《Reborn In Shadows》 Whispers of the Void "The world is cruelly ironic¡ªthose with kind hearts are crushed under its weight, while the wicked thrive, basking in rewards they never earned." Mark exhaled deeply, the sigh escaping his lips carrying the weight of years spent in silent misery. As he dragged himself out of bed, his hunched shoulders and hollow gaze told the story of a man resigned to his fate. For 26 long years, Mark had lived as a shadow in his own life¡ªa spineless, introverted man, mocked and trampled by the world. Bullied in every phase of his existence, he had learned to bow his head and endure, even if it meant licking the boots of those who stepped on him. Reading light novels had become his sole refuge, his escape from the grim monotony of reality. Stories of invincible heroes and grand adventures filled the void in his heart, offering a fleeting taste of the life he could never have. What else could someone like him do? The outside world wasn¡¯t a place for someone like Mark¡ªit was a battlefield where he was doomed to lose. To step outside meant humiliation, degradation, and ridicule. Staying indoors, immersing himself in fictional worlds, was the only thing that kept his shattered spirit from crumbling entirely. Yet, even in the safety of his dimly lit room, the echoes of his failures haunted him. "If only life were like those stories," he muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper, "where the weak can rise and the strong face justice." Little did he know, fate had a cruel yet extraordinary twist awaiting him¡ªone that would drag him from the depths of his despair and throw him into a world where power was the only law. A world where even the meek could carve their destiny, should they dare to seize it. As Mark dragged himself out of bed, he muttered in a voice so monotone it could make a brick seem lively, ¡°A failure among failures. No, scratch that¡ªI¡¯m the king of failures. Bow before me, peasants.¡± His room, if it could even be called that, was the very definition of "introvert''s paradise." Bookshelves overflowing with light novels lined the walls, their precarious stacks threatening to bury him alive one day. Posters of his favorite fictional heroes adorned the peeling wallpaper, and a single dim lamp cast a lonely glow over the cluttered desk, where half-empty instant noodle cups sat like trophies of past battles. Mark lived in a cramped two-room apartment with his father, whose concept of interior design revolved entirely around functionality¡ªor the lack thereof. The living room was basically a kitchen with delusions of grandeur. A creaky wooden table occupied the center, surrounded by mismatched chairs that looked like they were survivors of a garage sale apocalypse. Stumbling out of his room, Mark rubbed his eyes, still half-asleep. He turned his head toward the fridge, where a bright yellow sticky note clung to the door with all the elegance of a child¡¯s art project. He squinted at the scrawled handwriting: [Sticky Note] *"Yo, champ! Off to work early today¡ªdon¡¯t miss me too much. Lunch is on you, so whip up something edible (try not to burn the place down). Oh, and we''re out of bread, so be a hero and get some on your way back. Don¡¯t forget this time, or it¡¯s toast for breakfast. Literally. Love, Your one and only dad, the Breadless Baron.¡±* Mark stared at the note for a moment, his groggy brain struggling to process the words. Then it hit him like a ton of stale bread. ¡°Wait, WHAT?! I have to buy the bread myself?! What is this, a side quest?!¡± he shouted, throwing his arms in the air dramatically. He slumped against the fridge, groaning. ¡°Breadless Baron? More like Merciless Monarch of Dad Jokes!¡± He glanced back at the note, shaking his head in disbelief. ¡°How does he expect me to face society? I mean, sure, bread is life, but I¡¯m not emotionally prepared for small talk with the cashier today!¡± Mark let out an exaggerated sigh, dragging himself toward the bathroom like a soldier heading to battle. ¡°The things I do for carbs,¡± he muttered under his breath. ________________________________________ As he splashed cold water on his face, he stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror. Dark circles underlined his eyes, his messy hair stuck out in all directions, and his oversized t-shirt read, ¡°Professional Procrastinator.¡± ¡°Yup,¡± he said with a self-deprecating chuckle. ¡°Truly a hero in the making. Watch out, world¡ªMark the Bread Hunter is coming.¡± But deep down, even as he joked, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder if today would be any different from the monotonous days he¡¯d grown so accustomed to. Little did he know, a twist of fate was just around the corner¡ªone that would throw him into a world where bread was the least of his worries. Mark opened his creaky closet, the door groaning in protest like it hadn¡¯t been used in years. He grabbed a simple black T-shirt and a pair of faded gray trousers. As he slipped them on, an old, bittersweet memory flickered in his mind like a hazy dream. His mother¡ªyes, his mother. A shadow in his past, a figure he barely remembered. She had passed away when he was just two years old, taken by an illness so sudden and mysterious it left his father reeling. Mark couldn¡¯t even picture her face; the only reminders of her existence were the faint stories his father occasionally shared. Being raised without a mother¡¯s warmth was like growing up in a house without windows¡ªcold, isolating, and always a little too dark. He couldn¡¯t help but blame it, at least partially, for the person he had become. ¡°Why am I like this?¡± he muttered to himself, staring blankly at his reflection in the mirror. ¡°I just want to live like everyone else. I want to make friends. I don¡¯t want to die single!¡± The last part escaped his lips louder than intended, and the absurdity of his own words hit him. Die single? Really, Mark? You can¡¯t even keep eye contact with a street dog. Talking to a girl would practically be a near-death experience. He let out a humorless chuckle. ¡°Yeah, sure, Mark. Let¡¯s just start small. Maybe stop freezing like a deer in headlights every time someone says ¡®hi.¡¯ Baby steps.¡± He glanced down at his T-shirt and trousers, realizing how plain they were. ¡°What am I even worried about? It¡¯s not like I¡¯m impressing anyone today... or ever.¡± Mark sighed deeply, grabbing his phone and wallet. As he prepared to face the day, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was missing in his life¡ªsomething bigger than bread or small talk. Mark let out a small sigh and pushed open the front gate of his apartment. Instantly, the sun¡¯s rays greeted him like an overenthusiastic friend, nearly blinding him. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, squinting up at the sky. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°How long has it been...?¡± he muttered, staring at the endless blue expanse. ¡°Since I last came outside?¡± A weak, awkward smile crept onto his face. ¡®It feels like I¡¯m a vampire stepping into the light for the first time...¡¯ He let out a nervous laugh, scratching his head, and descended the narrow pathway leading to the stairs. The neighborhood around him bustled with life¡ªkids playing soccer, a street vendor yelling about fresh vegetables, and dogs barking in the distance. As Mark walked down the stairs, he couldn¡¯t help but think about his plan for the day. ¡®Alright, Mark. You¡¯ve got one job¡ªbuy bread. Easy, right? No room for screw-ups. Just walk in, pick up the bread, pay the cashier, and leave. Simple. No eye contact. No unnecessary conversation.¡¯ But deep down, his nervousness began to creep in. ¡®What if the cashier is talkative? What if they ask me something? What if I stutter?¡¯ His mind spiraled as he reached the bottom of the stairs, the very idea of human interaction gnawing at his confidence. Walking into the supermarket, Mark immediately felt out of place. The air conditioning hit him like a blast of winter, and the orderly rows of shelves felt like a labyrinth designed to confuse introverts. He grabbed a basket and shuffled awkwardly to the bread aisle, his head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Then, he saw them¡ªa couple standing by the pastries, laughing and playfully arguing over which cake to buy. Mark paused, staring at them like they were some rare, mythical creatures. ¡®What is love?¡¯ he thought, his mind wandering to the romance novel he had devoured last night. ¡®Is it like they describe in novels? An unyielding flame that burns through all obstacles? Or... is it just a fleeting moment, like the final chapter of a bittersweet story?¡¯ He sighed deeply, clutching the handle of his basket. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll never know. I can¡¯t even talk to a cashier, let alone hold hands with someone...¡± Finally, with bread in hand, Mark approached the counter. His heart pounded like a war drum as he placed the bread down and looked up. ¡°Is that all for you today?¡± the cashier asked, her tone polite but indifferent. Mark froze. ¡®Okay, Mark. This is your moment. Say something. Anything!¡¯ ¡°Buh-buh-buh... bread,¡± he stammered, his face turning redder than a ripe tomato. The cashier blinked, clearly unimpressed. ¡°That¡¯ll be $1.50.¡± Mark fumbled with his wallet, dropping it twice before managing to hand over the money. He grabbed the bag with a shaky hand and practically sprinted out of the store. Outside, Mark leaned against a lamppost, clutching the bread bag like it was his lifeline. His breath came in short gasps as he tried to calm down. ¡°Why am I like this?¡± he muttered, staring at his reflection in a nearby shop window. His disheveled hair and nervous expression stared back at him. ¡°Why can¡¯t I just... be normal?¡± Then, almost instinctively, he clenched his fist. ¡°No,¡± he said, his voice firmer. ¡°I don¡¯t need to be normal. I need to be me. The world doesn¡¯t care about who¡¯s normal or not¡ªit only bows to those who carve their name into it. One day... one day, I¡¯ll be someone the world can¡¯t ignore.¡± As he turned to head home, the bread still in hand, Mark couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that his mundane world was on the brink of change. As Mark turned to head home, clutching the bread in his trembling hands, his eyes caught sight of a little girl, no older than seven, standing in the middle of the road. She seemed unaware of the truck hurtling toward her at an alarming speed. The driver, distracted and oblivious, showed no signs of stopping. Mark''s heart froze. Before he could consciously process what he was doing, his legs moved on their own, carrying him toward the girl with an urgency that overrode his fear. ¡°Why... why can¡¯t I stop? I don¡¯t want to die now!¡± His mind screamed, yet his body ignored him. Every fiber of his being wanted to turn back, to flee, but his instincts¡ªor something beyond him¡ªpropelled him forward. In a single desperate motion, he lunged toward the girl, shoving her out of harm¡¯s way. The next moment, he stood alone in the truck¡¯s path. As Mark turned to head home, clutching the bread in his trembling hands, his eyes caught sight of a little girl, no older than seven, standing in the middle of the road. She seemed unaware of the truck hurtling toward her at an alarming speed. The driver, distracted and oblivious, showed no signs of stopping. Mark''s heart froze. Before he could consciously process what he was doing, his legs moved on their own, carrying him toward the girl with an urgency that overrode his fear. ¡°Why... why can¡¯t I stop? I don¡¯t want to die now!¡± His mind screamed, yet his body ignored him. Every fiber of his being wanted to turn back, to flee, but his instincts¡ªor something beyond him¡ªpropelled him forward. In a single desperate motion, he lunged toward the girl, shoving her out of harm¡¯s way. The next moment, he stood alone in the truck¡¯s path. As Mark turned to head home, clutching the bread in his trembling hands, his eyes caught sight of a little girl, no older than seven, standing in the middle of the road. She seemed unaware of the truck hurtling toward her at an alarming speed. The driver, distracted and oblivious, showed no signs of stopping. Mark''s heart froze. Before he could consciously process what he was doing, his legs moved on their own, carrying him toward the girl with an urgency that overrode his fear. ¡°Why... why can¡¯t I stop? I don¡¯t want to die now!¡± His mind screamed, yet his body ignored him. Every fiber of his being wanted to turn back, to flee, but his instincts¡ªor something beyond him¡ªpropelled him forward. In a single desperate motion, he lunged toward the girl, shoving her out of harm¡¯s way. The next moment, he stood alone in the truck¡¯s path. Without warning, the suffocating darkness around him transformed into a radiant light. Tiny, shimmering particles filled the air, glowing with a warmth that seeped into Mark¡¯s very soul. Each particle that brushed against him carried a soothing energy, as if wiping away the weight of his regrets, his failures, and his fears. ¡°What is this place?¡± he asked, his voice trembling with awe. He reached out a hand, letting the luminous particles dance across his fingertips. For the first time in years, he felt... alive. The voice returned, softer now, almost like a caress. ¡°Your journey begins here, Mark. Live without regret. Forge your path... and become what this world needs.