Chapter 2: Accepting His Fate? - Part 6

Hiroki took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering unease. The faint crackle of magic buzzed at the edges of his senses, like static on an old radio. Trainees murmured as they practiced spells in surrounding arenas throughout the auditorium, oblivious to the tension between him, Victor, and Lysandra.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to ignore you,” Hiroki said, trying to sound casual, though the concern for his survival in this world—eerily similar to the novel Ascension—crept into his voice. “I was just focused on training.”

Lysandra’s emerald eyes narrowed, her gaze hard as she turned and pointed at Victor. “Focused? On what training, exactly?” she demanded, expecting an answer.

Victor flinched, his gaze darting nervously between them. His hand trembled as he placed it on his chest. “We were... practicing for the closing ceremony. Mastering our technique is crucial.”

A flicker of concern appeared in Lysandra’s eyes, though her tone still carried the sharpness of someone who wasn’t happy with the answer she had just received. “Both of you should be preparing for the magical demonstration, not engaging in reckless duels. This is dangerous, especially without proper protection!”

Hiroki blinked, his mind racing. Protection? he repeated to himself, his brow furrowing. Are fire mages like me so vulnerable in this world that they must be protected? He couldn’t help but ponder.

Victor let out a shaky cough, his hand now clutching his chest. “Of course, you wouldn’t know,” he muttered. “You come from a minor noble family who can’t afford such luxuries. She’s talking about Empyreal Protections—they’re elite defensive items, the best money can buy.”

Hiroki clenched his teeth as frustration bubbled up inside him. Great. Nigel has a noble title but no means to support it. Just my luck. He couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. The gods of fate dropped me into this world and trapped me in someone else’s body. The least they could have done was give me decent financial means. But no, I am, stuck in this world’s version of a rat race. Fantastic. Shaking his head in disbelief, he muttered to himself, I’m a noble who can cook and handle tedious office tasks. How hard is it going to be to find a decent job here?

The thought of trying to rebuild his life from scratch, with no clear path ahead, made him feel exposed like he was jumping out of an airplane depending on only a flimsy parachute—which had not turned out very well for him in the past.

As these concerns swirled in his head, Hiroki remembered Victor had just mentioned something about Empyreal Protections. The phrase triggered a memory. It had appeared in Ascension. According to the author, they represented the pinnacle of defensive magic—rare, potent, and highly sought after by mages and warriors. Hiroki had imagined a mystical cloak that made you invisible or a small charm that created a force field—elegant and practical. But nothing in the room matched that vision.

Lysandra’s voice eased slightly as she noticed Hiroki’s confusion. The sharp edge in her words eased. “I guess, if Nigel is uninformed, it is my duty as his senior to educate him.”

With a quick motion, Lysandra pointed to a rack of swords. “These swords are called Aegisblades. They contain the protection I’m talking about.”

Hiroki raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping into his voice. “A sword? Against magic?” His mind flashed to the earlier training session, where a sword would have done little to stop his fireball or reflect Victor’s windblade.

Lysandra’s expression softened further, the edges of her sternness giving way to something warmer, though her eyes still flicked toward Victor with a lingering sharpness. “Not the sword itself, Nigel. The gem on the hilt.” She gestured toward a blade with a large, glinting jewel embedded in its grip. The gem shimmered faintly, its light pulsing like a heartbeat. “That’s the source of the Empyreal Protection. It is called a Spellstone. It can be imbued with various types of magic, depending on the caster’s intent and power. This one is imbued with light magic—rare magic that can deflect spells, heal minor wounds, and stabilize someone if they’re gravely injured.”

Lysandra cleared her throat, her expression carefully composed as she tried to create a conciliatory tone—though it was painfully clear this wasn’t her usual approach. “It’s... beneficial,” she began, the words slow and deliberate as if testing their weight, “for someone like you, who might struggle with... a sparse mana pool.”

Her attempt at gentleness made her sound more condescending than she intended. Lysandra’s words hit Hiroki like a punch to the gut—sparse mana. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead, making his skin clammy. He felt a surge of frustration and helplessness course through Nigel's body. The realization was a bitter one. Nigel’s body was pitifully weak, lacking the most basic resource to wield magic: mana. Each heartbeat seemed to echo his inadequacy. Nigel must have experienced similar sensations many times.

