William drifted in a vast expanse of nothingness, suspended between wakefulness and oblivion. Slowly, sensations began to filter through the fog enveloping his mind—a gentle hum, like distant whispers carried on the wind, and a soft glow that penetrated his closed eyelids. He became aware of his own breathing, shallow and rhythmic, as he floated aimlessly in the void.
With a monumental effort, he forced his heavy eyelids to open. The sight that greeted him was nothing short of surreal. He found himself lying on a surface that rippled like water yet supported him like solid ground. Above stretched an endless sky, but not one he recognized. It was a tapestry of swirling colors—indigos blending into deep crimsons, streaks of gold intertwining with silvery threads. Countless luminous strands crisscrossed the sky, each thread pulsing with its own hue and rhythm, weaving an intricate web that seemed to hold the very fabric of this place together.
All around him floated images—fragmented scenes of battles won and lost, lovers parting and reuniting, kingdoms rising and falling. The whispers he heard were the voices of countless souls, their stories echoing softly in the ethereal expanse. Every so often, a fragment would drift close enough for him to catch a glimpse: a hero brandishing a flaming sword, a child laughing amidst a field of stars, an ancient tree shedding leaves of pure light.
"Where... am I?" William murmured, his voice barely more than a breath.
He felt disconnected, both from this uncanny environment and from himself. The memories of his ordeal at the hands of Gesalle were mercifully distant, yet their shadows lingered, dulling his senses and weighing upon his spirit. He tried to sit up, his limbs responding sluggishly, as if moving through syrup.
"Awake at last," a calm, resonant voice spoke.
Startled, William turned his head to see a figure approaching. The man seemed to materialize from the very threads that wove the sky, his form coalescing into solidity as he drew near. He was tall and poised, clad in robes that shimmered with shifting patterns—stories captured in fabric. His silver hair cascaded over his shoulders, and his eyes held the depth of countless tales, irises swirling with colors and images that defied description.
"Who are you?" William asked, his voice hoarse.
"I am Lorevion Chronomir," the man replied, inclining his head in a subtle nod. "The God of Stories."
William blinked, processing the introduction. "God of... Stories?" he repeated numbly.
"Indeed." Lorevion gestured gracefully, and the space around them responded. The floating images coalesced, forming pathways and archways that gracefully arced around them. The luminous threads brightened, their weaving becoming more intricate. "Welcome to my realm, where all narratives intertwine—the tales of heroes and villains, of triumphs and tragedies across the planes."
William's gaze wandered, taking in the ever-changing landscape. Despite the awe-inspiring sights, a numbing detachment clung to him. "Why am I here?" he asked, his tone flat.
Lorevion regarded him thoughtfully. "You were on the brink of demise, your story poised to end abruptly. I found that... undesirable."
"Undesirable?" William echoed, a hint of bitterness creeping in. "What does it matter to you how my story ends?"
"Stories are my essence," Lorevion explained. "Each one a thread in the grand tapestry of existence. Yours holds particular interest."
William looked away, the shifting images reflecting in his eyes. "I don't see what's so special about it."
"Perhaps you do not yet perceive it," Lorevion said softly. "But I see the potential for a compelling narrative—a journey from suffering to empowerment, from victim to victor."
Silence hung between them. William's memories stirred uneasily—fragments of pain, helplessness, and the cold detachment that had become his shield.
"I can offer you the means to seek retribution," Lorevion continued. "Power to confront those who have wronged you."
William's gaze snapped back to the god, a flicker of emotion breaking through his apathy. "Why?" he asked bluntly. "Why would you help me?"
"As I said, your story intrigues me," Lorevion replied. "I wish to see how it unfolds."
"So, I'm just entertainment to you?" William's tone was edged with skepticism.
Lorevion met his gaze without hesitation. "In essence, yes," he replied calmly. "All beings are part of the grand tapestry of narratives that I observe and curate. Your story has the potential to be particularly captivating."
William felt a surge of irritation pierce through his numbness. "So, my pain, my suffering—that's all just fodder for your amusement?"
"It's not amusement in the trivial sense," Lorevion corrected. "It's about the unfolding of events, the evolution of characters, the interplay of fate and choice. Your experiences contribute to the richness of the universal narrative."
William shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "And you think handing me power so I can get revenge makes for a good story?"
"Revenge tales are timeless," Lorevion remarked. "They resonate with fundamental aspects of sentient experience—betrayal, justice, catharsis."
"But where's the meaning in that if it's all orchestrated?" William challenged. "If you just grant me power, it's not my victory. It's yours. I'm nothing more than a puppet in your play."
The god's eyes flickered with a hint of surprise. "You raise an intriguing point."
"Do I?" William pressed on, his voice gaining strength. "A true story—one that matters—isn't about divine beings pulling strings from above. It's about individuals facing challenges, growing from them, forging their own paths. It's about connections made, lessons learned, struggles overcome."
Lorevion regarded him thoughtfully. "So you believe that personal growth and relationships are the core of a meaningful narrative?"
"Yes," William affirmed. "Without them, any triumph is hollow. What's the point of a journey if you skip straight to the end?"
The god's expression shifted, a mix of curiosity and intrigue. "You are unlike most mortals I have encountered."
"Maybe because I'm not interested in being your entertainment," William shot back. "If I'm going to walk a path, it'll be one I choose, not one you lay out for me."
Lorevion tilted his head slightly. "And if I told you that even your defiance now adds depth to your story?"
William sighed, exasperation coloring his tone. "You just don't get it, do you? Authentic stories can't be manufactured through manipulation. They have to happen naturally, shaped by genuine choices and consequences."
A silence settled between them, filled only by the distant murmurs of the countless tales swirling around them. Lorevion's gaze drifted to the ethereal threads weaving through the air, his expression contemplative.
"Perhaps I've underestimated you," he admitted finally. "It's rare for someone to challenge me so directly."
"Then maybe you should start listening," William suggested, arms crossed.
Lorevion's lips quirked into a slight smile. "Very well. If you were to forge your own path, what would you seek?"
"I want to go home," William stated firmly. "But if that's not possible right now, then I'll find my own way—without being your pawn."
"Your home lies beyond the Veil," the god mused. "A barrier that only the God of Magic could traverse. With his demise, that path is sealed to mortals."
"Then I'll find another way," William insisted.
"Ambitious," Lorevion observed. "But without power, your journey will be fraught with peril."
"That's my concern, not yours."
The god considered him for a moment longer. "You intrigue me, William Amberhall. A protagonist who not only resists divine intervention but questions its very nature. Such resistance is... refreshing."
"I'm glad my defiance amuses you," William said dryly.
Lorevion clasped his hands behind his back. "It does more than amuse me. It inspires me to consider a different approach."
William raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
"Instead of granting you power or orchestrating events, I propose a compromise," Lorevion offered. "I will unlock your potential to grow—but I will not interfere beyond that. Your choices, your actions, will shape your path entirely."
William studied him cautiously. "And why should I believe you?"
"Because, as you said, a true story requires authenticity," the god replied. "I am willing to step back and allow yours to unfold without my manipulation."
"What's in it for you?"
"A narrative unlike any other," Lorevion said, a hint of excitement in his voice. "A story where the protagonist defies even the gods—a testament to free will against the tapestry of destiny."
William pondered the offer. "So, you'd be watching but not meddling?"
"Precisely. I will observe, but your journey will be your own."
He took a deep breath, weighing his options. The idea of being able to grow stronger on his own terms was appealing, especially if it meant he could eventually find a way home. But trusting a god—especially one who admitted to viewing him as entertainment—was risky.
"Okay then. How does this work?"
Lorevion stepped forward, extending his hand. A small, luminescent orb materialized above his palm, swirling with colors that seemed to contain galaxies within. "This is a Seed of Potential. It will awaken your ability to interact with the world's energies—to sense mana, to grow stronger. Your progress will come from your own efforts."
Taking a steadying breath, William reached out and touched the orb. It dissolved upon contact, a gentle warmth spreading through his body. A subtle tingling sensation followed, like the brush of a cool breeze across his skin.
An interface appeared at the edge of his vision:
* Name: William Amberhall
* Race: Manaborn
* Level: 0
* Class: N/A
He blinked, momentarily disoriented. "What is this?"
"A manifestation of your newfound potential," Lorevion explained. "It will help you track your growth. As you face challenges and gain experience, you will advance."
