It has been three years since I was thrown into this strange new world.
And to be perfectly honest… they've been rather uneventful.
No monsters leaping out of the forest.
No secret prophecies announcing my destiny.
No sudden cheat skills activating out of nowhere.
Just… life. Quiet, ordinary life.
Still, uneventful doesn't mean useless. I've learned a lot, and those lessons matter more than anything.
Arthur Shadowheart
First, introductions.
My name is Arthur Shadowheart.
My father's name is Richard Shadowheart, currently twenty-three years old.
My mother's name is Ezra Shadowheart, twenty-two years old.
I don't know what kind of sick joke destiny played by dropping me into a family with such a ridiculously edgy surname. Shadowheart? Really? It sounds like the villain in a bad JRPG. I keep telling myself I'll ask Richard about it one day… maybe it's just an old family name with some tragic history. Or maybe some ancestor thought it sounded cool. Who knows?
But that's the family I ended up with.
A World Half Magic, Half Steel
The world itself? It looks medieval at first glance. Stone roads, carriages, swords hanging from belts, smiths hammering at forges. But every now and then, I'll catch a glimpse of something that doesn't belong—some gleaming machine, a strange metallic bird flying above the rooftops, or an elevator-like platform humming with runes instead of gears.
It's not science. At least, not the science I knew back on Earth.
It's… magic-tech. A fusion of sorcery and engineering. Rare, expensive, and treated almost like sacred relics.
We live in a decent-sized city called Ordo, nestled inside the Sanctus Empire. I haven't seen much beyond its walls, but the hints alone tell me the world outside is massive.
Ezra's Thoughts
From my mother's perspective, though… I'm not a normal child.
She loves me—too much, honestly—but she sees the difference. She remembers the day I was born: I didn't cry, I didn't wail, I didn't even move much. I just… stared, eyes wide, like I couldn't believe where I was.
She says most children crawl after toys, giggle, or throw tantrums. Me? I never once begged for sweets, never chased the other kids. I just… sat there, eyes fixed on books.
Our house doesn't have a grand library—just a small study, six volumes total, half of them old chronicles. But even so, those books became my world. My escape. My anchor.
I think Mother knows. She doesn't stop me. She simply watches me sneak in, over and over again.
Arthur — Language Barrier
Of course, knowing how to read them was another matter.
The language here is insane. It's like someone mixed English and Japanese, spun the letters around, then let a drunken scribe scribble it onto paper. At first, it was impossible—every page looked like a cursed puzzle.
But slowly, painfully, it began to click.
Not because I'm a genius, but because… the words felt strangely familiar, like echoes in my mind. As if some part of me already knew them, buried deep.
Three years later, I can understand most of it. Enough to make sense of history, geography, and—most importantly—magic.
Two Years Later
By the time I turned five, I'd grown into a boy with dark hair and sharper features than most kids my age. I stared into the mirror one morning and couldn't help it.
"Holy shit. I'm handsome," I whispered to my reflection, grinning. "Hehehe… careful, ladies—I'm coming for you."
"Arthur, could you fetch some water from the well?" Mother's voice cut through my daydream.
"Yes, Mother!" I yelped, dropping the act instantly.
Life wasn't all study. There were chores, errands, lessons from Father in chopping wood or carrying buckets. Normal tasks. But my mind was always racing back to the study, back to those books, back to the secrets of this world.
The World Beyond Ordo
From the chronicles, I pieced together the structure of this world.
The Five Continents
Insan — the Human Continent, vast and populous.
Dryadalis — land of elves and beastmen.
Serpentium — home to reptiles and aquatic races, though so small some scholars don't count it as a true continent.
Draconica — the continent of dragons, shrouded in mystery.
Sanguis — the Continent of Blood, ruled by vampires and haunted by werewolves, rare but terrifying mutations of wolfkin.
The Four Powers of Insan
The Sanctus Empire, my homeland, with its holy calendar and rigid traditions.
The Jingshen Dynasty, where ancient clans still rule through lineage.
The Republic of Aurelia, a council of free cities bound by trade and law.
The Alliance of the North, barbarian tribes who united under sheer survival.
Each of them sounded like something out of the strategy games I used to play. Part of me itched to explore, to see them firsthand. Someday, I swore I would.
Magic — Echelon Resonance
Then there was magic.
Here, it wasn't called "mana."
Instead, the world pulsed with something named Veyl, a resonance that measured how deeply you could connect with reality itself.
Reality was said to be woven from Seven Echelons, each one governing a fundamental truth:
Matter — control over solid form.
Flow — mastery of liquids and living movement.
Flame & Snow — dominion over heat, cold, fire, and ice.
Breath — command of air, sound, and voice.
Pulse — life force, healing, and strength.
Shadow — concealment, decay, and erasure.
Thought — minds, illusions, memory itself.
My First Attempt
I couldn't resist.
One evening, with the house quiet, I sat cross-legged on the floor, the book open before me. My heart thumped like a war drum.
Step one: Close your eyes. Feel the frequency.
I inhaled deeply, shutting everything out. And then… the world seemed to hum, a trembling vibration crawling through my chest.
Step two: Chant the invocation.
I hesitated, then whispered:
"As a loyal servant of thy god, spirit of flames, I command you—
Flame Splash!"
My palm burned. Heat swirled, then—fwshhh—a spark, a flicker, a small flame danced in my hand.
My breath caught. I'd done it. Real magic.
And then the flame touched my sleeve.
"Shitshitshitshitshit—!" I yelped, frantically slapping at the fire until it fizzled out, leaving behind nothing but singed fabric and the acrid scent of burnt cloth.
I sat there, panting, staring at the faint wisp of smoke. My hand was trembling. My heart was soaring.
That was it.
That was the first step.
And for the first time since arriving in this world, I felt it—
The promise of something greater.
Adventure.