His stomach churned, and he had to swallow hard to keep from doubling over. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. It was as if Nigel’s doubts and insecurities had resurfaced, dragging him along for the ride. Hiroki’s heart continued to pound as he fought to regain control, the sensation slowly passing but leaving behind a bitter residue. How was Nigel able to cope with this constant sense of inadequacy?

This must be why Victor wanted Nigel as a partner for the end-of-year ceremony. He knew Nigel’s lack of magical power would make him desperate, an easy pawn to manipulate.

The thought lingered in Hiroki’s mind as his gaze shifted again to the Aegisblade, its Spellstone faintly glowing—almost mocking in its quiet brilliance. Why would anyone attach such a powerful magical item like this Spellstone to an ornate sword, give it a cool name like Aegisblade, and label it as an Empyreal Protection—the most powerful magical defence classification in existence in this world?

Lysandra had insisted on this for a reason: to guard Nigel from his limitations. If she was right about its capabilities, it was essentially a shield generator and a personal paramedic, requiring no magic from the user. It was perfectly designed to keep someone like Nigel alive.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Hiroki had to admit, that now that he was in Nigel's body, he’d need this to survive in his new reality.

He sighed, trying to mask the discomfort that settled in his chest with this newfound knowledge. “So, this little gem is supposed to save me when I run out of mana and can’t manage to poke someone with the pointy end?”

For a moment, Hiroki thought he caught a flicker of a smile on Lysandra’s face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving him uncertain.

Lysandra flushed, torn between frustration and concern. “This is not the time to display your unique sense of humour, Nigel. You’re lucky to have unrestricted access to this equipment. These swords are second only to the Sword of the Archangel, which was lost generations ago.”

“The Sword of the Archangel?” Hiroki echoed, curious.

Lysandra nodded, tilting her head slightly to the right, her eyes distant as she spoke. “It’s a legendary weapon, imbued with radiant magic. Said to repel monsters, heal any injury, and defend against the strongest attacks. The sword fell from the heavens centuries ago,” she continued. “It was given to the Tribe of Luminance, one of the seven core tribes that master a fundamental magical element.”

Hiroki frowned. The name Luminance didn’t ring any bells. He regretted not paying closer attention to the backstory in the novel. “I don’t remember hearing about them.”

Nigel,.. I mean I... I must have fallen asleep in class.

Lysandra’s eyes brightened, eager to share the history. “The founder of our school, Seraphina Aeloria, was from the Tribe of Luminance. She was the last known wielder of the Sword of the Archangel—one of the greatest light magic specialists in history. She guarded ancient relics, including the sword. According to legend, during a monster outbreak, she hid it somewhere on campus to protect it.”

She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowered with a hint of intrigue. “There’s even a group on campus called the Dark Angel Society. They’ve been searching for the sword for over a thousand years but haven’t found it yet. Victor here is a proud member.”

Hiroki absorbed the information, his mind working to piece together what he knew from the novel—Victor, a designated villain—and the brief yet telling interactions he’d had with him since his arrival. The man’s calculating demeanor left little doubt about his true nature.

“I’m sure they’re interested in the blade for purely academic curiosity,” he added dryly.

Lysandra quickly put her hands to her face, her cheeks flushing with a mix of amusement and frustration, trying to hide a smirk. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, despite her efforts to maintain a serious expression. She found his comment amusing but didn’t want to admit it.

Hiroki stared at Lysandra, his mind racing with thoughts of his past. There was something undeniably familiar about her—the way her lips curved into that smart, barely contained smirk. Every time his ex-girlfriend Rina tried to stifle a laugh at one of his lame jokes, she'd wear that same expression.

As he studied Lysandra closely, other familiar traits started to click into place—her mannerisms, her little quirks, the way she tilted her head when she thought about something. And then, it hit him. It was so obvious now. Lysandra was the exact height of his ex, 4 feet 8 inches.

Hiroki couldn’t shake a growing curiosity about Lysandra and Nigel’s relationship. Did she care for him more deeply than he realized?

