up here.


    Which meant someone in Solmaris knew how to use my formulas.


    I exhaled sharply. ¡°We need to get to Solmaris.¡±


    Sable smirked. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re looking for trouble, you¡¯ll find plenty there.¡±


    I already knew that.


    Because if someone in Solmaris understood my magic¡­


    Then they were either an ally I didn¡¯t know about¡ªor my greatest enemy.

 Chapter 9: The Capital鈥檚 Secrets

    Solmaris.


    The capital of the human kingdom. A sprawling city of towering spires, fortified walls, and streets woven with a mix of opulence and decay. It was a place of power, where nobles played their games, scholars pursued forbidden knowledge, and mercenaries thrived in the shadows.


    And somewhere within its walls, someone had access to my work.


    The journey from Bellmare to Solmaris took nearly two days. Ryn had secured a carriage, and while it was far from luxurious, it beat walking. The road stretched ahead, winding through rolling plains before giving way to the first signs of civilization¡ªfarms, trade outposts, and finally, the outer slums of Solmaris.


    The moment we passed through the gates, I felt it.


    The weight of the city¡¯s presence.


    It wasn¡¯t just the sheer size or the noise¡ªit was the underlying tension. Solmaris had always been a city of ambition, but now, something felt¡­ off.


    The guards at the entrance were more alert than usual. Merchants moved quickly, their eyes wary. And the streets, though bustling, carried an air of quiet caution.


    Something was happening here.


    We disembarked near the Southern Ward, one of the older districts, where inns and taverns catered to travelers. Ryn led the way to a familiar establishment¡ªThe Gilded Fox, a place he claimed had ¡°decent ale and terrible decisions.¡±


    Inside, the air was thick with smoke and the scent of spiced meat. Conversations hummed around us, blending into the clatter of mugs and dice.


    We found a table near the back, and Ryn leaned in. ¡°Alright. We need to find Valcairn.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Lena crossed her arms. ¡°And how exactly do you plan to do that? He¡¯s nobility. We can¡¯t just knock on his door.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have to,¡± I said. ¡°If he¡¯s lost his fortune, he¡¯ll be desperate. Desperate people make mistakes.¡±


    Ryn smirked. ¡°Which means we wait for him to crawl into a gambling den or sell off another relic.¡±


    Lena sighed. ¡°Great. More waiting.¡±


    I opened the grimoire, flipping back to the corrupted formula. The notation still stared at me, taunting me with its familiarity.


    I traced the margins with my finger. Who are you?


    Whoever had written this understood my system. They knew how magic truly functioned in this world¡ªnot just through instinct or talent, but through the precise application of physics, mathematics, and theory.


    It was one thing for mages to learn spells from books. It was another thing entirely to understand the underlying structure of magic.


    If this person was in Solmaris, I needed to find them.


    And I needed to know if they were friend or foe.


    The first night passed in restless silence. Ryn and Lena took turns keeping watch while I pored over the grimoire, trying to piece together the inconsistencies in the formula.


    By morning, we had our first lead.


    ¡°Valcairn was seen near the House of Duskwind two nights ago,¡± Ryn said over breakfast.


    Lena frowned. ¡°That¡¯s an auction house.¡±


    ¡°Not just any auction house,¡± I murmured. ¡°It¡¯s where nobles sell off their secrets.¡±


    Artifacts, enchanted weapons, rare texts¡ªif Valcairn had been there, he was either trying to buy something or, more likely, selling off the last of his collection.


    Which meant we had a window of opportunity.


    By dusk, we found ourselves outside Duskwind¡¯s estate¡ªa lavish building with blackened glass and golden lanterns lining the entrance. The auction was invitation-only, but that didn¡¯t stop us.


    Ryn, ever the expert at infiltration, had acquired a set of invitations. We blended in easily, dressed in borrowed finery. I tugged at the collar of my borrowed coat, feeling out of place.


    Inside, the room buzzed with conversation. Chandeliers cast a warm glow over rows of seating, where merchants and nobles eyed the stage with greedy anticipation.


    A man in elaborate robes took the stage. ¡°Welcome, esteemed guests. Tonight, we present artifacts of the highest value¡ªtreasures of history, power, and mystery.¡±


    One by one, items were brought forth¡ªenchanted daggers, relics of lost civilizations, forbidden texts. But I was waiting for one name.


    And then, I heard it.


    ¡°From the esteemed collection of Lord Valcairn, we present an original manuscript on advanced magical theory.¡±


    I tensed.


    A book was placed on the pedestal. Bound in dark leather, its edges worn with age.


    The auctioneer continued, ¡°This manuscript contains theories on magic never before seen¡ªformulas and equations that may redefine our understanding of spellcasting.¡±


    I clenched my fists.


    I knew that book.


    I had written it.


    Not as a final draft, but as a collection of notes¡ªearly theories I had compiled before fully developing the grimoire system.


    Someone had found my lost notes.


    And now they were selling them to the highest bidder.


    Lena whispered, ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    I exhaled sharply. ¡°We need that book.¡±


    Ryn smirked. ¡°Good thing we brought money.¡±


    But I wasn¡¯t planning to buy it.


    I was planning to take it back¡ªno matter what it cost.

 Chapter 10: The Auction Heist

    I sat in the dimly lit auction hall, my heartbeat syncing with the slow, deliberate movements of the auctioneer on stage. The High-Level Grimoire lay on a velvet-covered pedestal, bound in ancient leather, its cover etched with symbols that only I¡ªits creator¡ªtruly understood.


    The room was filled with nobles, scholars, and mercenaries, each one hiding their own agenda behind polished masks of indifference. But one man stood out¡ªthe last person I wanted to see.


    General Valcairn.


    He was seated in the front row, an air of calculated authority surrounding him. A man like him wouldn¡¯t be here just to spectate. If he was involved, that meant the Kingdom itself was after the grimoire.


    I clenched my fists. The incomplete formulas inside that book weren¡¯t dangerous on their own, but if someone pieced them together with the Kingdom¡¯s archives, they¡¯d unlock magic on a scale no one in this world could counter.


    And I wasn¡¯t about to let that happen.


    The Bidding Begins.


    The auctioneer, a lean man with an irritatingly smooth voice, raised his hands.


    "We begin the bidding for this rare tome, a grimoire said to hold forgotten magical knowledge. The starting price is 500 gold pieces."This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    A noble in blue velvet lazily raised his hand.


    "Five hundred."


    Another bidder, a hooded scholar, responded immediately.


    "Six hundred."


    I stayed quiet. I wasn¡¯t here to bid.


    But then, Valcairn¡¯s voice cut through the hall.


    "One thousand."


    The room fell silent for a second before the auctioneer recovered, delighted by the jump in price.


    Ryn, seated a few rows behind me, subtly tapped the side of his chair¡ªa signal.


    It was time.


