My eyes snapped open.

My room was as dim as ever… faint light, barely enough to trace the outlines of furniture. I never kept the lights on. I preferred it this way.

How long was I asleep? Two, maybe three hours. I couldn't tell. I wanted to go back to sleep. But…

This felt strange. I couldn’t sleep. Strange.

Strange. These days, I’ve started using the word strange a lot. Which raises the question: if everything is strange, then what is ordinary? Had I ever felt normal to call something strange? Perhaps strange is normal. Perhaps the fact that I can’t sleep, that’s what’s normal. If I could sleep, maybe that would be strange.

There was a quiet insistence, an unspoken weight pressing at the edge of my consciousness. Not a cry but a presence that said, ‘I’m tired.’ Yet no matter how much I closed my eyes, I just couldn’t fall asleep.

And I’d developed this new habit: staying in the dark. Maybe I was turning into a creature of the night. Slowly transforming into some nocturnal beast. The kind that can’t sleep. The kind that preys on others, feeding on their blood.

No!

I rushed into the bathroom, leaned against the sink, stared at the mirror, and looked at my face carefully. Pale skin. Deathly pale. I was still human.

I splashed water on my face and hurried out of the bathroom. Then I grabbed a jacket, put it on, and stepped outside. It was cold and dark. Three in the morning.

Arcanum Blades was a world in itself. High Street was open almost always. I decided I needed a beverage.

By the time I reached the nearest café, I was on the verge of tears. It was warm inside.

I ordered a cup of tea and sat quietly in a corner so that nobody would notice me. I preferred it this way. I wanted to be left alone.

I was about to enjoy my tea in silence when a nearby brouhaha disturbed me. I made a great effort and turned my head. There were two of them. A hunched old man who wore black-rimmed eyeglasses. He moved his chess piece over the board and smiled. His teeth were rotten. His opponent was a man with a black moustache and enormous nostrils that could pump air for a whole family. In spite of that, he breathed through his mouth, gasping a little. With them there was also a young man. I watched the whole game. But I couldn't tell when it ended.

My perception of time was messed up. Each instant appeared only as a part of a sequence. I clung to each instant with all my heart, trying my best to capture them. Sometimes, I forgot the time. Sometimes I forgot the days. And sometimes I couldn't even remember.

Even the perception of my old life was dissolving.

If I appreciated the moments I spent on Earth, probably they'd be clearer now.

If there were no such paradoxes. If I talked to my sis one last time before all this.

If I can find a way back... if, if.

If.

So many ifs, and no real answers.

“What am I even supposed to do?” I let out. Right, what can I even do?

Suddenly, a disturbing pain jolted through my skull and I grabbed my head.

‘Find value. Build, connect, shape the world. You'll find the way,’ a faint command echoed in my mind. I frowned, trying to trace the thought back to its origin. Before I could contemplate it further, an annoying beep rang in my ear, silencing everything around me. What happened? Was… I was, but what?

There were sounds of talking. I looked around. Right, I was in the cafe.

It didn’t take long for my attention to land on a group of hero cadets seated a few tables away.

They were animated, talking in hushed tones, though the occasional burst of laughter broke through. There was a lady in black among them. She was probably around twenty. She captured my attention in a way I couldn't explain. And I found my perception of time grow narrower and narrower until it all focused on her entirely. They were talking about some ‘mission’. I couldn’t help but listen, not out of malice but simple curiosity.

“It’d be so much easier if we had a way to just… I don’t know, message everyone at once,” the woman said, exasperated. “All this running around for updates is exhausting.”

Message she says. Update she says. The words struck a chord. My mind wandered back to Earth.

Social media. Messaging apps. They were ubiquitous back on Earth, but they didn’t exist in Draeth… yet.

‘Social media,’ the idea flickered, weaving itself into my mind like a seed of inspiration.

I had three main priorities. Survival, figuring out the Paradox Point, and money.

Yes, I needed money. Lots and lots of money.

With the Manuscript, I knew the locations of some low grade relics that I could sell.

Selling them directly wasn't an option.

I probably could take help from Aurora Lewis's family or the Takahashi guild.

But that would entangle me in legal complications. Not to mention, I would like to stay away from the main cast.