¡± Mark''s heart raced as he struggled to understand. The warmth of the light enveloped him, pulling him further into its embrace. And then, with a flash brighter than the sun, everything went white. Mark¡¯s story was about to begin. Marked by the shadows As the blinding light faded, Mark found himself floating¡ªnot in the sky, not in space, but over a vast and breathtaking city. His breath hitched as he took in the majestic sight beneath him. The city stretched endlessly, illuminated by a mixture of warm golden lanterns and the soft glow of a crescent moon. Towering elegant buildings lined the streets, their architecture reminiscent of European royalty yet infused with a mysterious, ethereal aura. Wide stone-paved roads cut through the city, leading towards a colossal castle at its very heart. In the middle of the city stood a huge, breathtaking castle¡ªa masterpiece of architecture, exuding both elegance and power. Its towering spires reached toward the heavens, adorned with intricate carvings and shimmering crystalline windows that reflected the moonlight like scattered stars. And at the very top of the castle, standing proudly against the night sky, was a half-moon ornament, its silvery glow casting an ethereal radiance over the kingdom. Mark''s eyes flitted to the people below¡ªmen and women clad in luxurious noble attire, adorned with intricate embroidery and gemstones that shimmered in the moonlight. The carriages rolling through the streets weren¡¯t just ordinary ones¡ªthey were lavish, drawn by creatures that looked like a fusion of horses and mythical beasts. "Whoa¡­" he gasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Did I just land in an Isekai anime?! This is insane!" But his awe was short-lived. A sudden realization struck him. He was falling. "Wait¡­ wait¡­ WAIT!!!" The wind howled past his ears, tousling his hair as he plummeted at an alarming speed. The cityscape below rushed closer with every passing second, and panic surged through his veins like wildfire. "AM I GONNA DIE AGAIN?!" he screamed, flailing his arms helplessly. His heart pounded. His lungs felt empty. He braced for the inevitable bone-crushing impact¡ª But instead¡­ He passed through the ground. "...." Everything turned pitch black. Mark found himself falling again, but this time, it was slow, almost as if he were drifting through molasses. His body floated weightlessly, descending as though the laws of physics had simply given up on him. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Then, his feet touched something solid. It wasn¡¯t ground. It wasn¡¯t stone. It wasn¡¯t even something he could describe. The surface beneath him pulsed, shifting like liquid yet firm underfoot. And then¡­ They appeared. Hundreds of shadowy figures emerged from the darkness, forming a circle around him. Their bodies hummed with a purple glow, illuminating the eerie surroundings. Silent yet imposing, they all did the same thing¡ª They bowed. "Uhhh¡­" Mark blinked. "Are they¡­ bowing? To me? Oh no. Oh no no no no. What if I just walked into some kind of demon cult initiation?!" A pathway of glowing violet light formed beneath him, leading toward something¡ªno, someone. A colossal shadowy being sat before him, its form so massive that its head was obscured by the overwhelming darkness. Its sheer presence dwarfed everything else, exuding an aura that sent shivers racing down Mark¡¯s spine. His throat dried up. "What¡­ what is that thing?!" he thought, his body frozen in place. "And why is it just sitting there, like a final boss waiting for me to make the first move?!" Then, the enormous figure moved. It extended a massive, clawed hand toward him. Mark gulped. "W-wait a minute¡­ is it¡­ asking for a handshake?!" For a brief moment, the world stood still. Mark didn¡¯t dare move, didn¡¯t dare breathe. But before he could decide whether to run, scream, or offer a polite handshake to this nightmarish entity¡ª CRACK. The entire realm around him fractured like shattering glass. An overwhelming force rushed through his mind, and in an instant, memories¡ªhis memories¡ªcame flooding back. He saw his past life. He saw his father feeding him when he was a child. "Dad¡­" he whispered, his voice trembling. Then¡ªlight. Bright. Blinding. Overwhelming. And then¡­ Silence. When Mark¡¯s eyes fluttered open, he found himself lying on a soft bed in a dimly lit room. His head throbbed. "What¡­ happened?" His voice came out hoarse. "Where am I¡­?" He groggily pushed himself up, the soft fabric of the sheets slipping off his body. The air around him was cool, carrying a faint scent of lavender and aged wood. As he stepped down from the bed, his bare feet met the smooth wooden floor. He took a hesitant step forward, eyes scanning the room. It wasn¡¯t exactly luxurious, but it wasn¡¯t shabby either. The furniture was simple yet elegant, with a sturdy wooden dresser in the corner and a small window letting in slivers of moonlight. Then¡­ he saw it. A mirror stood directly in front of him. And as he gazed into its reflective surface¡ªhis breath hitched. A little boy stared back at him. His messy black hair hung slightly over his wide, violet eyes. His tiny hands trembled as he touched his own face. His face. "What the hell¡­?!" His mind spiraled into chaos. He had turned into a child. "What kind of twisted Isekai logic is this?!" His fingers gripped the mirror¡¯s edges as he studied his new, younger form, his mind racing with endless questions. Why was he a child? Where was he? What was that shadowy thing from earlier? And most importantly¡­ What the hell was going on?! Reincarnated in Another World… as a Kid?! Suddenly, a red-haired woman entered the room, her emerald-green eyes filled with concern. "Lorian, are you awake?" she asked gently, stepping closer. Mark¡ªnow Lorian¡ªfelt a rush of conflicting emotions. He was confused, but at the same time, he wasn¡¯t. After all, he had read countless isekai novels in his past life. This was just like those stories¡ªwhere someone wakes up in another world, in another body. But what worried him the most was the state of his new body. He was a child. A small, fragile, helpless child. His heart pounded as the woman¡ªwho seemed to be his mother¡ªapproached the bed. There was warmth in her expression, but also something else. Worry? Sadness? Relief? He couldn''t tell. She reached out and placed her palm on his forehead, her touch soft and soothing. "Thank goodness¡­ You scared me, my little moon." Mark¡ªno, Lorian¡ªstiffened at the unfamiliar term of endearment. ¡®Little moon?¡¯ His mind raced. Who was she? What kind of relationship did they have? Before he could ask, she pulled him into a gentle embrace. Lorian remained still, unsure of how to respond. Should he say something? Should he act the way this "Lorian" would? His lips parted, but before he could speak, the woman suddenly pulled back slightly and examined his face closely, her brows furrowing. "Lorian¡­ why do you look at me like that?" Lorian¡¯s body tensed. Crap. She noticed. She must be this child¡¯s mother, Mark¡ªno, Lorian¡ªthought to himself, trying to piece things together. What do I even say here? What if I mess up? Taking a deep breath, he forced a casual expression onto his face. "Uh¡­ I just woke up. Still kinda sleepy, I guess. That¡¯s why my face looks weird." The woman¡ªhis supposed mother¡ªstudied him for a moment before letting out a relieved sigh. "Oh, thank goodness. I was worried! You never wake up looking so grumpy." She patted his head affectionately before her eyes narrowed slightly. "But¡­ you also looked kinda scared for a second. Did something happen? Wait¡­ don¡¯t tell me those kids bullied you again?!" Lorian blinked. Wait, what? "What kids?" he thought, his mind scrambling to keep up. Did the original Lorian get bullied? Am I supposed to hold a grudge against someone?! Realizing he had taken too long to respond, he quickly shook his head. "N-no! I¡¯m fine. Don¡¯t worry about it!" His mother squinted at him, clearly suspicious. "Hmm¡­ if you say so¡­" she muttered, still watching him closely. Lorian felt sweat forming on his back. Crap, she¡¯s observant. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Just when he thought she might start interrogating him, her expression suddenly brightened. "Well, if you¡¯re fine, then that¡¯s all that matters!" She ruffled his hair with a smile. "Your father will be home soon, so let¡¯s eat dinner together, alright?" Lorian nodded hesitantly. "Sure¡­" he said, his mind racing. Father? Oh great. There¡¯s a dad in the picture too. He wasn¡¯t even done processing having a new mother, and now he had to deal with a whole new father?! What if this guy was strict? What if he asked a bunch of questions? What if he figured out Lorian wasn¡¯t actually his son?! Lorian¡¯s stomach twisted with anxiety. As if sensing his nervousness, his mother suddenly pinched his cheek lightly. "You¡¯re acting a little weird today, you know?" she teased, giving him a playful pout. "Did you hit your head while sleeping?" Lorian quickly shook his head. "No, no! I¡¯m just¡­ still waking up!" His mother laughed. "Alright, alright! Come on, get up. I¡¯ll help you wash your face before dinner." As she turned to leave the room, Lorian let out a small sigh of relief. Crisis averted. For now. But one thing was clear¡ªhe needed to learn more about this ¡°Lorian¡± kid before someone realized he wasn¡¯t actually him. A sudden thought entered Lorian¡¯s mind. So now¡­ I have a mother, huh? The realization settled in as he looked at the woman who had just left his room. It was strange¡ªhaving a mother again. Someone who fussed over him, worried about him. It felt¡­ warm. But at the same time, it made his situation all the more surreal. Pushing those thoughts aside, Lorian walked towards the door and pulled it open. The house was small but incredibly cozy. Everything was neat and tidy, giving off a homely feeling that instantly put him at ease. Right in front of his room was the dining table, set with wooden chairs, and just across from it was the kitchen, where his mother was busy preparing food. The aroma of freshly cooked meat and spices filled the air, making his stomach growl involuntarily. Guess reincarnation doesn¡¯t get rid of hunger, huh? Just as he was about to take a seat, the main door clicked open. A tall man with messy blond hair stepped inside, his face lighting up as soon as he spotted Lorian. "LORIAN, MY SON!!" Before Lorian could react, the man charged at him at full speed. What the¡ª?! Before he knew it, he was engulfed in a bear hug, his face smashed against the man''s chest. "I''M BACK!" the man shouted, squeezing him tightly before¡ª oh no¡ª He rubbed his beard all over Lorian¡¯s face. Lorian froze. His brain short-circuited. What. The. Hell. Is. Happening?! The rough, scratchy sensation of the man¡¯s stubble assaulted his cheeks as he struggled to break free. "H-Hey! S-Stop it! What are you doing?!" Lorian flailed his arms uselessly. The man only laughed, holding him even tighter. "What¡¯s wrong, my boy?! You used to love this when you were little!" I highly doubt that! Lorian thought in horror. This was Lorian¡¯s dad? He had imagined someone dignified, someone noble and serious¡ªsomeone who radiated the presence of a strict father figure. But this¡­ this golden retriever of a man was the complete opposite! His mother walked out of the kitchen, shaking her head with an amused sigh. "Oh honey, you¡¯re back?" Still trapped in his father¡¯s grasp, Lorian desperately sent her a silent plea for help. She, of course, ignored it. "The dinner¡¯s ready," she added with a smile. His father finally let go, setting Lorian down with a satisfied grin. "Perfect timing! I¡¯ve been dreaming about your cooking for weeks!" Lorian barely had time to process what had just happened before his father grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the dining table. "Come, come, let¡¯s eat!" Lorian sat down, still stunned. His mother placed a plate in front of him. The food looked simple¡ªgrilled meat, vegetables, and some kind of mashed potatoes¡ªbut the aroma was mouthwatering. His father, however, looked at it with a dramatic expression of awe. "Wife," he gasped, placing a hand over his chest. "Your cooking is a gift from the gods." She rolled her eyes. "Just eat, you big goof." His father didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He immediately grabbed his fork and began shoveling food into his mouth like a starving beast. Lorian stared, both fascinated and horrified. How does he still look handsome while eating like that?! His mother sighed again, but there was clear affection in her eyes. "Honestly, sometimes I feel like I have two kids instead of one." His father grinned mid-bite. "That¡¯s because I¡¯m young at heart!" Lorian couldn¡¯t help but snort at that. The meal continued, with his father cracking terrible jokes between bites, his mother shaking her head but smiling nonetheless, and Lorian trying his best to keep up with everything. It was strange. Chaotic. Loud. But for the first time since waking up in this new world¡­ It felt like a home. The Shadow Within It has been a week since I found myself reincarnated in this body, and I must say, I¡¯m starting to settle in. Well¡­ mostly. There were a few close calls where I nearly blew my cover, but thanks to my quick thinking (and a bit of luck), I managed to avoid any catastrophic slip-ups. Fortunately, my new father, Lain, happens to be the owner of the village library. This has been a godsend because it means I can bury myself in books all day without raising suspicion. And let me tell you, the revelations have been wild. You guessed it¡ªjust like every other Isekai world, this one has magic. Over the past few days, I¡¯ve devoured volumes on history, geography, and, of course, the intricacies of magic. Reading has always been second nature to me (thanks to my past life spent binging novels), so absorbing all this information has been a breeze. Currently, I¡¯m residing in Norm Village, a small settlement in the western part of the kingdom of Lunavar, nestled right beside Mountain Noss. Sounds majestic, right? Well, it should be¡ªit''s the fourth tallest mountain in the country, towering at a ridiculous 7,000 meters. That¡¯s nearly the height of Everest. No big deal. Now, let¡¯s talk about what truly matters¡ªthe power system. It¡¯s eerily similar to those I¡¯ve read about in fantasy novels. According to the book I¡¯m currently skimming through, every person is born with a mana heart, but only about half of them can awaken it and harness magic. Think of the mana heart as your internal battery for supernatural shenanigans. Then there are attributes¡ªessentially, elemental affinities like Water, Ice, Flame, and whatever else you can think of. Water is the most common, kind of like the default setting. Apparently, kids often inherit their parents'' attributes, but every now and then, someone lucks out and gets something completely different. And here¡¯s the kicker¡ªLorian¡¯s mana heart is already awakened. How do I know this? Simple. I can feel mana around me. And according to the book, that¡¯s only possible if your mana heart is active. Either way, things just got a whole lot more interesting. As the book explained, one could only wield their attributes after awakening their mana heart. Since Lorian¡¯s was already active, he didn¡¯t need to focus on awakening it¡ªbut mastering control was an entirely different matter. Fortunately, the book also outlined methods for honing that control. "Let¡¯s see if this actually works," Lorian muttered to himself. But he couldn¡¯t afford to test it out in the open. After all, what kind of seven-year-old casually experiments with magic instead of playing with sticks and rocks? That would raise too many questions. