The dungeons of Silverstein Manor were less a prison and more a forgotten tomb. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth, ancient stone, and the ghosts of long-dead regrets. Water dripped from the ceiling in a slow, maddening rhythm, each drop echoing in the oppressive silence. This place hadn't been used in generations, not since the Silversteins had the power and influence to take prisoners worthy of the name. Now, it was just a cellar for our family's shame. A fitting place, I thought, to store the evidence of our new, shared secret.
Dragging the unconscious assassin was a grotesque and surreal experience. His body was heavy, a dead weight of muscle and leather, but my new strength made the task manageable. My muscles, reborn from pure mana, didn't scream in protest; they hummed with a quiet, efficient power. Beside me, Elizabeth hauled the other man, her movements fueled by a combination of noble pride and furious adrenaline. She was a Level 12 Mage, physically fit, but she was still struggling more than I was. A fact that did not go unnoticed. I saw her glance at me, at the ease with which I moved, and her expression tightened with another layer of resentful curiosity.
We dumped the two men in separate cells, the rusted iron doors groaning in protest as we forced them shut. The sound was loud enough to wake the dead, but the assassins remained unconscious. My improvised head-crack and Elizabeth's more professional ice-shard-to-the-temple approach had been effective.
We stood there for a moment in the flickering torchlight we'd brought, the silence stretching between us, thick and heavy with unspoken questions. The immediate crisis was over, but the aftershocks were just beginning.
"We need rope," Elizabeth said finally, her voice flat and businesslike, refusing to acknowledge the sheer insanity of the situation. "And gags. We can't have them screaming for help if they wake up."
"There's some old sacking in the wine cellar," I replied, the information surfacing from the original Kazuki's memories. "And frayed rope. It should be strong enough."
We worked in a tense, awkward tandem. I found the materials, and she, with a surprising ruthlessness, bound and gagged the prisoners. Her knots were tight and efficient. It was clear this wasn't the first time she had needed to restrain someone, though likely in a more controlled, academic setting.
"This one," she said, nodding toward the man I had disabled, the one who had stabbed me in the leg, "is from the Shadow Viper guild. A notorious organization of sell-swords and assassins based in the southern provinces. They are expensive. Very expensive."
"And the other?" I asked, looking at the man whose head had met the stone floor.
"His gear is unmarked, but the dagger he used is coated in a specific neurotoxin favored by the royal intelligence agency," she stated, her voice cold. "A poison that is difficult to trace and illegal for anyone outside the crown's direct service to possess."
My blood ran cold. "The royal intelligence agency? Why would the King want me dead?"
"He wouldn't," Elizabeth corrected me, her eyes meeting mine in the dim light. A silent message passed between us. "But the agency is known to take... private contracts. For the right price. And for powerful patrons who have the King's ear."
She didn't need to say his name. Duke Crimson. Her father had not only hired a common guild of assassins but had also leveraged his political power to employ a deniable asset from the kingdom's own spy network. He had covered his tracks beautifully. If one team failed, the other would succeed. No one would ever trace it back to him.
"He left nothing to chance," I murmured.
"He never does," she confirmed, a bitter edge to her voice. "He is a meticulous, patient man. He will not be happy that two of his assets have... failed to report back."
The implication was clear. Her father would know something had gone wrong. He would be suspicious. He would send more.
"This alliance of yours," she said, turning to face me fully, her arms crossed over her chest. "Let us be clear on the terms. This is not a partnership of equals. It is a contract of convenience. I will not sabotage you, and I will not allow my father's agents to murder you on my watch, because your continued, breathing existence is currently advantageous to my own goals."
"And what goals are those?" I asked.
"Freedom," she answered without hesitation, her eyes flashing with a fire I had never seen before. "Freedom from my father. Freedom from this farce of a marriage. Freedom to pursue my own power, on my own terms. You, with your... 'Ancestral Awakening,' are a tool. A useful, unpredictable, and potentially powerful tool. I will use you to secure my freedom. In return, I will help keep you alive. That is the extent of our 'alliance.' Do not mistake it for friendship. Do not mistake it for trust. And above all, do not mistake it for affection."
[Verbal contract established,] ARIA noted in my mind. [Terms: Mutual survival and assistance against a common enemy. Motivation: Pragmatism and ambition. Probability of betrayal from her side if a more advantageous path presents itself: 73.8%.]