    Ryn leaned forward and whispered to a noble seated nearby. The man gave him an odd look but nodded, whispering to his companion. Within seconds, whispers spread across the hall like wildfire.


    "Did you hear? The Crown''s after this grimoire¡­"


    "I thought it was just an artifact? Why would the military want it?"


    "What if it''s a cursed text? I heard¡ª"


    As intended, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Nobles who were simply bidding for prestige began hesitating. Some looked toward Valcairn for confirmation. Others whispered about whether it was worth the risk.


    But Valcairn wasn¡¯t a fool. He raised a hand, signaling to one of his men. They moved immediately, likely preparing for interference.


    We had to act now.


    Lena moved first, her form blending into the dim lighting as she approached the stage. She was fast¡ªher movements barely noticeable even to trained eyes.


    The auctioneer, too caught up in the tension between bidders, never saw it coming.


    A flicker of movement. A shift in weight. And then¡ª


    The grimoire on the pedestal wasn¡¯t the real one anymore.


    In its place was a near-identical book, hastily crafted by Lena before the auction. The real grimoire was now in her hands.


    But before we could exhale in relief, Valcairn¡¯s head snapped toward us.


    His gaze locked onto Lena.


    His eyes narrowed.


    And then he moved.


    "Stop them!"


    The command was like a gunshot. Soldiers stationed at the exits surged forward, blocking the doors. The auctioneer stumbled back in confusion as Valcairn himself rose from his seat, his presence suffocating.


    Lena bolted.


    I was already on my feet, moving toward her path of escape, but Valcairn was faster than expected. His hand shot out, nearly grabbing Lena¡¯s wrist¡ª


    A sharp clang echoed as Ryn¡¯s dagger met Valcairn¡¯s gauntlet.


    "Go!" Ryn barked, engaging the general to buy us time.


    Lena and I didn¡¯t need to be told twice.


    We sprinted through the nearest side corridor, guards following close behind. Shouts filled the air, and the scent of burning torches mixed with the sweat of men giving chase.


    The heist wasn¡¯t over yet.


    It had just begun.

 Chapter 11: Escape from the Auction

    The hallway stretched before us, dimly lit by flickering sconces. Behind us, heavy boots slammed against the marble floor as Valcairn¡¯s soldiers gave chase.


    "Lena, shortcut?" I gasped between breaths.


    "Ahead, right turn, then down!" she shot back.


    I didn¡¯t question it. She had memorized the auction house¡¯s layout beforehand. Ryn and I had trusted her to know the escape routes. Now, we just had to survive long enough to use them.


    We turned sharply, nearly crashing into a serving boy carrying a tray of wine. The tray clattered to the floor, glass shattering. Someone shouted.


    Behind us, the guards were gaining.


    Lena didn¡¯t slow. She reached the end of the corridor and jumped straight over the railing.


    I barely had time to react before I saw her land on a chandelier swinging over the main hall.


    I swallowed. Oh, hell no.


    But I didn¡¯t have a choice.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    I pushed off the ledge and grabbed the iron frame, swinging with all my weight. The chandelier creaked, dust and candle wax raining down.


    Guards burst into the corridor just as I let go, dropping down onto a long banquet table below.


    Lena was already up, running. I rolled to my feet, ignoring the pain lancing through my shoulder.


    The crowd in the auction hall erupted into chaos. Nobles screamed, tables overturned. Someone yelled about an assassin.


    Good. Let them panic.


    We dashed for the side exit¡ªjust as the main doors slammed open.


    Ryn.


    His coat was torn, his lip bleeding. But he was grinning.


    "That went well," he said.


    "Not done yet," Lena snapped.


    We had one last obstacle.


    Valcairn¡¯s Counter


    The exit was in sight. But Valcairn was already moving, his massive form cutting through the chaos like an iron blade.


    I cursed. We couldn¡¯t outrun him.


    He raised a hand. A pulse of energy rippled through the room¡ªsome kind of anti-magic field.


    My breath caught. He was shutting down any enchanted items, any magic-based tricks. If we had planned to vanish with teleportation or illusions, we were out of luck.


    Lena skidded to a stop, already calculating our options.


    "New plan?" I muttered.


    "Yeah," Ryn said, stepping past us. "I fight him. You two run."


    Lena and I shared a look.


    "You sure?" she asked.


    "Nope." Ryn rolled his shoulders. "But it''s fun."


    Then he charged Valcairn.


    I didn¡¯t stay to watch. Ryn was good, but Valcairn was a monster.


    Lena grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the exit. Guards were still pushing through the chaos, but the auction hall was too wild for them to organize properly.


    We shoved through a servant¡¯s door, sprinting into the kitchen. Chefs and workers gasped, backing away as we knocked over trays and barrels.


    Lena veered left, throwing open a cellar door.


    "Jump!" she said.


    I hesitated.


    "Jump, Haider!"


    I jumped.


    We landed in knee-deep water, the underground tunnels cold and reeking of damp stone.


    Lena was already moving.


    "Sewers lead outside the city," she panted.


    "And Ryn?" I asked.


    "If he survives, he¡¯ll find us."


    I swallowed down my worry and focused on running.


    The mission wasn¡¯t over.


    We had the High-Level Grimoire¡ªbut now we had an entire kingdom hunting us.


    And worse?


    We still had one last grimoire left to find.

 Chapter 12: Regroup and Recover

    The tunnel stretched endlessly, cold water sloshing around my ankles as Lena led the way through the underground passage. The auction house was behind us, but the danger wasn¡¯t gone. If Valcairn¡¯s men had half a brain, they¡¯d be searching for exits right now.


    "How much further?" I asked, my breath fogging in the damp air.


    "Another five minutes," Lena replied.


    "To where?"


    "Safe house. Well, safer than this."


    I didn¡¯t argue. My legs ached, my shoulder throbbed from the landing back at the auction, and my mind was still spinning from the sheer insanity of the heist. I had written high-stakes thefts before, but living through one?


    Not as fun as it sounded.


    We emerged through a rusted grate into an abandoned warehouse. Crates and barrels lay scattered around, the scent of old wood and dust heavy in the air. Lena moved swiftly, checking the hidden runes on the doorframe¡ªwards against tracking magic.


    "We¡¯re clear," she said, exhaling as she slid to the floor.


    I wasn¡¯t convinced.


    "And Ryn?"


    "If he''s not dead, he''ll show up," she muttered, closing her eyes.


    I hesitated, then sat down across from her, gripping the stolen grimoire tightly. The book felt heavy, not just in weight but in what it represented.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The High-Level Grimoire¡ªor at least, the incomplete version of it. The real, complete formulas? Locked away in the royal archives, known only to the kingdom¡¯s top court magicians.


    Someone had been collecting these grimoires, trying to piece together something that shouldn''t exist. And now, I was right in the middle of it.


    I let out a slow breath.