Black Market then. Dyrne Alley? Yeah, would work… but not without a middle man and a guardian.

Ethan Moonshade, the other Noah's legal guardian? And probably some liaison of Dyrne alley.

With the fragmented memories of the other Noah, information from the Manuscript and my own brilliance, I started weaving a plan before I even realised it. A social media messaging app… how much initial investment would I need?

It was five in the morning when I found myself in the gymnasium, part of Nano's strength training program. Technically, it would be better if I slowed things down. Doing too much could harm the body. But because of the nanites in my system, my recovery rate was exceptional; there were no such limits imposed on me.

I was still thinking back on certain ideas when the notification ping of the Hero Program broke my attention.

Ding! Ding!

Checking the message I found we needed to arrive in the Parade Ground 03. Today was a PT session. They hosted endurance running for three days a week for all the classes. Great.

By the time I reached the main parade ground, most of class A1 students had already gathered there. I looked around and soon spotted James Reeves.

James was the only guy in Class A1 I’d managed to get somewhat acquainted with. I figured I’d talk to him while waiting for PT to begin.

"Hey, how’s it going?" I asked, patting him on the shoulder. James turned to look at me and replied, "All good. What about er-you?" He hesitated for a moment before adding, "You don’t look so good."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You look tired," James pointed out.

I was tired. I’d been restless for days, barely getting any sleep. But I couldn’t exactly tell James all that, so I said, "Ah, well. I just stayed up too late last night and didn't get to sleep."

"Then you’re done for today," James remarked with a grin.

As we chatted, PT began, and we were ordered to run laps around the parade ground. Professor Date was watching us closely. While running, I noticed another group doing laps nearby, about twenty-five students in total. They weren’t from our class, though.

"Class A2," James said, noticing my confusion.

"Oh, so that’s Class A2?" I replied, panting slightly. We were both out of breath from running while talking.

I glanced over at Class A2, but they seemed to finish their PT quickly and started leaving the ground. Among them, I noticed a guy with distinctly Asian features and muttered under my breath, "So Myung Joon is in Class A2."

"You know Myung Joon?" James asked.

"Yeah. Pretty rude guy. He’s in mace training with me," I replied.

"If I were you, I would rather stay away from that guy, Noah," James warned.

"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"He’s the top guy in Class A2. There are only three people in the entire first year no one wants to mess with. First, Aeravat Indrath. Second, Takahashi Aoi. And third, Myung Joon," James explained.

Great. And, of course, this guy had to be in my division.

"Why’d you choose heavy weapons?" James asked.

That question again.

"Just felt like it. But I use swords too—"

"You two talk way too much, don’t you?" came a voice from behind us. It was another guy running just behind us.

"Who are you?" James asked.

"Kai Lee," the guy replied calmly.

The conversation shifted again, and I didn’t talk much after that. It felt like my kidneys were on fire. By now, we’d already completed fifteen laps, with five more to go. A few students had collapsed to the side, exhausted, but Professor Date didn’t let them rest for long and made them get back to running.

"Hey Noah!" someone called from behind.

Barely managing to respond through my exhaustion, I asked, "What is it?"

"Is it true you use a sword? Want to spar sometime when you’re free?" Kai Lee asked. "James and I were just talking about it."

"Sure," I mumbled, not really thinking about it.

"By the way, have you guys heard the news?" James suddenly asked.

"What news?"

"You mean the Fyrmount thing?" Kai Lee responded almost in sync with me.

"What mount?" I asked, confused.

"You don’t know?" James asked, shocked.

"Don’t know what?" I snapped, irritated.

"Do you live under a rock?" Kai Lee asked. "You don’t know about the attack on Fyrmount?"

"I watch the news every day. There hasn’t been anything about an attack," I replied firmly.

"I still can’t believe something like that could happen in this day and age. It was horrible," James said in a sombre tone. "They don’t broadcast this kind of stuff on TV; it gets censored. Bad PR. The public freaks out too easily. I only know about it thanks to dad, he is posted near the area," James explained.

"Of course it does," Kai Lee retorted. "Forgot about Midvale’s Darkest Hour?"

"Oh, that... yeah," James replied, as if realising something.

