Muscles. Over six hundred of them make up nearly half our body weight. They hold us together, make us move. The central nervous system sends signals to muscle fibers, telling them when and how to contract. The more efficient it is, the stronger we are. Bone structure, tendons, connective tissues, and adenosine triphosphate, all play a role. Strength comes from tearing and rebuilding these fibers—a slow process that takes months, sometimes years.

  For normal humans, at least.

  Panting heavily, I pushed through the burn.

  [Master Noah, keep your back straight. Good posture is essential for effective push-ups.] Nano’s mechanical voice chimed in my head. Nano had created a custom training regimen for me.

  With trillions of nanites in my system, able to heal, adapt, and rebuild tissues faster than humanly possible, I could gain strength at an accelerated pace. Though, in a world where magic reigned, this hardly mattered.

  Still, it was a necessary baby step for my priorities.

  And the way I saw it, I had three main priorities.

  Number one: Ensure my survival.

  Number two: Apply for a transfer. There was no way in hell I would attend the same magic academy as the protagonist and the main cast. They’re disaster magnets. Once the affinity test was over, I would apply for a transfer to some distant magic academy.

  Number three: Figure out my situation. How I ended up in this world, and what exactly happened. Although, I’m not exactly sure where to start.

  Those were the priorities. And personal strength was necessary. I needed to be ‘decently fit’ to attend a magic academy. It wasn’t even a personal choice; the other Noah’s life put me in this position. He had the potential to reach Rank C and had been enrolled in the Hero program. Now, I'm him.

  Securing a steady source of income was just as important. But that could wait for now.

  Only a few days remained before the academy.

  “Grr!” I grunted, my arms shaking with each rep until I finally collapsed onto the cold concrete. “I can’t feel my arms,” I groaned, my voice tinged with exhaustion.

  Lying flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, another thought bothered me.

  “Status.”

  ────────────────────

  ┌─────────────────┐

  │ ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?

  └─────────────────┘

  ????????: Noah Grey

  ????????: G

  ??????: 17

  ??????????????: Homosapien

  ??????????: None

  ■?????????? →

  Health: 100/ 100

  Mana: 100/ 100

  Strength: 70

  Intelligence: ??

  Mana Capacity: 0

  Stamina: G

  Charm: E

  Dexterity: A

  ????????????: None

  ????????????: None

  ??????: None

  Gift: Manuscript

  ────────────────────

  My gaze fell on the status window's gift. The concept of a gift was simple—a supernatural power that one received freely at birth. But only one in a hundred thousand people had a gift in this world.

  From the other Noah’s memory, it was clear that he didn’t have any such gift.

  But I did—it was the Manuscript. The Manuscript was like a script detailing how the world was supposed to work and how events were meant to happen. But the Manuscript was incomplete—fragmented. And because of this power, I somehow just knew.

  Although the information it provided was very useful, it wasn’t exactly a superpower. It was a rather odd gift, but I wasn’t complaining.

  Then, my eyes shifted to another section of the status window, where the words "Mana Capacity: 0" blazed clearly. Mana capacity referred to the body’s ability to absorb mana particles from the atmosphere. Zero was very odd. Did this mean I couldn’t draw mana from the atmosphere? Or was this some other mystery tied to my transmigration?

  Mana... it was a strange feeling at first. I didn’t realise it back then, but once I got accustomed to this world, I started sensing it. Or should I say I ‘realised’ it?

  Occasionally, there were faint traces of static in the air, followed by a fluid-like sensation beneath my skin. That was the flow of mana. With just a thought, I could regulate the speed of its flow, like controlling my breath. Faster or slower—but controlling its direction was beyond me.

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  Other races were known to have greater mana capacities than humans.

  Orcs, on the other hand, relied on aura.

  As for me... a hundred mana, zero capacity. It didn’t make sense. Sure, a body could regenerate mana without absorbing it from the atmosphere, but that would take a lot of time to refill the mana in arteries and veins. Relying solely on the natural ability to regenerate mana to fill one’s reserves over time would cause strain—potentially even leading to something known as mana contamination. Yet here I was, without any of those drawbacks... whether due to nano or something else, I couldn’t say just yet.

  I pushed the thought aside and focused on the task at hand—the workout.

  Slowly, the fatigue faded. I pushed myself up and started again.

  * * *

  It had been some time since I got the Mystery of Teleportation, but I wasn’t able to find the time to test it. Now seemed as good a time as any.

  Luckily, Mysteries didn’t run on mana.

  They could be used with the simple intent of one’s will. But the simplicity ended there. Mysteries were notoriously tricky. They came with their own costs. Using a Mystery’s power heavily relied on understanding the concepts behind their power. And utilising a Mystery’s full potential needed a lot of practice, along with some ‘additional conditions’. Each Mystery carried within it a web of complex concepts, and only by untangling those could one truly wield its real power.

  They were like unsolved pieces of a puzzle without any manual to guide their assembly. I didn’t know what their limits were, or if they even had any limits. I only had a rough idea about what they could do; the rest depended on exploration.

  After a little tour, I made my way back from the local supermarket, passing a vast green field. It used to be part of an old factory site that shut down years ago. After the place went under, they just left the land untouched. Now, it was just an empty space, overgrown and mostly forgotten.

  I entered the field and called out, "Nano, be prepared in case something goes wrong."

  [Affirmative. On standby.]

  My attention then focused on the front gate of the field, the same one I had walked through moments before.

  "Let’s see how this goes," I murmured, staring intently at the gate. I concentrated, the word forming in my mind—Teleport.

