Chapter 1: Nararya the Liar
The world was burning.
The sky was no longer blue, but blazing red—as if the sun god himself was raging, turning clouds into ash. The earth split open, forming dark chasms that swallowed screams without mercy. And in the midst of it all, a young man stood—or rather, staggered—his face nearly unrecognizable, parts of his body peeling into fragments of white light that slowly evaporated.
"This... isn't an ordinary dream," he muttered, his voice echoing strangely, as if coming from two mouths at once.
A colossal black figure loomed above him. Horned, three-eyed, and winged like torn pieces of the night sky, the creature gazed down at him with a mixture of hunger and pity. It opened its mouth, but no sound came out—only a flood of tiny eyes. The eyes scattered, clinging to the young man's body, and...
"Nararya..."
The voice echoed—not from the creature, but from within himself. Then the world changed. Everything froze. Even the flames stopped, suspended midair like fragile red glass statues. And amidst the chaos—within the stillness and ruin—one small voice remained alive.
"Nar, wake up. Now's not the time to nap with drool on your face."
Nararya awoke with a short snort... and the grumble of his own stomach.
"Ugh... what a wildly unproductive dream," he groaned, lifting his head from a pile of grass he'd used as an impromptu pillow.
He was on a small hill outside his village—Lunaria, a peaceful and almost boring village in eastern Lumina. That morning, the sun was gentle, the wind lazy, and the birds chirped without a care. A stark contrast to the nightmare he'd just had.
"If my dreams were a novel, the genre would be all over the place. But the ending? I wake up with drool on my cheek. Classic," Nararya mumbled, wiping his face with the edge of his robe.
"And as always," he added, staring at the sky, "I forget what it was about."
But something lingered. A name that felt heavy on his tongue, though he couldn't remember its letters. Or perhaps the sensation of a thousand eyes crawling on his skin. Ah well. Too early in the morning for paranoia.
Nararya yawned and stretched his back. His pale silver hair, like frozen ice, was a mess. His red eyes looked puffy, as if he'd stayed up all night watching a magical play (though in truth, he'd just been staring at the sky, as usual).
He glanced to the side. Beside him was a small purple-furred cat—whom he'd named Nokturn—snuggling up while chewing something that might've once been bread.
"You have weird dreams too, Nok?" he asked.
Nokturn snorted... and let out a tiny fart.
"Elegant as ever."
Lunaria was too peaceful. So peaceful that Nararya had started to suspect the peace itself. Kids were already playing in the streets, mothers were drying clothes with basic wind magic, and old men sat under trees debating who the greatest fire mage in history was.
Nararya strolled through a narrow alley, greeting people with a well-practiced fake smile.
"Good morning, Nar!" called a young mother.
"Good morning, Miss Vinna. You look... remarkably unexploded today. Impressive," Nararya replied.
"...Thanks...?" she said, hurrying away, confused.
Nararya grinned. Short conversations were the best.
Behind all his jokes, Nararya hid one truth: he was not an ice mage, as everyone believed.
Nararya had a power called Imajina-Kinesis—the ability to turn imagination into reality. But he kept it secret, showing only ordinary ice manipulation to others.
Why?
Because... just imagine if someone could create anything simply by imagining it. What would people think?
Nararya knew... if anyone found out, he'd be hunted. Not just by the kingdom or mage guilds. The scariest thing would be the eyes of his neighbors—those he'd greeted every day—changing from friendly to fearful. Or worse, to hatred. Becoming a monster in the eyes of people you know is a curse more terrifying than death.
For now, his life was safe. Quiet. Filled with false peace and boring routines.
Until that day.
Until—
BOOOOMMMM!!!
The sky above Lunaria split open.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
As if something—something massive and dark—was forcing another dimension into their world. Villagers screamed. Birds scattered in chaos. The ground trembled.
And Nararya just stood there, staring at the crack, and muttered:
"…Of course. I just finished doing laundry."
The crack wasn't just visible—it was audible.
Like glass shattering played in reverse, the sound stabbed into the bones. Everyone in Lunaria looked up, frozen by the impossible sight: purplish-black light poured from the rift like ink defying gravity. And from the crack… something fell.
A round object. Gleaming like a gemstone. And naturally… it exploded upon hitting the ground.
BOOM!!
The land on the village outskirts shattered. Trees caught fire from a strange flame—not hot, but light-absorbing. Darkness spread like mist.
"What the hell...?" muttered Nararya—then remembered.
"…Oh no. My broccoli field!"
He dashed down the hill, Nokturn leaping onto his shoulder and barking in panic. As shadowy creatures emerged, Nokturn's fur bristled, even dimmed—as if absorbing light.
Near the village center, Nararya saw people panicking. Some local mages tried to seal the dark flames with water and earth magic—but their spells were absorbed, like tossing water into a black hole.
"Our magic... it's useless?"
"Is this a curse?!"
Then they came.
Descending from the sky rift like inverted stardust. Their forms vague—like the shadow of someone you once knew but can't remember. They groaned, not with rage, but with... hunger. Hunger for light.
