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Butterfly Effect: '(in chaos theory) the phenomenon whereby a minute localized change in a complex system can have large effects elsewhere.'

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Elevyar was the kingdom of air, home to the Four Kingdoms' Vya Academy, which taught the highest magic of air.

Novarra understood the concept of magic deftly wove into "REBUILD" 's plot: Evan unlocking skill after skill as he gained the arsenal of the Four Legendary Swords, was a due to his ever-prodigal abilities (i.e. extremely high mana and physical aptitude).

The author had explained the magic system very well.

Skills were sorted into four categories: Manipulating, Summoning, Sensing, and Shifting. Skills like [Air Manipulation] were gained after completely understanding the 'core' of a Skill, and having 'will.' After understanding it, you could hone it to different levels, the highest being Mastery and the lowest being Understanding.

Summoning skills were different from Manipulating - if you could summon large amounts of an element, but couldn't control it, it was basically useless. Which was why mages were expected to have both Summoning and Manipulating skills, which were the core of mastering an element. Balance was crucial to succeeding as a magician.

Sensing skills were sensing their respective elements, skills like [Water Sensing] when stuck in a desert would undoubtedly be helpful. However, most magicians choose to Specialize in either Summoning or Manipulating.

Shifting was the rarest of them all. Novarra could remember that Evan had gained [Elemental Shifting], a skill that allowed Evan to be able to 'shift' into specific elements. Most Shifters were elite assassins, and the skill only made Evan more OP than the original protagonist - well, maybe it was a given based on his backstory.

Novarra almost felt sorry for Kiara, who had her limelight stolen by a transmigrated office worker who had only Awoken at the age of nineteen.

Aiyo.

Trying to take her mind off things, Varra stared at the Bridge in front of her.

Right, my situation.

The Silver Bridge was just one of many Silver Bridges that connected the edge of the Resilian-Elevyarian Woods to the other side, crossing the Argent River that separated the two kingdoms.

It was elegant, incomparably so.

It had been allegedly shaped by Metal Manipulation Specialists, the bridge railings shaped with almost painstaking intricacy. Novarra pitied the mages who had taken the time to etch hand-drawn floral patterns into the bridge's columns; the silver pillars that merged with the railings wove together to offer a curved shelter-like roof over the bridge-crossers' heads.

There were at least seven of them littered downwards the Argent River, and a plaque quite a distance away read the number 8.

Right, it was the eighth bridge.

Belluse gradually tugged the bags off the carriage. They had finally reached escape.

Novarra turned, facing Charon's pale-skinned, grey-eyed face.

She gave a slight bow. Belluse followed.

In Resilia, Novarra knew that bows were a sign of great respect or gratitude; due to Evan's final bow towards Sir Antony after finishing his training.

Charon's eyes widened, as if the bow had deeply surprised him. He bowed back, and after the respectful exchange, Varra turned once again and faced the bridge.

She looked at her feet.

The two shoe-covered feet that had brought her all the way across even worlds.

Novarra had read many books, and all of them usually had a moment where the protagonist would dramatically make a life-changing decision.

She felt the familiarly-described apprehension now, even though she knew she was nothing close to the heroes depicted in the novels that she so obsessively consumed.

Reading about it was one thing, but experiencing it was another.

There's no going back.

Once she made a decision, she would carry it out to the ends of the Earth.

Few knew that the lazy daughter of the Ultra family had a stubborn streak.

With a sigh, Novarra walked towards the bridge and stepped onto it.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

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Belluse Riona would sacrifice her life for Her Majesty.

Unconditional faith, loyalty, and trust. That was what she had for the Queen, no matter how incompetent she seemed.

Belluse had tried to warn Novarra, when she had been assigned to her seven years ago, when she was the Princess. Novicius was obviously manipulating her from the very beginning, but when she brought it up, Her Majesty had gone extremely cold, completely unlike her usual self.

"Belluse...don't cross the line."

Novarra had seemed like a ditzy young girl who had been pushed into power from a young age, but Belluse had discovered that she never really had any friends, aside from her brother.

"Belluse...you're my only friend." She had blinked. "That sounds sad, doesn't it? But the truth is that I will be sad if you go."

When the former King and Queen had passed away, Novarra had locked herself in her chambers for two weeks straight, refusing to eat.

When her mistress had suddenly revealed another personality and the fact that she had been hiding the ability of so-called 'Omniscience,' Belluse had been more than shocked.

"Richard will likely be targeted if you come out alive out of the palace fire. Novicius will not let you or your family off."

It was as if the puppet strings that her brother had attached her to had suddenly broken.

Those dark, playful yet dull eyes had suddenly been infused with a sharp life that surprised even Belluse, which was why she had chosen to believe in the excuse of a newfound ability.

