Dr. Adrian Shaw stared at the quantum stabilizer's fluctuating readouts, his reflection ghostly in the laboratory's reinforced glass barrier. Thirty-four years old, perpetually disheveled dark hair, and eyes bloodshot from seventy-two hours without proper sleep. The culmination of his life's work stood before him—the quantum bridge theory made manifest in gleaming metal and pulsing energy fields.
"Energy cohesion at ninety-three percent," his assistant called from the monitoring station. "That's twelve points higher than our previous attempt."
Adrian nodded, making another adjustment to the equipment. Theoretical physics had been his refuge since childhood—a world where everything, no matter how chaotic it appeared, ultimately followed discernible patterns. Quantum entanglement had been his obsession for the last decade. The theory that particles separated by infinite distance could affect one another instantly had implications beyond what most of his colleagues dared imagine.
"Initiating final sequence," he announced, voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. If successful, this experiment would change humanity's understanding of reality itself.
The stabilizer's high-pitched whine shifted upward in frequency—wrong, terribly wrong.
"Abort sequence!" Adrian shouted, lunging for the emergency shutdown.
Too late. A critical failure cascade began as indicators flashed red across every display. The last thing Adrian registered was a blinding flash of cobalt light, the smell of ozone, and the distinct sensation of his atoms being simultaneously everywhere and nowhere.
Then darkness.
Adrian's eyes snapped open. Unfamiliar wooden ceiling. Wrong smells. Wrong body. Tiny hands that weren't his own.
"What the—" The voice that emerged was high-pitched, childlike. He jerked upright, heart hammering against a chest too small, too weak. Panic exploded through him as he stared at unfamiliar surroundings—a simple room with stone walls, medieval-looking furniture, and absolutely nothing that belonged in 21st century Earth.
He scrambled from the bed, legs tangling in homespun sheets, and crashed to a wooden floor. His body responded wrong—proportions all incorrect, muscle memory absent. A mirror across the room revealed a child's face—perhaps five years old—with wide, terrified eyes.
"No, no, no," he whispered, the child's voice making the denial even more disturbing. "This isn't possible."
But it was real. The quantum bridge hadn't just failed—it had done something inconceivable.
A door opened, and a woman entered—unfamiliar yet somehow known to him. Memory fragments that weren't his own surfaced: Mother. Lady Thorne. Helena.
"Liam? Are you alright, darling? I heard a crash." Her voice triggered cascading flashes of a life he hadn't lived—being held, sung to, loved by this woman.
"I..." Adrian—no, Liam now—struggled to reconcile the dual awareness raging in his mind. "I fell."
She helped him up with gentle hands, her face concerned. "Are you nervous about today? There's no need to be. The testing is merely a formality—we already know you have the Arcane gift."
Testing? Arcane gift? The unfamiliar terms resonated with the implanted memories of this body. Images of blue light, floating objects, and reverent whispers about "the Gift" flickered through his consciousness.
"Yes," he managed, drawing on the child's memories to guide his response. "A little nervous."
"That's perfectly natural." She smoothed his dark hair. "Now let's get you dressed. The Academy evaluators will be here at midmorning."
As she helped him into formal clothes—robes of deep blue trimmed with silver—Liam struggled to make sense of his situation. The analytical part of his mind—Dr. Adrian Shaw, physicist—grasped for rational explanations. Hallucination? Coma dream? Some bizarre quantum effect?
Yet the sensory input was too consistent, too detailed for fantasy. The weight of the robes, the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs, the sound of birds outside the window—all possessed the undeniable solidity of reality.
The child's memories provided context: he was Liam Thorne, five years old, son of a minor noble family in a realm called Evranth. Today, he would be tested to confirm his magical affinity before beginning formal education at the Arcane Academy—an institution for those born with the ability to manipulate something called "mana."
"Do you remember what we practiced?" his mother asked, adjusting his collar.
Liam searched the borrowed memories. "Focus on the feeling inside, let it come to the surface, and shape it with my thoughts."
"Excellent." She beamed with pride. "Just like that, and you'll do wonderfully."
