The night deepened as Aryan continued his study, the library's silence broken only by the soft rustle of parchment as he unfurled another ancient scroll. The moon's light filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows that seemed to dance in time with the flickering candles. To anyone else, this setting might have seemed eerie or unsettling, but for Aryan, it was the perfect environment for his work—a sanctuary where he could delve into the mysteries of the universe undisturbed.
As he read through the intricate script of the scroll, Aryan's mind absorbed the knowledge with a clarity and focus that had become second nature to him. The mantras he had been practicing over the past months had sharpened his intellect, allowing him to grasp complex concepts with ease. These mantras were ancient, powerful relics from his previous life—knowledge that was unknown in this new world. Here, where the very idea of mantras was foreign, Aryan was alone in his understanding and mastery of these mystical arts. But more than that, they had transformed him, body and soul, into something far beyond what he had been when he first arrived in this world.
He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting away from the scroll as he reflected on his journey so far. It had been eight months since he began this rigorous practice of recalling and mastering the mantras from his previous life—a life where he had been a powerful figure, wielding abilities that others in this world could not even imagine. The transition to this world, to this new identity as Aryan Prastha, had not been easy. But the mantras had given him a purpose, a connection to his past that allowed him to forge ahead with confidence.