Ash was so engrossed in the book that he barely noticed the passage of time.
The words on the pages felt like a lifeline, a bridge connecting his fragmented understanding of this world to the vast sea of knowledge he still yearned to master. This book—" The Rise of the Human Kingdom and the Myth of the Heroic Classes"—was a treasure trove, each page revealing insights that pieced together the world around him.
The runes, the system; it was all beginning to make sense, though the shadows of mystery still lingered.
The faint sound of footsteps broke his concentration, but he didn't look up right away. His mind raced, imagining visions of future.
But his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp voice.
"Ash, what are you doing here?!"
He blinked, looking up. Emma stood over him, arms crossed, a frown etched across her stern face. She was the tall, no-nonsense caretaker who had always kept a watchful eye on him.
Apparently, she had noticed his absence from the children's section, where the rest of the group had been.
"What do you think you're doing?" she repeated, her voice more insistent.
"You've been in this corner for nearly an hour. Reading time is over, and you're supposed to be with the others."
A twinge of panic gripped Ash, but he quickly composed himself. Offering a soft smile, he carefully closed the book and stood, holding it respectfully.
"I'm sorry, Miss Emma," he said quietly, casting his gaze downward. "I got carried away reading. I didn't realize how much time had passed."
Emma's stern gaze softened for a moment before her frown returned. "You can't wander off, Ash.The library is vast, and there are risks even here for someone your age. Stay with the group. Understood?"
Ash nodded quickly, feigning an embarrassed expression. Inside, however, he cursed his recklessness. The book had drawn him in so completely that he hadn't noticed the others leave.
He needed to stay out of trouble, at least until he was strong enough to pursue his ambitions without anyone interfering.
"I understand," he replied meekly, offering a small bow. "I won't wander off again."
Emma sighed, accepting his apology though he could tell she was still frustrated. She turned and gestured for him to follow.
As they walked back toward the library's entrance, Ash glanced down at the book he reluctantly handed back to a shelf. This newfound knowledge was precious, and it was just the beginning.
He had to be cautious, especially here at the orphanage, where prying eyes might catch onto his growing interests and goals.
As they exited the library, the sun cast a soft, golden glow over the city. He squinted at the brightness, his mind still churning over what he'd read. Runes, dungeons, classes—every piece he absorbed brought him one step closer to understanding his future.
The cobbled streets of Landros stretched ahead as they walked back, his thoughts racing as he mapped out his next steps.
He'd need to access dungeons and gather resources, but, most importantly, he needed strength.
Back at the orphanage, routine resumed. While the other children settled in, Ash slipped into a quiet corner, where he could think.
This was no ordinary path he was setting out on.
In his mind, he could already see himself enrolling as a Mage in the same academy as the protagonist of the story.
But unlike the protagonist who is a Swordsman, Ash would as hide his real class Magic Swordsman under the disguise of Mage class, as magic swordsman can also use magic.
Mastering a unique blend of swordsmanship and magic which was unseen in the novel because it is the concept of the game I played, if the Status Window he got is similar to that of the game he played then this will be possible.
He will only show his unique class , Under a new identity, as he would create a hidden organization that quietly supported the protagonist while slightly sapping his power—as after stealing the runes he needed to ensure the story's trajectory remained intact, all while growing stronger in the shadows.
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He knew that becoming a Magic Swordsman required both physical strength and mana mastery. His first goal was to: create the skill "Mana Manipulation", which would allow him to absorb and control ambient mana.
One quiet night, when the children of orphanage was asleep, he whispered his intent into the darkness.
"Skill Creation," he murmured, feeling a surge of warmth as the system acknowledged his request.
[What type of Skill does Host want to create?]
"Mana Manipulation," he replied, envisioning a skill that would allow him to control mana at a molecular level. The system confirmed:
[Initializing... Skill Created: Mana Manipulation - Level 1]
[Mana Manipulation] – Level 1
Description: Allows the user to absorb mana from the surrounding environment and control the mana flow within the body.
__
After reading the description of the skill he focused on the faint energy around him, feeling mana trickle in, almost like drawing water from a deep well. It was faint but tangible, flowing through him as he guided it toward his abdomen, recalling a detail from a novel where the protagonist stored mana this way. But, after a while, exhaustion overtook him, and he drifted to sleep.
The next morning, Ash reflected on his progress.