Hours later, Liam stood in the family's reception room before three evaluators from the Academy—stern individuals in elaborate blue robes adorned with crystalline embellishments. They had introduced themselves as Magisters, though their names blurred together in his anxiety.
"The Thorne family has produced Arcane practitioners for four generations," the eldest evaluator noted, consulting a scroll. "A respectable lineage."
"We are honored by our family's service to the Arcane tradition," Liam's father responded formally. Leander Thorne stood tall and proper, a diplomatic official who managed trade relations with neighboring provinces.
The lead Magister turned to Liam. "Now, child, show us what you can do."
All eyes fixed on him, expectant. Panic flared—he had no idea how to perform magic! But even as Adrian's scientific mind reeled, Liam's instincts responded. He closed his eyes, reaching inward as his mother had taught him.
There—he felt it. A core of energy pulsing beneath his skin, vibrating through his veins like liquid electricity. His senses sharpened as the mana responded to his call, resonating through every cell in his body. The physicist in him analyzed the sensation with clinical precision. Some form of neurological interaction with an unknown energy field? Quantum effects at the cellular level?
He reached for it carefully, letting the energy—mana, according to Liam's memories—flow into his awareness. Opening his eyes, he extended his hand as he'd seen his mother do, and willed the energy to manifest.
Blue light erupted from his palm, coalescing into a pulsing sphere of energy that bathed the room in electric radiance. The mana construct hummed with power, its surface rippling like liquid crystal as it hovered perfectly balanced above his small hand.
The evaluators' expressions shifted from professional detachment to keen interest.
"Very good," the female Magister said. "Now, can you shape it? Perhaps into a simple geometric form?"
Liam focused on the sphere, imagining it transforming into a cube. The mana resisted, wanting to remain in its natural spherical state. Interesting. It behaves like a fluid under surface tension, seeking minimum energy state.
Instead of fighting the energy's natural properties, he applied a principle from fluid dynamics—creating balanced pressure points to reshape the sphere. The blue light responded, corners emerging as the sphere transformed into a rough cube.
The evaluators exchanged surprised glances.
"Most unusual approach," the youngest Magister murmured. "Children typically force the transformation directly."
The lead Magister leaned forward. "Try something more complex, child."
Emboldened, Liam analyzed the cube of energy. If this follows normal physical laws, despite its exotic composition... He calculated force vectors and pressure points, then carefully manipulated the mana accordingly. The cube morphed into a tetrahedron, then a dodecahedron, each transformation smoother than the last as he applied basic principles of physics.
"Remarkable control," the female Magister whispered. "And without formal training."
The lead Magister's eyes narrowed. "Young man, how did you learn to shape mana this way?"
Liam hesitated. He couldn't exactly explain quantum mechanics and fluid dynamics to medieval-looking magicians. "I just... thought about how it wanted to move," he said, deliberately packaging complex physics into mystical-sounding nonsense they would accept.
"How it wanted..." The Magister's voice trailed off. He turned to Liam's parents. "Lord and Lady Thorne, your son displays exceptional intuitive understanding of Arcane fundamentals. The Academy would be honored to accept him as an Initiate, effective immediately."
"Immediately?" Lady Thorne's voice wavered. "But he's only just turned five. Most children begin at six or seven."
"Talent such as his should not wait," the Magister insisted. "With your permission, we would like him to join the incoming class within the fortnight."
As his parents discussed arrangements with the evaluators, Liam stood silently, the blue light still dancing above his palm. The physicist in him was already analyzing the implications: this "magic" operated according to consistent rules. It responded to the same principles of energy conservation and fluid dynamics he understood from Earth. Which meant it could be studied, quantified, predicted.
This isn't magic. It's just physics I don't understand yet.
<>
Four years consciously in this world, nine years total, and the mathematics still don't add up.
Mana surged through Liam's veins like liquid fire, every sense heightened as he channeled power through precise mental formulas he'd developed through countless hours of experimentation. The classroom around him faded to background noise—twenty struggling students, their faces contorted with effort, meant nothing compared to the perfection of his construct.
