Aeon couldn't believe his eyes.
He sat frozen in the library chair, silenced, shocked, and confused. The same book lay open before him. The same flickering lamp lit the corner of the room. As if nothing had ever changed. As if he had never left.
Breathing heavily, Aeon stood up, his legs weak beneath him. He reached out with trembling hands and picked up the book—The Chronicles of Lady Sarah.
What he saw inside made his heart stop.
The ending had changed.
The kingdom of Vereska, once destined to fall, had been saved by Princess Sarah.
But what truly stunned him—Noil, the character he had become, had vanished after the final battle. There was no mention of him after the kingdom was saved.
"What happened to Noil?" Aeon whispered. "Why wasn't he there at the end?"
His thoughts raced back to the moment after the royal banquet, when he had returned to his chamber and fallen asleep. No death. No farewell.
"Does that mean… I never possessed Noil's body?" Aeon murmured. "Was I really there... with my real body?"
He flipped back to the beginning of the novel, seeking answers. His eyes widened.
Noil's appearance had changed.
Once described with black hair and black eyes, the new version now had silver hair—and heterochromatic eyes, one green and one blue.
Aeon froze.
That was him.
Though he'd never seen his own reflection—there were no mirrors in the orphanage—he knew. That was his face. His real body.
His fingers trembled on the page.
When he had lived as Noil, he never questioned his identity because everyone called him by that name. But now, the truth unraveled like a thread pulled loose from a tightly woven tale.
Suddenly, he felt something stir within him. A warm current, flowing gently beneath his skin, like calm water—quiet, but powerful.
He removed his shirt and stared in disbelief.
His body had changed. He was taller, more toned. Muscles lined his arms and chest—no longer the fragile, dull boy he once was.
Still overwhelmed, Aeon dressed quickly, clutched the book to his chest, and stepped out of the library.
The quiet halls of the orphanage greeted him like an old friend. Everything was just as it had been.
Except him.
In the garden, he saw her.
A girl with soft white hair and pale violet eyes, sitting in the grass, gazing at the sky as always.
Lily.
She, like Aeon, had always been quiet—a forgotten soul in a forgotten place. They had grown up together, like two books on the same dusty shelf. Lily never spoke much, never played with the others. She just stared up at the clouds, searching for something.
Aeon walked over and sat behind her, watching her back as the sky turned gold with dusk. Everyone here is the same, he thought. Minding their own silence. Never changing, like this place.
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, it was evening. Lily was gone.
He returned inside and entered the mess hall, grabbed his dinner, and sat down quietly. After eating, he wandered past the hallway window—and saw her again.
Lily sat in the garden once more. The moonlight cast a silver glow across her face, her hair swaying gently in the breeze. Her gemstone eyes shimmered like starlight.
"She's beautiful… just like Sarah," Aeon whispered.
He turned to leave—but a voice behind him made him pause.
"Where are you going, Aeon?"
He spun around and saw a familiar face. A young nun with green eyes and blonde hair—Anni. One of the three nuns at the orphanage.
Aeon was puzzled. Anni never spoke to anyone.
"In my room," he replied. "Why?"
"No, don't misunderstand," she said calmly. "It's just… you look different."
"What do you mean?"
"Your height—it's changed. And I saw you in the garden earlier."
"Oh… I just wanted some fresh air."
"That's good," she said with a gentle smile. "You can go now."
"…Okay. Thank you."
That night, when everyone else had gone to sleep, Aeon returned to the library.
He had come here so many times before. But tonight—it felt different. The air was charged with something unseen. Something waiting.
He stood before the shelf, eyes scanning the spines. He reached out and pulled one free.
Will it be like last time? he wondered.
He opened the book.
A sudden light burst from the pages—brighter than before.
Fuuushh—BOOM.
The world around him shifted. And just like that, he was inside the story.
But this time—he wasn't shocked. He wasn't confused.
He laughed.
He could still feel the warmth inside him—stronger now.
Mana.
The journey had only just begun.
A whole year had passed in Aeon's world.
"I've traveled through different worlds for a year now," Aeon muttered to himself as he stood in front of the orphanage window, watching the dull sky. "I've changed so much. My body, my mana... everything. And the knowledge I gain in those worlds? I can use it here, too."
