Episode 1
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A 17 year-old teenager was running with all his strength. However, he reached a vast emptiness this place was known as the Abyss of Akashic in this world.
His black hair fluttered wildly in the strong rain and gusting winds as the teenager kept running. Behind him, a group of men wearing leather armor, mounted on horses and wielding swords, pursued him relentlessly.
"Catch the brat before we lose him in the night!"
Nightfall was approaching. Torrential rain poured heavily over a forest of incredibly tall trees, as tall or taller than modern skyscrapers.
The treetops, all crimson in color, and the wood of these same trees, brown with red stripes, resembled the very depths of hell. Yet, in this world, such sights were normal in some areas of the continent.
The boy, pursued by slave traffickers, ran desperately. If they caught him, he would be doomed to endless suffering. These traffickers were not ordinary men.
"Why... do they have mages and... knights?"
As he ran, the shouts of the traffickers echoed behind him. Every second, every minute, they closed the gap, drawing ever closer to the teenager.
Stopping was not an option.
The teenager reached the Abyss of Akashic.
He looked down and saw an endless drop into the depths of the abyss. Glancing back, he swallowed hard. His wide, violet eyes fixed on a dozen men mounted on horses, some clad in attire that covered their entire faces and bodies.
They were mages exiled from the empire for their crimes. Having escaped prison, they had joined the slave traffickers. These mages did not come alone; they had someone important to the entire kingdom with them.
"Catch the brat! Letting him escape means our death move, you bastards!"
"Yes, sir!"
The teenager looked at the people and the Abyss of Akashic.
He swallowed nervously.
"Running is not an option... I must... jump... or not."
Tears streamed down his face. His entire life had led him to this place did the world truly refuse to acknowledge his existence?
However.
"It doesn't matter..."
The teenager clenched his fists and bit his lips. Blood trickled from his mouth and hands, his fingernails digging into his palms.
He stared at the Abyss of Akashic.
"Either way... My family abandoned me when I was a newborn... It doesn't matter if I jump..."
The boy raised both arms like a cross and gazed up at the dark sky. The torrential rain obscured the stars, and yet...
"Stop."
The traffickers halted.
This was because the teenager had jumped into the Abyss of Akashic.
"Damn it... Chasing him was a waste of time. This is your fault for not catching him earlier. Now you'll pay for it, bastards!"
The teenager fell into the abyss known as Akashic. However, his body became a vessel for someone else to inhabit.
The boy hit the ground, and his life came to an end.
***
The Akashic Abyss.
A remote and difficult to reach area, the Akashic Abyss is the place where the mysteries of the entire history of the world are kept. It is unknown what is at the bottom because no one can go to the depths of this abyss. It is like a hole combined with a canyon so enormous and infinitely deep.
No one has ever descended.
Yet.
"Hmm..."
Park Chan-woo slowly opened his eyes. Before facing his demise at the hands of the seven seats of the Triad of the Night, the sky above him had been dark, shrouded by heavy rain that obscured the stars. His battered body, pierced and torn by blades, had left survival out of the question. Death had seemed inevitable.
Or so he thought.
"What the hell…"
He found himself bathed in the flickering glow of candlelight, illuminating a surreal scene. Towering bookshelves stretched endlessly around him, floating in an expanse that resembled the void of outer space. Their sheer size and the ethereal way they hovered..
Park Chan-woo's eyes widened as he took in the impossible sight. Then, his gaze shifted to his body, and the shock only deepened.
"This body… it's smaller… and the wounds there aren't any."
His hands moved over his form, searching for the injuries he was certain should still be there. But instead, he felt whole, even invigorated. It was a sensation he hadn't experienced in ages. Yet, the unfamiliar body raised more questions than answers.
"Reincarnation, huh? That nonsense actually turned out to be real. Just my luck…" he muttered bitterly.