"I understand completely," I said to Elizabeth, meeting her icy gaze. "I have no desire for your affection. I only require your cooperation. But let me be clear on one thing, my lady. A tool can be used by anyone. If you are not careful, the weapon you think you are wielding might just be the one that cuts you."
Her eyes narrowed. The threat, the challenge, hung in the air between us. This was our new dynamic. A dance of predators, circling each other, bound by a common chain but ready to bite at the first sign of weakness.
"See that you don't," she said finally. "Now, we must get back before we are missed. We have a wedding to attend in the morning."
She turned and swept out of the dungeons, leaving me alone with the bound assassins and the ghost of my former self.
I returned to my room to find it exactly as I had left it: a scene of controlled chaos. The overturned table, the shattered pitcher, the bloody dagger on the floor. It felt like a lifetime ago.
I righted the table and picked up the dagger, wiping the blood on a piece of discarded cloth. The metal was cold and heavy in my hand. A tool for ending lives. I had used it. I had taken a life... no, I had incapacitated someone. But I had been ready to do more. The thought was sobering.
"Alright, ARIA," I said to the empty room, my voice low. "The immediate crisis is over. Now, you and I are going to have a long talk. I want a full system debrief. No more sarcasm. No more holding back. Tell me everything. What the hell am I?"
The familiar blue text boxes appeared in my vision, but this time they were different. They were more structured, more like a proper system interface.
[Debrief Initiated. Welcome, Host, to the Corrupted System, Version 1.0. Please do not call me your 'waifu.' It is demeaning.]
A small smile touched my lips. "Noted. Let's start with the big one. 'Death Advantage.' What does it mean?"
[The skill 'Death Advantage' is the primary result of the glitched respawn protocol,] ARIA explained. [When your soul, an unregistered foreign entity, expired, the world's system attempted to eject you. My core programming, fused with your soul, resisted this ejection. The resulting conflict created a feedback loop. To resolve the paradox, the system executed a hard reboot of your physical vessel, using ambient mana as raw material and your soul's data as the blueprint.]
"So I was rebuilt from magic."
[A crude but accurate summary. The 'Death Advantage' is a side effect of this process. Each time the system performs this 'hard reboot,' it overcompensates, reinforcing the vessel's core parameters to prevent a similar failure. Your first death resulted in a 50% increase to all base stats. It is a permanent upgrade.]
My mind reeled at the implication. "Each time? You mean... if I die again..."
[The protocol will activate again. However, the outcome is not guaranteed to be the same. The system is unstable. A second death might grant you a different kind of boon. It might unlock new skills. It might grant you nothing. Or it might result in a fatal error that permanently deletes your consciousness. It is the ultimate gamble.]
The ultimate gamble. Dying to get stronger. It was the most insane, most brilliant LitRPG mechanic I had ever heard of. It was a power born from failure itself.
"Okay. Next. 'Beginner's Mana Affinity (Glitched).' You said my allergy to the world was... complicated."
[Correct. Your original body was unable to process mana, leading to Mana Poisoning. Your new body, having been constructed from mana, has a fundamentally different relationship with it. You are no longer allergic to it. In fact, your body now recognizes it as a native component.][However, you still lack the natural 'mana conduits' of a native being. You cannot draw mana from the environment to cast complex spells like a traditional mage. Your 10 MP is a closed, internal reservoir—a battery. It was filled during your reconstruction. Once it is depleted, you will not be able to naturally regenerate it.]
"So it's a finite resource?" I asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.
[For now. There may be... unconventional ways to recharge it in the future. Glitches in the system. But for now, yes. Your power is finite. Use it wisely.]
This was critical information. My flashbang spell had cost me all 10 of my MP. I was powerless again, magically speaking.
"Which brings me to the spell," I said. "The flash. You said it was a 'command.' What does that mean?"
[It means you are not a mage. You are a programmer. A mage learns to 'speak' to the world's system through incantations and magical circles—a form of user interface. You, on the other hand, have a direct line to the system's backend. Your thoughts, when properly structured and fueled by your mana, can act as direct command-line prompts.]
A new window opened, displaying the "code" of my last spell.
[COMMAND: System.out.println("FLASH")][MANA COST: 10][SYSTEM INTERPRETATION: Host is attempting to 'print' the concept of 'flash' to the immediate environment. Executing... Converting 10 MP into a burst of raw, unfocused light and photonic energy.][RESULT: Successful, if crude, execution.]