In Akumia, Close combat type profession typically stored mana in their lower Dantian which is then converted into Aura that the martial artist use ,while magicians store their mana in their middle Dantian and after Making Magic circle in their heart they can cast magic according to the rank of their circle.
One couldn't store mana in both places unless, of course, they held knowledge of the future.
Ash knew of a rune that would allow him to maintain stability while doing both, a powerful rune that once belonged to a villain who became a lasting thorn in the protagonist's side, as he was able to utilize both magic and his assassin skills to counter the protagonist.
He didn't have a unique class but he was powerful but he still died in the hands of protagonist albeit with difficulty.
With renewed determination, Ash set a daily training routine:
Morning Workout: Each dawn, Ash awoke quietly, going through exercises to build his strength. His body was young, but each day's squats, push-ups, and stretches added to his stamina.
Mana Practice: After breakfast, while the other children played, Ash would sit quietly and focus on his Mana Manipulation skill. It felt like trying to control water with his bare hands, but with each attempt, he could sense his control improving bit by bit.
Ash knew his path was set: he would forge a destiny in which he was both powerful and unseen, walking a fine line between ally and adversary in a world of magic and ambition.
---
In a Remote town
The remote town lay silent and haunting, a complete opposite to the lively settlement it once was. Smoke was rising from the wooden cottage ruins, their frames being blackened and splintered. Cobblestone streets, once bustling with villagers, were now littered with shattered pottery, discarded toys, and dark, ominous stains.
The air reeked of sulphur and ash, mingled with the acrid stench of scorched flesh. The town was surrounded by twisted unnaturally bent trees, their bark clawed and charred as if the forest recoiled from some evil presence.
In the midst of the destruction, a small body lay crumpled in the rubble—a five-year-old boy, his face covered with soot but eerily serene.
His fragile frame bore no visible wounds, though the torn and dirtied clothes hinted at the horrors he had unknowingly survived. Faint trails of shimmering energy lingered around him, a residue of the demonic forces that had ravaged the town.
The Hunters, in leather armor reinforced with runes, advanced cautiously. Their weapons hummed faintly, attuned to the lingering malevolence.
The group had come to investigate the abnormal surge of demon energy, but none of them had expected to find a survivor.
One knelt beside the boy, checking for signs of life.
"He's breathing," the Hunter murmured, relief mixing with disbelief. "But how.?"
Others shared hesitant glances. In a town cleansed of life, this unconscious child was an anomaly—and maybe, a foreboding of something even darker.
The Hunters were an unyielding unit, bound not by bloodlines but by intent. A group called the Dusk Wardens, they dealt with the tracking and ridding of demon infestions that ravaged the lands.
Their armor was a practical, magical mix: dark leather, reinforced with shimmering protective runes and treated cloaks that would repel corruption.
Each had unique weapons that had been enchanted to hit true on demonic foes: blades that glow faintly in the dark, crossbows that fired bolts of pure light, and amulets that pulse with protective wards.
Although their appearance was intimidating, they had a quiet solemnity about them; their work wasn't just about killing demons but preventing such horrors from consuming more lives.
Confirming the boy was indeed alive, the group leader—a tall woman named Kaelen, with a commanding presence and a silver-streaked braid—made the call to take him to safety.
It was against their protocol to interfere with civilians, but such an incredible miracle of survival could not be ignored.
It was a sombre journey to the nearest orphanage. The boy did not move; his fragile form had been wrapped in Kaelen's weathered cloak to warm him.
He stirred once in a while but still didn't wake, holding his small hands instinctively onto the fabric.
Hunters walked with near silence, keeping watchful eyes on the horizon for signs of lingering demonic presence.
They found the orphanage in the outskirt of Ravendale-a simple stone structure, decorated by flowers around it, which had given refuge to normalcy amidst the chaos of life.
The matron, a severe and yet gentle woman by the name of Elyra, received them with mixed emotions of gratitude and worry.
"This child is all that's left of the town," Kaelen explained grimly, her voice heavy with unspoken sorrow. "He needs care, guidance, and protection. Whatever spared him might still make him a target."
Elyra nodded, her gaze softening as she took the boy into her arms. "He'll have a home here. We'll look after him."
Even though they left him in the hands of the orphanage, the picture of the child and the destroyed town kept following them—a haunting image of their responsibility and mystery demons often left behind.
The boy was none other than The protagonist of the Novel-Ray Dawson.
***