Midvale’s Darkest Hour? What’s that supposed to be? I thought to myself. I remembered the name Midvale. Leo Williams had mentioned he was from there. He’d also said that he’d been living in Neharika for the past twenty years. Could his move to Neharika have anything to do with this so-called Darkest Hour? I decided it wasn’t the right time to ask them about it and resolved to investigate it later on my own.

"So what exactly happened in Fyrmount?" I asked.

"Not sure about the details, but apparently someone attacked the place. Rumour has it the whole area was drenched in red, like it had rained blood. And over a hundred people were killed," James explained.

"Thinking about all this, sometimes it feels like there's really something bigger at play behind everything," Kai Lee added.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

"Bigger?" I asked.

"Like… I don’t know. Something massive is about to happen, or maybe it almost did but got averted," he said cryptically.

“I really, really hope this isn’t a prelude to something bad, you know? It’s kind of selfish, but I want my academy days to be peaceful and fun.” James said.

Hearing all this left me in an even fouler mood, and I decided not to dwell on it any further.

Then it was time for the spell formula class, the very branch of magic that was the backbone of the system used in magical combat. Its teacher was a young woman with an intense, almost magnetic presence. Her wild, untamed hair fell in stylish waves, and her sharp eyes and golden hair only added to her commanding aura.

Probably around my age? I wondered.

"Settle down, everyone. The class has started," she said, her voice cutting through the chatter.

"Welcome, students, to your first class on spell formula. I am Zinaida Voronetskaia. Some of you may already know me due to my reputation in the fields of history and language," she said, her tone bordering on self-assured, almost smug. Admittedly, she was a famous historian, so I guess she earned the right to brag.

"But that’s not why I’m here today. Today, we embark on your first lesson in spell formula, and I will be your teacher. Given your inclusion in this program, it’s safe to assume that all of you know how to shape mana; otherwise, the curriculum wouldn’t have introduced this subject in your first year."

Shape mana, she says.

Am I in trouble? For some odd reason, that was the first thought that came to mind when she mentioned mana shaping.

"You’ve proven yourselves to be intelligent, driven, and capable of bending mana to your will."

A few students suddenly glanced in my direction.

They were clearly the same students who were present during my affinity test.

Among them, I noticed Freya Fretel, who was glaring at me with disdain.

What?

Freya suddenly stood up, raising her hand dramatically, and spoke aloud, "Excuse me, Professor, but you will be very disappointed to learn that not everyone here can shape mana. In fact," she turned her head toward me with an infuriating smirk, "there are some who can’t even channel mana properly."

Was it my imagination, or did I just hear a few students snickering?

This is bad.

"What do you mean?" Zinaida asked, confused by the sudden revelation.

"In our class," Freya said, "there’s someone who can’t even shape mana, Professor. That boy over there," she pointed right at me, "he couldn’t even channel mana into the affinity crystal. He doesn’t even know his own affinity."

Zinaida’s piercing gaze landed on me, and before I could even react, she began walking toward me. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my anger in check.

This Freya… I swear!

"What’s your name?" Zinaida asked.

I stood up reluctantly and replied, "Noah Grey, ma’am."

"And you can’t shape mana?"

"I-I can, but—"

"Ah, of course," she cut me off, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "There’s always a ‘but’ when it comes to cases like yours."

She turned to the rest of the class. "You, Noah Grey, will meet me in my office after class. Understood?"

Great. Just great.

I spent the rest of the class stewing in anger, glaring at the board while my mind replayed the scene with Freya over and over.

When the classes finally ended, I made my way to Professor Zinaida Voronetskaia’s office. She didn’t waste a second before bombarding me with work. She handed me a list of 10 books she "recommended" I read, announced that she would be holding bonus lectures for me every week, and topped it all off with a "short test" consisting of 60 questions to assess my knowledge from my previous schooling.

Before I could catch my breath, she gave me an assignment: read the first three chapters from one of the recommended books before our next session.

That day, as I walked out of her office, only one thought burned in my mind: One day, I’m going to strangle Freya Fretel with my bare hands.

Rest of the day followed the same monotonous routine with Professor Date’s class and then the training session with instructor Vmb.

It was in the afternoon that I found myself on the High Street once more.