I stared at the text, my programmer's heart beating with excitement. I hadn't cast a spell. I had executed a script. I had hacked reality.
"This... this changes everything," I breathed. "I don't need to learn spells. I can write them."
[Theoretically,] ARIA cautioned. [But your understanding of the 'syntax' is non-existent. The command you issued was a fluke, a desperate shot in the dark that the system happened to interpret correctly. Your INT and WIS stats allow you to formulate the commands, but you lack the practical knowledge to implement them reliably. Attempting complex commands without understanding the rules could have... unpredictable consequences.]
"Then teach me," I demanded. "Give me the tutorial. What are the rules? What's the syntax?"
[The 'syntax' is not a programming language you would recognize,] she explained. [It is a form of conceptual logic. Simple, direct, and unambiguous commands are more likely to succeed. 'PUSH' is better than 'Telekinetically move that object.' 'CREATE LIGHT' is better than 'Cast a spell to illuminate the room.' The system interprets intent.][For now, you should focus on single-word commands. PUSH. PULL. LIFT. IGNITE. SHIELD. These are your foundational APIs, your basic function calls. Each will have a mana cost. The more complex the intent, the higher the cost.]
This was my new magic. My new power. It wasn't about waving a wand and chanting in pseudo-Latin. It was about logic, intent, and command. It was a magic system designed for a programmer.
My excitement was a palpable thing. I had to try it.
I looked around the room and my eyes landed on the heavy book of elven fairy tales Luna had given me, which was lying on the floor. My mana was at zero. I couldn't try now. The disappointment was sharp.
[Your MP is currently 0/10,] ARIA stated, as if reading my mind. [However, the 'Lesser Regeneration' buff from Elizabeth's healing spell is still active. It is primarily regenerating your HP, but a fraction of the restorative energy can be diverted. I can reroute the buff to your mana pool. You will regenerate 1 MP per hour. It is inefficient, but it is better than nothing.]
"Do it," I said immediately.
A new notification appeared. [Buff 'Lesser Regeneration' rerouted. Now regenerating 1 MP per hour.]
An hour. I had to wait a whole hour just to try a single, simple command. The wait was agonizing. I paced my room like a caged animal, my mind buzzing with possibilities. I could create shields, push enemies, create light... the possibilities were limited only by my mana pool and my imagination.
After what felt like an eternity, a small notification pinged in my vision. [MP: 1/10]
I was ready.
I focused on the book on the floor. I took a deep breath, clearing my mind, focusing my intent. I pictured the book lifting into the air. I formed the command in my mind, as clearly and simply as I could.
LIFT.
I pushed the command out, fueling it with my single, precious point of mana.
For a second, nothing happened. Then, the book trembled. It rose an inch off the floor, wobbled precariously in the air for a moment, and then fell back to the ground with a soft thud.
[COMMAND: LIFT][MANA COST: 1][RESULT: Partial success. Insufficient mana for sustained effect.]
It had worked! It was a pathetic, feeble result, but it had worked! I had performed magic with my mind.
A wide, goofy grin spread across my face. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning who had just gotten the one toy he had always wanted.
The next few hours were a blur of intense, frustrating, and exhilarating experimentation. Each hour, my mana would tick up by one point, and I would immediately spend it.
I tried PUSH. The book skittered across the floor a few feet. I tried PULL. It slid back toward me. I tried IGNITE. A tiny, harmless spark appeared on the cover of the book for a fraction of a second and then died. [Insufficient mana for sustained combustion,] ARIA noted dryly.
It was slow, painstaking work. I was like a baby learning to walk, stumbling and falling with every step. But I was learning. I was mapping the boundaries of my new power.
The sun was beginning to rise, painting the grey sky outside my window with strokes of orange and pink, when the exhaustion finally hit me. It was a good exhaustion, the satisfying weariness that comes after a night of productive work.
A soft knock came at the door. It was Luna, arriving with my wedding attire.
She entered the room and gasped. She wasn't looking at me, but at the book of fairy tales, which was currently floating a steady six inches above the floor. I had spent my last 3 MP on a sustained LIFT command.
"Y-young Master!" she stammered, her eyes wide with wonder. "You... you're doing magic!"
I let the command go, and the book gently floated down to the floor. I offered her a tired smile. "Just practicing."