The mana lattice—a three-dimensional array of interlocking dodecahedrons with edges sharp enough to cut light itself—rotated with perfect synchronicity as his fingers traced invisible patterns in the air. Azure energy crackled along the geometric patterns, each facet pulsing with power that radiated outward in controlled waves. Around him, twenty other children wrestled with their own magic, struggling to maintain even basic geometric forms. Their faces contorted with effort, veins bulging at temples, hands trembling as sweat dripped onto polished desks.
Liam felt no such strain. The equations were simple if you understood the underlying principles.
"Very impressive stability, Initiate Thorne," Magister Elwin noted as she passed his desk. Her tone carried the faint condescension adults reserve for precocious children. "Though your construction lacks the standard symmetrical balance."
Because the standard approach is inefficient, Liam thought, but offered only a polite smile. After four years of conscious existence in this world plus five years of inherited memories, he'd learned that explaining his scientific approach to magic typically resulted in blank incomprehension or accusations of heresy. Neither was particularly helpful.
"Thank you, Magister," Liam replied, keeping his adult thoughts carefully contained behind a child's polite smile. "I'm trying something different with the energy distribution."
The magister's eyebrows rose slightly. "Different? The Arcane principles established by Grandmaster Tellus have stood for eight centuries. What could possibly need changing?"
Liam hesitated. After four years of conscious existence in this world plus five years of inherited memories, he'd learned that explaining his scientific approach to magic typically went one of two ways: blank incomprehension or accusations of heresy. Neither was particularly helpful.
"I'm just experimenting with the formula," he said with practiced humility. "Seeing if I can make it more stable with less mana."
Magister Elwin's expression shifted from mild interest to scholarly intrigue. "You're... creating a new formula? At your age?"
No, I'm applying basic energy conservation principles that any first-year physics student would understand.
"Just trying things," Liam said with a shrug.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
The magister stared at his construct with newfound intensity. "The Sacred Geometry doesn't allow for such...modifications."
Sacred Geometry. Right. Because apparently the universe cares deeply about platonic solids.
"May I?" she asked, extending her hand toward his construct.
Liam nodded, and the magister's slender fingers traced the edges of his creation. Her eyes widened as she analyzed his work, and the other students began to take notice of the unusual attention.
"This is..." she began, then stopped, her voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "Initiate Thorne, how did you receive this insight?"
Liam blinked. "Insight?"
"These patterns," she continued, tracing a particular junction where he'd simply applied a basic vector force calculation. "They're remarkably similar to the Advanced Resonance Theories in the restricted archives."
They're just force diagrams. Basic Newtonian mechanics applied to magical energy.
"I just thought it would be more efficient this way," he said, growing uncomfortable with the attention as other students began to stare. One boy's construct collapsed entirely, dissolving into motes of blue light that scattered like dust.
Magister Elwin straightened, looking at him with new eyes. "Class, continue your exercises. Initiate Thorne, please come with me."
Whispers erupted as Liam followed the magister from the classroom. Down crystalline corridors they walked, their footsteps echoing against the geometric precision of Arcane architecture. The Academy's central spire—a massive structure of blue-tinted crystal and white stone—hummed with the ambient mana that powered the building's functions.
Here we go again. Another "special test" to see just how strange I really am.
They stopped before an ornate door inscribed with complex geometric patterns that reminded Liam of quantum wave functions.
"Wait here," Magister Elwin instructed before disappearing through the doorway.
Alone in the corridor, Liam sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. This world, Evranth, operated on principles both familiar and utterly alien to his scientific mind. Magical energy—mana—followed rules that resembled physics in some ways and defied it in others. For four years, he'd been trying to reconcile his memories of Earth science with the reality of Evranth's magical systems.
The door swung open, revealing Magister Elwin and a severe-looking elderly man whose robes shimmered with embedded crystalline structures—Archmage Varian, head of the Academy and one of the most powerful Arcane practitioners in the realm.
"Come, child," the Archmage said, his voice resonating with barely restrained power that made the air itself vibrate.
Power rippled from the old man in waves Liam could almost see—distortions in the very fabric of reality that bent light and sound around him. The door closed behind them with a whisper of stone against stone, sealing them in a circular chamber lined with bookshelves and floating displays of complex arcane formulae. In the center of the room stood a large circular platform inscribed with hundreds of intricate geometric patterns that pulsed with blue light in rhythm with Liam's heartbeat.
