Chapter 2: Accepting His Fate? - Part 3
In Victor Thornwood's scoff, Hiroki discerned unmistakable disdain, evident in the coolness of his tone. 'That wasn't the plan. You were supposed to cast a fireball, and I was supposed to block it with my wind-breath spell,' he explained, heightening Hiroki's intrigue.
'A fireball?' Hiroki mused aloud as he sat up, taking in his surroundings. Initially disoriented by the intense illumination, he gradually acclimated to the brilliance, allowing shapes and contours to emerge from the haze.
He found himself within a sprawling complex.
Before him stretched what appeared to be an auditorium, its grandeur evident in the towering arches and intricate columns that adorned the space. Rows of polished wooden benches lined the room, arranged in neat symmetrical patterns, their surfaces gleaming under the radiant glow of the lights. The air hummed with anticipation, carrying the faint echo of distant voices and the shuffling of feet.
Hiroki couldn't help but be amazed by the intricate details of the architecture as he took in his surroundings. Elaborate tapestries hung from the walls, their vibrant colours and intricate designs seeming to come alive before his eyes. Scenes of mythical creatures engaged in epic battles unfolded before him, each thread weaving a tale of ancient legends and forgotten heroes.
Hiroki's attention was captured by the lavish columns that lined the space. Carvings adorned their surfaces, depicting scenes of valour and triumph, each one a testament to the opulence of the auditorium's design.
Above him, the chandeliers cast a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow, their crystals glittering like stars in the night sky.
In the magnificence of the auditorium, Hiroki felt like a speck of dust caught in a sunbeam—small, insignificant, and utterly lost amidst the splendour. The overwhelming beauty of the scene contrasted sharply with his sense of bewilderment, leaving him feeling dwarfed by the magnitude of it all.
As Hiroki's eyes continued to roam, a sense of familiarity washed over him. It was as if he had stepped into a scene from a distant memory—a memory tinged with echoes of a world he had only recently explored through the pages of a book.
Hiroki's fingers tightened into fists, his knuckles white as he surveyed the ornate architecture. The truth dawned on him like a shadow creeping across his mind. Hiroki's heart thundered in his chest, each beat echoing the rapid pace of his thoughts. Fear and disbelief intertwined, forming a knot of uncertainty that tightened with every passing moment.
The auditorium bore a striking resemblance to the dueling arenas described in *Ascension*, the novel, from which the villain Victor Thornwood hailed. The realization washed over Hiroki in an icy wave, leaving a mixture of disorientation and disbelief that seeped into the core of his existence.
Hiroki's mind reeled with the enormity of the situation. 'How could this be happening?' he exclaimed inside his head, the words echoing with frantic urgency within the confines of his mind.
Initially, Hiroki had entertained the notion of being in a spiritual dimension, on the cusp of receiving guidance from a divine being suffused with luminous light—a scenario that would have aligned with his "guiding spirit" theory developed when he first met Victor Thornwood. However, Hiroki's hypothesis crumbled as he gained a clearer view of his surroundings.
A new, unsettling notion began to take root—the realization that he was seated in a setting straight out of the pages of a book, facing a character described within its narrative. A frightening possibility dawned on Hiroki, suggesting that he might indeed be trapped within the confines of that very book.
The stark reality of his situation became undeniable. Hiroki realized he had been reincarnated into a novel.
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Hiroki's mind raced with a jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions, each one vying for dominance in the chaos of his inner turmoil. He felt like a character torn from the pages of his own life story, thrust into a narrative not of his making. The boundaries between reality and fiction blurred, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
As Hiroki grappled with this surreal revelation, a sense of disbelief mingled with fear and confusion. How could he reconcile the world he once knew with this new, fantastical reality? It was as if the very fabric of Hiroki's existence had been woven into the tapestry of a novel, and he was powerless to resist its pull.
Despite his confusion and disbelief, Hiroki recognized the gift of life, even if it was within the confines of an alternate reality. Yet, the nagging question persisted: why him, and why this story? Hiroki couldn't shake the feeling that there was a deeper purpose behind his inexplicable journey, one that eluded his grasp like a fleeting dream.
