Chapter 1: A World from the Page
Aryan awoke to the distant sound of wind chimes and the soft rustle of leaves. The scent of sandalwood filled his senses, and as his eyes slowly opened, he was greeted by the sight of an intricately carved wooden ceiling, unfamiliar and yet eerily comforting. It took him a moment to register that this wasn't his penthouse in the bustling city, nor was it the sterile environment of a hospital room where he might have ended up after the accident. This place was different—ancient, majestic, and deeply unsettling.He sat up abruptly, his mind racing. The last thing he remembered was the screech of tires, the sharp impact, and then darkness. And yet, here he was, alive and seemingly unharmed. Aryan swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, his bare feet sinking into a plush rug. His surroundings came into clearer focus—a grand bedroom, adorned with luxurious fabrics, tapestries depicting battles, and a large window through which golden sunlight streamed.A wave of panic threatened to overwhelm him, but then something clicked—a memory, sharp and vivid, surfaced in his mind. He knew this place. He had read about it. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer: he was inside the world of the novel he had just finished, a world of ancient families, mana, and divine weapons. But how? And why?Aryan stumbled towards the mirror, his breath hitching in his throat. The reflection staring back at him wasn't the familiar face of Abhay, the successful businessman, but a younger version—a face that matched the descriptions he remembered from the novel. Dark hair, sharp features, and eyes that held an intensity far beyond their years. He was no longer Abhay. He was Aryan, the heir to the Prastha family.The Prastha family. Aryan's heart pounded as memories not his own began to flood his mind. The Prasthas were one of the most powerful families in the human domain, their influence unmatched, their lands vast. Their bloodline was blessed with superior control over mana and an enhanced sense of its flow—gifts that made them as powerful as entire empires. Yet, in this world, Aryan was different. He had been born without mana, a fact that made him an outcast in his own family, despite his noble lineage.The novel's plot rushed back to him in vivid detail. Aryan wasn't just a character in this world; he was destined to become its main villain. The realization was terrifying, but it also sparked something else within him—determination. He had read this story, lived it through the pages, and now he was living it for real. He knew the paths that lay ahead, the twists and turns, and most importantly, he knew how it ended. But did it have to end that way?Aryan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
The story was supposed to revolve around Dev, the hero—a prince from a neighbouring kingdom. But Aryan now had an advantage, a rare gift: foresight. He knew what Dev was truly like—selfish, manipulative, and driven by a desire to build a harem, traits that were masked by his noble facade. The novel had portrayed Dev as the hero, but Aryan knew better. He wasn't going to play the role of the villain in someone else's story, not without a fight.
A knock on the door snapped Aryan out of his thoughts. A servant entered, bowing low."Master Aryan," the servant said respectfully, "Your father has requested your presence in the main hall."Aryan nodded, struggling to maintain his composure. "I'll be there shortly."
As the servant left, Aryan took a deep breath and straightened his posture. He needed to gather his thoughts, to assess his situation, but first, he had to meet his new family. The Prasthas were not just any family; they were a force to be reckoned with. And now, Aryan was a part of them, even if he was born without mana.Making his way through the grand corridors of the Prastha estate, Aryan marvelled at the architecture—every corner, every pillar seemed to hold a story, a history that spanned generations. The estate was both a fortress and a home, its design a testament to the Prastha family's power and legacy. Yet, despite its beauty, Aryan couldn't shake off the feeling of being an outsider, of living a life that wasn't his own.When he finally reached the main hall, Aryan was greeted by the sight of his family—his new family. His father, Lord Virendra Prastha, stood at the head of the table, a tall, imposing figure with the aura of a warrior. His mother, Lady Radhika Prastha, sat beside him, her gaze calm but sharp, a woman who had seen and survived much. Then there were his siblings—a younger brother who exuded confidence and strength, and a younger sister, whose eyes were filled with both admiration and fear."Aryan," Lord Virendra's voice was deep and commanding, "You're late.""My apologies, father," Aryan replied, keeping his tone respectful yet firm. He could feel the weight of their gazes, each assessing, judging."Today marks your fifteenth year," Lord Virendra continued, "It is time you take your place within the family. Despite your… limitations, you are still a Prastha, and you will uphold our legacy."Aryan nodded, understanding the gravity of his father's words. He had been given a second chance at life, and now, he had to figure out how to use it. The story that had been written for him in the novel no longer mattered. This was his life now, and he would shape it as he saw fit.As the meeting concluded, Aryan felt a strange mix of emotions—determination, fear, and something else, a spark of hope. He was the heir to the Prastha family, destined to be a villain in a world where power was everything. But he was also Aryan, a man with knowledge of the future, and that gave him an edge.The path ahead was uncertain, filled with dangers and challenges he couldn't yet foresee. But Aryan knew one thing for sure: he wouldn't allow himself to be a pawn in someone else's story. He would write his own destiny, and in doing so, he might just change the fate of this world.
As he left the hall, Aryan's thoughts turned to Dev, the so-called hero of this world. The real battle would begin soon, and Aryan would be ready. After all, he was no longer just a character in a story—he was the author of his own fate.And this time, the villain would win.