At the edge of a high mountain, where the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a fiery glow across the sky, a crowd gathered in a tense circle. The ground beneath their feet was stained with blood, remnants of past battles and the lives lost in the wake of one man's choices.
In the center of this throng stood Eryndor Thorne, a middle-aged man with long brown hair cascading down to his waist. His cold blue eyes pierced through the gathering, surveying the faces filled with anger and despair. He was covered in injuries, gaping holes marring his skin, a testament to the violence he had endured.
"You demon! Today is the day you will perish!" a voice rang out from the crowd, a young man whose face was twisted in rage.
"You have killed millions! How does it feel knowing today is your day?" another voice shouted, filled with venom. The speaker was a beautiful middle-aged woman with long, straight black hair and sorrowful red eyes. "Why did you sign the contract with the demons?" Her words dripped with pain, revealing a shared history that hung heavy in the air.
"Enough!" an elderly man interjected, his voice booming with authority. His white hair and long beard contrasted sharply with his own piercing red eyes, which glinted with wisdom and age. "This is not the time for accusations. We all know Eryndor is in his final breaths."
The tension in the air was palpable, a standoff that had lasted for minutes. The crowd knew that Eryndor was cornered, yet none dared to test the final card he might have hidden up his sleeve.
As the sun continued its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Eryndor turned his gaze toward the setting sun. A chilling laugh erupted from his lips, echoing off the mountainside. "Hhahahahahahahahah! You have come to die!!" The sound was manic, sending shivers through the crowd. They stood in shock, unable to comprehend the madness that had overtaken him.
Then, as if spurred by some unseen force, a voice shouted from the back, "Die!" A middle-aged man with black hair and blue eyes charged forward, his face twisted in fury. The crowd, emboldened by his bravery, surged forward, a wave of bodies intent on bringing Eryndor to justice.
But just as they reached him, Eryndor exploded in a cataclysmic detonation, enveloping everything around him in a blinding light. The shockwave rippled through the crowd, and almost all were caught in the explosion.
In the aftermath, a beautiful river emerged from the chaos, flowing with an ethereal glow. It shimmered with the essence of both ancient and future times—a river of time itself, winding its way through the landscape. The river enveloped Eryndor, and in an instant, he vanished, leaving behind only the echoes of his laughter.
Those who survived the explosion stood in shock, their minds racing. "Was that the river of time?.
"That only exists in legends?" one whispered, disbelief etched on their faces.
As the world around them began to blur, reality itself felt as if it were unraveling. The colors of the landscape faded, and the air shimmered with uncertainty. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, everything stopped, leaving the survivors suspended in a moment of confusion and awe.
*
As Eryndor's essence drifted through the boundless expanse of the River of Time, his soul, a vast and pure black, towered toward the heavens. The river flowed endlessly, its beginning and end obscured by the mists of eternity. It was a current that carried the weight of all existence, winding through the ages from the dawn of creation to the twilight of the universe.
Eryndor swam upward, propelled by an instinctual desire to return to a time before his fall. With each stroke, he felt his soul diminish, the darkness that defined him slowly unraveling. It was a paradox; the more he sought to reclaim his past, the more he lost himself in the process.
After what felt like an eternity, he came upon an island that emerged from the depths of the river. An ancient aura radiated from its shores, a force that sought to capture him and pull him into its depths. Eryndor instinctively released his own aura, a dark wave that clashed with the island's light.
From the heart of the island, an old man appeared, his presence commanding and filled with an unsettling power. "Trying to escape fate? Dream on," he taunted, his voice echoing like thunder across the water.
"Fate Slave "?
Without warning, the old man lunged at Eryndor, and a fierce battle ensued. They fought for night and day, their powers colliding in a tempest of light and shadow. For five grueling days, they clashed, each refusing to yield. But ultimately, Eryndor found himself overpowered, the ancient being's strength overwhelming.
As the dust settled, the old man examined Eryndor's soul, his eyes widening in disbelief. "An otherworldly demon soul?" he exclaimed, astonished .
But before the old man could react further, Eryndor unleashed a final surge of energy. In a blinding explosion, his soul shattered into tens and hundreds of pieces, scattering like stars across the cosmos. The old man, flabbergasted, had attempted to seal Eryndor's essence, but the demon had broken free, defying the very fabric of fate.
Eryndor's thoughts raced as he felt the fragments of his soul disperse. If this works, I will still be a demon in my next life. I have no regrets. The pieces of his soul flew in all directions, each one a fragment of his essence seeking a new beginning.
Yet, the old man, though seriously injured, was not finished. With a wave of his hand, he cast a spell—a net woven from the threads of fate itself. "Nobody can escape fate!" he declared, his voice resonating with authority. The net expanded, stretching toward infinity, ensnaring all of Eryndor's split souls within its grasp.
As the net tightened, it shrank into a small black pill, which the old man held in his hand. Oblivious to the fact that a minuscule piece of Eryndor's soul had escaped, a fragment so small it was nearly imperceptible, the old man consumed the pill, sealing Eryndor's fate.
That tiny piece of Eryndor's soul traveled at speeds surpassing light, propelled upward by the force of the explosion, its memories were in shambles, jeopardized by the violent separation. Fragments of his past flickered in and out of focus—visions of battles fought, faces of those he had loved and lost, and the haunting echoes of choices made in darkness. Each memory was a shard, scattered and disjointed, struggling to find its place in the vastness of the cosmos.
The soul soared through the void, a flicker of darkness against the backdrop of the stars. After some time, its velocity began to wane, and it sank into the depths of an unseen ocean, lost in the vastness of existence. The weight of its fragmented memories pulled it deeper, where the light of the surface faded into an abyss of silence.