"Experience? Like in a game?" William asked incredulously.
"In a manner of speaking," the god replied with a slight smile. "Though far more consequential."
William glanced at the translucent interface hovering at the edge of his vision. "So, I'm Level 0, and my race is... Manaborn?" He frowned. "I thought I was human."
Lorevion arched an eyebrow. "Ah, you've noticed. The races within this realm are classified differently based on intrinsic traits and affinities."
"What does Manaborn mean?" William asked. "And why am I not just listed as human?"
"Being Manaborn signifies a unique connection to mana," Lorevion explained. "You possess an innate ability to absorb and resist magical energies—a trait that sets you apart from ordinary humans in this world. Its more likely to appear with other races."
"Why am I Manaborn? I was just a regular human," William said.
"Your journey through the planes and the ordeal you endured have altered your essence," Lorevion said. "Your inherent resilience and adaptability have manifested in this new form."
William considered this. "So, what does that actually do for me?"
"You can access more detailed information by focusing your thoughts on the interface," the god suggested. "Think about the aspect you wish to understand, and the knowledge will present itself."
Skeptical but curious, William concentrated on the word "Manaborn" in his status screen. Instantly, a detailed description materialized in his mind:
* Manaborn:
* Description: Beings with a natural affinity for mana. They possess high magic resistance and an enhanced mana controll, regeneration and elevated Willpower.
* Racial Traits:
* Magic Resistance: Increased resistance to magical effects and spells.
* Mana Affinity: Improved mana controll and regeneration rates.
* Willpower Boost: Elevated base Willpower stat by 20%.
"Interesting," William murmured. "So I have a natural advantage when it comes to magic."
"Indeed," Lorevion confirmed. "It's a rare and valuable trait, especially in a world where magic is suppressed and those who wield it are hunted."
"Suppressed?" William looked up. "What do you mean?"
"The God of War has imposed strict prohibitions on spellcasting," the deity explained. "Magic users are persecuted, and spells beyond basic skills are forbidden. After he killed the God of Magic, he gained a small amount of authority over magic, which he used to significantly increase the casting times of movement and defensive skills and spells, rendering them mostly useless in combat.
"Skills are pre-defined abilities learned through your class or skill books. They are easier to use with quick activation but are limited in effect and scope. Each class only gets a limited number of skill slots.
"Spells, on the other hand, are the foundation of magic. You manually achieve various magical effects through mental glyph drawing using your mana. You can scale the effects of the magic you want to cast and are not limited by skill slots. However, spells are slower to cast and, if not learned properly, can even be dangerous to yourself.
"For example, physical classes can mimic a Feint skill by simply learning it through training, while a mage would need to know the right glyph combination of a spell to achieve the same effect as a skill like fireball, which requires time and practice."
"Why would the God of War do that?"
"To consolidate power and control. Magic represents unpredictability and potential challenges to his dominion."
William absorbed this information, a mixture of concern and intrigue stirring within him. "So if I decide to pursue magic, I'll be a target."
"Potentially," Lorevion acknowledged. "But with your abilities, you have the means to navigate these challenges."
"I understand," William said thoughtfully. "I'll need to find a way to develop my abilities discreetly."
Lorevion nodded. "Precisely. And to that end, I suggest you seek out someone who can guide you."
"Who?" William asked.
"Aurelith Emberveil," the god answered. "She can teach you the basics of spellcasting and help you navigate the dangers of practicing magic in secrecy."
"Where can I find her?"
"I will send you near her location," Lorevion said. "She tends to reside on the fringes of civilization, avoiding unnecessary attention."
"Alright," William agreed. "But if magic is banned, how does she manage?"
"Aurelith has her own ways," Lorevion said cryptically. "You will understand when you meet her."
William hesitated for a moment. "Thank you," he offered.
"You're welcome," the god replied. "Now, there's more you should know before you embark on your journey."
He began to explain the fundamental aspects of the world's mechanics in clear, concise terms.
"First, your attributes will play a crucial role in your growth. Your strength determines your physical power—how hard you can hit, how much you can lift. Dexterity influences your agility and speed, affecting your evasion and precision in movements. Willpower, which for you is notably higher due to your Manaborn nature, dictates your spell potency and resistance to mental influences."