  Nothing happened.

  I wasn’t surprised. Mysteries weren’t that simple. Trying again, I commanded ‘Teleport’ with more focus, but this time I didn’t just think the word. I thought about what teleportation really meant: the act of moving from here to there, from point A to point B, appearing somewhere as though I’d always been there. I visualised the exact patch of ground near the gate where I wanted to be.

  Reality blurred. The gate, once distant, suddenly felt close. Too close. The world around me spun into a confusing haze. And then—I was there, standing before the gate.

  But the moment was short-lived. My legs gave out beneath me, and I crumpled to the ground as nausea hit me like a freight train. Pain surged through my skull, a pressure that felt like it would split me open. My stomach twisted violently, and I gagged, bile burning the back of my throat. Then, without warning, I vomited. “Blurghh!”

  Whatever I had eaten came out with a stench that filled the air, foul and acrid.

  It took several minutes before the sickness faded, and I could think clearly again. Only then did I realise I was lying naked on the ground, covered in dirt and vomit.

  My clothes, still back where I’d teleported from, hadn’t made the journey with me.

  “Huh… Fuck! Why?”

  It dawned on me, painfully late, that I hadn’t considered my clothes as part of my teleportation.

  I had visualised myself moving, but not the things I wore. And teleportation, it seemed, wasn’t as simple as I’d imagined. Nano told me my body wasn’t prepared for such strains.

  I put on my vomit-stained clothes. Luckily, no one was around the area.

  Dragging my exhausted body, I stumbled back into the flat and sank into a chair near the window. Evening had settled in, and the sun was beginning its descent. The once-blue sky was now shifting into hues of orange and red. It felt as if my world’s sky and Draeth’s were colliding with each other. Was it my weary mind playing tricks on me, or were the desires of my heart seeping into my head?

  Somewhere in the distance, the twitter of swallows clashed with the croak of ravens. The room, now darker and quieter, and I felt heavier yet somehow hollow.

  "What am I even thinking…" I exhaled. Was I even thinking anything at all?

  Suddenly, the sharp sound of a notification pierced the silence. Tring! Tring!

  I checked the phone and saw a message—a notification from the Hero Program. It showed the schedule for the Neharika Express and my seat number. Arcanum Blades Academy was in the Neharika District.

  “So, it’s time for the academy,” I muttered, staring at the phone screen, tired.

  “Hero Program…” I let out slowly. The name was oddly depressing for some reason. The tip of my nose felt cold. As I stared at the screen, a distant memory came to my mind. It was the memory of the other Noah… my alternate self whose place I ended up taking due to the Paradox Point. I saw his life in fragmented scenes. There was an overturned inkwell. A boy was slumped in a chair, his face pale and puffy from crying.

  It was 6 June 2003. That date was etched into the memory with cruel precision, the kind of memory that refused to blur with time. It was the day the other Noah’s life fractured. His parents, Aurelius and Aradhya Grey, were gone.

  Struggles at school, mediocrity in magic, the slow erosion of any social connection. He was bullied, isolated. Rynne De La Hoya, his best friend and mentor, and Irulan, whose kindness he misinterpreted, developing a crush. Both transferred to another academy during the Hero Program. And then, of course, there was a gap in his memory for the Paradox Point, and now I’m here.

  Anger stirred in me. Was I angry at him? Or pity? My fist clenched.

  I didn’t have time for this.

  I had my own problems.

  Right.

  Arcanum Blades Academy…

  I wasn’t ready. Neither mentally nor physically.

  The world felt utterly bizarre, as if I were trapped in a sequence of events ripped straight from a fantasy story—magic, traveling to other worlds, a U-turn in my life. But who could I complain to? The Hero Program?

  The thought of what might happen if I didn’t go replayed in my mind. I forced myself to pack whatever essentials I could gather. Without any real will, I set off toward the Neharika Express. Or perhaps, it wasn’t me at all. My body seemed to be moving on its own, as if there was no “me” left anymore. Noah Grey was merely a thought—a figment that existed nowhere.

  The train’s piercing whistle jolted me back to my senses. I found myself seated inside, staring blankly at the seat in front of me. The ride took an hour, and by the time I arrived, I felt like time had become irrelevant. The constant vibration of the train, the monotony of the journey—it all blurred together. My mind wandered, detached from the world. I couldn’t even tell what I was thinking about. I just moved, like I was on autopilot.

  Eventually, I had to catch a cab to get to the academy. That came out of my own pocket, of course.

  The driver was unusually talkative for a stranger. I was never much of a talker, but something about the sheer exhaustion I felt made me want to connect. I was desperate to feel something—anything that reminded me I was still alive, that this world was real.

  The driver said he was from Midvale. He said he had been in Neharika for over twenty years. He had a daughter, a family, but he didn’t stop there. He rambled on about his theories—society, politics, how everything was screwed up. Some of it was amusing, some of it incorrect, but I let him talk. At least it was a distraction from the storm in my own head.

  Before I knew it, we were pulling up to Arcanum Blades, and the driver was kind enough to leave me at the front foyer of A3 hostel.

  The driver turned to me with a smile. “You didn’t ask my name. Leo Williams,” he said.

  I smiled back, feeling an unexpected sense of lightness in my chest. “Leo, huh? And you remembered mine?”

  “Noah Grey,” he said with a nod.

  As I stepped out, I realised the weight I had been carrying for what felt like days had eased, if only a little. Something had changed. Maybe it was just the simple act of connecting, however brief. And I was here now. Ready or not, I was here.