Six days. That's all I've been… me. Or him. Or whatever "him" is supposed to mean.
A 21-year-old trapped in the body of Cael Ashvorn, a sixteen-year-old on the verge of his birthday, in a world ripped straight from the pages of The Hero and the Lost Constellation. Only, surprise… falling hurts. Yep, I found that out the hard way.
First thing I did? Explore the system. Every inhabitant here has one: a floating interface that appears just by thinking, showing stats, skills, talents… everything an RPG taught you to expect. And now, it belonged to me too.
Age: 16
Talent: (unknown)
Rank: G
Agility: G+
Intelligence: G-
Endurance: G
Strength: G+
I stared at the numbers and nearly fell over laughing.
—G? Seriously? —I muttered—. Me? Cael Ashvorn, the great hero in the making… basically a talentless brat.
Here's the thing: I have no idea who the original Cael was. Not a single memory. And even worse… no one seems to recognize me either. People pass me on the street without a glance. Friends, family, acquaintances… nothing. My reflection in the mirror is of a kid I've never seen before, with huge amber eyes supposedly mine.
So the only logical question is: who the hell was Cael before I took over his body?
Answer: no one knows. Just the faint shimmer of magic in the air. I guess the universe has a sense of humor.
Speaking of humor… my phone buzzed. First piece of "real" tech I apparently brought with me. I rolled my eyes and picked it up.
Notification: Elitria Academy begins in six months.
Oh, perfect. Six months to play god in someone else's body before a boarding school full of geniuses starts judging me. Sounds fun. Very fun.
Six days earlier
Cael slumped into the couch, but his mind wouldn't stop spinning. He blinked several times, and then it hit him like a bucket of ice water: he wasn't just in another body… he was inside the world of the novel he'd read. The Hero and the Lost Constellation. His hands trembled as he processed it.
Unable to help himself, he spun around and slammed into the wall.
—Damn it! —he shouted, rubbing his head—. How the hell did I get here?! This has to be a shitty dream!
He staggered to the center of the room, breathing hard, trying to make sense of it all. Everything—from the news of dungeons and mana beasts to the existence of the Survivors' Association—matched his memories from the novel. Every detail seemed real: lineages, races, energy domes, alliances between humans, elves, dwarves, and demi-humans. And he… right in the middle, in a body that wasn't his own.
He turned on his phone out of habit, though he didn't expect it to help. He just needed something familiar to prove he wasn't losing it. Headlines about dungeons and mana creatures confirmed it: this world existed, and he was in it.
Taking a deep breath, mixing caution with curiosity, he focused on the floating system in front of him. No need to check his stats again; what interested him now was how everything really worked. Every inhabitant could access the system just by thinking. It displayed:
Skills: techniques learned or innate, from combat to mana manipulation.
Lineages: family or racial heritage granting unique advantages.
Elemental Attributes: natural elements a person can control through mana, like fire, water, wind, earth, light, or darkness.
His talent appeared as unknown, just like his elemental attributes. That made sense: in this world, the system only reveals someone's talent once the Talent Stone is broken—an artifact given during the academy entrance exam. Until then, his talent and elemental powers remained hidden.
He ran a hand over his face, stunned, and murmured:
—Welcome to your new home, Cael. Let's see how much of your old life is useful here… because right now, this is total chaos.
The mix of confusion, physical pain, and awe left him exhausted, but there was something fascinating about it all.
The walls were neutral and worn, furnished sparsely. No luxury, nothing revealing the original Cael's life—except one small detail: his phone, connected to the network, showed a balance of GC—Golden Coins—the standard currency. Physical or virtual, it could pay for food, transport, or even basic investments. As he checked it, his mind calculated how to stretch it until the Academy started, avoiding unnecessary shortages.
Exploring the phone, he found a video streaming app, surprisingly similar to those from his old world. He smiled at the small familiarity, a reminder that even in chaos, some fragments of everyday life could comfort him.