He clenched his fist and felt the raw, swelling power within.
"My mana capacity has increased thousands of times. I've fought through fifty different books, faced life and death more times than I can count. But every time I step into a new world... it excites me. It gives me courage. It makes me feel alive."
That morning, as always, the children gathered in the mess hall. Breakfast was boiled potato soup with a pinch of salt. It never changed.
I've tasted meals fit for emperors, dishes beyond imagination... and yet, we still eat this, Aeon thought bitterly, sipping without enthusiasm.
After finishing his meal, he wandered into the garden. Bored and restless, he decided to leave the orphanage grounds and explore the nearby town.
Verliya—a quiet, forgotten city. Just a handful of houses and a population content with routine. Wake at dawn, work through the day, lock the doors at night. A place with no dreams and no chaos.
Aeon walked aimlessly, and before long, his steps led him south—toward the forest that bordered the town.
It was a strange forest. Silent. Lifeless.
No birds. No animals. Not even the rustle of unseen critters.
But Aeon, no longer a fragile orphan, walked in without fear. His senses were sharp, his magic potent. The trees stretched like bones, barren and hollow, their branches leafless like skeletal fingers reaching for the sky.
As he ventured deeper, he spotted something unusual—a towering tree, nearly thirty-five meters tall. Aeon had never seen it before.
Using his levitation magic, he ascended swiftly to the top.
What he saw left him stunned.
The forest stretched endlessly. A vast ocean of trees, far denser than he had ever imagined.
In the center of that endless green, he saw a clearing.
A perfect circle. Empty space.
And in the middle of that clearing—a small hut.
Curious, Aeon conjured his self-made spell: Wind Acceleration, and soared through the sky like a silver arrow.
Landing softly before the hut, he looked it over.
"A hut... in the middle of this dead forest? That's new."
He pushed the door open.
It was abandoned. Dust blanketed the floor. Empty shelves, a broken table. Nothing else.
Except...
In the corner, half-buried in dust, was a pendant.
He picked it up and gently wiped away the grime. It was plain—no gems, no carvings—just a single letter etched into it:
L.
Aeon pocketed the pendant, ready to leave, but suddenly—
A chill.
A brief, fleeting whisper of something... sinister.
He froze.
His instincts, sharpened through endless battles in countless worlds, screamed evil.
Concentrating his mana, he scanned the forest. Traces—faint, but real—of a creature. Something dark.
He followed the trail, weaving through the trees until it abruptly vanished near the tall tree.
"The darkness... it's in this world too," Aeon whispered. "My world... it's not untouched."
He returned to the orphanage.
In his room, he took out the pendant and examined it again. No dark energy. But when he opened it, he found something inside.
A half-burnt photo.
A child, but the face was too damaged to recognize.
Aeon stared at it for a moment, then closed it, slipping it back into his pocket.
With nothing left to investigate, he made his way to the library.
The once-forgotten room was now clean and alive with magic. Aeon had spent countless nights restoring it.
He raised his hand, and a gentle light spell lit the room.
He summoned a book from the shelf.
Its title shimmered in gold:
The Ash Prince.
"This book... it's just like Chronicles of Lady Sarah. But the story is even darker."
He grabbed the book. Instantly, light surged from its pages.
In the blink of an eye—he was gone.
Aeon opened his eyes.
He was lying on the ground.
Barred shackles wrapped tightly around his neck. Flames danced in the distance—buildings were burning.
He quickly shattered the restraints with a burst of mana and stood, surveying the chaos.
Screams echoed across the square. A furious mob gathered in the center. Among the crowd, teenagers—barely older than him—were tied to poles.
"KILL THEM!"
"KILL THE WITCHES!"
Aeon's eyes narrowed.
Then, through the blood and mud, he saw her.
A girl on her knees.
Her face was blurred by grime, but her aura—her presence—was unmistakable.
With his Clear Vision, Aeon saw through the haze.
Black eyes like twin infernos, glowing with boundless fury.
Hair as black as midnight.
He knew her name.
Silvia.
The one who would become the most powerful mage of the century.
The Queen of Black Fire.
The Dark Phoenix.