“Archie, we don’t have time for this!” came a voice.

Archie…

My ears perked up. The name sounded familiar. I turned my head curiously, and indeed, there they were: the mother and son duo I’d met a few days ago.

Archie, the little boy, was tugging at his mother’s sleeve, pointing toward a small shop with a quaint, vintage aesthetic. Stone masonry blended seamlessly with wooden frames, giving it an old-world charm. The large windows showcased glowing crystals and artisan goods, their vibrant hues catching the light. The shop’s name, Magi Goods, was displayed atop the entrance.

“Please, Mom! Just one look!” Archie pleaded, hopping on his toes like the floor was too hot to stand still.

I looked at the shop nestled between buildings.

I hesitated, then shrugged. Might as well check it out myself, I thought.

Inside, the shop was a curious mix of trinkets, tools, and devices—none of them in any discernible order. Books, clocks, pens, light bulbs, lamps, stopwatches, fans, umbrellas, hats…what was this place? It felt like a cross between a curiosity shop and a magician’s workshop.

I approached the shopkeeper, who was a stout man with a cane. He was shorter than most people I’d met here—shorter than Vmb even—and had an air of calm about him.

“What do you sell here?” I asked lamely, as if I hadn’t already seen the items on display.

The shopkeeper smiled knowingly and replied, “Magic items. Mostly enchanted stuff I make myself. Some are for sale, but not everything here’s up for grabs.”

I frowned at his tone. Did he think I couldn’t afford it or something? Or he wants me to think exactly this? Was it some sales trick to provoke customers so they'd buy it to "prove themselves"? It didn’t matter.

“Why’s that?” I asked, my tone slightly indignant.

He chuckled, tapping his cane lightly on the floor. “Because not everything’s for beginners like you. You’re a first-year student—that much is clear from your uniform. And some of this stuff takes real skill to use. You need to shape mana with great precision, using modern mana control techniques,” he explained.

Even here, it comes down to mana shaping, I thought with irritation. But if these devices required careful manipulation of mana, they might actually be a good practice.

“Show me some of these modern mana-shaping devices,” I said, my tone more confident than I felt.

The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You sure about that? These aren’t toys, kid.”

“I’ll figure it out,” I replied, trying not to sound defensive.

He gestured toward a shelf. I turned and saw a variety of strange gadgets. Picking one up, I examined it closely. It looked like a normal pair of headphones but was powered entirely by mana.

I decided to buy it, handing over a few coins. As the shopkeeper packed the item, a familiar voice interrupted my thoughts: “Mom, look! It’s so cool!”

I turned around to see Archie and his mother.

The little boy was showing his mother a small enchanted figurine that danced and glowed with soft colours.

The mother, however, caught sight of me.

“Oh, it’s you! From before!” she said, recognition lighting up her face.

“Hello, ma’am,” I greeted courteously, dipping my head slightly before turning to the little boy by her side, adding, “And hello to you too, Archie.”

Archie fidgeted with the small figurine in his hand, glancing up at his mom like he was asking if it was okay to talk. Her encouraging nod prompted him to mutter shyly, his earlier enthusiasm nowhere in sight. “H-hello, Mister,” he mumbled, clutching the edge of his mother’s coat.

“He’s usually quite talkative, but he gets shy with new people,” she said, chuckling as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“That’s all right. I was the same as a kid,” I said with a soft smile. “I've seen you around High Street a few times. Are you a part of the teaching staff, erm… miss?” I asked.

“Talia Kershaw. And no,” she replied smilingly. “I’m an Artisan. I work at the academy. Since my husband’s stationed elsewhere due to his duty, Archie stays with me in Arcanum.”

“An Artisan?” I echoed, pretending to be surprised but genuinely curious. “What do you specialize in?”

“Well, I’m an Artisan Mechanic,” she explained, clearly proud, “but I also do instrument-making and dabble in horology.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A horologist? So, you make clocks?”

“Yes, but mostly pocket watches these days,” she said. “They’re popular gifts for academy graduates.”

I liked how modest she was. I knew the level of skill required for such precision. If it were me, I'd boast a little. “That’s fascinating. I used to know a few instrument makers back at… well, never mind.” I trailed off, a fleeting memory of my old life slipping past before I changed the subject. “So your work at the academy… does that mean crafting and selling things?”