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Slipping out of the library, he followed the narrow dirt path that wound through the heart of the village, leading toward the dense forest beyond. The forest was vast, its towering trees stretching toward the sky, their thick canopies interwoven like an unbroken tapestry of leaves. The sun barely pierced through, casting the woods in an eerie twilight. It wasn¡¯t just the darkness that made it unsettling¡ªthis place was home to mana beasts, creatures brimming with raw magical energy. Wandering too deep was a risk, but Lorian had no choice. After trekking for a while, he found a secluded clearing and sat down, inhaling deeply to steady himself. Closing his eyes, the world around him faded into silence. Darkness enveloped his mind¡¯s eye, but as he focused, something stirred within the void. Countless tiny particles of light flickered around him like distant stars. Then, something changed. The particles coalesced, merging together in one place. Slowly, a familiar shadowy figure emerged¡ªthe same entity he had glimpsed once before. But this time, it was different. Now, he could see its head, yet its face remained eerily blank, a hollow void staring back at him. A chill ran down Lorian¡¯s spine. Panic seized him, and his eyes snapped open. His chest heaved as cold sweat trickled down his back. "What¡­ was that?" he gasped, his breath uneven. The entity¡­ could it be connected to my attribute? The thought gnawed at him, but he wasn¡¯t about to turn back now. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to calm down. After a moment¡¯s hesitation, he shut his eyes once more. The shadow reappeared, but this time, something was different. Lorian watched, unblinking, as the massive figure slowly began to dissipate. Wisps of darkness peeled away, revealing something hidden within its core. A sphere¡ªsmall yet pulsating¡ªfloated before him, a ball of pure darkness radiating an ominous purple glow. Lorian swallowed hard. "Should I¡­ touch it?" The thought sent a shiver of uncertainty through him. Before he could decide, he simply imagined himself reaching out¡ªand in that instant, something surged through his body. A force, raw and untamed, crashed into him like a tidal wave. "Did I¡­ unlock my attribute?" Lorian whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his chest. Slowly, he opened his eyes¡ªonly to be met with an eerie, violet glow reflecting off his hands. But that wasn¡¯t the only change. The once-dark forest around him no longer felt shrouded in shadows. Instead, it was as if an unseen veil had been lifted¡ªhe could see everything with perfect clarity, even in the dimmest recesses where no sunlight reached. He stood up, flexing his fingers as a strange sensation coursed through him. Focusing, he willed his mana to gather in his palm. Almost instantly, darkness swirled around his hand, forming a dense, opaque layer of shadow. It clung to his skin like living ink, refusing to dissipate even as stray beams of sunlight pierced through the forest canopy. Lorian¡¯s brows furrowed. "How is this possible?" he mused, turning his hand over. Shadows weren¡¯t supposed to exist in the light¡ªyet here they were, defying logic. A realization crept into his mind. This wasn¡¯t just any shadow. It was something else entirely. Something far more powerful. The Sight Beyond Sight As Lorian tried to make sense of what had just happened, a sudden noise made his body tense. "Mooook!!" A deep, guttural growl echoed through the forest. He turned sharply toward the source, his heart pounding. Glowing red eyes. A hulking figure. Razor-sharp tusks gleaming in the dim light. It wasn¡¯t just any boar. This thing was massive, easily twice the size of a normal one. Its fur bristled with wild mana, crackling faintly in the darkness. A mana beast. Before he could react, the creature lunged. "Shit¡ª!" His instincts took over. Without thinking, Lorian thrust his hand forward. Sching! From his palm, a jagged, shadowy spike burst forth, streaking toward the charging beast. Pierce! The dark projectile speared straight through the boar¡¯s skull. Its body crashed onto the forest floor with a heavy thud, twitching once before falling completely still. Lorian stood frozen, his breath shaky. Warm blood splattered across his face, the metallic scent filling his nostrils. He slowly lowered his trembling hand. His fingers were still tingling¡ªno, burning¡ªfrom the strange sensation. "What¡­ what was that?" His voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper. He glanced at his hand, expecting to see a weapon¡ªsomething, anything. But there was nothing. Just his own palm, stained with the aftermath of whatever had just happened. "Did I just¡­ kill it?" His mind raced. That spike¡ªwhere had it come from? He hadn''t summoned it on purpose. It had just¡­ appeared. Was this¡­ my power? A shiver ran down his spine. Whatever he had just done, it was only the beginning. Lorian¡¯s breathing was ragged, his body trembling from the rush of adrenaline. His eyes darted to the lifeless boar, its blood still warm on his skin. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. I really killed it¡­ He clenched his hands, trying to summon that shadowy spike again. He focused on the same feeling from before¡ªfear, desperation, raw instinct. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Nothing. He tried again. Still nothing. His brows furrowed. What the hell? Just moments ago, his power had worked perfectly¡ªalmost too perfectly. But now, when he consciously tried to use it, it refused to respond. Frustrated, he took a deep breath and held out his hand again. Come on¡­ Still, no response. Lorian clicked his tongue. "Of course, it wouldn''t be that easy¡­" It was getting late, and staying out any longer was too dangerous. He needed to head back before anyone noticed he was gone. But first, he had to clean himself up. He made his way through the forest, searching for a stream. Eventually, he found a small brook flowing through the trees. The water was cold, but he didn¡¯t care. He crouched down, cupping the water in his hands and splashing it over his face. The blood washed away in crimson streaks, swirling in the current before disappearing. He glanced at his reflection. His pale face stared back at him, eyes wide, still glowing faintly with a deep purple hue. Lorian flinched. Wait¡­ glowing? He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The eerie light had vanished. Just my imagination¡­? He shook his head. No, I know what I saw. His abilities were still an enigma, but he didn¡¯t have time to figure them out right now. He needed to act normal. If his parents suspected something, he¡¯d be in trouble. Taking a deep breath, Lorian wrung out his wet sleeves and hurried back toward the village. By the time he reached home, the sky was darkening. As he stepped inside, the warm glow of lanterns illuminated the cozy wooden house. The familiar scent of baked bread and stew filled the air. Just act natural. He slipped off his muddy shoes and walked in, trying not to look suspicious. "Lorian, where have you been?" A voice called out. He turned to see his mother, Erial, peering at him from the kitchen. Her golden-brown hair was tied back, and her sharp eyes studied him carefully. Lorian forced a smile. "Ah, I was just at the library. Got lost in a book and lost track of time." Erial narrowed her eyes. "You look exhausted. And your clothes are damp. Were you running around outside again?" Lorian let out a nervous chuckle. "Uh¡­ yeah. Slipped near the well. It¡¯s fine, though!" Please buy it¡­ She sighed. "You need to be more careful. Go dry off before you catch a cold." Relieved, Lorian quickly nodded and rushed to his room. As soon as he shut the door behind him, he exhaled deeply. That was too close. He leaned against the wall, his thoughts racing. Whatever happened today¡­ it was real. His powers existed. He had seen them, felt them. But now, they refused to appear again. Why? Lorian clenched his fists. He needed answers. But for now, all he could do was wait. Tomorrow, he¡¯d try again. The next morning, Lorian sat in the village library, a massive tome propped open in front of him. His father, Lain, was off organizing the shelves, leaving Lorian alone with the peculiar book he had found. The title? "DODGE OR DIE: A SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THOSE WHO DON¡¯T WANT TO GET SMACKED" Lorian blinked at the cover, his lips twitching. "Who even names books like this?" Curious, he flipped it open and skimmed through the chapters. Chapter 1: If You¡¯re Not Fast, You¡¯re Dead Chapter 2: Eyes Are for Seeing, Ears Are for Hearing¡ªUse Them, Idiot Chapter 3: Predicting Your Opponent¡ªOr How to Look Cool While Dodging Lorian let out a snort. "This is either going to be extremely useful or a complete joke." As he read further, the book explained that dodging wasn¡¯t just about reflexes¡ªit was about observation. By paying attention to an opponent¡¯s breathing, muscle tension, and even the shift in their weight, one could predict their next move before they even attacked. "Okay, so basically, I just need to become a human lie detector for punches?" The book also mentioned an advanced state some warriors achieved¡ªwhere their senses became so sharp they could feel attacks coming, almost like a sixth sense. Lorian leaned back, rubbing his chin. "So if I try to focus really hard¡­ will I unlock some crazy ability?" Worth a shot. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tried to expand his awareness¡ªlistening, feeling, sensing. At first, nothing happened. Then, something shifted. His body tensed as the world around him changed. It was subtle at first, like a ripple in the air. But then, everything turned into a faint shade of blue. The wooden shelves, the books, even the walls around him¡ªit was as if he was seeing the world through a different lens. And then he saw it. Thin threads of movement. Not actual threads, but lines of motion¡ªtrails showing where things were moving before they even moved. His eyes widened. He could see the path of a falling book on a shelf before it even started tipping over. He could sense something moving outside the library, behind the walls¡ªpeople walking past, the fluttering of birds in the trees. He gasped, snapping out of it. The blue tint faded, and everything returned to normal. Lorian sat there, stunned. "Wait¡­ what the hell was that?" He immediately tried again, focusing his mind. The blue filter returned, and so did the paths of movement. It was like time had slowed just enough to let him glimpse the future¡ªnot actual foresight, but a visual representation of everything happening around him. This¡­ this wasn¡¯t just dodging. This was something else entirely. The book had mentioned an advanced state, but this? This wasn¡¯t in the book. This was different. A memory surfaced¡ªone from his past life, from all the novels and anime he had devoured. There were abilities similar to this, ones known by many names. But in his favorite novel it was called- Emptiness This was something only a handful of people in the world could ever achieve. Lorian swallowed. "I¡­ I think I just unlocked something insane." The implications were massive. If he could see the paths of attacks before they happened¡­ if he could sense enemies through walls¡­ if he could predict movements in real time¡­ His combat potential just skyrocketed. And he had no idea how far this ability could go. The Oath of the Shadow Lorian made his way back to the forest, his heart pounding with excitement. He needed to understand what exactly this power was. He had seen its potential, but without control, it was nothing more than an unpredictable force. Standing in a small clearing, he took a deep breath and focused. The energy inside him stirred as he extended his hand, trying to will something into existence. A weapon¡ªno, something small, something simple. A deep black shape formed in his palm, stretching and solidifying until a dagger took shape. Its blade seemed to drink in the surrounding light, as if it were absorbing the world itself. He turned it in his hand, feeling its weight, the smoothness of its edge. ¡°This... this feels natural,¡± he muttered, spinning the dagger between his fingers. His body, once sluggish and unfamiliar, now felt light¡ªfaster, stronger. Curious, he focused again. This time, he activated the skill he had stumbled upon¡ªEmptiness. The world around him shifted. A faint blue hue tinted his vision, and suddenly, he could see beyond the trees. Beasts hidden behind thick trunks and tangled brush stood out as glowing silhouettes. Mana pulsed within them like embers in the darkness. He grinned. Without hesitation, he dashed forward. The wind roared past his ears as his body blurred through the trees. Every step felt effortless, his movements sharper and more controlled. He weaved between branches, his speed unnatural. Then¡ªhis first target. A C-rank Razorfang Wolf, prowling near a stream. It perked its ears, sensing something¡ªtoo late. Lorian¡¯s dagger sliced through the air as he lunged, his body twisting mid-air. Before the wolf could react, he was already behind it. A single precise slash, and the beast collapsed before it could even snarl. His grin widened. He turned his gaze to the distance¡ªmore glowing figures. Twenty-three more. He sprinted forward, the thrill surging through his veins. One after another, beasts fell¡ªa Shadowclaw Panther, a pair of Bladehorn Deer, a Burrowfang Mole. His newfound flexibility allowed him to dodge with impossible precision, his attacks flowing like water. With Emptiness active, he could see every movement before it happened, guiding him like an unseen force. Lorian finally stopped, his breath heavy, his limbs aching. The thrill of battle had pushed him beyond his limits, but now exhaustion crept in. He wiped the sweat from his brow, a triumphant grin still lingering on his lips. Then¡ªhe saw it. Orange flickers in the distance. Rising smoke staining the evening sky. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. His smile faded. His body stiffened, mind racing as realization struck. That¡¯s¡­ the direction of the village. For a moment, he just stood there, unable to process it. But then his legs moved on their own. His exhaustion vanished, replaced by a gnawing fear. No, no, no¡­ He sprinted. The closer he got, the worse it became. The air reeked of burning wood and blood. The once-familiar houses were nothing but charred ruins. Flames danced wildly, consuming what remained. Corpses littered the ground. People he had seen every day¡ªmerchants, farmers, children¡ªall lifeless. Their bodies twisted in agony, blood pooling around them. His chest tightened, his breath caught in his throat. ¡°The fk¡ª¡±** His home. His parents. He ran. His house was barely standing, the roof half-collapsed, the walls scorched. And there¡ªjust outside, in the garden¡ªtwo bodies lay motionless. Blood soaked the soil beneath them. A single sword wound carved through their chests. His father. His mother. Dead. The world blurred. A ringing filled his ears. His mind refused to accept it. This¡­ this wasn¡¯t supposed to happen. His hands trembled as he stepped closer, his knees threatening to give out beneath him. ¡°¡­No.¡± He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. A storm brewed inside him, twisting into something dark. Who did this? And why? The flames crackled around him, but all he felt was ice. Lorian¡¯s body tensed as Emptiness activated on its own. But this time¡ªit was different. The world shifted. His vision expanded beyond the burning ruins, beyond the crumbling houses. It was as if the structures themselves were transparent, their forms dissolving into outlines, allowing him to see everything that lurked beyond. And then¡ªhe saw them. Troops. Armored men marching in formation, dragging the surviving villagers in chains. Their wrists were bound, their faces hollow with despair. Women, children, the elderly¡ªnone were spared. And then, amid the sea of suffering, he saw him. A boy. He couldn¡¯t have been older than Lorian. His brown eyes gleamed with amusement as he tilted his head back, laughing¡ªlaughing¡ªas if the carnage before him was a mere spectacle. With an air of nonchalance, he stepped into an extravagant carriage, its exterior emblazoned with a golden emblem: A rose beneath the sun. Lorian¡¯s breath hitched. His hands trembled, not from fear¡ªbut from rage. Nobles. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. ¡°So that¡¯s how it is¡­¡± he muttered, his voice laced with venom. ¡°For a moment, I thought maybe this world was different. Maybe nobility here wouldn¡¯t be like the corrupt bastards from stories. Maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªthey¡¯d be better.¡± His eyes darkened. ¡°But I was wrong.¡± A suffocating anger coiled within him, deep and relentless. His nails dug into his palms, his teeth clenched so hard it hurt. They weren¡¯t rulers. They were parasites. His gaze locked onto the carriage, onto the boy inside. His voice was cold, a whisper carried by the crackling flame ¡°¡­Enjoy your laugh while you can.¡± Lorian¡¯s fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his skin, drawing blood. His entire body trembled, his breath ragged, his heart pounding like a war drum. The noble boy''s laughter still echoed in his mind¡ªmocking, cruel, indifferent to the suffering he and his people had caused. Lorian could still see them. The lifeless bodies of his parents, their blood seeping into the soil. The villagers, broken and defeated, dragged away like cattle. The homes he had begun to accept, the quiet life he was starting to embrace¡ªall reduced to ashes. He could taste the smoke in the air, thick with the stench of burning wood and flesh. His vision blurred, not from tears¡ªbut from rage. A deep, hollow rage. His voice shook as he whispered, ¡°I swear¡­ I will destroy them.¡± His breathing grew heavier, his shoulders rising and falling with each trembling breath. ¡°I will end them. I will shatter their legacy, crush their power, and erase the very concept of nobility from this world. The era of the privileged, of those who stand above others simply by birthright, will end¡ªand I will be the one to end it.¡± His shadow twisted unnaturally beneath him, pulsing as if it shared his fury. ¡°They think they are untouchable. They think they can take and take, without consequences.¡± He let out a bitter laugh, his voice raw with emotion. ¡°But they don¡¯t realize¡­ they¡¯ve just created their own downfall.¡± His mind flashed back to his past life. The years of torment. The cruel laughter of those stronger than him. The helplessness of being too weak to fight back. Back then, he had accepted it. Back then, he had endured it. But not this time. ¡°No more.¡± His voice was steel. ¡°No more cowering. No more staying silent. No more watching from the sidelines.¡± His gaze locked onto the noble¡¯s carriage, eyes burning with a newfound resolve. ¡°I will become stronger. So strong that no one will ever be able to stand above me again.¡± The world seemed to hold its breath. Even the crackling flames around him dimmed in the weight of his words. ¡°I will rise.¡± His shadow pulsed, tendrils of darkness curling around him like a living entity. ¡°And when I do¡ªI will tear down this rotten system with my own hands.¡± His breath steadied. His mind cleared. For the first time in both his lives, he had a purpose. A reason to grow. A reason to conquer. 5 years! Lorian collapsed due to the exhaustion. As Lorian¡¯s heavy eyelids fluttered open, the dim light of dawn filtered through the wooden ceiling. His body ached, his limbs felt like lead, and a dull pain throbbed in his temples. "You''re finally awake." A deep, yet calm voice echoed through the room. Lorian turned his head, his blurry vision focusing on an old man standing at the doorway. His figure was tall but slightly hunched, draped in a worn-out robe that hinted at years of hardship. A thick white beard covered half his face, but his sharp, piercing eyes held an unmistakable power. "Who are you¡­?" Lorian¡¯s voice was hoarse, his throat dry. The old man stepped forward, placing a bowl of steaming broth on the wooden table beside the bed. "Eat first. You¡¯ll need your strength." Lorian hesitated but soon felt the gnawing hunger clawing at his stomach. As he slowly sipped the broth, his mind raced. Where am I? Who is this old man? After a long silence, the old man spoke again. "I¡¯ve seen that look in your eyes before¡­ hatred, grief, the fire of revenge." He let out a heavy sigh. "But tell me, boy¡­ do you want to throw yourself into the battlefield as you are now? Weak? Unprepared? Or do you want to truly gain the strength to destroy those who wronged you?" Lorian¡¯s grip on the bowl tightened. He already knew the answer. He would become strong. Strong enough to burn the world if necessary. "Good." The old man smirked. "Then from this moment on, you are my student." Lorian clenched his fists. The exhaustion still weighed him down, but his resolve burned brighter than ever. "Who are you?" he finally asked, his voice steady despite his fatigue. The old man pulled up a chair, crossing his arms. "Names can wait. First, answer me this¡ªhow much do you know about the limits of your own power?" Lorian hesitated. He had awakened his shadow ability, created weapons from darkness, and even unlocked Emptiness¡ªthe skill that let him perceive everything in his surroundings. But he knew nothing about how far it could go. "Not enough." The old man nodded approvingly. "Good answer. Then let¡¯s begin." Before Lorian could react, the old man raised his hand. A terrifying pressure crashed onto him like an invisible boulder, forcing him down. Lorian gasped, his entire body screaming in protest. He could barely move. "Lesson one." The old man¡¯s voice was calm but absolute. "Strength isn¡¯t just about power¡ªit¡¯s about control. Your body, your mind, your abilities¡ªif you can¡¯t command them at will, then they¡¯re nothing more than useless tricks." The pressure increased, and Lorian gritted his teeth. His Emptiness activated on instinct, showing the old man¡¯s movements in a translucent blue hue¡ªbut it didn¡¯t help. He couldn¡¯t move his limbs, no matter how much he struggled. "Damn it¡­!" "You¡¯re relying too much on your instincts," the old man said. "What if your enemy can overwhelm those instincts? What if your power fails in the middle of battle? Will you just die like the rest of your village?" Lorian¡¯s eyes widened. Rage flared inside him. And then¡ª Boom! A burst of shadow erupted around him, shattering the invisible pressure. Lorian collapsed to his knees, panting. The old man chuckled. "Not bad. Your will is strong. But that alone won¡¯t be enough." Lorian looked up, his breath ragged. "Then teach me." The old man grinned. "That¡¯s the spirit. Get up. Your training starts now." Lorian stood up, his legs trembling under the lingering pressure of the old man''s technique. His body still ached from exhaustion, but his mind was sharper than ever. "Your name?" Lorian asked again, this time with more determination. The old man smirked. "Names don''t matter yet. First, take this." Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. He tossed a sword towards Lorian, a simple steel blade without any engravings or magical enhancements. "This is just a normal sword," Lorian muttered. "And yet, in the hands of a master, it can cut through anything." The old man¡¯s voice carried wisdom and weight. "Your power means nothing if your body can¡¯t keep up. Before you learn to wield your shadows, you will learn to wield steel." Lorian tightened his grip on the hilt. His training had begun. For the first six months, the old man drilled nothing but the fundamentals into Lorian. Stances, footwork, breathing¡ªhe had to master them all before he was even allowed to swing the sword properly. At first, Lorian was frustrated. He wanted to train his shadow powers, to master Emptiness, but his teacher refused. "Your foundation must be unshakable. Power is meaningless without control." Lorian didn¡¯t understand at first. But after weeks of practicing his stance, he realized that his movements became smoother. His reactions became faster. He was learning. A year into his training, the old man finally allowed Lorian to learn advanced techniques that didn''t rely on attributes. Lorian pushed himself to the limit, training tirelessly day and night. And as months turned into years, something changed. Lorian had lost everything¡ªhis home, his family, his past life. But in those five years, the old man had become something to him. A teacher. A mentor. A father figure. Their training was grueling. Lorian had been pushed to the edge so many times that he lost count. His hands bled, his body ached, but he endured. And the old man was always there, watching over him, guiding him. At night, they shared meals around a campfire, where the old man told stories about the strongest warriors in history. "Strength isn¡¯t about how much power you have," he once said. "It¡¯s about knowing when to use it." Lorian listened carefully. He had learned more than just how to fight. He had learned patience. Discipline. Strategy. And finally, at the end of those five years, the old man stood before him with a different look in his eyes. "This is the last lesson, Lorian." Lorian tightened his grip on his sword. He knew what was coming. "Show me what you''ve learned." The final battle between teacher and student was about to begin. The wind howled through the trees, rustling the leaves like whispers of an unseen audience. Lorian stood before the old man, his heart pounding like a war drum. For