    "Lena¡­ what do you know about these grimoires?"


    She opened one eye, watching me.


    "Why?"


    "Because," I muttered, flipping through the pages, "I wrote them."


    Lena¡¯s gaze sharpened.


    "Explain."


    I hesitated. Telling her the truth¡ªthat I was the creator of this world¡ªwas not an option. But I could tell her a version of the truth.


    "Before I ended up here, I studied mathematics and physics. I¡­ theorized how magic would work using formulas, equations, fundamental laws of energy transfer."


    Lena frowned.


    "So you just happened to come up with the exact same grimoire that this kingdom considers its greatest magical secret?"


    I exhaled.


    "Yeah. And the worst part? This isn¡¯t even the final one."


    Lena straightened.


    "The Forbidden Grimoire."


    I nodded.


    The first grimoire was for basic mathemagic.


    The second¡ªthe one we had now¡ªcontained incomplete high-level formulas.


    But the last one¡­ the Forbidden Grimoire¡­ was something far worse.


    A book that shouldn¡¯t exist.


    A book that could break the system of this world itself.


    And whoever was after these grimoires?


    They weren¡¯t stopping until they had all three.


    The door creaked open.


    Lena and I jumped to our feet, hands on weapons¡ªuntil Ryn stepped through, bloodied but grinning.


    "Miss me?"


    I let out a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I was holding.


    "Took your time," Lena muttered.


    "Had to make sure Valcairn wasn¡¯t on my tail," he said, wincing as he collapsed onto a crate. Bruises covered his arms, his jacket was torn, and there was a deep gash along his side.


    "You look terrible," I muttered.


    "Yeah, but you should see the other guy."


    Lena tossed him a small healing vial.


    "So," Ryn said, popping the cork, "did we just make the entire kingdom our enemy?"


    I glanced at the grimoire in my hands.


    "Not just the kingdom," I muttered. "Whoever¡¯s collecting these books won¡¯t stop. And now, we have a target on our backs."


    Lena exhaled.


    "Then we¡¯d better make the next move first."


    Ryn smirked.


    "Now that¡¯s what I like to hear."


    We couldn¡¯t stay here for long. The city was on high alert. Every bounty hunter, mercenary, and soldier would be looking for us.


    "We need to figure out who else is after these grimoires," Lena said.


    "And where the Forbidden Grimoire is," I added.


    Ryn stretched, cracking his neck.


    "Then let¡¯s start digging."


    I stared down at the stolen grimoire.


    This world wasn¡¯t ready for the knowledge in these books.


    And if we didn¡¯t destroy the Forbidden Grimoire before someone else got it¡­


    I might not survive in this world at all or maybe this world might not survive at the end.

 Chapter 13: Shadows in the Fog

    The city had changed overnight.


    We moved through Solmaris¡¯s lower districts, where the streets smelled of damp stone and burning oil. The lantern-lit alleys were packed with travelers, merchants, and pickpockets¡ªexactly the kind of place where people didn¡¯t ask questions.


    But something was wrong.


    There were too many patrols. Guards in blue-trimmed armor roamed in pairs, their hands resting on sword hilts. Bounty posters fluttered on wooden boards, some too fresh to have been there yesterday.


    I grabbed one as we passed.


    WANTED: THIEVES AND ASSAILANTS OF THE VALCAIRN AUCTION


    Charges: Theft of high-value magical property, resisting arrest, assault.


    Reward: 500 gold per head.


    Report all suspicious individuals to the city watch.


    The ink was barely dry.


    "They wasted no time," I muttered, stuffing the poster into my coat.


    "Means Valcairn''s pissed," Ryn said, walking beside me. He looked almost amused¡ªas if being hunted was just another game to him.


    Lena, on the other hand, wasn¡¯t smiling.


    "We need to move. Now."


    She was right. The longer we stayed in Solmaris, the worse our chances got.


    But leaving wasn¡¯t an option.


    Not yet.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Back at the safe house, we gathered around a small, flickering lantern. I laid out the stolen grimoire, its worn cover catching the dim light.


    "We have a problem," I started. "Someone''s been collecting these grimoires. And they''re not stopping until they have all three."


    Lena crossed her arms.


    "You said the Forbidden Grimoire is the last one. What¡¯s in it?"


    I hesitated.


    How much did I tell them?


    Everything? That the Forbidden Grimoire contained the final equations of mathemagic¡ªspells so powerful they could rewrite fundamental laws of reality?


    Or did I just tell them what they needed to know?


    I sighed.


    "It¡¯s dangerous. The kind of magic that shouldn¡¯t exist. And if someone completes the set¡­ let¡¯s just say this world¡¯s rules won¡¯t matter anymore."


    Ryn let out a low whistle.


    "So we¡¯re dealing with someone who wants to break reality. Great."


    "Not necessarily," Lena said. "They might just want power."


    Ryn smirked.


    "Same thing, really."


    I rubbed my temples.


    "Either way, we need to find them before they find us."


    And that meant one thing.


    We needed information.


    The Undermarket wasn¡¯t on any map. You couldn¡¯t stumble into it by accident. You had to know someone.


    And luckily, we did.


    Sable.


    She had sold us the location of the grimoire in Bellmare, and now we needed her again.


    The market entrance was through a cracked stone archway, half-hidden in the ruins of an old aqueduct. A single torch burned blue, marking the way for those who knew what to look for.


    Lena led, Ryn followed, and I kept my hood low as we stepped inside.


    The Undermarket was a place where gold spoke louder than law.


    Stalls overflowed with black-market magic¡ªbottled curses, enchanted blades, and scrolls written in forbidden tongues. Shady figures bartered in hushed tones, their voices swallowed by the flickering glow of enchanted lanterns.


    We found Sable at her usual spot, perched on a barrel, flipping a gold coin between her fingers.


    "Didn¡¯t think I¡¯d see you three again so soon," she said without looking up.


    "We need information," Lena said. "Now."


    Sable smirked.


    "And here I thought you just missed me."


    I pulled out a pouch of silver and tossed it onto the table.


    "Who¡¯s buying grimoires?" I asked.


    The coin stopped flipping.


    Sable leaned forward.


    "You don¡¯t want to know."


    "We do," Lena said.


    Sable exhaled, weighing the pouch before tucking it away.


    "Fine. But you¡¯re not going to like it."


    I waited.


    Then she said a name.


    And my blood ran cold.


    "The one collecting grimoires?" Sable tapped the table. "Goes by Eldric Varos."


    Lena¡¯s eyes widened.


    "Varos¡­ As in¡ª"


    "The royal court magician."


    Ryn let out a low curse.


    I gritted my teeth.


    Eldric Varos.


    A name I had written into this world myself.


    The man was the kingdom¡¯s highest-ranking mage, a scholar who had spent decades studying magic theory. He was supposed to be loyal to the crown.


    And yet, he was the one hoarding grimoires?