In that deep water, the fragment of Eryndor's soul lay dormant, enveloped in the cool embrace of the depths. Here, in the stillness, the pieces of his memories floated like debris in a forgotten sea, each one isolated and untouched, waiting for a connection that may never come.
As the currents of the ocean swirled around it, the fragment of Eryndor's soul continued to sink deeper and deeper, drawn into the darkened abyss. The silence was profound, and the weight of his disjointed existence pressed heavily upon him. The ocean, vast and indifferent, cradled the fragment, allowing it to drift further into obscurity.
With each passing moment, the darkness enveloped him, and the echoes of his past faded into the depths. The cycle of life and death remained unbroken, but for Eryndor's soul, the journey had taken a different turn—one that led into the shadows, where the pieces of his essence would remain scattered, lost in the infinite depths of time.
*
Eridoria, Unknown Location
Unknown Time
I died.
At least, I think I did.
The last thing I remembered was sitting at my desk, staring at a blank page on my computer screen. I was trying to write the first chapter of my novel, but the words just wouldn't come. Then, suddenly, everything went black.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a completely unfamiliar place. I was lying on a bed, surrounded by unfamiliar walls and furniture. I sat up, rubbing my temples. My head was pounding, and my mind was foggy. What happened? How did I get here?
As I looked around, I noticed that everything seemed... different. The room was small and cluttered, with clothes and books scattered all over the floor. I saw a mirror on the wall, and I stumbled out of bed to take a look.
The face that stared back at me was not my own. It was a young man, probably 14 or 15 years old, with messy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. I looked at my hands, and they were not my own either. They were smaller, with a scattering of acne on the knuckles.
I stumbled backward, feeling a wave of panic wash over me. What was going on?
I looked around the room again, trying to take in every detail. There was a desk in the corner, with a pile of books and papers stacked haphazardly. I saw a title on one of the books—"The Art of Magic"—and something clicked in my mind.
Last night, I was about to publish my first chapter of my novel. It was about a world called Eridoria, where magic was real and heroes battled monsters. I remembered creating a character, a young man named... named...
I couldn't remember the name, but it seemed... it seemed that I was inside my own novel.
I felt a shiver run down my spine as I realized the truth. I was trapped in the world of Eridoria, inside the body of one of my own characters. I had only finished a rough outline of the novel. What the fuck is happening?
I looked around the room again, this time with a sense of wonder and curiosity. Which character's body did I possess? What was his story?
And then, I remembered something else. I remembered writing about a system in my outline, a magical interface that allowed characters to access information and abilities.
I took a deep breath and whispered a single word.
"Status window."
The room around me seemed to fade away, replaced by a glowing blue screen that hovered in front of my eyes. I saw a list of stats and abilities, and my heart skipped a beat as I realized that I was really here. I was inside my own novel, and I had the power to shape the story.
I stared at the screen, my mind racing with possibilities. What would I do first? Would I follow the story as I had planned and written, or would I forge my own path?
But one thing was clear , I was ready to take on whatever the fuck came my way as I looked at the status window.
Status Window
Name: Eryndor Thorne
Age: 14
Race: Human
Class: Apprentice Mage - initial stage
Level: 1
Attributes:
HP: 100/100
MP: 50/50
Strength: 10
Agility: 12
Intelligence: 15
Charm: 8
Skills:
Skill tier: F
Fireball: Deals 10 damage to a single target (MP Cost: 10)
Skill tier: D
Healing Light: Restores 10 HP to a single target (MP Cost: 5)
Swordsmanship: Beginner (Level 1)
Slash: Deals 5 damage to a single target (No MP Cost)
Abilities:
Mana Sense: Passive ability that allows host to sense the mana levels of those around him.
Fire Affinity: Increases the effectiveness of fire-based spells by 10%.
Equipment:
Clothing: Simple tunic and pants
Weapon: Wooden sword
Accessory: Leather belt with a small pouch containing 10 gold coins
Quests:
Main Quest: Attend the Welcome Ceremony at the Eridorian Academy of Magic
Side Quest: Help the local blacksmith with his inventory (Reward: 10 silver coins)
As I gazed at the status window, taking in the details of my new life, I was an apprentice mage, with a novice level of magic and a beginner level of swordsmanship. My HP and MP were both full, and I had a decent amount of strength, agility, and intelligence. My charm was a bit low, but I wasn't sure how that would affect me.
I noticed that I had a few skills and abilities, including a passive ability to sense mana levels and a natural affinity for fire magic. I also had a few pieces of equipment, including a wooden sword and a leather belt with a small pouch of gold coins.
Finally, I saw that I had a main quest to attend the Welcome Ceremony at the Eridorian Academy of Magic, as well as a side quest to help the local blacksmith with his inventory. I wondered what other adventures awaited me in this new world.
With a mix of excitement and trepidation, I took a moment to gather my thoughts. I had to make a decision. Should I head straight to the Academy for the Welcome Ceremony, or should I first explore this strange place and see what I could learn about my new surroundings?
The thought of facing a crowd of students at the Academy made my stomach twist with anxiety. What if I made a fool of myself? But the allure of magic and the promise of adventure tugged at me, urging me to take the plunge.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. I had to embrace this new life, no matter how daunting it seemed. I was Eryndor Thorne now, and I had a destiny to fulfill.
*
A/N : To write this , it almost took a day. WHen i first tried publishing this chapter, i mistakenly refresh the page instead of publishing. And all my hard work vanished before my eyes.
Anyway THis my first time writing a novel( to be honest, i haven't even wrote a proper eassy)
English is not my first language, and grammer might me here and there , AS this is my first time, i am open to Criticism.
Creation is hard ,
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.