five years, he had been trained, forged in the fires of discipline and hardship. Now, he would face the very man who had shaped him. The old man raised his blade, a weathered yet deadly piece of steel that had seen countless battles. "Come," he said simply. Lorian exhaled, gripping his own sword. His fingers were steady. His stance, firm. This is it. Then¡ª The battle began. In a blur, the old man moved. His blade sang through the air like a whisper of death. Lorian barely had time to react¡ªhe twisted his body, just evading the first strike. Clang! Their swords met, sparks flying like fireflies in the dusk. Lorian staggered back, his arms shaking from the force. He''s faster than ever. The old man did not relent. He stepped forward, his movements precise, his blade flowing like water. Each strike was clean, effortless. Lorian dodged. Wind Step! His body glided to the side, barely avoiding another deadly cut. He''s testing me. Pushing me. Gritting his teeth, he countered. Phantom Cut! His sword feinted a downward slash before twisting mid-air. But¡ª The old man saw through it. With a simple twist of his wrist, he parried the attack as if swatting away a fly. "Too predictable." Lorian''s eyes widened. He barely had time to react before the old man flicked his blade¡ª A shallow cut appeared on Lorian''s cheek. Blood trickled down his face. His master narrowed his eyes. "Is that all you¡¯ve got?" Lorian inhaled sharply. His heartbeat steadied. He couldn''t win in a contest of strength. He couldn''t outmatch his master in skill. But he had learned something in these five years. His master had drilled it into him, day after day, lesson after lesson¡ªanticipate. Observe. Adapt. Lorian closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. Then¡ª He activated Emptiness. The world shifted into shades of deep blue. He could see the flow of his master¡¯s movements, the subtle shifts in his stance, the micro-adjustments of his grip. His master''s next move was already visible. The old man lunged. Lorian dodged before the attack even came. The old man''s expression flickered with surprise. "Oh?" Lorian countered. His blade shot forward with Sonic Dash, striking at an impossible angle. The old man raised his sword to block¡ª Too late. A sharp sting spread across his shoulder. A cut. Not deep, but the first wound Lorian had ever landed on him. The old man¡¯s lips curled into a smile. "Finally." They moved like shadows, vanishing and reappearing in bursts of speed. Swords clashed, steel ringing through the forest like a symphony of war. Lorian pushed himself beyond his limits. His movements became unpredictable. His sword no longer followed rigid forms¡ªit flowed, adapting to each attack. The old man was no longer leading the fight. Lorian was. Then, in a final exchange, they both lunged. Their swords flashed. Silence. Lorian stood, his blade just inches from his master¡¯s throat. The old man¡¯s sword, however, had stopped just before piercing Lorian¡¯s chest. A long pause. Then¡ª The old man chuckled. "You¡¯ve won." Lorian let out a breath he didn¡¯t know he was holding. His arms trembled, his muscles screaming in protest. His master stepped back, sheathing his sword. "You''ve surpassed my expectations, Lorian." A strange feeling welled in Lorian¡¯s chest. Victory? Relief? No¡ª Pride. His master placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "From today onward, you are no longer my student. You are a swordsman in your own right." Lorian barely had time to process his master¡¯s words before¡ª Crack. His sword trembled in his grip. A thin fracture spread along its length, splintering like a spiderweb. Then¡ª Shatter! The blade broke into two, the tip clattering to the ground. Lorian stared at the remains in his hand. The sword that had been his companion for five years, the blade that had endured countless hours of training, had finally reached its limit. Silence stretched between them. The old man exhaled. "It seems your journey with that sword ends here." Lorian clenched his fists. It wasn¡¯t just a weapon¡ªit had been proof of his growth, his struggles, his sweat and blood. But now, it lay in pieces at his feet. His master placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do not mourn a broken blade. A swordsman is not defined by the weapon he wields, but by the will that guides it." Lorian looked up, meeting his master¡¯s gaze. The old man smiled. "And I think it¡¯s time you forged a new one." Lorian stared at the shattered remains of his sword, expecting his master to hand him a new one. Instead, the old man crossed his arms and let out a deep sigh. "I''ve done enough for you, boy. Now you''re on your own." Lorian''s brows furrowed. "What do you mean?" "A swordsman must learn to stand on his own feet. If you want a new sword, find one yourself." The words struck him like a hammer. After five years of intense training, was he just supposed to wander off and search for a blade? Where? How? Frustration brewed inside him. He clenched his fists, thinking¡ªno, knowing¡ªthat he deserved a weapon after all he had endured. Then a thought struck him. His Shadow Attribute. His ability allowed him to create weapons, didn¡¯t it? He had summoned a dagger before. If he could do that¡­ why not a sword? Determined, he extended his hand and focused. He pictured a sleek black sword emerging from his shadow, its form rising like mist. But nothing happened. Lorian''s jaw clenched. He tried again. Still, nothing. His frustration mounted. "Why now? Why won¡¯t it work?" He had trained relentlessly, endured pain, sweat, and blood for five long years. And yet, at the moment he needed it most, his ability refused to respond. He took a deep breath, calming himself. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m thinking too much.¡± Instead of a sword, he imagined a dagger. Whoosh! A dark blade materialized instantly in his palm. Cold, solid, real. Lorian stared at it, then gritted his teeth. "Why a dagger? Why not a sword?" Closing his eyes, he delved deeper into himself. Just like the first time he awakened his ability. All went black. Then¡ª A shape formed in the darkness. A katana. Not just any katana¡ªhis katana. Dark as the abyss, its blade pulsed with a deep purple aura, like shadows coiling around it. It wasn¡¯t something he created on a whim. It had always been there, waiting for him to claim it. Lorian reached out. The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, power surged through his veins. It was overwhelming¡ªan immense, suffocating presence coursing through his very being. His eyes snapped open. The katana was in his hands. A perfect weapon, formed from the depths of his own power. From a distance, the old man watched in silence. His eyes widened as he recognized the blade. "It can''t be¡­ Is that¡­?" A moment later, realization dawned on him. He exhaled, a small smile forming on his lips. "Ohh¡­ I see." Syrus Academy The old man¡¯s gaze lingered on the dark katana in Lorian¡¯s hands, the eerie purple aura flickering like a dying ember. His voice carried a tone of understanding yet curiosity. ¡°So, you¡¯ve got yourself a sword.¡± He stepped closer, his sharp eyes scanning Lorian¡¯s stance, his grip, his expression. ¡°What do you plan to do with it?¡± Lorian¡¯s grip on the katana tightened. His thoughts drifted back to the blazing ruins of his village, the lifeless bodies of his parents, and the boy with brown eyes laughing under the crest of the Rose Under the Sun. ¡°What is your goal?¡± the old man asked, his voice steady. ¡°Do you seek revenge?¡± Lorian exhaled slowly. "Revenge... You can say that. For now, my only goal is to destroy the family that destroyed my village." The old man remained silent for a moment, then let out a dry chuckle. ¡°A single noble house? You think so small.¡± Lorian furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?" ¡°You believe toppling one family will change anything?¡± The old man shook his head. ¡°You¡¯ve seen it, haven¡¯t you? Nobility is a cycle. Kill one, and another takes their place. Destroy a house, and a new one rises. Do you want to cut a single branch or rip out the roots?¡± Lorian hesitated. He had never thought of it like that. ¡°Then¡­ what should I do?¡± The old man crossed his arms. ¡°You must reach a rank where nobles¡ªno, even kings¡ªhave no choice but to bow before you. Power is the only law they follow. And there¡¯s only one place that can lead you to that level.¡± ¡°¡­Where?¡± The old man smirked. ¡°Syrus Academy.¡± Lorian frowned, displeased. ¡°That place is filled with nobles. You expect me to train alongside the same people I despise?¡± ¡°Your hate is clouding your mind. Syrus isn¡¯t just an academy¡ªit¡¯s a battlefield.¡± The old man¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°Only the strongest walk out of that place as legends. You want to take down nobility? Then rise above them. Become a force even they fear.¡± Lorian remained silent, gripping his katana. ¡°You have two choices.¡± The old man continued. ¡°Stay here, train alone, and waste your years¡ªOR enter Syrus, sharpen your blade, and become a name that echoes through history.¡± A long pause filled the air. Then, with a deep breath, Lorian sheathed his katana. ¡°¡­Fine.¡± His voice was firm. ¡°I¡¯ll go.¡± As Lorian accepted his path, the old man took one last step closer, his expression turning solemn. "At the end, just remember¡­" his voice carried the weight of experience, of countless battles fought and lessons learned. "Not all nobles are bad." Lorian¡¯s eyes narrowed. "What?" ¡°Hatred blinds even the sharpest blade.¡± The old man crossed his arms. ¡°Some nobles are rotten, yes. But power itself does not corrupt¡ªonly those who are weak to it.¡± Lorian clenched his fists. "After everything I''ve seen, you''re telling me there are good ones?" The old man let out a dry chuckle. "You¡¯ll see for yourself." He turned away. "Just don¡¯t let your vengeance make you a fool. The world is not as simple as you think." Lorian stayed silent, watching the old man walk off. His words echoed in his mind, but right now, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to accept them. "Syrus Academy¡­" The top academy of Lunavar, the place where nobles dream of sending their children, where the next generation of rulers, warriors, and mages are forged. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. But me? How? I¡¯m just a commoner¡­ someone with no name, no status. No prestigious bloodline, no fancy last name that makes people bow when they hear it. Will they even accept me into the academy? I mean, the academy¡¯s main focus is selecting students with talent. If I show off, I might just get a chance. Yes, that¡¯s it! I¡¯ll just blow their minds. I''ll dazzle them with my sword skills , and they''ll have no choice but to let me in! ...Right? Wait. Nobles hate commoners. If I walk in and start flexing, those rich brats will probably try to jump me behind the school building. I can already see it: "Oi, peasant, how dare you breathe the same air as us?" Punch Kick Magic Explosion ...Yeah, no. I refuse to be some noble¡¯s punching bag. But on the other hand¡­ if I keep a low profile, they might think I¡¯m weak. And if they think I¡¯m weak, they¡¯ll mess with me even more. Damn it! What¡¯s the right move here?! Option 1: Show off, make enemies. Option 2: Stay quiet, get bullied. Option 3: ??? Profit? No, no. I need a plan. Maybe I should make an entrance so legendary that they won¡¯t even consider messing with me. Like... what if I show up wearing a cloak, say something cryptic like, "The shadows whisper your fate," and then disappear in a puff of black smoke? Wait, no. That sounds stupid. ...Actually, that sounds awesome. Alright, Plan A: Intimidation. Plan B: Swordplay. Plan C: Run away if everything fails. One month. I have one month to prepare. Syrus Academy, get ready. Because I¡¯m coming. Alright. Deep breaths. So, you want to enter Syrus Academy? The most prestigious academy in Lunavar? The place where nobles sip tea while learning how to swing a sword and throw fireballs? Great. Fantastic. Welcome to hell. The entrance exam isn¡¯t just hard¡ªit¡¯s designed to break your soul, crush your dreams, and make you question every life decision you¡¯ve ever made. Want to take the exam? Hah. Cute. You think you can just show up and start swinging your sword? Nope. Before you can even step foot into the examination hall, you have to get selected. Every year, about 100,000 poor souls gather with hopes and dreams of becoming legendary warriors, mages, and scholars. Out of that massive crowd, only 1,000 people actually qualify to take the exam. What happens to the other 99,000? Nobody knows. Some say they vanish. Others say they end up as janitors at the academy. A few try again next year, but they return with hollow eyes and a deep sense of regret. If you¡¯re one of the lucky (read: cursed) 1,000 who get selected, congratulations! Your first challenge is a three-hour written exam designed by sadists. Expect questions like: You thought fighting monsters was bad? Try fighting math. Half the applicants will leave this test looking like they¡¯ve aged ten years. Ah yes, the famous Survival Test. The academy drops you into a death forest filled with high-level mana beasts. No map. No supplies. No help. Just you, nature, and the constant feeling that something is watching you. Your mission? Survive and kill. This is where you realize some of these candidates aren¡¯t normal. That one guy who brought a spear? Already hunting a wyvern. That noble girl with shiny armor? Crying because her dress got dirty. That quiet kid in the corner? He''s already set up traps everywhere. Meanwhile, you¡¯re just standing there, wondering why you signed up for this