IN THIS WORLD OF "BEYOND THE SHADOW VEIL" THERE ARE WEILDERS WHO COEXIST WITH MAGIC THEY HAVE MANA POINTS BUT ONE MUST CROSS A LEVEL OF A 1000 MANA POINTS TO BECOME A WEILDER AND 500 MANA POINTS TO BECOME A SOLDIER IN ARMY . OUR MAIN CHARACTER ASHBORN HAS A DREAM OF BECOMING A WEILDER SICE HE WAS BORN NOW ENJOY HIS JOURNEY IN A DARK FANTASY WORLD .......
"By giving you this injection, you will forget everything that has happened to you over the last seven days," said the doctor.
"L-Last seven days? How bad was it?"
"You will die, Ashborn... or you will," he said while injecting the medicine into Ashborn.
As the injection entered his system, within two seconds, Ashborn fainted.
"Ah! What happened? I think I just... no, what is this? A fever dream?"
Ashborn looked around in an attempt to find something, but all he could see was a barren land stretching endlessly in every direction.
He stood up, shook his head, and slowly whispered, "For real?" Then he walked a little further.
"Where am I? What's going on? I remember my sword selection is supposed to happen next week... so why am I having a fever dream?"
"I should find someone," he muttered.
Ash walked in search of something, but he found nothing useful—only scraps of metal, pieces of iron, and old tires. It looked like he was wandering through a desert.
Suddenly, from behind, a man wearing desert attire riding a camel approached him.
"My dear friend, are you lost?" the man asked. Then, looking at the tired and weary Ashborn, he added, "My dear friend, the journey is long. Please, be seated." He gestured toward another camel beside him.
Too exhausted to respond, Ashborn silently climbed onto the camel.
"What's your name?" asked the man.
"Ashborn," he replied.
The man's eyes widened in shock. "What?! You're the Revolutionary?"
"What? Who's a Revolutionary?"
"Oh my goodness! We've found the Revolutionary!"
Ashborn had no idea why he was being referred to as "the Revolutionary."
"Please come with us, Ashborn. Let me take you to the cathedral," the man said eagerly.
The man helped Ashborn onto the camel and led him to his village. Ashborn still couldn't comprehend what was happening.
When they reached the village, the man stopped his camel and shouted, "Look! I've found the Revolutionary! Look, everyone, look!"
The villagers gathered around, staring at Ashborn in disbelief. They had expected the Revolutionary to be a muscular, heroic figure. Instead, they saw a scrawny young man who looked like he'd collapse if someone even slapped him.
"Hey, Albert, are you serious?"
"What?"
"How could someone who looks like a dead body be a Revolutionary?"
The villagers laughed at Albert, mocking him and suggesting he needed an eye test.
"What's your name, brave man?" one villager asked.
Hearing the words brave man, even Ashborn was surprised.
"Um... I'm Ashborn."
"See? I told you!" Albert shouted triumphantly.
"But he's a weakling!" the crowd jeered.
As the crowd dispersed, two guards approached. Behind them were a man wearing a crown and an old saint.
The saint approached Ashborn and said, "He is indeed the Revolutionary."
The crowned man stepped forward and said, "Mr. Revolutionary, please save us. Don't let us die. Perform the exorcism."
"What?" Ashborn stammered.
The saint raised his hand and said, "Luis, take care of him."
Luis approached and led Ashborn to an old-fashioned inn room. Inside, there was a calendar on the wall that read "11/3."
"Have I been transmigrated?" Ashborn wondered aloud, completely stunned.
As he tried to piece things together, he heard a knock at the door.
"Mr. Revolutionary! Mr. Revolutionary!"
"What?" Ashborn replied, opening the door.
Standing there was a man holding a black sword with gleaming red streaks.
Ashborn was stunned by the sword's design. It looked like it was made of carbon fiber, and the blade was so sharp that just touching it made his hand tingle.
"What is this?" Ashborn asked in amazement.
"Mr. Revolutionary, your blade," the man said with a smile.
"Who made it?"
The man smiled again and said, "Markus. I am Markus Kolgget."
Still in shock, Ashborn lifted the sword and asked, "I'm Ashborn, by the way. So... who am I supposed to fight?"
"You must exorcise the Haunted Cathedral," Markus explained.
"Is it tough?"
"There's a superstition..." Markus began.
"What superstition?"
"I don't know much, but I've heard that long ago, two brothers and a sister lived there. They were adopted by the father of the cathedral. One of the brothers was tortured brutally and then forced to kill the father, his brother, and his sister."
"Kidnapping and killing happen. What's different about this?"
"The tortured brother—his name was Bruce—was also forced to drink soup made from his sister's blood. In his despair, he cursed the entire cathedral."