Her hero-worship was in full effect now. She looked at me as if I were one of the legendary heroes from the very book I was levitating. She helped me dress for my wedding, her hands trembling with reverence every time they brushed against me. The clothes were a far cry from my old ones. As the groom in a political marriage to the daughter of a Duke, I was afforded a new wardrobe. It was a suit of fine, silver-and-white fabric, tailored to fit my new, healthier frame.
When I looked at myself in the cracked, full-length mirror in the corner of the room, I barely recognized the person staring back. The gaunt, sickly boy was gone. In his place was a young man. Still thin, but with a straight back and a healthy pallor to his skin. My silver-blond hair seemed to have regained some of its shine. But the biggest change was in the eyes. They were my eyes, the eyes of Kazuki Tanaka, but they held a new light. A faint, blue-tinged glow that seemed to see the world in a different way. They were the eyes of a man with secrets. The eyes of a man with power.
"You look... like a prince," Luna whispered, her hands clasped to her chest.
[Her assessment is factually incorrect,] ARIA commented. [Princes typically have higher charisma stats and do not have a pending execution scheduled for their wedding day. However, your CHA stat has increased to 8. You are now officially 'moderately charming.' Do not let it go to your head.]
A loud, booming knock came at the door. "Kazuki! It is time! Do not keep the Duke waiting!" It was my father.
My heart began to pound, a nervous rhythm against my ribs. This was it. The quest was beginning. 'A Glitched Wedding.'
I gave Luna a final, reassuring nod and walked out of the room.
The journey to the manor's private chapel was a silent, tense affair. My father walked beside me, his face a mixture of pride and terror. He was proud that his son was marrying into the powerful Crimson family, but terrified of the Duke and the fragile deal he had made.
We reached the large oak doors of the chapel. Waiting there, looking like a goddess carved from ice and starlight, was Elizabeth.
She was breathtaking.
She wore a gown of deep, midnight blue, embroidered with what looked like actual diamonds that glittered like trapped stars. The dress was elegant and severe, perfectly matching her personality. Her golden hair was piled high on her head in an intricate arrangement of braids and silver pins. She wore no veil. Her beautiful, icy face was unobscured, her expression as cold and unreadable as a frozen lake.
She looked at me, her eyes sweeping over my new attire, my healthier appearance. Her gaze lingered for a moment on my own eyes, on the faint, blue glow I knew was there.
We stood in silence for a moment, the weight of our new, fragile alliance hanging between us. We were two enemies, two conspirators, about to be bound together by the most sacred vow in this world.
"You look... better than expected," she said, her voice a low murmur, meant only for me. It was the closest she had ever come to giving a compliment.
"You look beautiful," I replied honestly.
A flicker of surprise crossed her face before she suppressed it. "Flattery will get you nowhere, monster."
"Noted," I said with a small smile.
The great oak doors of the chapel began to swing open, revealing the candlelit interior and the small, powerful crowd gathered within. I could see Duke Crimson standing at the altar, his face a mask of predatory satisfaction.
This was it. The point of no return.
Just as I was about to take a step forward, to walk down the aisle to my doom, Elizabeth spoke again, her voice a barely audible whisper.
"A word of advice for my clever fiancé," she murmured, not looking at me.
"I'm listening."
"My father is a man who enjoys insurance policies," she said. "He has placed a 'Rune of Veracity' on the floor before the altar. It is an ancient, powerful truth rune."
A cold dread washed over me.
"During our vows," she continued, her voice as sharp and cold as a shard of ice, "we will be asked if we enter this union of our own free will, with truth in our hearts. If you lie while standing on that rune... you will be instantly incinerated by holy fire."
She finally turned to look at me, a tiny, cruel, and almost triumphant smile playing on her lips.
"Try not to lie about your newfound 'Ancestral Awakening,' monster. This should be interesting."
The doors were fully open now. The soft, melodic sound of a harp filled the air. My father was gesturing for us to proceed.
I was walking into a trap. A brilliant, perfect trap. I had to stand on a magic lie detector and swear my vows. But my entire existence here was a lie.
[Quest Objective Updated,] ARIA's voice was grim in my mind. [Survive your vows.]
I looked at Elizabeth. She was watching me, waiting to see how I would react. Waiting for the clever boy to squirm.
I simply offered her my arm.
"Shall we, my lady?" I asked, my voice calm, my heart a block of ice in my chest.
Because in that moment, I realized something. The rune detected lies. But a programmer doesn't deal in lies.
He deals in loopholes.