    This wasn¡¯t just a rogue collector anymore.


    This was treason.


    "Varos is playing a dangerous game," Lena muttered.


    "No," I said. "He¡¯s playing the game."


    The Forbidden Grimoire wasn¡¯t just dangerous¡ªit was illegal, even by the kingdom¡¯s standards. If Varos was after it, he wasn¡¯t just breaking rules.


    He was trying to change them.


    And now, we were standing between him and his prize.


    "Well," Ryn said, stretching, "guess we¡¯re about to ruin a very important man¡¯s day."


    "More like his entire career," I muttered.


    Lena exhaled.


    "Then we¡¯d better make sure we win."


    Because if Varos got to the Forbidden Grimoire first¡­


    No one would be able to stop him.


    Now it''s a race against time.

 Chapter 14: A Fractured Equation

    The Undermarket felt colder than before.


    Sable¡¯s words hung in the air like a half-solved equation, the missing variables twisting in my mind.


    Eldric Varos¡ªthe royal court magician¡ªwas after the Forbidden Grimoire.


    But he couldn¡¯t just take it. Not yet.


    The Forbidden Grimoire was locked away in Vault Theta, the highest-security archive in Velmathis, the neutral kingdom. It had been sealed for centuries, untouched because¡ª


    No one could understand it.


    It wasn¡¯t just written in an unknown language. The very structure of its magic was an unsolved theorem¡ªa puzzle that no mage, scholar, or alchemist had ever cracked.


    And the only way to even open it?


    You needed to wield Axion Magic¡ªa form of mathemagical energy derived from the High-Level Grimoire.


    Which meant one thing.


    Varos wasn¡¯t just collecting grimoires.


    He was trying to complete the equation.


    "This is bigger than we thought," Lena muttered.


    "Way bigger," Ryn agreed. "And way above our pay grade."


    I ran a hand through my hair, forcing my thoughts to align.


    Varos had one of the High-Level Grimoires, either from the human kingdom or the demon kingdom. He wouldn¡¯t need both¡ªjust one would be enough to unlock Axion Magic.


    And once he did, he¡¯d have the key to the Forbidden Grimoire.


    Which meant we were already running out of time.


    "We have two options," I said. "We stop him before he gets to Velmathis¡ª"If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Or we get there first," Lena finished.


    Ryn let out a low chuckle. "Oh, yeah. That sounds easy."


    "It¡¯s not supposed to be easy," I shot back. "It¡¯s supposed to be possible."


    Sable, still flipping that damn coin between her fingers, finally spoke.


    "You¡¯re assuming you can even get into Vault Theta."


    I frowned.


    "What do you mean?"


    "I mean," she said, tossing the coin in the air, "Velmathis doesn¡¯t trust outsiders. At all. You can¡¯t just walk into the vault and expect them to hand you the grimoire. Hell, even if you had a kingdom¡¯s backing, it¡¯d take years to get permission."


    "So what are you saying?" Lena asked.


    Sable caught the coin and grinned.


    "I¡¯m saying, if you want that book¡­" She leaned in, eyes glinting in the lantern light.


    "You¡¯ll have to steal it."


    "Just to be clear," Ryn said, adjusting his coat as we walked through the crowded streets of Solmaris, "our new plan is to break into the most heavily guarded archive in the neutral kingdom?"


    "That about sums it up," I muttered.


    "Fantastic."


    Lena, walking ahead, turned back to us. "It¡¯s our only shot. If Varos gets there first, the entire world is screwed."


    I exhaled. She wasn¡¯t wrong.


    We needed to leave now, before the kingdom¡¯s forces closed in.


    We were already wanted for the Valcairn heist. If we stayed in Solmaris any longer, the city watch, bounty hunters, and maybe even kingdom-sanctioned mages would be on us.


    We needed a way out.


    "How fast can we reach Velmathis?" I asked.


    Lena frowned. "Fastest route is through the Silverwood Pass. A week if we ride hard."


    "And if we don¡¯t take the fastest route?"


    Ryn smirked. "Two weeks. If we¡¯re lucky."


    We weren¡¯t lucky.


    We barely made it to the stables.


    By the time we reached the outer district, the city watch had doubled their patrols. Posters with our faces were pasted on nearly every wall, some with magically shifting ink to prevent disguises.


    Solmaris wanted us dead or alive¡ªpreferably the first option.


    "They¡¯re moving faster than expected," Lena muttered as we ducked into an alley.


    "Yeah, no kidding," Ryn whispered, peering around the corner. "We¡¯re not getting out of here clean."


    And he was right.


    The east gate was locked down, guards posted at every exit. Any attempt to leave would be suicide.


    We needed another way.


    "Underground tunnels," I said.


    Lena looked at me. "Are you serious?"


    "Do you have a better idea?"


    Ryn grinned. "Oh, I like this one."


    Solmaris was old. Older than its rulers, older than its walls. Beneath its streets, there was a network of tunnels, relics of an ancient city buried under layers of stone. Most had collapsed, but some still remained.


    And one of them led outside the city walls.


    The trick was finding it before the city watch found us.


    We moved fast, cutting through abandoned alleys and forgotten courtyards, making our way toward the old merchant quarter.


    But just as we reached the hidden entrance--


    "Halt!"


    A group of six guards blocked our path, weapons drawn.


    Shit.


    "We don¡¯t have time for this," Lena growled.


    "Then we make time," Ryn said, reaching for his blades.


    No choice, then.


    We fought.


    The battle was quick, brutal, and messy.


    Lena¡¯s daggers struck first, disabling the nearest two before they could even react.


    Ryn moved like a shadow, cutting through the air, his sword finding gaps in the armor with surgical precision.


    I wasn¡¯t as fast¡ªbut I didn¡¯t need to be.


    A quick calculation, a sharp breath¡ª


    I channeled mathemagic, crafting an equation mid-motion, adjusting for weight, force, and velocity. The result?


    A perfectly aimed shockwave.


    The remaining guards hit the ground, unconscious.


    We didn¡¯t stay to admire our work.


    We ran.


    The tunnel led us outside the eastern walls, emerging into a dense forest.


    We barely had time to catch our breath before Lena turned to me.


    "We need to move. Now."


    She was right.


    Varos was ahead of us.


    Velmathis was far.


    And we had just burned every bridge behind us.


    I exhaled. "Then let¡¯s go."


    We saddled up and rode into the night.


    Because if we didn¡¯t reach Vault Theta before Varos¡­


    The world would never be the same again.

 Chapter 15: The Convergence of Fates

    The road through Silverwood Pass was long, winding, and treacherous. The towering trees, their silvery leaves shimmering under the dim light of the twin moons, created an eerie stillness. Even with Ryn and Lena at my side, I felt like we were being watched.


