Time fractured.
Steven stood between frozen seconds. The world around him moved at a crawl—raindrops hung suspended midair, Zaira's blades locked mid-swing, the Riftborn frozen mid-roar.
But he moved.
No, he existed—outside time.
(This is… unreal.)
His body thrummed with paradox energy. Glyphs swirled across his skin, ancient and unstable. The Codex within him pulsed like a living heart, syncing with something beyond this dimension.
"Chrono-Severance complete," echoed a voice inside his mind. "You are now the contradiction."
Steven clenched his fists.
(If I'm outside time... then this thing can't heal. It can't react.)
He rushed forward.
Each step left behind ripples in the timestream. With one strike, he plunged his glowing hand into the Riftborn's chest. The beast didn't flinch—couldn't even process his existence.
"Let's see how you handle paradox magic."
He unleashed the spell. Light, shadow, and raw temporal chaos exploded outward, shredding the beast's essence into fragments.
A shriek unlike anything ever heard before pierced the void—part animal, part dimension.
The Riftborn cracked like shattered glass.
BOOM!
Time snapped back.
Steven hit the ground hard, gasping for breath. The rift trembled, unstable. The beast was gone.
But the damage was done.
Zaira ran to him, eyes wide. "You… you existed outside time. Steven, that spell—where did you learn that?"
He sat up slowly, the Codex symbols still fading from his arms.
"I didn't. It just… happened."
"That's not normal. Even for you."
He looked toward the shadowy figure—the Shadow Archivist.
Still standing. Watching. Smiling.
"You used the Codex's Paradox Seal," the Archivist said calmly. "It responds only to those who've seen the truth."
Steven's jaw tightened. "You keep talking like I'm some piece of a puzzle."
"You are," the Archivist said. "You always were."
Suddenly, a second rift tore open behind him—twice as large.
Zaira's face paled. "Another one?!"
"No…" the Archivist said. "That one leads to the Forbidden Realm. The Cradle of Forgotten Stars."
Steven rose. "What's coming through that one?"
The Archivist gave a chilling smile.
"Not what… who."
From the rift… stepped a man draped in a cloak of galaxy dust. His eyes burned with gold fire, and his presence pressed against reality like a black hole.
Steven staggered back. "…Who… is that?"
The Archivist bowed his head. "The one who wrote the Codex… before it was rewritten."
Zaira whispered, "You mean—"
"Yes," the Archivist interrupted. "The Original Starcaster."
(To be continued)
Want to go straight into Chapter 63? This is where the cosmic mystery escalates.
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Yes continue
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Let's push forward into the next explosive chapter of Spellcaster: The Lethal Chronicles.
Chapter 63: The First Starcaster
The world grew silent.
Not the peaceful kind—but the kind before a cataclysm.
The man who stepped through the rift radiated command. Even the light bent around him, as if space itself refused to defy him. His cloak shimmered with the constellations of forgotten galaxies, and his footsteps echoed in ways footsteps shouldn't.
Steven felt it immediately—his magic shrank in this man's presence.
(What… is he?)
Zaira took a cautious step back. "I can't feel his aura. It's like it's before magic itself."
The Shadow Archivist lowered his head in reverence. "Behold… Cal'dor Eternus. The First Starcaster. The one who transcended the Codex."
Steven's fists clenched. "You said he wrote the Codex."
Cal'dor spoke. His voice was like a choir of fading stars—ancient, echoing, and final.
"I did not write it… I bled it into reality."
Steven took a defensive stance. "Then why are you here? To take it back?"
Cal'dor studied him. There was no hostility. No rush. Just cold, divine observation.
"You fractured the Veil. That is both a crime… and a necessity."
Zaira stepped forward. "If you're the original Starcaster, then you're part of the reason the realms are unstable."
He turned to her. "The instability was inevitable. Reality is unthreading itself. I simply came to witness the echo... and the replacement."
Steven blinked. "…Replacement?"
Cal'dor walked slowly toward him.
"The Codex seeks a new voice. One born not of stars, but of choice."
He stopped a few feet away from Steven. "You are not ready. But you must be. Or everything falls."
Steven's mind raced.
(Why me? Why now? Is this why the Codex chose me? Am I just a tool for some ancient cosmic script?)
Cal'dor raised a hand. "Let me show you."
Suddenly, the world inverted.
Colors drained. Sound muted. Steven's eyes burned with light—and then he was falling.
A vision.
A dead world.
A shattered moon.
Stars blinking out one by one like dying candles.
He saw a version of himself… kneeling in ash, bloodied, alone.
Above him stood Pain—his nemesis. Transformed. Godlike. Radiant with divine corruption.
Pain laughed.
"You waited too long. And now, all of it ends."
Steven screamed—
And snapped back to reality.
He staggered, clutching his chest.
Zaira grabbed his arm. "Steven! Are you okay?!"
He looked up at Cal'dor, eyes burning with defiance.
"I saw it. The end. The world… destroyed. Pain wins."
Cal'dor nodded slowly. "That is the final page of the Codex… if you do nothing."
Steven stood. Slowly. Eyes hard.
"Then I'll rewrite the damn book."
The Codex pulsed inside him—once. Loud.
Cal'dor smirked. "Good."
He stepped back toward the rift.
"Your paradox awakened the true Codex. But that power comes with a cost. The more you use it, the more reality will rebel."
"So what now?" Steven asked.
The Shadow Archivist spoke for the first time since the arrival.
"Now, Steven Lethal… you gather the other Spellcasters. The ones the Codex forgot."
Cal'dor vanished into the rift.
And Steven was left with a new mission.
Find the Forgotten.
Rewrite the Codex.
And stop Pain… before the final page is written.
(To be continued)