The morning air was crisp, faintly laced with the scent of dew and blooming windroses.
I stood silently outside the Rosford orphanage, a dull ache in my limbs from yesterday's events.
My mana had recovered, and though the poison was gone, a strange heaviness still clung to my muscles.
Shela stood beside me, her eyes fixed on the rune she was carving in the air.
Glowing lines shimmered as she moved her fingers in precise, practiced motions, each stroke of light etching itself into space.
A Space Rune, that's right it's a portal rune of Shela.
Rune magic that manipulated the very fabric of existence and consider as language of God's is ,Complex,Dangerous and Rare.
Rune spell that can bind space is the kind of rune that only masters of rune magic could use right now only handfull people in all continents, and even fewer could create their own spell .
A single misstep could collapse a limb into itself or trap someone between spaces forever.
I had seen her cast it many times the way she bent the world around her, stitching threads of distance like a tailor mending cloth.
I should have been used to it by now.
And yet every time, it left me breathless.
Not visibly ofcourse, My face remained the same blank mask.
But inside, a flicker of awareness,Not emotion,Just understanding of power of control.
The rune gate completed with a final sharp twist of her hand, and a ripple tore through the air.
A glowing circle appeared before us, humming with layered energy.
"Come," she said, stepping into the light.
I followed.
The portal shimmered around us, like a veil of molten glass, and then it was gone.
Before I could think something, i was on rosford castle.
I stood on stone. Cool, ancient, rune-etched stone, Rosford Castle loomed before me.
The wind carried faint mana currents, the atmosphere charged like the moments before a thunderstorm. And yet, my expression did not change. Not from wonder,not from awe. Not from anything.
Because I didn't feel any of those things.
Rosford Castle was magnificent. A sprawling fortress carved out of mountain marble, with golden spires that pierced the cloud.
Walls imbued with ancient runes, humming softly. Glowing glyphs spiraled up the outer turrets, amplifying the castle's defensive barriers and absorbing the surrounding mana.
And still, I felt nothing.
The fusion of science and magic was unlike anything I'd seen firsthand.
Automated mana cores powered floating platforms.
Magical conduits guided energy through translucent pipelines.
Crystal towers projected holographic illusions over the outer city, blending camouflage with aesthetics.
It was beautiful.
But my face remained blank, my hands still, my heartbeat unchanging. Because that's just how I was, Detached, Emotionless, Foreign in my own body.
Shela stepped beside me, silent as always. Her gaze scanned the courtyard filled with arriving nobles, talent scouts, and selection judges. If there was awe in her eyes, it was carefully hidden.
She was one of the strongest beings present in the castle.
But I had the advantage of knowing the future. And I knew that even here, even now, the seeds of decay had already been planted.
As we stepped through the outer gate, our presence drew stares.
Some recognized Shela and instinctively moved aside. Others whispered.
Most looked at me.
That's when she left me.
"Shela"
Stay here. I need to speak with the council representatives.
" Shela said, already turning toward the central hall.
"Don't cause a scene."
"Understood," I replied evenly.
She vanished through a glowing doorway, her cloak fluttering behind her.
I stood alone.
The nobles were clustering in small groups. Sons and daughters of great houses, wearing enchanted silk and shimmering mana armor.
They laughed too loud.
Bragged too hard.
All posturing.
Then I felt it.
A thick, sticky presence brushing against my senses. Not powerful. Just… rancid. Like rotting oil in holy water.
"Well, well. Look what we have here."
His voice was high-pitched and sharp, like a child pretending to be a man.
I turned slowly. A young noble kid with blue eyes and Blue hair stood with two lesser nobles trailing behind him like obedient hounds.
His smile didn't reach his eyes.
"The great Shela's charity project"
Did she find you in a garbage bin, or was it a sewer this time?
I stared at him, expressionless.
He took a step closer.
"No witty comeback, bastard orphan? I heard about you that you have raised your filthy voice against us nobles.
Come on. Say something. She's not here to protect you.
Ah, when did I raised voice against nobles,who the hell is this basterd, why fuck did he is trying to screw me.
I remembered this basterd. He is Roger dawn a third rate basterd noble.
In the novel, Roger Dawn was little more than a parasite. A devil-seed.
His family would be the first to betray the kingdom. Sellouts.
They'd already pledged themselves to a demon king azarzal long before the war began. And Roger he was the kind of filth that fed on suffering.
A coward with a noble name. Week
I knew what he would become. What he would do.
But that was not today.
Austin
I didn't know rats could talk, I said flatly.
His smile twisted.
You dare speak to me that way? Me?
He moved in front of me, forcing me to stop.
"You're just a mistake. A filthy stain. An orphan born from who knows what slut in some alley.
You think just because Shela pities you, you can act like you belong here? You don't. You never will."
I blinked.
"You done?"
That made him twitch.
He raised a hand, his mana flaring blue flame crackling faintly at his fingertips.
I looked at him and take a stance to fight,
And for a moment, I remember it.
The future.
Him, begging for his life. A blade through his chest. Fire swallowing his home.
"Calm down."
The voice cut through the tension like a blade.
A girl stepped between us. Taller than me by half a head.
Dressed in black robes laced with violet threads.
Her silver eyes were piercing.
"You're embarrassing yourself, Roger," she said coldly.
He froze.
Lady R-Rayna, I was just.
Save it. Everyone's watching. And unlike you, some of us care about appearances.
Roger clenched his fists. His eyes burned into mine.
I stared back, silent.
After a tense pause, he spat to the side and walked away while saying, she won't save you in tournament, shoving one of his lackeys as he passed.
Rayna turned to me.
"Don't mistake that for kindness. I just hate noise."
"Noted," I said.
That's how you are rayna Smit I thought because I know this character from novel,
Daughter of one of the best merchant family, a noble family with a lot of money and connection.
They are the best Alchemist and poision master of our rosford country.
"Eventually she is the one will create silver dream , a medicine that can save people from any illness and desies"
"She is master of 32 poision art".
She raised an eyebrow, then walked off.
More whispers. More stares.
The nobles didn't like what they saw. An orphan, daring to ignore their rules.
To speak without fear.
To stand in Shela's shadow and not kneel.
They didn't understand me.
No one here did.
But they would.
Eventually.
I closed my eyes for a moment, filtering out the noise, the pressure, the scrutiny.
The tournament would begin soon. A test of blood, power, and potential.
The first step to entering Heros Academy.
Where I would meet the main characters of the story.
The ones fated for greatness, for tragedy, for war.
But I wouldn't follow their path.
I would write my own.
And if the world tried to stop me
It would burn.