“Yes, partly,” she said with a nod. “And although I’m not part of the teaching staff, I do help out with the mechanical club. I guide students in their second year who want to join.”

“Mechanical club? Is it a big group?” I asked, staying in the conversation.

“Not really,” she admitted with a small shrug. “It’s not a common interest these days, which is a shame. There’s so much potential in mechanical innovation.”

I considered her words. Mechanics weren’t my specialty, but I agreed with her. This world seemed to lag behind in certain areas, and mechanics could bring significant change. “It must be rewarding, though, to work on something so intricate.”

“It is,” she agreed, a fond smile crossing her face. “Each project is a puzzle, and seeing it come together is always worth the effort. And you? You're a student. Pretty easy to guess.”

“Oh, pardon my manners. I’m Noah Grey, and yes, I’m indeed a student,” I said, introducing myself. “First year actually, under the Hero Program. Just finding my footing, really.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll adjust quickly,” she said encouragingly. “The first year is always the hardest, but you’ll find your place.”

We continued walking for a bit, the conversation meandering into smaller topics like the academy and life in it.

When we reached a corner where our paths split, I nodded to her and Archie. “Well, I won’t keep you. It was nice meeting you again.”

“Likewise,” she said with a polite nod.

“Bye, mister!” Archie called out suddenly, his earlier shyness evaporating for a brief moment.

“Bye, Archie,” I said with a smile before turning away.

I wasn't on High Street to simply stroll. Because of the chaos caused by Freya in class today led to Zinaida Voronetskaia ma'am assigning me ten different books on mana science to read. She was adamant about testing me every week on them. As a result, I began wandering through the High Street alleys in search of these books. Sadly, a shopkeeper bluntly told me that these books were only available in the academy library. This meant I had no choice but to head toward the academy library, which was located outside Section A. Feeling disheartened, I booked an electric cab and headed toward the academy library.

While I was on my way to the academy library, another idea took root: why don't I also look into matters regarding the history of this world. I mean what are the chances that I'm the first case of such other world transmigration? Maybe there were more before me? A wistful thought. And there was a chance that these cases wouldn't openly be documented, but getting any clue about such transportation events could be useful.

The library was situated somewhere between section B and section C, so it took a while before I reached there.

* * *

I arrived at the academy rotunda—a shrine dedicated to Sebastin Rosethorne the First, also known as Saint Sebastin.

Entering the sunken courtyard beside it, I descended the stairs leading to the academy library, which was located underground.

Opening the library gates, I was greeted by a wooden tower crowned with a circular base that served as the counter. Atop it was a sizeable armillary sphere—once a state-of-the-art tool, now just a decorative. Or was it a magic gadget? Couldn't say.

I approached the librarian's desk, where a woman in a green dress stood adjusting her glasses. She looked at me and asked, “Yes, how can I help you?”

“I need some books, actually,” I replied.

“Do you have a library card?” she asked.

Of course, another hassle. Now I’d need to get a library card. Thinking quickly, I reached into my blazer, pulled out my brooch, showed it to her, and asked, “Will this work? I don’t have a library card at the moment.”

She studied the brooch carefully, and it seemed like something clicked. Her eyes widened slightly as she exclaimed, “For now, this will do, but make sure to get a library card in the future.”

At least this brooch was useful for something, I thought to myself.

“What books do you need?” she asked.

“I need all the Arcane Research Volumes, the Mana Science Journals by Seraphina Darkthorn, and the Advanced Mana Science Texts. Also, if possible, I’d like to borrow the historical records of erm… anomalies,” I added.

By the time I reached the hostel, it was already night. After grabbing a quick bite in the mess, I settled down and analysed the books I had brought.

It didn’t take long before it hit me: the reason I had failed to shape mana until now, even though I could feel it. I had lacked the most basic insight into mana manipulation, but after skimming through the books, I had an idea of the correct approach. And I needed to try before this insight slipped away.

I pulled out a bowl and a knife.

According to what I’d read in the books, focussing on one’s breathing and meditating before attempting mana shaping could make the process significantly easier. At least, that’s what Seraphina Darkthorn, the author of one of the books, claimed.