William listened intently, absorbing each detail.
"Stamina represents your endurance for sustained physical activities," Lorevion continued. "Focus is your resource for performing physical skills—it depletes as you execute techniques and replenishes over time. Mana, as you might expect, is the energy used for casting spells and magical skills."
"Got it," William said. "And what about Charisma?"
"Charisma influences your ability to persuade and lead others," the god explained. "It improves through notable achievements in persuasion and leadership."
"Now, regarding classes," the god went on. "At Level One, you will have the opportunity to choose a foundational class. Your class will shape your initial skill set and influence your development."
"What are the options?" William inquired.
"There are several," Lorevion said. "As a Manaborn with an affinity for magic, Mage would be a natural choice."
"What are the other classes?"
"Archer, for instance, focuses on ranged physical combat using bows or crossbows. They excel at striking from a distance and can often avoid direct confrontation. Rogue specializes in stealth and agility, adept at moving unseen and employing cunning tactics to outmaneuver opponents. Supporter aids others through buffs and healing."
Lorevion continued, "Then there are the Monk and Martial Artist classes. Monks harness inner energy and physical discipline to perform extraordinary feats that appear almost supernatural but don't rely on external mana. Their training allows them to enhance their bodies and minds beyond typical limits. Martial Artists specialize in various combat techniques, mastering weapons or unarmed combat with precise movements and refined skill. They focus on physical conditioning and can often replicate the effects of magic through sheer prowess."
He paused before adding, "Summoner is another path—those who call forth creatures or entities to fight alongside them. Summoning is closely monitored under current prohibitions, so practitioners must exercise caution and often conceal their true capabilities. Lastly, the Witch class practices a more esoteric form of magic, often focusing on curses, remedies, and manipulation of natural energies. Witches typically operate in the shadows; their craft is sometimes mistaken for herbalism or folk rituals, allowing them to hide their true abilities from those who would persecute them."
"I see," William mused. "But if I want to learn spells that mimic skills, perhaps Mage is still the best choice."
"That approach carries its own dangers but also the potential for greater rewards," the god acknowledged. "The decision is yours."
"I'll think about it," William said.
"Very well. Keep in mind that as you level up, your attributes will increase, and you will gain new abilities. Every hundred levels, you will have the opportunity to undergo an Ascension Trial, which, if successful, will enhance your capabilities further."
"Ascension Trials?" William echoed.
"Yes. They allow you to advance your class, improve your mana quality, and increase your lifespan," Lorevion explained. "But they are challenging and must be faced alone."
"Understood," William said, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation.
"One final piece of advice," the god offered. "Be wary of whom you trust. Allies can be invaluable, but betrayal is not uncommon in these times."
"I'll keep that in mind," William replied.
Lorevion raised his hand, and a portal began to materialize—a swirling vortex of light and shadow, framed by the ethereal threads of the realm.
"Step through here, and your journey begins," he said.
William took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Before I go, why are you helping me?"
"Because your story has the potential to reshape the narrative of this world," Lorevion said. "And perhaps challenge the very nature of destiny."
"Fair enough," William conceded.
He approached the portal but paused. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
"I’m not doing this for your sake." the god replied.
With a nod, William stepped into the portal.
----------------------------------------
Emerging on the other side, William found himself at the edge of a dense forest. The air was fresh, tinged with the scent of pine and earth. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Birds chirped amidst the rustling leaves, creating a serene melody.
He took a moment to acclimate, then checked the interface hovering subtly at the edge of his vision. His status displayed:
* Name: William Amberhall
* Race: Manaborn
* Level: 0
* Class: N/A
* Health: 100
* Focus: 50
* Mana: 50
* Attributes:
* Strength: 5
* Dexterity: 5
* Willpower: 6 (enhanced by 20% )
* Stamina: 5
* Charisma: 105
"An increase in Charisma," he noted with mild surprise. "I guess challenging a god has its perks."
Recalling Lorevion's advice, he knew that his first task was to reach Level One and choose a class. But more pressing was finding Aurelith Emberveil.
"Aurelith Emberveil," he murmured. "No idea who she is or what she looks like, but she should be near this location."
He glanced around, considering which direction to take. A faint trail led deeper into the forest, and he decided to follow it.