"Magister Elwin tells me you've developed a modified approach to basic construct stability," Archmage Varian said, studying Liam with eyes that literally glowed with ambient mana—a physical manifestation of decades spent channeling arcane power.
"I was just trying to make it more efficient, Archmage," Liam replied carefully, aware of the dangerous ground he trod.
"Show me." It wasn't a request.
Liam's focus narrowed as he reached for the ambient mana. The air around him hummed with invisible potential, particles of energy dancing just beyond normal sight. The familiar sensation of power rushed through him, electric and alive. While others described the process as "feeling the Sacred Geometry" or "communing with the Arcane," to Liam it was cold calculation—identifying energy patterns and manipulating their vectors with mathematical precision, applied physics with exotic particles as his tools.
He shaped the mana with surgical precision, constructing not the simple geometric form taught to initiates, but a complex polyhedron whose edges represented force vectors optimized for minimal energy expenditure. The construct shimmered into existence above the platform, lines of blue fire sketching perfect geometric patterns in three-dimensional space.
The Archmage circled it slowly, robes rustling against the stone floor. "Remarkable. And how did you determine this configuration?"
I calculated the minimum energy state for a self-sustaining field.
"It just... felt right," Liam said, falling back on the explanation that seemed to satisfy most magic practitioners.
"Felt right," the Archmage repeated, his voice carrying a weight of meaning Liam couldn't decipher. The old man's fingers traced invisible patterns in the air, his own mana interacting with Liam's construct in ways that sent ripples of blue light cascading through the geometric form. "Initiate Thorne, are you aware of the Tellian Prophecy?"
Oh no. Not a prophecy. Anything but that. Something cold settled in Liam's stomach.
"No, Archmage."
The elderly man waved his hand, and a book floated from a distant shelf. Its pages flipped open to reveal an illustration of a geometric pattern nearly identical to the one Liam had created.
"This text is over three hundred years old," the Archmage said. "It describes a pattern that would one day be created by one who 'speaks the true language of the Arcane.' This pattern is called the Nexus Configuration."
It's just an energy-minimized polyhedron, for crying out loud. Basic optimization principles.
"I didn't know," Liam said truthfully, studying the ancient illustration with genuine curiosity despite his skepticism.
The Archmage and Magister exchanged meaningful looks that set alarm bells ringing in Liam's mind.
"Of course you didn't," the Archmage said with a thin smile. "The prophecy states that the one who naturally creates this pattern will do so without prior knowledge. They will be a vessel for the Arcane's true voice."
Great. Now I'm a prophesied vessel. Just what I need. Liam fought to keep his expression neutral, though his heart raced.
"I'm not sure I understand, Archmage."
"Few do, child. Few do." The old man placed a hand on Liam's shoulder, fingers crackling with power that sent goosebumps racing across his skin. "You will be moved to advanced studies effective immediately. Magister Elwin will be your personal instructor."
"But I'm only—"
"Age is irrelevant when the Arcane speaks through you," the Archmage interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "We must nurture this gift."
This is getting out of hand. I just applied basic physics.
"May I ask what exactly the prophecy says?" Liam ventured.
The Archmage's eyes gleamed. "It speaks of one who will walk between the systems, bringing balance where there is division."
Between the systems? Does he mean the seven magical systems?
[CONGRATULATIONS ON DECIPHERING CRYPTIC BULLSHIT, BRAINIAC!]
You've successfully interpreted an OLD MAN'S VAGUE MUMBLINGS as referring to the SEVEN MAGICAL SYSTEMS! Your detective skills are ALMOST at the level of a particularly observant houseplant!
YOUR PROPHETIC FATE ACCORDING TO DUSTY TOMES:
ARCANE: Blue crystal nerds who think MATH is somehow MAGICAL! Currently your only system, making you a ONE-TRICK PONY in a SEVEN-RING CIRCUS!
AURA: Red-glowing muscle enthusiasts who think PUNCHING HARDER solves everything! Your scrawny physicist frame would SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST if you tried this!