The irony wasn't lost on Hiroki – a lover of magical tales who now found himself ensnared in a narrative developed around a broken magical system. As he pondered the peculiarities of his situation, Hiroki couldn't help but recall his scathing review of the novel that now held him captive. It definitely wasn't envy over the author's ability to develop truly interesting characters that fueled his critique, but rather a genuine frustration with its flawed magical system, a sentiment Hiroki stood by despite his current circumstances.
He could still remember the author's notes on the novel's website explaining its magical concepts...
"In the world of *Ascension*, magic unfolded in a way that defied conventional wisdom. Rather than relying on ancient incantations or mystical elixirs to unlock hidden powers, individuals discovered and honed their magical abilities through a unique combination of experience and imagination.
For the inhabitants of this enchanting realm, magic wasn't bound by rigid rules or arcane rituals. Instead, it was a fluid force that ebbed and flowed with the whims of those who wielded it. Through the lens of personal growth and exploration, individuals unearthed the latent potential within themselves, tapping into reservoirs of untapped energy waiting to be unleashed.
In this paradigm, every moment became an opportunity for discovery, every challenge a chance to expand one's magical repertoire. Whether through triumph or adversity, individuals forge their paths, sculpting their abilities with the chisel of their imagination.
It was a world where creativity was the catalyst for transformation, where the boundaries of possibility were limited only by the scope of one's dreams. In this ever-evolving tapestry of magic, each individual became the author of their enchanted destiny, weaving spells of wonder and awe with every flick of their metaphorical pen."
Hiroki could not help but remember thinking, 'What a flowery way to say that if you can imagine it, it can happen.
Of course, the author put up guardrails so that a seven-year-old wouldn't learn how to master an explosive spell after imagining a hero using it in a bedtime story.
However, this wouldn't even be a problem with traditional magical concepts presented in fantasy stories.
How many seven-year-olds could navigate through a monster-infested dungeon, retrieve an ancient magical tome, and then unravel the intricate spells inscribed within?' Hiroki sarcastically pondered.
All he could do was shake his metaphorical head at the situation he found himself in.
Despite the unsettling revelation of being reincarnated into a novel, Hiroki found a flicker of solace in the certainty that he had died. This assumption, crafted while entertaining the guiding spirit theory, at least provided a small victory amid the chaos. Knowing that he was right and had unequivocally passed away in the skydiving incident offered a semblance of reassurance amidst his surreal circumstances.
Hiroki reminded himself that in the face of such uncertainty, one had to grasp onto even the smallest of victories, finding comfort wherever it could be found.
A memory surfaced, a fragment of his mother's wisdom from his childhood. 'Even in the darkest of storms, there is a silver lining,' she told Hiroki, her words a beacon of reassurance in troubled times.
The phrase echoed in Hiroki's mind, its meaning resonating with newfound clarity. Despite the uncertainty surrounding him, he clung to the hope embodied in those words—a glimmer of light amidst the darkness.
Lost in the whirlwind of his thoughts, Hiroki almost forgot about Victor's presence until the sound of his voice pierced through his attempt to find a 'silver lining' like a knife ripping through a parachute.
Victor leaned in, his eyes narrowing with amusement. He relished the discomfort he could incite with a mere glance. 'Are you paying attention?' His words snapped Hiroki back to the present, his tone laced with subtle mockery. A soft chuckle escaped Victor's lips, his smirk widening.
Hiroki's mind scrambled to catch up, shaken from his reverie by Victor's taunting. The intrusion hit him like a splash of cold water, stirring Hiroki's senses to full alertness. 'My wind magic must have knocked the air out of you,' Victor quipped.
Then, with a sudden shift in tone, Victor instructed, his demeanour unruffled, 'Stick to the plan and perform a fireball. It's a basic spell you should be able to conjure without a second thought. After all, you are a fire mage, aren't you?'