    We rode in silence, the weight of our escape from Solmaris pressing down on us. The High-Level Grimoire was already in Eldric Varos¡¯ hands, and the Forbidden Grimoire lay in Vault Theta, waiting to be unlocked. We were racing against time.


    And then, I saw her.


    A lone figure standing by the roadside, wrapped in a traveler''s cloak, hood pulled low over her face. Something about her posture, the way she held herself, sent a strange familiarity through me.


    "Traveler?" I called out cautiously.


    The woman turned.


    And my world stopped.


    Her face was one I had never seen before¡ªbut her eyes.


    I knew them.


    Wide, sharp, filled with something that felt too much like recognition. Like she knew me.


    "Haider?"


    My pulse froze.


    "How do you know my name?" I demanded.


    She pulled back her hood, revealing long dark hair, eyes glinting with intelligence¡ªand something else.


    "Because," she said, voice quiet but firm. "I was the one who read your story."


    My breath caught.


    No.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    No, that wasn¡¯t possible.


    And yet, here she was.


    A girl who had once read my book.


    Her name was Elara Varos.


    Daughter of Eldric Varos, the royal court magician.


    And before she woke up in this world¡ªshe had been a reader of my novel.


    "I read everything," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "All 1048 chapters. Every character, every war, every secret you wrote."


    My stomach twisted.


    This wasn¡¯t just reincarnation. She hadn¡¯t been reborn like me¡ªshe had been dragged into the story exactly as she was.


    "I was just a university student back home," she admitted. "I read your novel every day. And then one night¡­ I woke up here."


    I stared at her. "How long have you been in this world?"


    She hesitated.


    "Four years."


    I nearly stumbled.


    Four years?


    I had only been here for weeks.


    Time between our worlds didn¡¯t match.


    That meant¡ª


    "You knew everything," I said slowly. "You knew what would happen."


    Elara smiled grimly. "No. Because something changed."


    She exhaled sharply, glancing away.


    "I was supposed to die."


    Elara¡¯s father, Eldric Varos, had found her in the kingdom¡¯s dungeons four years ago.


    She had been arrested for ¡°false prophecy¡±¡ªbecause she knew things about the kingdom no one else did. Politics, wars, betrayals¡ªall events she had read in my novel.


    She was supposed to be executed.


    But Varos had stopped it.


    "He didn¡¯t kill me," she said quietly. "Instead, he¡­ adopted me."


    Lena and Ryn were both silent, listening carefully.


    "Why?" I asked.


    "Because he wanted answers."


    Her father was a scholar, a man obsessed with unraveling the mysteries of magic. And when he realized that Elara knew knowledge beyond any scholar, he saw an opportunity.


    Instead of killing her, he took her in. Trained her. Questioned her.


    And eventually¡ªhe believed her.


    "My father was the one who retrieved the High-Level Grimoire," she admitted.


    I narrowed my eyes. "How?"


    Elara took a slow breath.


    "Because he was the only one who could prove its existence."


    The High-Level Grimoire had been locked away in the Kingdom Archives for generations, kept hidden because no mage could understand its contents.


    It wasn¡¯t normal magic.


    It was something else.


    Mathemagic.


    Physics.


    Equations and laws that this world had never even considered.


    But Elara¡ªshe knew them.


    She had studied modern physics, calculus, and engineering back in our world. And with that knowledge, she was able to decipher parts of the High-Level Grimoire that no one else could.


    Her father used that knowledge to convince the court that he should be the one to study it.


    And that was how he became the only mage in the kingdom to wield Axion Magic.


    "I knew this world¡¯s future," Elara murmured. "But only up until chapter 1048. After that¡­"


    She trailed off.


    I finished for her.


    "The story stopped."


    She nodded.


    I exhaled.


    Everything made sense now.


    Elara had been a reader of my novel, pulled into this world years before me. She had used her knowledge of science to help her father unlock the secrets of Axion Magic.


    And now, we were standing on opposite sides of the same conflict.


    Because if Eldric Varos had the High-Level Grimoire¡ª


    Then he was already preparing to open Vault Theta.


    "I don¡¯t want this world to end," Elara said suddenly, voice raw.


    I looked at her.


    "Then help me stop it," I said.


    She hesitated.


    And then, she nodded.


    "We need to move," Ryn said. "The longer we wait, the closer Varos gets to the Forbidden Grimoire."


    Elara adjusted her cloak. "I can get us into Velmathis. But after that¡­ we¡¯re on our own."


    It was enough.


    We saddled up, leaving the Silverwood Pass behind.


    The race for the Forbidden Grimoire had begun.


    And this time, I wasn¡¯t the only one who knew the truth.

 Chapter 16: Crossing into Velmathis

    The Neutral Kingdom of Velmathis¡ªa land untouched by the endless power struggles of humans, elves, and demons. A place where knowledge was valued above all else.


    And the place where the Forbidden Grimoire was locked away in Vault Theta.


    Getting in, however, was another problem entirely.


    Velmathis was highly selective about who entered its borders. Unlike the human or demon kingdoms, it wasn¡¯t ruled by kings or emperors but by a Council of Scholars, who dictated all policy. Trade was strictly regulated, entry required approval from the council, and outsiders were rarely allowed beyond the outer cities.


    Yet somehow, we had to get inside.


    And we had to do it fast.


    "Velmathis doesn¡¯t let in mercenaries," I muttered as we approached the eastern border checkpoint.


    "Then it¡¯s a good thing we¡¯re not mercenaries," Ryn replied, smirking.


    I gave him a flat look.


    We absolutely looked like mercenaries.


    Three people in travel-worn cloaks, arriving on horseback, carrying a suspicious amount of weapons. Even Elara, despite her scholar¡¯s aura, wasn¡¯t exactly blending in.


    But Velmathis didn¡¯t check for warriors.


    They checked for scholars.


    And that gave us one advantage.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "They don¡¯t turn away people seeking knowledge," Elara murmured beside me. "Especially not those who come with research."


    "And what research do we have?" I asked dryly.


    She smiled.


    "Mathemagic."


    Velmathis was not a kingdom of soldiers. Their guards, though well-trained, were not warriors.


    Their greatest strength? Their scholars.


    And right now, Elara and I had something they wanted¡ªknowledge.


    Step One: Create a Believable Cover.


    Velmathis prided itself on accepting anyone with knowledge to share. Their Scholarly Visa Program allowed foreign scholars to enter if they passed an initial evaluation.


    So, our story was simple:


    Elara Varos ¨C Scholar of theoretical magic, researching the application of Axion Magic and its connection to lost texts.


    Haider Kade ¨C An independent researcher specializing in runic mathematics and arcane numerology.


    Lena and Ryn ¨C Our "bodyguards," hired for protection.


    Elara¡¯s noble background helped sell the lie. Her father had been deeply respected among scholars, and even though Velmathis didn¡¯t interfere in politics, they would still recognize his name.


    Step Two: Survive the Entrance Examination.