KI: Tree-hugging hippies who've turned TALKING TO PLANTS into a combat system! Just what you need - CONVERSATIONS WITH VEGETABLES will surely save your life!
SOUL: Purple-obsessed emo practitioners who think FEELINGS are a legitimate power source! How unfortunate that you've spent a lifetime SUPPRESSING THOSE!
RUNIC: Tattoo enthusiasts who believe FANCY CALLIGRAPHY can rewrite reality! Your handwriting looks like a SEIZURE VICTIM'S ELECTROCARDIOGRAM!
SHADOW: Edgelord maniacs who get power from BEING MYSTERIOUSLY DARK and staring meaningfully into the void! Perfect for a SOCIALLY AWKWARD NERD with TRUST ISSUES!
DIVINE: Golden-shower zealots who solve problems by ASKING NICELY for cosmic intervention! Good luck with that after spending your first life as a SKEPTICAL SCIENTIST!
The prophecy thinks you'll master ALL OF THESE! The universe's sense of humor is TRULY DERANGED!
The voice slammed into Liam's consciousness with the force of a physical blow. His vision blurred, ears ringing as the mocking words echoed through his mind. The mana construct above the platform wavered, its perfect geometries distorting before he hastily reasserted control. He glanced wildly around, but the Archmage and Magister Elwin showed no reaction—they hadn't heard it.
Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as the implications hit him. The voice had known about his past life. It had mentioned his scientific background—something no one in this world could possibly know.
The shock must have shown on his face because the Archmage leaned closer, studying him with renewed interest. "Do you see something in the pattern, child?"
Frustration from both the inexplicable voice and the Archmage's mystical nonsense burst through Liam's carefully maintained composure.
"But that's impossible," he said, the words sharper than intended. "No one can access multiple systems. The neurological pathways are completely incompatible. It's physically impossible."
The words tumbled out before he could censor them, and he immediately regretted mentioning neurological pathways—a concept that didn't exist in Evranth's understanding of magic.
"Neuro...logical?" The old man rolled the unfamiliar word on his tongue. "An interesting term. And precisely why it is prophecy and not common knowledge." His cryptic smile widened, revealing teeth too white for his age. "Return to your dormitory and gather your things. You'll be moved to the Scholar's Wing by evening meal."
Dismissed from the Archmage's presence, Liam walked slowly through the Academy corridors, mind racing with calculations and contingencies. This world had a frustrating tendency to interpret his scientific approach as mysterious insight or magical talent. It had happened countless times during his childhood, but never with such significant consequences.
In his dormitory—a small chamber shared with three other boys who thankfully were still in classes—he sat at his small desk and pulled out his hidden journal. Page after page of equations, diagrams, and notes written in English, a language that didn't exist in Evranth. Here, he documented his true understanding of magic through the lens of scientific inquiry, safe from misinterpretation.
He began a new entry:
Day 3,299 (Evranth Calendar Year 542, Day 178):
They've done it again—mistaken basic physics for prophetic insight. Today's incident involved energy minimization in a standard mana construct. The Archmage now believes I'm fulfilling something called the 'Tellian Prophecy' about someone who will 'walk between systems.'
Hypothesis: The segregation of magical systems in this world has prevented practitioners from recognizing the underlying unified energy principles. What I see as different expressions of the same fundamental forces, they perceive as entirely separate magical domains.
Note: Moving to advanced studies—this offers better research opportunities but increases visibility and risk of further misunderstandings. Must be careful about how much Earth physics I inadvertently reveal.
Question: Is system segregation purely cultural, or is there a physiological basis? If the latter, why am I potentially different?
Additional note: Experienced auditory hallucination during meeting with Archmage. Voice demonstrated knowledge of my past life. No current hypothesis explains this phenomenon. Priority research needed.
He closed the journal and slipped it back into its hiding place just as a knock came at his door.
"Initiate Thorne?" called a senior student. "I'm here to escort you to your new quarters."
Liam gathered his meager belongings, including the carefully hidden journal, and followed the older boy through the winding corridors of the Academy. As they walked, he noticed other students staring and whispering, their eyes tracking his movement with newfound interest.