Rising from the antique wooden floor, he surveyed the strange space around him. Medieval style furniture dotted the room, while floating shelves filled with books loomed overhead. The ceiling above was a vast, pitch black expanse, as if he stood beneath a starless night sky.
"What is this place?"
Despite the surreal setting, Park Chan-woo remained composed. Death and reincarnation were startling concepts, but he had long learned to temper his reactions. After all, life or whatever this was could still throw more surprises his way.
Walking among the bookshelves, he examined their contents. Some shelves floated so high they were beyond reach.
"No matter how far I wander, there's no exit," he noted, his voice calm but tinged with unease.
The library felt disconnected from reality, a subspace entirely its own. Turning his focus inward, Park Chan-woo explored the memories of the body he now inhabited.
"This body belongs to a 17 year old boy," he murmured. "No family… hunted by slave traffickers… and…" His brow furrowed. "A mage? A knight? Mana? Magic?"
The concepts were foreign, yet undeniably real in this world. His exploration of the boy's memories led him back to one name: the Abyss Akashic.
"That abyss… it's connected to this place. It's where this body died, and somehow, it's also the entrance to this library."
But what exactly was the Akashic? A person? A book? Or this very library itself?
Park Chan-woo scratched his chin absentmindedly, an old habit he hadn't shaken. Though his past as the last monarch of the Triad of the Night had stripped him of fear and sentiment, something about this place unsettled him.
His composure faltered as a tremor ran through his hands, spreading to his entire body.
"Why am I shaking? Why does this place fill me with such unease?"
Once again I was feeling afraid, although it was because of the new body I now had.
Park Chan-woo sat on the floor, his gaze wandering across the room. The furniture, though present, seemed distant and irrelevant to his current state of mind.
"The Akashic Library..." he murmured to himself, the words heavy with unanswered questions.
His mind swirled with confusion, his thoughts a chaotic storm.
"Hmm, you are... my heir."
A deep voice broke through his disarray. Park Chan-woo froze, his entire body trembling with slightly.
The air grew heavy around him. His eyes widened, beads of sweat forming instantly as an oppressive presence loomed behind him. It felt as if this unseen figure could end him effortlessly. Never before had he experienced such overwhelming dread.
"....."
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips a nervous, involuntary reaction. The voice behind him carried a tone of satisfaction, as if the speaker was grinning.
"You truly are," the voice continued. "You're my heir, and you even possess the same magic as me. Strange, considering I am the only one in history that has that manna."
There was a pause, then the voice pressed on, curious yet cautious.
"But how did you get here? How are you even alive in this place? Honestly, I don't know how it's possible even if you are my heir. Regardless, I suppose introductions are in order."
"....."
"Encrid," the voice declared. "That's my name. And yours?"
Park Chan-woo swallowed hard. Words stuck in his throat, as though fear itself had shackled his tongue.
"This is... impossible," he thought, his breath shallow. "I'm scared of someone..."
Even in his old body, fear of this magnitude would have paralyzed him. But in this unfamiliar form, he felt utterly vulnerable. He was lost lost in this library, in this new World.
He had never wished for life again. Death, he thought, would have been easier. Yet here he was, bound by a fate he could neither comprehend nor escape.
Summoning the courage to glance sideways, Park Chan-woo searched for the source of the voice. His eyes darted behind him, seeking the presence he could so palpably feel.
But there was nothing.
No one stood there, though the weight of the presence remained, keeping him frozen in place.
"It's no surprise you can't see me," Encrid's voice explained, calm and unbothered. "You lack mana. Though, I can faintly sense a small particle of it within you enough to hint at potential."
Mana. The term sparked faint recollections from fragmented memories that had surfaced since his awakening. He understood that it was an energy wielded by mages, yet its deeper meaning eluded him.
"Never mind," Encrid continued. "You seem lost, so let me explain your situation."
Park Chan-woo managed a small nod, his voice still trapped by fear.
"Very well," Encrid said. "Let's start with the basics. In this world, I am the only mage in history to reach the tenth circle."