    When we arrived at the Scholars'' Gate, we were immediately stopped by the gatekeepers¡ªnot soldiers, but scribes.


    "State your purpose."


    Elara took the lead. "We are independent scholars seeking access to the Royal Archives for research on ancient numerology and theoretical magic."


    The scribe raised a skeptical brow. "And what proof do you have of your research?"


    Elara calmly pulled out a journal¡ªone filled with pages of equations written in my handwriting.


    At first glance, they looked no different from normal magic theory. But to anyone trained in magic, they would seem¡­ alien.


    Because none of these symbols existed in their world.


    I had written them using calculus, differential equations, and theoretical physics.


    And that made them look like forbidden knowledge.


    The scribe scanned our research notes.


    His eyes narrowed.


    "This¡­ this is not standard numerology," he muttered, flipping through the pages. "Where did you learn this?"


    Elara didn¡¯t even blink.


    "From my father."


    The scribe stiffened.


    The name Eldric Varos still carried weight¡ªeven here.


    There was a long silence. Then, the scribe exhaled.


    "You will be permitted entry into Velmathis under scholarly review. However, before you are granted access to the Royal Archives, you must prove that your knowledge is of value."


    I sighed internally.


    Of course.


    Velmathis didn¡¯t just let scholars walk into their most secure archives. We had to pass a formal test first.


    Elara nodded. "We accept."


    The scribe stamped our documents.


    "Welcome to Velmathis."


    Velmathis was unlike anything I had seen.


    The buildings were tall and elegant, made of white stone and engraved with glowing runes. Streets were lined with floating lanterns, libraries outnumbered taverns, and automated magic constructs patrolled the roads, offering directions to lost visitors.


    This wasn¡¯t a kingdom built on warfare.


    It was built on progress.


    And now, Elara and I had one goal.


    "We need to pass that test," I murmured. "Or we¡¯ll never get into the archives."


    Elara¡¯s expression hardened.


    "Then we better prepare."


    Because somewhere deep in the Vault Theta, the Forbidden Grimoire was waiting.


    And we were the only two people in this world who could read it.

 Chapter 17: The Scholar鈥檚 Trial

    The Royal Archives of Velmathis were not open to just anyone.


    To enter, you had to prove your worth.


    Elara and I stood before a grand marble hall, the Examination Chamber, where aspiring scholars were tested. The air smelled of aged parchment and ink, and the walls were lined with floating script, shifting in real-time¡ªa display of magically recorded knowledge.


    At the center of the room stood a panel of scholars, robed in deep blue, seated at a crescent-shaped table. Four men and two women, their eyes sharp, their faces unreadable.


    This was our final obstacle.


    If we failed, our journey ended here.


    A tall, thin scholar with silver-rimmed spectacles spoke first.


    "Your research claims to explore an advanced form of numerology, one that integrates a new theoretical structure of magic. Velmathis does not grant access to the Royal Archives lightly. You will be tested on the following:"


    1. Your knowledge of existing magical principles.


    2. Your ability to explain your theory using known magical law.


    3. A practical demonstration.


    Elara and I exchanged a glance.


    We had expected this.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "You may begin," the scholar said.


    ---


    The First Test: Magical Knowledge


    "Explain the known laws of elemental conversion," one scholar demanded.


    Elara answered immediately.


    "Elemental conversion is the process by which mana is transformed into one of the six primary elements: fire, water, earth, air, light, and darkness. This is governed by the principle of Arcane Equilibrium, which states that mana will always shift towards the element with the lowest resistance, unless influenced by external forces."


    The scholars nodded, but one of them, an older woman, raised an eyebrow.


    "And what of advanced hybridization?"


    I took that one.


    "Hybridization occurs when two elements are fused using a stabilizing agent, such as runic inscription or a mage¡¯s intent. The most unstable fusions are fire and water, due to their opposing natures, whereas light and air combine most naturally due to their affinity in energy distribution."


    A few of the scholars exchanged intrigued glances.


    So far, so good.


    But that was the easy part.


    Now came the real challenge.


    The Second Test: Theoretical Explanation


    A different scholar leaned forward, adjusting his spectacles.


    "Your research proposes a method of understanding magic that deviates from established doctrine. Explain."


    I took a breath.


    "Magic in this world has always been understood as a mystical force¡ªsomething innate, something unknowable. But what if it wasn¡¯t? What if magic followed precise, measurable laws¡ªones that could be defined with pure logic?"


    One of the scholars scoffed.


    "Magic is inherently irrational. No known formulas have successfully quantified its full behavior."


    I smiled slightly.


    "That¡¯s because you¡¯re using the wrong approach."


    I stepped forward and pulled out a piece of parchment. With careful strokes, I sketched out the equations I had developed¡ªthe very same ones that I had built when designing this world as a novel.


    Differential runic calculus. Spell matrices as algebraic structures. A unified theorem of arcane flow.


    The scholars leaned in.


    Even those who had been skeptical before were now staring at my work.


    Elara stepped in beside me.


    "Magic behaves in patterns. Those patterns can be expressed numerically. We have developed a framework that not only describes spellcasting as a logical process but also predicts outcomes with precision."


    Silence.


    Then, one of the scholars whispered, "This is¡­ beyond our current understanding."


    Good.


    That meant we had them.


    The Third Test: Practical Demonstration


    "Theory is not enough," the lead scholar finally said. "Prove it."


    A circular spell-testing platform was revealed¡ªa large stone arena embedded with detection runes.


    I nodded.


    "What would you like us to demonstrate?"


    The scholar smirked. "Something unconventional."


    I exhaled and glanced at Elara.


    Then, I turned back to the panel and said, "We will cast a spell without using an incantation, a wand, or a staff."


    There was an immediate stir in the room.


    "Impossible," one of the scholars muttered.


    I smiled.


    "Not if you understand the math."


    Elara and I stepped onto the platform.

 Chapter 18: The Spell That Shouldn鈥檛 Exist

    The scholars whispered among themselves, their eyes flickering between Elara and me.


    "A spell without an incantation? Without a medium?" one of them muttered.


    "Preposterous," another scoffed.


    But I had already expected this reaction.


    After all, in this world, magic was thought to be inseparable from ritual.


    A mage needed incantations, gestures, runes, or artifacts to channel their will into reality. That was the absolute law of magic here.


    But I knew better.


    Because I had created this world.


    And I knew the one thing no one else did¡ªmagic wasn¡¯t bound by tradition.


    It was bound by logic.


    Elara and I stepped onto the spell-testing platform. The stone beneath our feet pulsed with faint blue light, activating the mana-detection runes.


    "This platform will measure all magical output," one of the scholars explained. "If you attempt deception, we will know."The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    I smirked.


    "We wouldn¡¯t dream of it."


    A different scholar adjusted his spectacles. "You claim to be able to cast a spell without a medium. Very well¡ªshow us a practical application."