"They're not normal monsters," Nararya whispered, eyes sharp. "They—"
"Nar!! Why are you standing there like a broken clock tower?! Help people!!"
That loud, sharp voice could only belong to one person: Nayla.
She leapt from a rooftop with dramatic flair, her wand-shaped sword in hand, old rose-pink hair flowing like a battle lioness. She landed beside Nararya and slammed her wand into the ground.
"〈Seal of Terra: Barrier Bloom!〉"
A flower-shaped barrier bloomed from her magic circle, holding back the shadows. For a moment, people breathed easier.
"Nayla," Nararya said, "you look incredible. But your hair's kinda lopsided."
"Not the time for jokes, Nar!" she snapped, though her face flushed a little. "This is serious! We're under attack! And—wait, you're not wearing shoes?!"
Nararya looked down. "Oops."
He raised his left hand. A cold mist spiraled from his palm, forming dozens of icy spears hovering around him.
"〈Frost Edge: Dancing Spear〉"
He snapped his fingers. The spears launched at the shadows—striking true... but doing no damage. The creatures absorbed the ice and turned, heads twisted upside down. Their grins... too wide.
"Huh," muttered Nararya, "I thought that'd at least give them a cold."
Nayla hissed, "Elemental magic doesn't work! They're not just immune—they negate it!"
Nararya shrugged, pretending to be calm. "They're too edgy. Maybe we should try group therapy."
But inside, his heart pounded. Magic negation. As if the world itself said, your rules don't apply here. The concept... too familiar. Too much like—
And then—
"〈Collapse Star〉."
A voice split the heavens.
A pinpoint of light appeared above the village. Small... but devouring the clouds. From that point emerged a figure in a black cloak, floating with wings of smoke and a crown of darkness.
Nararya froze.
That was... him.
The figure from my dream.
It didn't speak. But the world began to fracture. Houses warped. The ground rippled. People staggered. Even old mages collapsed, one by one.
"This… this isn't magic. This… is reality being forced to change," Nararya muttered.
And for the first time... he felt fear.
Not of the creature. But of himself—because his body reacted. Power surged. The world sharpened. He could imagine something. Imagine reversing this reality...
And if he made that vision real...
...the world would change too.
The air trembled. Light bent as if pulled by an unseen magnet.
The cloaked figure lowered a hand, as if commanding the world to hush. Everything froze. Wind stopped. Sound vanished. Even dust dared not move.
Except one person: Nayla.
"If you're not planning to surrender," she declared boldly, "then I will—"
"NAYLA, NO!!"
But Nararya was too late.
The cloaked figure swung its hand. Space tore open in front of Nayla, forming a transparent black blade. Time sped up. In a second that stretched like a century... the strike was already upon her.
Then, the world cracked a second time.
Not because of the enemy.
But because Nararya imagined it.
"Don't die. Not now. Not like this…" "If time could stop—if reality could be lied to—then…"
His hand moved before his brain could think. He didn't chant. He just imagined—and lied to the world.
"World, time didn't move. That strike never happened. Rewind."
As the lie formed, a sharp pulse hit his temple. The world blinked, lost color, as if reality itself protested. He clenched his teeth, fighting sudden nausea.
〈Imajina-Kinesis: Reality Rewrite – Minor Reversal〉
A sentence never spoken, but read by the air.
And Nayla... was safe. She stumbled back, slipped, and sat down—staring at Nararya with wide eyes and a pale face.
"Nar," she panted, "what... what was that? That strike... that blade was already at me… then the world blinked. What did you do?"
"No," Nararya said quickly, trying to sound casual. "Just... instinct. Reflex. Like sneezing. But, y'know... more cinematic."
Silence. The world resumed. The cloaked figure still floated, now turning slightly toward Nararya. It... smiled.
But not humanly.
"Imajina-Kinesis," the figure whispered. Its voice layered—both male and female. "At last... you've appeared."
Nararya's throat went dry.
"Sorry, wrong person. I'm just a humble broccoli farmer," he said with a nervous laugh. His hand trembled slightly.
"You are a liar," it replied. "But you lie to reality. That makes you... our enemy."
Suddenly, the shadow creatures froze—then transformed. They began to resemble the villagers. Twisted, corrupted copies. As if the world itself was being rewritten.
"You have opened the gate, Nararya of Lumina," the being declared. "We—those real within unreality—will come."
And with that, the figure slowly rose into the sky, returning into the rift, which began to seal shut—like a wound that refused to heal.
Everything returned to normal. Or... the new version of normal in a village just attacked by shadow creatures from a sky crack.
People slowly stood, dazed. Elders began treating the wounded. But Nararya just sat still, staring at his hand.
"Nar," Nayla spoke softly this time, sitting beside him. "That... do you know what you did?"
"Nope."
"Really?"
"Really."
"You're lying."
Nararya looked at her. "…But that lie saved your life, didn't it?"
Nayla fell silent. Then gave a small smile. "You really are an infuriating liar."
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