The Royal Archive stood before us, an ancient structure carved from blackstone and infused with anti-magic sigils. Unlike the grand libraries of the human kingdom, which were open to scholars and nobility, this place was off-limits to nearly everyone.
Except for those who had proven themselves.
Elara and I had done exactly that.
Our demonstration of spellcasting without incantations had shattered the scholars’ understanding of magic. More importantly, it had granted us the privilege to study the archives firsthand.
But this wasn’t just about gaining knowledge.
The Forbidden Grimoire was stored within these walls.
And if we didn’t retrieve it before the wrong people did, we wouldn’t be the only ones rewriting history.
We’d be rewriting the fate of the entire world.
As we entered the archives, escorted by a senior scholar, my mind raced through everything I knew about the Forbidden Grimoire.
Unlike the Basic Mathemagic Grimoire, which introduced the concept of spell formulas, and the High-Level Grimoire, which contained complex but still decipherable magic, the Forbidden Grimoire was on a completely different level.
I knew exactly why.
Because I had written it that way.
The Forbidden Grimoire wasn’t just a spellbook—it was a scientific manifesto.
It contained modern physics and mathematics, concepts so advanced that even the most brilliant minds in this world couldn’t comprehend them.
Even PhD students from my world would struggle with it.
But Elara and I?
We weren’t just scholars—we were the only two people in this world who could actually understand it.
And that made us a threat.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Because if anyone else got their hands on it, they wouldn’t use it.
They’d destroy it.
Before we could even attempt to read the Forbidden Grimoire, we needed the High-Level Grimoire.
This wasn’t some arbitrary rule—it was by design.
The High-Level Grimoire, currently in possession of Elara’s father, the Grand Mage of the Kingdom, contained an encoded magical key.
Not a literal key—a mathematical key.
The spells in the High-Level Grimoire were designed as preliminary equations that would act as a decryption tool for the Forbidden Grimoire.
Without it, the Forbidden Grimoire would remain incomprehensible gibberish, even to me and Elara.
This was intentional.
Because when I first wrote this world, I had wanted magic to have structure.
To prevent reckless power.
To ensure that only those who truly understood magic and its logic could access the most powerful spells.
And now, I was standing in front of the very system I had created.
A system that would judge whether I was worthy of my own knowledge.
The interior of the Royal Archives was eerily quiet. No students, no wandering scholars—only warded shelves, enchanted to self-destruct if unauthorized hands touched them.
The senior scholar leading us stopped at the entrance of the restricted vaults.
"Your demonstration proved that you possess a unique understanding of magic," he said, adjusting his robes. "But knowledge alone does not grant access to the deepest archives."
Elara frowned. "What do you mean?"
The scholar gestured toward a massive stone door, covered in glowing geometric patterns.
"This door does not open to those who merely seek knowledge." He turned to face us, his expression unreadable. "It opens only to those who can prove they deserve it.
I had expected this.
Because this door—this Trial of the Archives—wasn’t something that had been placed here by the scholars.
It had been placed here by me.
In my original notes, I had described this security measure as a "proof-of-understanding mechanism."
It wasn’t just a magical lock.
It was a mathematical challenge.
Elara and I stepped forward. As soon as we did, the glowing patterns on the stone door shifted, rearranging themselves into a complex series of symbols.
Numbers. Functions. Derivatives.
The test had begun.
The scholars behind us stepped back, watching in silence.
Because they knew they wouldn’t understand this.
This was beyond them.
I scanned the symbols.
They weren’t random. They formed a multi-variable function, requiring an advanced understanding of both magical flow and real-world physics.
Elara’s breath hitched. "This… this is a differential equation linked to mana flow rates."
I nodded. "It’s a verification function. If we solve it, we prove we understand magic as a logical system."
She swallowed. "No one in this world would be able to solve this."
"Exactly," I said. "Because it was never meant for them."
This test wasn’t for mages.
It was for us.
It was for me.
I closed my eyes, visualizing the equation not as numbers—but as energy flow.
Mana had always been treated as a mystical force, something wielded through willpower alone.
But I had proven that mana followed equations.
That meant this wasn’t a test of magic.
It was a test of logic.
I began solving.
And the door began to glow.
Elara, working beside me, adjusted for the energy coefficients, ensuring that our answer accounted for both magical and physical constraints.
And then—
A deep clang echoed through the vault.
The scholars staggered back.
Because before their eyes, the stone door—sealed for centuries—began to open.
As the door slowly swung inward, I felt something shift.
A presence.
Not a person.
Not a creature.
But a force.
Because behind this door lay something that was never meant to exist in this world.
Something so advanced, so alien to the mages of this realm that they had locked it away—not because they feared its power, but because they couldn’t even begin to understand it.
And now, that knowledge was within our reach.
Elara turned to me, her voice barely above a whisper.
"We’re the only ones who can read it."
I nodded.
"Which means we’re the only ones who can decide what happens next."
The Forbidden Grimoire awaited.
And with it—
The final truth about magic.