    I turned to Elara. "Ready?"


    She nodded.


    We had already planned this out.


    Our goal wasn¡¯t just to prove that magic could be cast without traditional methods¡ªwe had to demonstrate complete control.


    That meant not just summoning energy, but shaping it freely.


    The Spell Begins


    I closed my eyes.


    I wasn¡¯t just trying to cast a spell¡ªI was solving an equation.


    Mana wasn¡¯t some mystical force. It followed laws¡ªjust unknown ones.


    And right now, I was about to prove those laws existed.


    I took a deep breath, mentally visualizing the spell not as words or gestures¡ªbut as a function.


    M(x) = ¡Ò f(x) dx


    Where:


    M(x) represented mana flow over time.


    f(x) represented spell intensity as a variable function.


    a to b defined the controlled boundaries of the energy.


    The problem with magic in this world was that mages couldn¡¯t predict energy fluctuations. They relied on instinct, leading to unstable casting.


    But I had a formula.


    And formulas always worked.


    I opened my eyes.


    Mana gathered around me¡ªnot wild and chaotic like a normal spell, but precise, flowing in a controlled pattern.


    A soft golden light shimmered at my fingertips.


    Gasps erupted from the scholars.


    "Impossible," one of them whispered.


    I kept going.


    By tweaking the integral function¡¯s upper and lower bounds, I adjusted the mana¡¯s output¡ªcompressing it into a single, stable shape.


    A perfectly formed sphere of light.


    No words. No gestures. No catalysts.


    Just pure mathematical control.


    Elara stepped forward. She had spent the last few days studying my equations, and now she followed the same principles.


    She raised her hand, shaping a thin blade of wind¡ªnot with an incantation, but by altering the mana flow density using derived formulas.


    A scholar stood up.


    "This¡­ this breaks every known magical law!"


    I turned to him, still holding my controlled sphere of mana.


    "No," I corrected. "It proves magic always had laws¡ªyou just never discovered them."


    Silence.


    Then, a slow clap echoed through the chamber.


    The lead scholar, the one who had been the most skeptical, now wore a stunned expression.


    "You two¡­ have just rewritten history."


    We passed the test.


    Not because of talent.


    But because we had the knowledge that no one else did.


    And with that knowledge, we now had access to the Royal Archives.


    Where the Forbidden Grimoire awaited.

 Chapter 19: The Door to Forbidden Knowledge

    The Royal Archive stood before us, an ancient structure carved from blackstone and infused with anti-magic sigils. Unlike the grand libraries of the human kingdom, which were open to scholars and nobility, this place was off-limits to nearly everyone.


    Except for those who had proven themselves.


    Elara and I had done exactly that.


    Our demonstration of spellcasting without incantations had shattered the scholars¡¯ understanding of magic. More importantly, it had granted us the privilege to study the archives firsthand.


    But this wasn¡¯t just about gaining knowledge.


    The Forbidden Grimoire was stored within these walls.


    And if we didn¡¯t retrieve it before the wrong people did, we wouldn¡¯t be the only ones rewriting history.


    We¡¯d be rewriting the fate of the entire world.


    As we entered the archives, escorted by a senior scholar, my mind raced through everything I knew about the Forbidden Grimoire.


    Unlike the Basic Mathemagic Grimoire, which introduced the concept of spell formulas, and the High-Level Grimoire, which contained complex but still decipherable magic, the Forbidden Grimoire was on a completely different level.


    I knew exactly why.


    Because I had written it that way.


    The Forbidden Grimoire wasn¡¯t just a spellbook¡ªit was a scientific manifesto.


    It contained modern physics and mathematics, concepts so advanced that even the most brilliant minds in this world couldn¡¯t comprehend them.


    Even PhD students from my world would struggle with it.


    But Elara and I?


    We weren¡¯t just scholars¡ªwe were the only two people in this world who could actually understand it.


    And that made us a threat.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Because if anyone else got their hands on it, they wouldn¡¯t use it.


    They¡¯d destroy it.


    Before we could even attempt to read the Forbidden Grimoire, we needed the High-Level Grimoire.


    This wasn¡¯t some arbitrary rule¡ªit was by design.


    The High-Level Grimoire, currently in possession of Elara¡¯s father, the Grand Mage of the Kingdom, contained an encoded magical key.


    Not a literal key¡ªa mathematical key.


    The spells in the High-Level Grimoire were designed as preliminary equations that would act as a decryption tool for the Forbidden Grimoire.


    Without it, the Forbidden Grimoire would remain incomprehensible gibberish, even to me and Elara.


    This was intentional.


    Because when I first wrote this world, I had wanted magic to have structure.


    To prevent reckless power.


    To ensure that only those who truly understood magic and its logic could access the most powerful spells.


    And now, I was standing in front of the very system I had created.


    A system that would judge whether I was worthy of my own knowledge.


    The interior of the Royal Archives was eerily quiet. No students, no wandering scholars¡ªonly warded shelves, enchanted to self-destruct if unauthorized hands touched them.


    The senior scholar leading us stopped at the entrance of the restricted vaults.


    "Your demonstration proved that you possess a unique understanding of magic," he said, adjusting his robes. "But knowledge alone does not grant access to the deepest archives."


    Elara frowned. "What do you mean?"


    The scholar gestured toward a massive stone door, covered in glowing geometric patterns.


    "This door does not open to those who merely seek knowledge." He turned to face us, his expression unreadable. "It opens only to those who can prove they deserve it.


    I had expected this.


    Because this door¡ªthis Trial of the Archives¡ªwasn¡¯t something that had been placed here by the scholars.


    It had been placed here by me.


    In my original notes, I had described this security measure as a "proof-of-understanding mechanism."


    It wasn¡¯t just a magical lock.


    It was a mathematical challenge.


    Elara and I stepped forward. As soon as we did, the glowing patterns on the stone door shifted, rearranging themselves into a complex series of symbols.


    Numbers. Functions. Derivatives.


    The test had begun.


    The scholars behind us stepped back, watching in silence.


    Because they knew they wouldn¡¯t understand this.


    This was beyond them.


    I scanned the symbols.


    They weren¡¯t random. They formed a multi-variable function, requiring an advanced understanding of both magical flow and real-world physics.


    Elara¡¯s breath hitched. "This¡­ this is a differential equation linked to mana flow rates."


    I nodded. "It¡¯s a verification function. If we solve it, we prove we understand magic as a logical system."


    She swallowed. "No one in this world would be able to solve this."


    "Exactly," I said. "Because it was never meant for them."


    This test wasn¡¯t for mages.


    It was for us.


    It was for me.


    I closed my eyes, visualizing the equation not as numbers¡ªbut as energy flow.


    Mana had always been treated as a mystical force, something wielded through willpower alone.


    But I had proven that mana followed equations.


    That meant this wasn¡¯t a test of magic.