The Queen had maintained her playful disposition, but had arranged schemes like poisoning the Marquis' tea and faking her own death like she was planning a trivial tea party. She had also started to speak with a strange accent, along with gaining - or perhaps revealing - the ability to switch faces at the drop of a hat.

But the Queen was the Queen.

Even if she was no longer a Queen.

"Belluse." The Queen elegantly stretched against the couch. "We got a lot of stares, didn't we?"

The small village of Rook was located near the edges of Elevyar, and was home to mostly commoners. Rook was one of many towns in the fief of Rella, under the Rella Duchy. It was a bustling town, but it didn't stand out much compared to the duchy's capital.

The sight of two foreigners lugging their baggage to the strange mansion that had just been constructed recently was certainly out of the ordinary.

Whispers had followed them as they made their way to the mansion after crossing the Silver Bridge and entering Rook.

The two-floor mansion was constructed as a royal vacation home, and was quite spacious although it was meant for only housing the Queen and a few servants. It didn't have the royal crest emblazoned on the entrance like most vacation homes, but it still had the elegant filigree decorations reminiscent of the palace. Made of marble and stone, the occasional ceiling mural, and ormolu-mounted porcelain vases on gilded tables, it was irrefutably luxurious.

"Yes, we did, Your Majesty," Belluse replied as she readied a pile of parchment.

"I'm planning to invest in a couple businesses so we don't exhaust the resources we brought over." Her Majesty smiled. "I'll trust you to take care of the accounts?"

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"Oh, and in front of others, you can address me as Your Ladyship, or even Ingrid. It's really alright for you to drop the formalities. We're different people here."

"I'll keep that in mind, Your Majesty."

"Ai, we had a long day. We should rest before introducing ourselves to our neighbors."

"Should I prepare a bath, Your Majesty?"

Her Majesty Novarra had always had striking looks. Her dark hair, pale skin stood out in bright colors like the red robes she always wore in Resilia. Her delicate yet angular features and cherry-red lips were extremely attractive, but her eyes were the finishing touch.

Before, her eyes were almost hollow, although she spoke playfully. It was as if she had no meaning, no purpose. Belluse couldn't pinpoint when, but a knife-like iciness had infused itself into her stare, and her gaze became almost pressuring.

"Ah~ it's alright~" Novarra stretched. "I'll do it myself." She winked. "You can take a good night's rest. Doesn't it feel good to be alive?"

With a stretch, Her Majesty threw off her mask and cloak and headed upstairs, humming a strange tune. Belluse could hear lilting notes, accompanied by a line in a seemingly foreign language.

Strange.

With a shake of her head, Belluse took the mask and cloak and headed to obey Her Majesty's orders.

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Today was a tiring day.

But it was an eventful one.

Varra soaked in the bathtub alone, relaxing.

She had finally arrived at Rook.

The Duke Rella, she had heard, was a good landowner and lord to those under his reign - although he was reportedly not a good person It was one of the reasons she had settled on Rook. Good weather, far from Durendal, and was a bustling enough town. Even if she had to deal with opposition, it wouldn't be much.

Novarra wasn't above dealing with a few flies.

Hopefully, she wouldn't have to get her hands too dirty.

She knew that she was a competent businessperson. In fact, she had been planning to apply for a major in economics. A few good investments here and there would help her establish her presence in Rook, and increase her wealth.

She lathered the bubbles on her skin.

She had lots of worries, contrary to her usually aloof appearance. No matter how competent a person was, life was unpredictable.

Novarra had made sure the cost of the home's construction had been hidden under her allowance, and Novicius and those who knew of its existence would be killed in the mass execution that would likely take place soon.

She didn't need to do much.

Even if her plan was full of holes, it was unlikely that someone would take the time to see through them.

Climbing out of the bathtub, Novarra took a rag from the luggage that they had brought and dried her hair. After slipping into a spare robe, she settled onto the bed. It was surprisingly fluffy, and the room was large enough. A chaise longue, a study table, and a bed, along with a ceiling mural.

Ah, Novarra stared at the mural.

She didn't believe in coincidence, or fate. Actually, it wasn't that she didn't believe in it - it was that she really didn't care about its existence.

But the mural depicted a falling figure, with melting wax wings.

Greek mythology somewhat existed in this world, with it being tales from a distant land from the current continent. It wasn't common, but Novarra quickly identified the mural's subject.

Icarus.

They who fell from arrogance.

The painter must've despised Novarra quite a lot.

Perhaps it was a warning from fate.

Perhaps it was not.

Evan would be Awoken soon.

At twenty, the original soul would then transmigrate into his and stabilize the country with the help of Kiara, a rising star.

Novarra relaxed.

As long as everything went well…

As long as the butterfly effect didn't kick in...

Mulling over her observation, Novarra drifted to sleep.

Little did she know that the butterfly effect she cursed in her dreams would come to life in in a way she never expected.