nightmare. Oh, and don¡¯t forget¡ªmana beasts aren¡¯t your only problem. The other candidates can kill you too. Yes, you heard that right. There are no rules against murder. If someone decides you¡¯re weak, they¡¯ll take you out before the monsters can. After all, fewer competitors means better chances of getting in. And remember¡ªonly 500 people make it past this round. The rest? Well¡­ they don¡¯t talk about the rest. The Final Test (a.k.a. "Insert Pain Here") (Okay, I need to come up with something truly evil for this part.) Would it be a 1v1 tournament? Maybe a battle royale? A mystery challenge where the academy throws something unexpected at us? One thing¡¯s for sure¡ªit won¡¯t be easy. Only 300 people will make it into the academy. And if I want to stand among them, I need to bring everything I¡¯ve got. Syrus Academy isn''t just an academy. It''s a battlefield. But I¡¯m not here to quit. I¡¯ve trained for five years for this moment. If I have to burn my name into history, I¡¯ll do it. If I have to fight every noble brat in the way, I¡¯ll do it. If I have to survive hell itself, I¡¯ll do it. Because I¡¯m not here to lose. I¡¯m here to win. Shade Of Night I arrived here one month ago. And guess what? The place I saw while floating in the air before crashing into this world¡­ was actually this place. The Royal Capital of Lunavar. A city so grand that even the sky looks richer here. The roads are paved with smooth stones, the buildings stand tall and proud, and nobles walk around with their noses so high they might just choke on a passing cloud. There are markets selling magical artifacts, knights in shiny armor patrolling the streets, and mages casually lighting their cigars with actual fire magic. It¡¯s basically a medieval fantasy theme park¡ªexcept you can actually die here. What I Did for the Past Month? Train? Spar? Fight monsters? Hah. No. I spent the entire month in a library. Yes. You heard that right. One whole month sitting in a dusty old library, flipping through pages while old men with long beards glared at me like I was committing a crime. And no, before you ask, I wasn¡¯t wasting my time. I was working. I wasn¡¯t just reading¡ªI was creating. I figured that if I wanted to survive the Syrus Academy Entrance Exam, I needed more than just my sword. So I did what any genius would do. I studied combat techniques. I worked on creating my own skills. And how did I do that, you ask? By following the wisdom of this book in my hand. 69 Ways to Create Your Own Sht* This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Yes. That¡¯s the actual title. This Book Changed My Life (Probably) When I first found it, I thought it was some kind of joke. But the moment I opened the first page, I knew. This book was written by a madman. A genius, but a madman nonetheless. It contained theories, techniques, battle strategies, and secret arts that no academy would ever teach. It had moves like: "The Forbidden Nutcracker" ¨C a strike designed to shatter an opponent¡¯s ability to ever have children. Or "The Flying Slap of Doom" ¨C an open-palm technique specifically designed to humiliate arrogant noble brats. And let¡¯s not forget "The Ultimate Sleep Technique" ¨C which is literally just a fancy way of taking a nap in battle and pretending you were hit. For one month, I did nothing but read, practice, and experiment. I slashed the air until my arms went numb. I used my shadow to mimic different fighting styles. I even tested some techniques on wild chickens (don¡¯t ask, they deserved it). And now? Now I¡¯m ready. I have a solid offense, a proper defense, and a deep, personal connection with this ridiculous book. Back to the Present As I walk through the streets of the capital, I feel confident. Tomorrow, I¡¯ll take the first step toward entering Syrus Academy. I can already imagine it: The nobles will underestimate me. The instructors will be shocked by my skills. The entire academy will witness a commoner surpass them all. But first¡­ I need to find a place to eat. Because after a month in the library, I¡¯m starving. Well, food in this world is way better than my previous world. I mean, sure, my old world had some great dishes, but here? Everything is just... richer. The flavors are deeper, the textures more refined, and don''t even get me started on the meats. Take the Wyvern Steak, for example. It¡¯s grilled to perfection, with a juicy center and a smoky, slightly spicy outer layer. The meat is infused with mana, making it naturally tender and packed with energy. And then there¡¯s Moonlight Honey, harvested from bees that only collect nectar under the full moon. It¡¯s so sweet and smooth that just a single drop can make any dish taste divine. Oh, and the bread! They call it Evercrust Loaf. Freshly baked, it stays warm and crispy no matter how long you leave it out. You don¡¯t even need to reheat it. I swear it¡¯s some kind of magic¡ªliterally. Even the drinks are on another level. They have something called Mistberry Juice, which has this cooling, almost minty aftertaste that makes you feel refreshed instantly. And don¡¯t get me started on their alcohol. One sip of Elderfire Brew and your whole body heats up like you¡¯ve been wrapped in a warm blanket. Honestly, I could spend all day just eating my way through the capital. If the entrance exam wasn¡¯t tomorrow, I¡¯d probably be doing exactly that. But the biggest problem is¡­ money!! Sure, getting into the academy is one thing, but how am I supposed to pay the fees once I¡¯m in? Do they offer a "Defeated-Nobles Scholarship"? A "Survived-the-Entrance-Exam Fund"? No? Then I¡¯m doomed! Or at least, that¡¯s what I thought¡­ until that old man pulled one last trick before disappearing. Right before I left, he handed me a note¡ªjust a single piece of paper¡ªand then vanished like a mysterious mentor straight out of some overused trope. The note? It said: "Don¡¯t worry about the fees. I¡¯ll handle it. You just focus on passing. Also, I¡¯m 100% confident you will." Oh, sure, no pressure at all. Just casually betting on my success like I¡¯m some kind of prodigy. But the bigger question is¡ªwhere the hell is he getting this much money?! Academy fees aren¡¯t cheap. We¡¯re talking high nobility level expensive. Monthly allowances? Tuition? Dorm costs? Training expenses? Even a single mana-forged pen from that place probably costs more than my old house! So how is he affording all this?! Did he rob a royal treasury? Blackmail a king? Find a lost dragon¡¯s hoard? Become an underground gambling lord? I have no idea. And honestly¡­ I¡¯m kinda scared to ask. But hey, free money is free money. If some mysterious old man wants to sponsor me without explaining how, who am I to refuse? But anyway, the old man helped me a lot. I asked for his name more than a thousand times, and every single time, he just smiled and said, "It''s not the right time." Not the right time?! What does that even mean?! Is his name cursed? Will the world explode if I hear it too soon? Is he actually a retired god hiding from his old job? Or¡ªwait¡ªis this some kind of dramatic foreshadowing moment that I¡¯m too dumb to understand?! At this point, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if, years later, I finally hear his name, and the heavens crack open while some ancient prophecy starts playing in the background. Well, whatever. I¡¯ll just call him Old Man of Mystery for now. And since we''re on the topic of names, I made this katana too. Let¡¯s call it "Shade Of Night"¡ªbecause in the darkness, it¡¯s almost impossible to see. Seriously, imagine fighting someone at night, and they can¡¯t even see what¡¯s cutting them. It¡¯s like getting stabbed by a ghost. Stylish, deadly, and unfair¡ªjust the way I like it. "The Art of Self-Sabotage" Lorian tightened his grip around Shade of the Night, feeling its familiar weight in his hands. A weapon born from his own power, a blade that would carve his path forward. But before that¡­ His stomach growled. Loudly. ¡°¡­First things first. Food.¡± He navigated through the bustling streets of the Royal Capital, his eyes scanning the numerous stalls lined up along the roads. The aroma of roasted meat, freshly baked bread, and exotic spices filled the air, making his mouth water. One particular stall caught his attention. A vendor was frying something golden and crispy over a large pan, the sizzling sound almost hypnotic. He approached. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s that?¡± The vendor, a burly man with a thick mustache, grinned. ¡°You¡¯ve never seen fried mana beast meat before, lad? It¡¯s the specialty here in the capital. Makes you stronger! Gives you energy! And most importantly, it¡¯s delicious.¡± Lorian narrowed his eyes. ¡°Does it also give you debt? Because I have a feeling it¡¯s expensive.¡± The vendor chuckled. ¡°A smart one, huh? Well, one piece is five silver coins.¡± Five silvers!? For one piece!? Lorian almost choked. ¡°¡­Do you have a discount for first-time customers?¡± The vendor laughed harder. ¡°Kid, this ain¡¯t a charity.¡± Lorian sighed in defeat and handed over the money. The moment he took a bite, his annoyance vanished. The meat was crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside, bursting with flavors unlike anything he¡¯d ever tasted before. ¡°Damn¡­ This is unfairly good.¡± After finishing his meal, he resumed walking, taking in the sights and sounds of the city. Despite being home to the nobility he despised, he couldn¡¯t deny that Lunavar¡¯s capital was impressive. Grand buildings, towering spires, and an endless stream of people, all moving with a purpose. But Lorian wasn¡¯t here to admire the scenery. He had a mission. Lorian made his way through the crowded streets, his gaze fixed ahead. At the edge of the capital, a colossal bridge stretched over a vast river, leading to an island where the towering buildings of Syrus Academy dominated the horizon. The sight was almost surreal¡ªthe academy¡¯s grand spires piercing the sky, its massive gates standing like the threshold to another world. As he stepped onto the bridge, the sheer number of carriages moving toward the island surprised him. Ornate and luxurious, most were drawn by mana-enhanced horses, their hooves glowing faintly against the cobblestone path. Nobles, merchants, and hopeful candidates all made their way to the academy, each carrying their own aspirations. However, among all the carriages, one stood out. It was breathtakingly extravagant¡ªgilded edges, deep midnight-blue paint, and intricate silver embroidery tracing celestial patterns across its surface. But what caught everyone¡¯s attention was the crest emblazoned on its side¡ªa crescent moon resting over a field of stars. The symbol of House Lunavar. The ruling family of the kingdom. The entire bridge seemed to still as the carriage passed. Conversations quieted, and heads turned, some in admiration, others in pure awe. Even the noble families present, who were used to luxury, showed expressions of reverence. Lorian watched silently as the carriage glided past, escorted by knights clad in dark silver armor. Their presence alone exuded authority, their movements precise and disciplined. But what truly intrigued him was the overwhelming mana radiating from within the carriage¡ªdense, refined, and unlike anything he had sensed before. Who was inside? The direct heir? A member of the royal council? Or¡­ His grip tightened around the hilt of Shade of the Night. The ones who rule the kingdom. The ones who allow the nobility to trample over commoners. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain composed. Not yet. First, I have to step into that academy. With renewed determination, he continued forward. The entrance exam awaited him. The selection process was straightforward¡ªyet brutal. A massive, ancient artifact stood in the middle of the selection grounds, glowing faintly with runic inscriptions. The artifact was known as The Eye of Mana, an arcane construct designed to measure an individual¡¯s mana reserves with extreme precision. The top 1000 candidates with the highest mana levels would be selected to proceed to the actual entrance exams. One by one, candidates stepped forward, placing their hands on the artifact. As soon as they did, numbers flickered above it, displaying their mana levels for all to see. Gasps and murmurs spread through the crowd whenever someone displayed an exceptionally high number, while disappointed groans echoed when a number was too low. Lorian watched from the line, arms crossed. "Alright, time to show off a little." He had spent five years training¡ªhis mana had reached levels that should make even nobles tremble. If he wanted, he could shatter this artifact with sheer output. But¡­ there was a problem. "Too many powerful presences." Not just the examiners, but also hidden figures watching from afar. The nobles'' families, high-ranking academy officials, and even the royal family¡¯s representatives were likely observing. If he, a supposed commoner, displayed an absurd mana level, it would raise too many questions. Nobles already looked down on commoners¡ªif they suspected he was a threat, things could get troublesome. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "Guess I¡¯ll have to lower my mana output¡­ but how?" Then, an idea struck him. Shadows. He could manipulate them instinctively, and they were everywhere. The shadows of people standing near him, the shadows of buildings, even the shadow beneath his own feet. "If I distribute my mana through the surrounding shadows, the artifact should detect a lower amount." It was a gamble, but he had no choice. As he stepped forward, he placed his hand on the artifact, and at the same time, he willed his mana to seep into every nearby shadow¡ªcoating them, hiding within them, spreading his presence across the entire selection ground. The artifact hummed, analyzing his mana. Perfect. Just enough to pass, but not enough to stand out. Lorian smirked, but before he could fully relax¡ª Something went wrong. The mana he had spread into the shadows¡­ wasn¡¯t staying hidden. Instead, it was leaking back into the surroundings. The result? A crushing, suffocating pressure began to descend upon the entire selection ground. People started gasping. Some stumbled backward, clutching their chests. A few of the weaker candidates collapsed entirely, their faces pale with fear. Then¡ªchaos. ¡°W-what is this?!¡± ¡°A mana beast?! Are we under attack?!¡± ¡°Who¡¯s doing this?!¡± The entire area erupted into panic as the overwhelming pressure continued to spread. The problem was¡­ no one could pinpoint the source. Because Lorian had distributed his mana into every shadow, the pressure seemed to come from all around them. Even the examiners hesitated, looking around in alarm. "Oh, shit." Lorian maintained a straight face, acting just as confused as everyone else. Meanwhile, inside the academy, a group of authoritative figures¡ªincluding powerful professors and security forces¡ªwere alerted. Within moments, a team of academy elites arrived at the scene, their presence alone enough to quell the unrest. ¡°Silence!¡± one of them, an old man with a staff, commanded, his voice booming across the field. ¡°Calm yourselves! There is no enemy attack!¡± Slowly, the panic settled as the mana pressure gradually faded. The academy officials exchanged glances, clearly unsettled. ¡°One of the candidates must have lost control of their mana,¡± one of them murmured. ¡°But who? There was no clear source¡­¡± Lorian kept his mouth shut, standing among the crowd, blending in like an innocent bystander. One of the examiners sighed and rubbed his temples. ¡°Just continue the selection. We¡¯ll investigate later.¡± The selection resumed, but the tension in the air remained. Lorian let out a silent breath. "That was close." It wasn¡¯t the most subtle entrance, but at least no one suspected him. Gasps and whispers erupted among the candidates. "Twenty-one thousand eight hundred and ninety?! Is that even possible?!" "That''s nearly ten times the cutoff for selection!" "Is she even human¡­?" Lorian remained silent, his eyes narrowing as he observed the girl standing before the artifact. So, she¡¯s the real deal¡­ Yekina Lunavar. The princess of Lunavar. The presence he had sensed earlier from the extravagant carriage on the bridge¡ªnow standing just a few meters away. Unlike the others, who were either trembling or admiring her beauty, Lorian was deep in thought. "Why is she here?" A royal like her had no reason to take the selection exam. Most noble heirs¡ªespecially those of the ruling family¡ªwere granted direct entry. Yet here she was, going through the process like everyone else. A boy beside him whispered, "She''s so powerful¡­ but isn''t this pointless? She would have gotten in anyway." Another added, "Maybe it''s for appearances? So people don''t say she got in unfairly?" Lorian, however, wasn¡¯t convinced. He had seen enough manipulation and deception to know that things were never that simple. "There¡¯s a reason behind this." Yekina removed her hand from the artifact and turned away, her violet eyes sweeping across the crowd. She seemed completely indifferent to the overwhelming reaction her score had caused. Then¡ªher gaze locked onto him. For a brief second, Lorian felt her piercing stare. It was cold, calculating. He didn¡¯t move. Then, as quickly as it happened, she shifted her gaze forward and walked away, leaving the field in absolute silence. The announcer hesitated before clearing his throat. "A-amazing! Yekina Lunavar has recorded the highest mana output in the history of the selection exams!" Cheers erupted from the crowd, but Lorian wasn¡¯t paying attention anymore. "That look¡­" Yekina had glanced at him for just a moment, but it was enough for him to f eel something. Did she suspect something? The scoreboard flickered as thousands of names arranged themselves in order. A moment of silence hung over the candidates as they stared at the massive projection in the sky. Lorian, still trying to recover from the whole "panic-causing mana pressure incident," rubbed his temples. Alright, let¡¯s see where I rank. I made sure to suppress my mana output, so I should be somewhere in the middle¡ª Then, his gaze landed on the very bottom of the list. 1000. Lorian Eldric ¨C 780 MP "...Wait." His brain stuttered for a second. He blinked. Once. Twice. He rubbed his eyes. "Wait¡­ WAIT!" he shouted, his voice cracking slightly. "I¡­ I came LAST?!" Several candidates turned to look at him, confused by his sudden outburst. Lorian grabbed his head in despair. This has to be a mistake! I¡¯m at the BOTTOM? After all my training?! His lips trembled. Did I overdo it? Then it hit him. The mana I distributed in the shadows¡­ Did I distribute too much? His face darkened. He could already hear his old master''s voice in his head: "Congratulations, idiot. You sabotaged yourself." Meanwhile, the names continued to appear. 895. Asha Fosker ¨C 1350 MP 750. Darion Klevin ¨C 1750 MP 600. Varek Strom ¨C 2150 MP 480. Clive Ardent ¨C 2750 MP 370. Nadia Greves ¨C 3450 MP 250. Felix Alster ¨C 4400 MP 150. Rael Von Astra ¨C 5800 MP 100. Sylvaine Roarke ¨C 7500 MP Lorian felt a vein pop in his forehead as he saw people ranking higher than him with double, triple, and even ten times his mana output. Some candidates started whispering. "Hey, did you see? Some commoner named Lorian Eldric barely made the cut!" "He¡¯s at the absolute bottom¡­ man, that¡¯s embarrassing." "How the hell did someone like him get in? He must be lucky." Lorian forced a smile. A twitching, barely-contained smile. "Calm down, Lorian. Violence is not the answer. Deep breaths." Then another noble scoffed, "He should just quit now. No way he survives the next round." Lorian¡¯s eye twitched. His thoughts went dark. "You smug bastards¡­ Just you wait. When we get to the next test, I¡¯ll make you cry for your mothers." With his fists clenched and a silent vow to utterly humiliate his competition in the next round, Lorian turned his attention back to the scoreboard. There were only three names left to be revealed. The Top 3. 3. Zephyr Valken ¨C 20,657 MP A murmur spread through the candidates as the third-place name appeared. "Zephyr Valken? The genius from the Valken family?" "I heard he¡¯s a sword prodigy and an expert in wind magic." Lorian, still mourning his pathetic last-place ranking, lifted his head slightly. Hmm¡­ Valken, huh? Never heard of him. Then, the second name appeared. 2. Yenika Lunavar ¨C 21,890 MP Lorian, who was still in the middle of processing his defeat, suddenly snapped out of it. "...Wait, WHAT?!" His jaw almost hit the ground. "She came SECOND?! With that much mana?!" He whipped his head towards the opposite side of the arena, where Yenika Lunavar was sitting. Unlike the rest of the candidates, who were either excited or in awe, Yenika''s face remained cold and unreadable. However, there was a slight furrow in her brows, a faint sign of disappointment. Lorian gulped. That¡¯s her disappointed?! Someone behind him whispered, "Man, if that much mana wasn¡¯t enough for first place, then who the hell¡­" And as if answering the question, the final name appeared. 1. Arsin Nicova ¨C 39,999 MP Silence. A suffocating silence swept through the entire ground. Even the nobles, who were boasting moments ago, shut their mouths. The number was almost double Yenika¡¯s mana output. For a moment, Lorian thought the artifact must have malfunctioned. But then, a slow, deliberate chuckle echoed from the other side of the selection area. A boy with short silver hair and piercing crimson eyes stood up, his posture completely relaxed. Arsin Nicova. "Man¡­ I really wanted to hide my strength a little longer," he muttered, stretching his arms as if he had just woken up from a nap. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement. Lorian instinctively narrowed his gaze. This guy¡­ he''s different. But then his own name at the bottom of the list caught his attention again, and reality came crashing down. Wait a damn minute¡­ "I ranked 1000th while there are monsters like these guys at the top?!" His face twisted in horror. "I¡ªI have to fight against people like them in the next round?!" He felt an existential crisis creeping in. Meanwhile, on the opposite side, Yenika, still looking at the scoreboard, simply closed her eyes and sighed. "Tch. Second place." Lorian sat frozen in the middle of the now-empty selection ground, staring blankly at the scoreboard. 1000th place... His entire body slumped forward. "I''m literally hanging on by a thread!" The other candidates had already left to prepare for the written exam in a few hours. Even the teachers had disappeared, probably discussing how to handle the "mysterious mana pressure incident." But Lorian? He remained there, lost in his own pit of despair. "I mean... I did this to myself, didn''t I?" He groaned. "Why did I distribute so much mana? I should''ve just¡ª" Then a sudden thought hit him. "Wait a minute... what would my real MP have been if I didn¡¯t try to hide it?" His eyes widened as curiosity replaced his despair. He looked around. The field was empty. Not a single soul in sight. Slowly, he stood up and made his way toward the artifact. His heartbeat quickened. "Just a quick touch. Just to check. No one will know." He gulped. His fingers hovered over the artifact. And then¡ª "Hey, kid, what are you doing?" "¡ª!!!" Lorian''s soul almost left his body. A rough voice came from behind him. He spun around so fast he nearly twisted his neck. It was a janitor¡ªa middle-aged man with a broom in one hand and a lazy expression. Lorian did the first thing that came to his mind. He bolted. "HEY! WHAT THE HELL?!" the janitor shouted, watching the boy disappear like a thief caught in the act. Lorian ran as if his life depended on it. Meanwhile, the janitor scratched his head in confusion. "What the hell was that about?" Then, just as he was about to continue sweeping¡ª BEEP. The artifact suddenly lit up. Numbers flashed. 1,890... 7,600... 20,010... The janitor frowned. "Huh?" Then the numbers skyrocketed. 25,890... 40,938... His broom fell to the ground. 50,509. "..." The janitor took a step back, his face pale. "What the fuck¡­" Moonlit Mayhem The selection test had finally wrapped up, and the massive crowd of candidates spilled into the sprawling courtyard of Syrus Academy. The air buzzed with excitement, disbelief, and a generous helping of gossip. The towering scoreboard still loomed in the sky, its glowing numbers a constant reminder of triumph for some and utter despair for others¡ªlike Lorian Eldric, who was currently slouched on a stone bench, staring at the ground as if it owed him an apology. ¡°780 MP. Last place. I¡¯m basically the academy¡¯s mascot for failure. Maybe I should just dig a hole, crawl in, and let the earth reclaim me,¡± he thought, wallowing in self-pity. His stomach growled again, a loud, obnoxious rumble that echoed through the courtyard. He groaned, clutching his midsection. ¡°Great. Even my body¡¯s mocking me now.¡±Around him, the other students mingled, their voices a chaotic symphony of chatter. Groups formed naturally¡ªsome clustered around the top performers, others whispering about the mysterious mana pressure incident that had nearly turned the selection grounds into a panic-fueled mosh pit. Near the center of the courtyard, a small crowd had gathered around Arsin Nicova, the silver-haired prodigy who¡¯d topped the selection test with a jaw-dropping 39,999 MP. His crimson eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and humility as students bombarded him with questions.¡°Arsin, how do you even train for that kind of mana output?¡± a wide-eyed boy asked, practically vibrating with awe. Arsin smiled politely, scratching the back of his neck. ¡°Oh, you know, lots of meditation, a balanced diet, and¡­ uh, not panicking when your mana beast pet tries to eat your spellbook.¡±The group laughed, hanging onto his every word. A girl with braided hair leaned in. ¡°You¡¯re so modest! I bet you could take on the entire faculty with that kind of power!¡±¡°Oh, no, no,¡± Arsin said, waving his hands. ¡°I¡¯m just here to learn, same as everyone else. Besides, I¡¯d rather not get expelled on day one. ¡±Lorian, still sulking on his bench, overheard the exchange and rolled his eyes so hard he nearly strained a muscle. ¡°Perfect hair, perfect manners, perfect mana. This guy¡¯s a walking recruitment poster."If it was a story of a novel, he surely would be the main character....I hate him already.¡± On the opposite side of the courtyard, another spectacle unfolded. Yenika Lunavar, the violet-eyed princess who¡¯d clocked in at 21,890 MP and snagged second place, stood surrounded by her own entourage. Her midnight-blue cloak fluttered dramatically in the breeze, and the students around her practically bowed as they spoke.¡°Princess Yenika, your performance was flawless!¡± a girl gushed, clasping her hands together. ¡°Truly worthy of the Moon Princess!¡±Yenika¡¯s expression remained cool, though her lips twitched slightly. ¡°Thank you. But second place is hardly flawless.¡±The crowd gasped in unison, as if she¡¯d just admitted to eating peasants for breakfast. A boy piped up, ¡°Second place with that much mana? You¡¯re still the Moon Princess in our eyes!¡±¡°Indeed,¡± another added. ¡°The crescent moon shines brightest when it¡¯s not trying to outdo the sun!¡±Lorian snorted from his bench, loud enough to draw a few glances. ¡°Moon Princess? More like Ice Queen with a side of melodrama.