    It was a test of logic.


    I began solving.


    And the door began to glow.


    Elara, working beside me, adjusted for the energy coefficients, ensuring that our answer accounted for both magical and physical constraints.


    And then¡ª


    A deep clang echoed through the vault.


    The scholars staggered back.


    Because before their eyes, the stone door¡ªsealed for centuries¡ªbegan to open.


    As the door slowly swung inward, I felt something shift.


    A presence.


    Not a person.


    Not a creature.


    But a force.


    Because behind this door lay something that was never meant to exist in this world.


    Something so advanced, so alien to the mages of this realm that they had locked it away¡ªnot because they feared its power, but because they couldn¡¯t even begin to understand it.


    And now, that knowledge was within our reach.


    Elara turned to me, her voice barely above a whisper.


    "We¡¯re the only ones who can read it."


    I nodded.


    "Which means we¡¯re the only ones who can decide what happens next."


    The Forbidden Grimoire awaited.


    And with it¡ª


    The final truth about magic.

 Chapter 20: Knowledge That Shouldn鈥檛 Exist

    The vault door groaned as it fully opened, revealing a darkened chamber bathed in faint blue light. Unlike the rest of the archives, where books were neatly arranged on enchanted shelves, this room had only one object.


    A pedestal of obsidian stood in the center.


    And resting atop it¡ªthe Forbidden Grimoire.


    Bound in metallic silver, its surface was engraved with shifting symbols, constantly rearranging themselves in an endless cycle of equations. It wasn¡¯t just a book. It was a living construct, a puzzle that refused to be solved by any ordinary mind.


    Elara stepped closer, her breath shallow. "It looks¡­ nothing like the other grimoires."


    Of course it didn¡¯t.


    Because this wasn¡¯t just a book of spells.


    It was an anomaly.


    And the moment we touched it, we¡¯d have to make a choice.


    I placed my hand on the cover.


    A pulse of energy surged through me.


    It wasn¡¯t mana¡ªit was pure information.


    The book recognized me. Not as a mage. Not as a scholar.


    But as its creator.


    Because I had written it.


    And now, it was showing me everything.


    Pages flickered before my eyes.


    Not spells.


    Not incantations.


    But laws of reality.


    Equations describing the movement of mana as a quantifiable force.


    Formulas linking spell efficiency to thermodynamic entropy.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    A theorem proving that mana did not actually create energy, but only converted it from one form to another.


    And at the heart of it all¡ª


    A proof that magic itself was an artificial system.


    A system that someone¡ªor something¡ªhad built.


    A system with rules.


    A system that could be broken.


    Elara was flipping through the pages next to me, her hands trembling.


    "This¡­ this is proof that magic isn¡¯t divine," she whispered. "It¡¯s just an application of physics. Everything we thought was mystical¡ªit¡¯s just advanced science. A structured system of energy manipulation."


    She swallowed.


    "This knowledge¡ªit doesn¡¯t belong in this world."


    She was right.


    If this book was ever studied by the wrong people¡ªif someone powerful truly understood it¡ªthen magic itself could be hacked.


    The balance of power between kingdoms, the authority of archmages, the divine nature of mana itself¡ªall of it would collapse.


    Because the Forbidden Grimoire didn¡¯t just teach magic.


    It taught how to rewrite the laws of magic.


    How to manipulate the System itself.


    This book wasn¡¯t just dangerous.


    It was a weapon against reality.


    Elara turned to me, her expression torn. "We can¡¯t let anyone else see this."


    I nodded. "Even a single page¡­ even a fraction of this knowledge could unravel everything."


    I had written this book as a failsafe¡ªa way to make sure that magic had structure, that it followed rules.


    But now, standing here in front of it, I knew the truth.


    This world wasn¡¯t ready for this.


    Maybe it never would be.


    Elara clenched her fists. "My father¡­ he wanted to unlock its secrets. But even he didn¡¯t realize what he was chasing."


    I exhaled. "No one does."


    This book wasn¡¯t meant to be read.


    It was meant to be erased.


    And we were the only ones who could do it.


    "How do we destroy something like this?" Elara asked.


    The Forbidden Grimoire wasn¡¯t made of paper and ink.


    It was constructed using aetherial binding magic, reinforced by the very laws it contained. No ordinary spell could burn it.


    But it wasn¡¯t indestructible.


    Because I had written a way to destroy it.


    "The book follows a recursive stabilization function," I said, scanning the shifting symbols. "It¡¯s constantly rewriting its structure to protect itself. But if we overload it with information it can¡¯t process¡ªif we force it to self-correct infinitely¡ªit¡¯ll collapse."


    Elara¡¯s eyes widened. "You mean¡­ we have to break its logic?"


    I nodded.


    "We have to give it a paradox it can¡¯t solve."


    I stepped forward, placing both hands on the grimoire.


    Elara did the same.


    We didn¡¯t need spells.


    We didn¡¯t need incantations.


    All we needed was a single contradiction.


    I focused my thoughts and wrote an equation into the grimoire¡¯s structure.


    A statement that violated the fundamental nature of magic.


    M = 0 while simultaneously M ¡Ù 0


    A contradiction.


    A logical impossibility.


    Something the system could never resolve.


    The moment the equation was introduced, the Forbidden Grimoire shuddered.


    Symbols flashed violently across its pages, rearranging in frantic, desperate cycles.


    The book was fighting back.


    Trying to find a solution.


    Trying to correct itself.


    But there was no answer.


    Because we had broken the very logic it was built on.


    The air around us crackled.


    The pedestal beneath the book fractured, deep veins of light splitting through the stone.


    The Forbidden Grimoire let out a sound.


    Not a scream.


    Not a cry.


    But a deep, resonating hum¡ªthe sound of something that had existed for centuries realizing that it was about to cease.


    Elara stepped back, eyes wide. "It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s really working."


    I exhaled, steadying myself. "Yeah."


    And then¡ª


    The book imploded.


    A wave of pure information surged outward, unraveling into nothingness. The entire chamber shook as its very essence was erased from existence.


    And then¡ª


    Silence.


    The Forbidden Grimoire was gone.


    Forever.


    Elara looked at the empty pedestal.


    "Did we do the right thing?" she asked quietly.


    I didn¡¯t answer immediately.


    Because the truth was¡ªI didn¡¯t know.


    We had just destroyed the most advanced piece of knowledge in this world.


    Something that could have rewritten everything.


    Something that could have changed magic forever.


    But maybe¡ªmaybe this world wasn¡¯t meant to know the truth yet.


    Maybe some knowledge was better left forgotten.


    I turned to Elara and forced a small, tired smile. "We did what we had to."


    She nodded slowly.


    But deep down, I knew¡ª


    This wouldn¡¯t be the last time we had to make a choice like this.


    Because knowledge never truly disappears.


    It only waits.


    For the next person brave enough to seek it.