Looking out the window, he saw the city-dome, almost identical to Earth, with familiar streets, buildings, and vehicles—but differences were obvious: slightly advanced tech, lightly floating vehicles, and drones patrolling constantly. Some people manipulated mana visibly, creating lights or moving objects from a distance.
Mana was a resource tied to intelligence, mainly for aspiring mages. It fueled spellcasting, element control, and enhanced abilities. Though he didn't understand it yet, its presence was undeniable everywhere, from battles to everyday life.
He leaned back, letting his gaze drift over the city. Life continued: neighbors shopping, kids playing, merchants moving among stalls. Normality contrasted with the chaos of dungeons and mana beasts waiting beyond the dome.
—Alright… —he muttered, with a hint of sarcasm—. If I want to survive until the Academy starts, I better figure out how to stretch my GC. Food, transport, maybe a book… yeah, that works. Until then, no one sees me overspending.
The contrast of the mundane and extraordinary made him pause. This world had rules, dangers, and promises of adventure… but also banal moments, tiny details that even a 21-year-old transmigrator could laugh at, sigh, and wonder how he'd survive before Elitria Academy opened its doors.
Scanning the house, Cael felt both intrigued and confused. Everything seemed automated: lights, heating, even light cleaning. No idea how the original Cael could live like this, pay taxes, or where the money in his account came from, which already had a full history of anonymous transfers. Every GC received appeared senderless, as if fortune itself had materialized out of nowhere.
He grabbed a pencil and paper from a drawer. He needed to list everything he remembered from the novel: hidden treasures, secondary dungeons, forgotten skills, even enemies the "incompetent" protagonist would overlook. Each line stirred both frustration and amusement.
—Well, well… —he muttered, scribbling—. This idiot never made the most of anything he had. Always thinking he was the chosen one, ignoring resources, looking down on his friends. Being called "the chosen" doesn't magically make you capable of everything… How naive.
Biting the pencil, his amber eyes gleamed with determination and sarcasm. He knew something the other never did: if he didn't act now, if he didn't become stronger, he'd die long before the hero got a chance to shine. Every dungeon, every mana creature, every decision could mean the difference between life and death.
And yet, part of him worried: eventually he'd lose this huge advantage—the knowledge of the "future" of the book. The incompetent Cael would inherit the world as-is, and all that 21-year-old Cael knew would become useless if he didn't move fast.
—Alright… —he muttered, leaning on the table—. I won't let that idiot keep everything. I'll take what I can, use every resource, every trick, before he even notices. If this is a survival game, I play to win.
The contrast between the novel's world and the dome's harsh reality left him feeling a strange mix of human emotion and cold strategy. This wasn't a simple game; it was a world with real danger, and he held a unique advantage.
Unlike this world, where parents train children from a young age to wield swords or understand magic, Cael had just been a normal university student until a week ago. No special training, no mana knowledge… just books, notes, and endless coffee.
Knowing he would have to choose between warrior or mage at the Academy, he immediately ruled out mage. No foundation whatsoever, and trying to manipulate mana blindly would be suicide. Warrior wasn't better: he had no weapon knowledge, and in his previous world, violence was limited to police, military, or contact sports. Only a couple of fistfights in his life.
So the most sensible path: a martial artist, relying on hand-to-hand combat and physical skills he already had. At least this would give him a solid footing to avoid being a joke in the Academy's entrance exam.
—Alright, Cael —he whispered with a crooked smile—. First mission: learn not to die and gain a solid foundation. Everything else comes later.
Closing his eyes briefly, letting the strategy sink in, Cael smiled with satisfaction. He knew he had something perfect for his path to power, an object or resource that, with patience and cunning, would put him far ahead of any other cadet. Time, planning, and discretion mattered more than speed.
—Yes… —he murmured to himself, amber eyes glinting with cunning—. I want to see the faces of all those characters I read about… I want to see their jaws drop when someone defies what they thought was impossible.