Lysandra turned, blushing furiously. "Nigel, please don't look at me like that."

Sensing the awkward tension, Victor quickly intervened, eager to change the subject. He picked up a sword with both hands and handed it to Hiroki, his fingers trembling. “Take it,” he urged his voice tight with something close to desperation. “You don’t have to use it during the ceremony, but remember, at some point, I’ll need you to... ‘accidentally’ cast a fireball toward me.”

Hiroki blinked. “Why would you want me to do that?”

Victor hesitated and looked quickly toward Lysandra, his gaze dropping. “It’s part of the plan we discussed. We’re both competing in the magic demonstration at the closing year ceremony. One of the judges will be Crown Prince Alaric Dravenwood. If you cast a fireball at me, I’ll repel it with wind magic. The Prince and the other judges will think I’ve just Ascended to a dual-element mage right before their eyes. They’ll be amazed at my ability to control both wind and earth magic. This will rank me among the top mages in the Empire. As the only Ascended mage in the competition, I’ll be crowned the winner. Winning the end-of-year ceremony as an Ascended mage—the only person to do so—will make me renowned well beyond the magical world, maybe even earn me an audience with the emperor.”

Hiroki realized Victor seemed far more interested in personal ambition than advancing the goals of the Black Lotus organization he claimed to be part of. His behavior was driven by a desire to carve his path, far beyond the shadows of any criminal group.

Despite reading the book, Hiroki found himself bewildered by this latest in a stream of strange events. The rules were supposed to be clear. The structure of this world was literally written in black and white, yet standing in the middle of it, he felt as if he were missing a crucial piece of the story—something vital he was meant to understand. It was like a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit.

He should have understood more, but none of this made sense. For one, he didn’t remember any of the main characters carrying swords. Why would they? They were all mages, their power coming from spells, not blades. Then there was Lysandra. In the novel, she spends most of her time surrounded by the undead, not worrying about Nigel. Why was she so concerned about him now?

And Victor... that was another thing. In the book, it was the hero Leonard de Aquila who won the magic demonstration competition, not Victor. Yet here he was, acting like the center of everything. Hiroki’s mind raced, trying to reconcile the gaps.

Where did a sword-wielding mage Nigel, who was somehow "friends" with dark magic user Lysandra and co-conspirator with the villain Victor, fit into this strange, warped version of the novel?

“So... if I help you with this... stunt,” Hiroki said carefully, “you’ll help my noble house? The one with no real magic pedigree, no influence?”

Victor’s eyes gleamed with a feverish, almost manic energy, the kind that made Hiroki uneasy. “Exactly. Recognition will open doors to power beyond our wildest dreams. Pain and danger—they’re small prices to pay for what I’ll achieve.”

Lysandra’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious, Victor. This is reckless. One misstep and someone could get killed! What if your wind magic accidentally hits Nigel?”

“Well..." Victor paused, "...that would be bad... I’d probably not get a chance to meet royalty if I killed a fellow student.”

Lysandra’s voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl, her eyes narrowing with barely contained fury. “It’s idiots like you who turn practice sessions into death matches,” she spat, her tone thick with disdain. “The school would be better off if I sent you straight to the infirmary, so you’d be indisposed during this year’s ceremony.”

Victor, undeterred, placed his hand on his chest, his fingers drumming nervously. Hiroki watched closely, noticing the slight twitch of Victor’s fingers against his clothing. Maybe it was a habit, one he couldn’t seem to suppress. “Relax, it’s all under control,” Victor said, his voice forced, trying to sound confident. But Hiroki could see the tension in his posture, the way his hand subconsciously clenched into a fist as if trying to grasp something behind his shirt.

The sharp sound of glass shattering echoed through the arena. A golden sphere suddenly materialized from Victor’s chest, its light expanding rapidly, engulfing him in a shimmering glow.

Victor's face contorted with panic. “Look what you’ve done! This empyreal protection pendant was a one-use item, and both of you just made me activate it by mistake!”

Hiroki’s mind raced with a mix of anger and exasperation. It was clear now—Nigel was the only one truly at risk in Victor's plans.