I closed my eyes and began to steady my breathing, trying to calm my mind while visualising the act of light sculpting.

But the mind is turbulent and difficult to control. It was like trying to grab air. The more I thought about ‘calming’ my mind, the more agitated I became.

I remembered what Grandfather Hope once told me: performing actions without expecting results or being overly concerned with the outcome helps quiet the mind.

And so, I did just that. I focussed on the current task, letting go of any need to succeed or fear of failing. I am simply the doer; the results are not in my control, I told myself.

I visualised light sculpting in my mind over and over again.

When I felt ready, I set up the materials: a bowl filled with water, salt, and the knife.

I turned on the table lamp. I needed to make sure that nothing went wrong. I needed to clearly see what was going to happen. Although I couldn't fully trust Vmb's strange and unorthodox method, it was necessary to give it a try.

The blade glinted under the light. I picked up the blade and dragged it across my palm… there was only a faint red line.

It didn't cut open properly. It needs more pressure, I thought. But I couldn't bring myself to… I hesitated.

After a few seconds, I made up my mind and pressed the blade into my palm, dragging it across.

First, the white part beneath the skin became visible before it was filled by the blood.

The sharp sting evolved into a throb. Blood slowly started dripping from my fingers into the bowl in a steady stream before it mixed with the water and the liquid turned viscous.

With my bloodied hand, I grabbed the blade. It hurt. I dragged the blade across my other palm, but the cut was deeper, and it stung. The saltwater bit at the fresh wounds like acid, turning every nerve into a firestorm.

The red dissolved into the water, spreading like a smoke of colour.

[Master Noah, if it's paining too much, I can numb—]

“Do not numb. Do nothing. I need to feel this through,” I said.

I focussed on the space between my palms and began light sculpting. I quickened the flow of mana in my left palm and slowed it in my right. Controlling the speed of mana within my body felt as natural as controlling my breathing—it was instinctive. But I could sense something beyond myself, a faint acceleration within the bowl. It was subtle, almost imperceptible. Alongside it, there was a slower, intangible presence moving within the water.

A static tingle radiated from the cuts on my hands. It was like tiny needles crawling under my skin, probing me, as if the mana had its own malevolent intent.

I carefully attuned my senses to these sensations, analysing them, trying to understand their nature.

My mind worked methodically, searching for the ubiquitous force that seemed to exist everywhere and nowhere at once.

I visualised the shape of a sphere in my mind and alternated the mana flow between my palms, focussing on the space between them. My fingers, bloodied and raw, tried to hold onto something slipping away. And I was focused. Something shifted, not just within me but in the bowl as well… an ebb and flow of energy, hastening and slowing, as if it were an extension of myself.

I directed the static tingle closer to my palms, attempting to bridge the distance between them.

A faint outline of a sphere began to form. It was nearly imperceptible, but I could feel it, a fragile construct of mana, hovering between my hands. It felt like a centipede writhing in my hands, its countless legs scraping and probing, only to begin curling in on itself. Slowly, I felt it gathering, as if this centipede of mana were forming into a ball between my palms.

The bloodied water in the bowl made it difficult to see, but I knew it was there. But my hands were shaking, and I couldn't tell why. Concentrating further, I struggled to maintain this delicate state. It required immense effort, and I knew I couldn’t hold it for long.

I resolved to push further, to reach a state of complete unity with mana, a state where I would need nothing external, where fear and doubt could not touch me.

“There is no difference between me and mana,” I chanted silently, recalling the mantra from one of the books. If I could control my body, I could control mana.

The shift was sudden, almost jarring. I felt the energy in the bowl responding to me. By equalising the flow of mana between my palms, I drew the currents closer together. And there it was—a rough, glowing sphere, faint but undeniable. Tiny white dots of light gathered in the water, tracing the sphere’s outline. It wasn’t perfect; there was a small hole in the construct, and its form was fragile, barely holding together. But it was something.

Satisfied for the moment, I dismissed the sphere by simply not focussing on it, letting it dissipate. I took a deep breath and tried again, determined to ensure this wasn’t a fluke.

There is no difference between me and mana, I repeated in my mind, anchoring myself to the mantra.