¡± Unfortunately, his snort wasn¡¯t as subtle as he¡¯d hoped. Yenika¡¯s sharp gaze snapped toward him, and the courtyard seemed to hush for a split second.¡°Is something funny?¡± she asked, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.Lorian froze, his brain screaming ABORT MISSION. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°Uh¡­ no, just, uh¡­ allergies. Dust in the air. You know how it is.¡±Her eyes narrowed, but she turned back to her admirers without another word. Lorian exhaled, slumping further into his bench. Just when Lorian thought he could fade into obscurity, fate¡ªor perhaps sheer bad luck¡ªhad other plans. A loud, obnoxious voice rang out from a nearby group of students.¡°Hey, isn¡¯t that the guy who got last place? Lorian something? 780 MP¡ªwhat a legend!¡±Lorian¡¯s head snapped up, his face turning a delightful shade of tomato red. The speaker was a burly kid with a smirk that begged to be punched. His friends snickered, egging him on.¡°Yeah, how¡¯d he even get in? Did he bribe the artifact with his dazzling personality?¡±Lorian shot to his feet, fists clenched. ¡°Deep breaths, Lorian. Violence is a last resort. Humiliation is step one.¡± He marched over, forcing a grin that was more grimace than smile.¡°Excuse me, but I think you¡¯ve got it wrong,¡± he said, voice tight. ¡°I earned my spot. Mana¡¯s not everything¡ªI¡¯ve got skills you couldn¡¯t dream of.¡±The burly kid laughed. ¡°Skills? Like what? Tripping over your own feet?¡±Before Lorian could retort with something clever¡ªor, more likely, something disastrously stupid¡ªArsin stepped in, his calm presence diffusing the tension like a bucket of water on a campfire. ¡°Now, now,¡± Arsin said, smiling warmly. ¡°Everyone here passed the selection test. That¡¯s no small feat. Lorian¡¯s got potential¡ªI¡¯m sure of it.¡±Lorian blinked, caught off guard. ¡°Is he¡­ defending me? Or pitying me? Either way, I¡¯m not sure I like it.¡±The burly kid scoffed but backed off under Arsin¡¯s polite-but-firm gaze. ¡°Whatever, Nicova. You¡¯re too nice for your own good.¡±Arsin turned to Lorian, his expression genuine. ¡°Don¡¯t mind them. They¡¯re just excited about the results. ¡±Lorian muttered, ¡°Yeah, excited to rub my face in the dirt.¡±Arsin chuckled. ¡°You¡¯ll get your chance to shine in the next tests. I¡¯m looking forward to seeing what you can do.¡±¡°Great, now I¡¯ve got Mr. Perfect cheering me on. No pressure.¡± Lorian forced a nod. ¡°Thanks. I guess.¡±Determined to escape the spotlight, Lorian decided to slink away. He turned on his heel¡ªonly to crash directly into someone. His arms flailed, and he barely caught himself from face-planting. The courtyard gasped as one collective entity.He looked up, and his heart sank into his boots. Yenika Lunavar stood before him, her cloak slightly askew, her violet eyes blazing with irritation.¡°Watch where you¡¯re going,¡± she snapped, brushing off her sleeve as if he¡¯d contaminated it. ¡°I-I¡¯m so sorry!¡± Lorian stammered, bowing awkwardly. ¡°Total accident, I swear!¡±The onlookers whispered furiously. ¡°Did he just touch the Moon Princess?¡± ¡°He¡¯s dead. So dead.¡±Yenika straightened, her glare icy enough to freeze lava. ¡°Be more careful. Next time, I won¡¯t be so lenient.¡±¡°Yes, ma¡¯am¡ªer, Princess¡ªer, Your Highness!¡± Lorian babbled, backing away. ¡°Why does this keep happening to me?!¡±Arsin, who¡¯d witnessed the whole debacle, approached with a barely-suppressed grin. ¡°Well, that was¡­ eventful. You okay, Lorian?¡±Lorian groaned, rubbing his face. ¡°Define ¡®okay.¡¯ I just turned the princess into my personal enemy.¡±¡°She¡¯s not that bad,¡± Arsin said, clapping him on the shoulder. ¡°She¡¯s just¡­ particular.¡±¡°Particular like a dragon¡¯s particular about its hoard,¡± Lorian muttered.As if the universe hadn¡¯t had enough fun, a sudden commotion erupted nearby. A girl shrieked as a tiny dragon familiar¡ªscales glinting green¡ªdarted through the crowd, leaving chaos in its wake. It zipped past Yenika (who sidestepped with regal grace), dodged Arsin (who just smiled), and made a beeline for Lorian.¡°Oh, come on!¡± Lorian yelped, diving out of the way. The dragon crashed into his bench instead, toppling it with a dramatic CRASH. The owner, a flustered girl with glasses, ran over. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry! He¡¯s not usually this wild!¡±Lorian picked himself up, brushing dirt off his pants. ¡°Yeah, well, he¡¯s got great taste in targets.¡±The crowd erupted in laughter, and even Yenika¡¯s lips twitched¡ªthough she quickly masked it with a cough. Arsin helped right the bench, still chuckling. ¡°You¡¯ve got a knack for attracting attention, Lorian.¡±¡°More like a curse,¡± Lorian grumbled.A loud bell rang, cutting through the chatter. An announcer¡¯s voice boomed: ¡°All candidates, proceed to the examination hall for the written test!¡±Lorian sighed, joining the stream of students. Arsin fell into step beside him. ¡°Good luck in there. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll do great.¡±¡°Yeah, unless the test involves not tripping over princesses,¡± Lorian said dryly.Arsin laughed. ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out.¡±As they walked, Lorian caught Yenika glancing at him again, her expression unreadable. ¡°What¡¯s her deal? Does she know something? Or does she just enjoy watching me squirm?¡±With his pride bruised, his bench toppled, and his dignity in tatters, Lorian steeled himself for the next challenge. ¡°Next test, I¡¯m crushing it. No more last place. No more chaos. Just pure, unadulterated victory.¡±His stomach growled again.¡°¡­After I find more of that fried mana beast meat.¡± The Exam of Fate The cobblestone path to the examination hall stretched out before them, lined with fluttering cherry blossoms that danced in the breeze. Yenika Lunavar, the illustrious Moon Princess of the Lunavar Empire, strode with her usual elegance¡ªhead held high, silver hair shimmering like moonlight, and violet eyes sharp enough to cut through any illusion. Yet today, those eyes were glued to a most perplexing sight. She couldn¡¯t stop staring. It wasn¡¯t his messy brown hair or the way his uniform looked like it had lost a fight with a laundry basket. No, it was something deeper¡ªsomething that gnawed at her finely tuned magical instincts. ¡°Am I mistaken?¡± she mused, her thoughts swirling like a storm in a teacup. ¡°Or¡­ no, impossible. My eyes¡ªnay, my very soul¡ªcannot be deceived. I¡¯m certain I sensed an enormous aura from him, just for a fleeting moment!¡± But then Lorian tripped over a pebble¡ªyes, a pebble¡ªand flailed his arms like a windmill in a hurricane, nearly toppling into a rosebush. Yenika¡¯s regal composure twitched. Lorian, oblivious to the princess¡¯s internal crisis, was too busy grumbling to himself. ¡°780 MP¡­ I¡¯m basically a magical potato. Maybe I should just sweep the halls instead¡ªjanitors don¡¯t need mana, right?¡± He kicked a stone, which promptly ricocheted off a tree and bonked him on the forehead. ¡°Ow! See? Even the rocks hate me!¡± The air had thrummed with raw mana, a tidal wave of power that sent professors scrambling and students gaping. And amidst the pandemonium, her gaze had locked onto Lorian¡ªstanding there, scratching his head like he¡¯d forgotten his lines in a play. ¡°Was it truly him?¡± she wondered, twirling a strand of hair around her finger¡ªan uncharacteristically fidgety gesture for someone of her stature. ¡°Or did the testing artifact just sneeze out a glitch? No, no, my eyes can''t be wrong. That was no illusion¡ªit was power, pure and untamed!¡± She stole another glance at him. Lorian was now attempting to adjust his crooked tie, only to strangle himself in the process. ¡°And yet¡­ look at him! He¡¯s a walking catastrophe! How could such a clown conceal anything remotely impressive?¡± Suddenly, Lorian halted mid-step and spun around, catching her mid-stare. ¡°Uh, Princess? You¡¯ve been eyeing me like I¡¯m a rare monster specimen. Is there spinach in my teeth or something?¡± Yenika froze, her royal poise cracking like a dropped teacup. ¡°I¡ªpardon?¡± she stammered, her voice a pitch higher than intended.He patted his cheek dramatically. ¡°You know, dirt? A bug? Maybe a second nose sprouting? You¡¯re making me paranoid here!¡± Her cheeks flushed a faint pink¡ªa scandalous sight for the unflappable Moon Princess. ¡°N-no, there¡¯s nothing on your face,¡± she snapped, regaining her footing. ¡°I was merely¡­ contemplating.¡±¡°Contemplating?¡± Lorian arched a brow, grinning like he¡¯d just won a prize. ¡°Don¡¯t flatter yourself. I have far grander concerns than your¡­ questionable coordination.¡±But as they resumed their trek, her mind circled back to that mysterious surge of mana. ¡°There¡¯s something about him,¡± Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. she thought, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Something buried beneath that ridiculous exterior. A diamond in the rough¡­ or perhaps just a very shiny lump of coal. ¡±Lorian, meanwhile, was lost in his own world, muttering about the upcoming written test. ¡°If I ace this, maybe they¡¯ll overlook my mana flop. Ha! As if. I¡¯ll be lucky if I don¡¯t accidentally set my paper on fire¡­¡± The grand doors of the examination hall loomed ahead, their golden carvings glinting in the sunlight. Yenika cast one final, sidelong glance at Lorian, her curiosity blazing brighter than ever. With a swish of her cloak, she marched inside, her resolve as unshakable as the moon itself. Lorian followed, still oblivious¡ªand still muttering about janitorial career prospects. The moment they stepped into the examination hall, a hush fell over the room. Ornate chandeliers cast a golden glow over the grand space, their light reflecting off polished marble floors. Rows of students in pristine uniforms sat rigidly at long mahogany tables, their expressions a mix of tension and quiet determination. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and ink, and at the far end of the hall, a massive, rune-etched obelisk pulsed faintly¡ªits purpose clear. Yenika barely acknowledged the elaborate surroundings, her mind still tangled in thoughts of Lorian¡¯s inexplicable power. She had spent years honing her senses to detect even the most subtle shifts in mana, and what she had felt earlier was no mere flicker. It was an eruption, a momentary glimpse into something vast and untamed. Yet, as she stole another glance at the boy, he was¡ªutterly mundane. He fumbled with his quill, nearly knocking over an inkwell, and let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand academic regrets. ¡°Alright, Lorian,¡± he mumbled under his breath. ¡°Time to prove you¡¯re at least smarter than a magical potato.¡± A sharp rap of a cane against the marble floor drew everyone¡¯s attention. Professor Aldric, the venerable head of the Academy¡¯s Examination Board, stood at the front with an air of quiet authority. His deep-set eyes swept across the hall, lingering for a moment on Yenika before settling, somewhat incredulously, on Lorian. ¡°The written portion of the Entrance Examination shall now commence,¡± Aldric announced, his voice carrying effortlessly. ¡°You will have two hours to complete the assessment. Any use of external aids or magic is strictly prohibited.¡± His gaze sharpened, as if daring someone to test his patience. ¡°Begin.¡± A collective rustling of parchment filled the hall as students flipped over their test sheets. Yenika¡¯s eyes scanned the questions with practiced ease, her quill gliding effortlessly across the page. Equations, historical recountings, arcane theorems¡ªnothing was beyond her grasp. Lorian, on the other hand, stared at his paper with the enthusiasm of a man confronting his own doom. ¡°Why,¡± he whispered to himself, ¡°does this question have so many words? Are they trying to summon a demon with sheer paragraph length?¡± He scribbled a tentative answer, only to groan and scratch it out. ¡°Okay, Lorian. Think. You studied for this¡­ kind of.¡± Yenika¡¯s quill paused mid-stroke as she caught his murmurs. Was he truly as incompetent as he seemed? Or was this an elaborate act? Her fingers tapped lightly against her desk as she considered the possibilities. Perhaps his talent lay outside of academics¡ªan oddity, but not impossible. Then, just as she was about to return to her own work, Lorian¡¯s world shifted. The ink on his page darkened, the glow of the chandeliers dimming into a muted, frozen blue. Time itself seemed to stutter, the world around him slowing as an eerie silence swallowed all sound. The vibrant colors of reality drained away, leaving only shades of deep indigo and pale cerulean. No one reacted. No one noticed. Because only Lorian could perceive it. His breath hitched. He had been careful¡ªso careful. He hadn¡¯t meant to let it happen, not here, not now. But the sensation was unmistakable. The emptiness had surfaced, draping itself over him like a second skin, and with it came an unbearable stillness. The obelisk at the front of the hall flickered, its runes twisting for the briefest of moments¡ªbefore snapping back to normal. The ripple was gone before it could fully take hold. Lorian clenched his fist beneath the table. No. Not now. Not here. And then, just as suddenly as it began, the world snapped back into motion. Ink returned to its proper hue. The glow of the chandeliers brightened once more. Students continued scribbling, utterly unaware of the shift that had just taken place. Even Yenika, who had been studying him with subtle curiosity moments before, showed no reaction. Lorian exhaled slowly, forcing his grip on the quill to loosen. It hadn¡¯t lasted long. He had managed to suppress it in time. But deep down, he knew the truth. It was getting harder to contain.