Word travels fast. Reputation will complicate experiments.
His new room in the Scholar's Wing was three times the size of his old dormitory space, with a private study area, a small personal library, and a window overlooking the Academy's central courtyard where older students practiced more advanced arcane techniques. Books had already been placed on his desk—advanced texts normally reserved for students twice his age.
"The Magister said to inform you that your special training begins at first bell tomorrow," the senior student said with barely concealed curiosity. "Is it true you created a new Arcane configuration?"
"It wasn't new," Liam replied honestly. "Just...efficient."
The older boy looked dissatisfied with this mundane explanation but didn't press further before leaving.
Alone again, Liam unpacked his few possessions and sat on the edge of his bed, contemplating his situation with scientific detachment. He was a physicist trapped in a world of magic, constantly hiding his true understanding while being praised for insights he considered elementary. And now, apparently, he was part of a prophecy.
As his fingers brushed the loose floorboard near the window where he planned to hide his journal, a jolt of raw power shot through him like lightning striking a metal rod. It began at the base of his skull—a white-hot pinpoint that exploded outward, racing down his spine and branching through every nerve ending until his entire body vibrated with untamed energy. The familiar presence of Arcane magic shattered and reformed, crystallizing into something sharper, deeper, more responsive to his will. It felt as though a wall in his mind had crumbled, revealing a vast chamber of power he'd never known existed.
The air around him shimmered with blue light as mana responded to his heightened awareness. Geometric patterns formed unbidden around him, more complex and intricate than any he'd previously managed, their interconnections revealing mathematical relationships he'd only theorized before.
And then, a voice—sarcastic, irreverent, and impossibly loud—echoed in his mind:
[CONGRATULATIONS, BARELY FUNCTIONAL BRAINCASE!]
You've stumbled into PROPHECY FULFILLMENT through sheer DUMB LUCK and basic physics!
Somewhere, a cosmic entity is LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY at your accidental competence!
NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: [ADVANCED ARCANE MANIPULATION]
ACHIEVEMENT: [MISTAKEN FOR SOMEONE IMPORTANT]
REWARD: +5 Intelligence (Bringing you up to 'slightly less clueless than a concussed goldfish')
Liam froze, eyes wide as the message faded.
What the hell was that?
He waited, but the voice didn't return. The blue light surrounding him gradually dimmed, leaving him alone in his new quarters with far more questions than answers.
This wasn't part of his understanding of Evranth's magic. This was something new. Something that, for once, he couldn't explain with physics.
And that worried him far more than any prophecy.
As he pondered the implications, his vision briefly blurred, and a translucent blue window materialized before his eyes:
Copy
NAME: Liam Thorne CLASS: Arcane Initiate [9→Special Apprentice] LEVEL: 9 (XP: 1,854/3,000) CORE ATTRIBUTES: Strength: 8 (+0) Intelligence: 22 (+5) ↑ Agility: 12 (+1) Perception: 16 (+2) Endurance: 10 (+0) Willpower: 17 (+3) MAGICAL SYSTEMS: [ARCANE] - Partially Awakened (178%) [AURA] - Locked (0%) [KI] - Locked (0%) [SOUL] - Locked (0%) [RUNIC] - Locked (0%) [SHADOW] - Locked (0%) [DIVINE] - Locked (0%) ACTIVE EFFECTS: - Scientific Mind - 15% faster comprehension of magical theory - Dual Consciousness - Occasional memory integration difficulties - Reputation: "Academic Prodigy" - +10% effectiveness when dealing with Arcane scholars - NEW: "Prophecy Subject" - Increased scrutiny from authority figures
Liam's hand shot out instinctively, passing through the incorporeal display as if it were smoke. The interface wavered briefly before stabilizing, numbers and percentages glowing with an inner light that cast no shadows.
What the actual hell? First the mocking voice, now this? Was he hallucinating? Having a breakdown? Or was something fundamental changing about his reality?
He slumped onto his new bed, suddenly exhausted as the adrenaline that had been sustaining him drained away. Whatever was happening to him, one thing was becoming clear—his life in Evranth had just become a lot more complicated.
And somewhere, something was watching.