"Oh... just that?"
"Yeah, that's all I know," Markus said with a shrug.
"Thanks, Markus."
"My pleasure."
One day passed.
Ashborn, by nature, was a person who didn't believe in ghosts or supernatural phenomena. This was why he remained so calm. He also had an idea that this wasn't some real transmigration but rather the Wielder's Test—a trial to see if he was worthy of wielding the blade.
The Wielder's Test, as he had heard, presented one's greatest fears to measure their composure in life-and-death situations. Ashborn was determined to prove his worth, knowing it wouldn't be an easy task.
"I wonder how good I'll be with this sword," he muttered to himself, excited at the prospect of testing the blade in a real scenario.
The next day, the entire village was buzzing with excitement, eager to witness the potential of their so-called Revolutionary.
"Mr. Revolutionary, please come with me," a villager called.
"Yeah, I'm coming," Ashborn replied, following him.
They traveled on horseback toward the cathedral. As Ashborn saw the structure in the distance, he couldn't help but feel a strange familiarity.
"This place… it looks like something inspired by my world," he thought. "Maybe... maybe this really is the Wielder's Test."
Ashborn glanced at the sword in his hand and murmured, "Who really made this? Markus Kolgget didn't tell me much."
The villager leading him spoke up, "The famous darksmith of our country, Tenebris, forged that blade."
When they arrived at the cathedral, Ashborn dismounted and took a deep breath.
"So, this is the cathedral I'm supposed to exorcise," he muttered.
He stepped inside cautiously. The air inside was heavy, filled with an eerie silence. As he scanned the surroundings, his eyes fell on a piece of paper lying on the floor. He picked it up and read the diary entry written on it:
Dear Diary
19/07/2500
Today was my first day on duty at this cathedral. It went well, but I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow. They told me, 'When the monster is killed by the Revolutionary, you'll be safe. Praise Lord Tennyson.' Praising Lord Tennyson during a calamity like this feels stupid. They handed me a weapon and said, 'Praise the Revolutionary.'
The page was torn in half, leaving Ashborn to speculate.
"Hmm... so they knew a Revolutionary would come. Were they waiting for someone like me as bait?" he muttered. Then he shook his head.
"What am I thinking? If they wanted to kill me as bait, they wouldn't have given me such an incredible sword."
He unfolded the map of the cathedral, studying it closely.
Suddenly, his mind drifted to a conversation he'd had earlier.
But before he could dwell on it further, the scene shifted.
Earlier
A stern man in uniform, Colonel Sanders, snapped his fingers. The doctor standing behind Ashborn clicked his tongue and injected him with another dose of medicine.
As the drug took effect, Ashborn blacked out.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself sitting in an interrogation room, tied to a chair.
"Where… where am I?" he muttered groggily.
"Ah, teenage ego," he thought with a smirk. "I guess it's a good thing I didn't tell him that his mana is 15 million."
The door opened, and Colonel Sanders walked in, carrying a roll of tape. Without a word, he pasted a strip over Ashborn's mouth.
Ashborn tried to shout, but the tape muffled his voice.
"Ashborn," the colonel began, "I need to tell you something. First, your mana isn't 15. It's 15 million. You've probably heard of Malena University of Magic. I'm sending you there to improve your skills. Second, you need to behave like a good boy. Don't act recklessly. Third, if you ever feel demotivated, contact me."
Actually they both already had a conversation in which by mistake colonel told him that he was worthless and didn't have enough mana to become a hero.
Ashborn nodded reluctantly.
"Good. Now that we're clear, may I ask you something?" Colonel Sanders said, leaning forward and peeling the tape off Ashborn's mouth.
"What?"
"Do you know how to use a parachute?"
"No! Of course not!"
"Then you'll learn today."
Ashborn's eyes widened in horror as the colonel untied the knots binding him to the chair.
"What?"
"Relax. Look to your right. There's a cord. When you're falling, pull it, and the parachute will open."
"Wait… what?!"
"Regards, Colonel Sanders," the man said with a grin.
Ashborn's heart sank as he realized the floor beneath his chair could open at any moment.
He hadn't even noticed he was on a plane until now.
With a loud creak, the floor opened, and Ashborn plummeted into the sky.
"Well, I fell out of the plane, but somehow, I still managed to survive. The school was good, I guess. Maybe Colonel Sanders will come back and make me a wielder once I'm fully trained.
The days at school were long but interesting. Some classes were truly amazing, like medicine, healing, and offensive magic. In just three months, I had learned a lot about magic. There wasn't a single spell I couldn't master on my first try—except for transportation magic.
One day, as I was roaming the streets, I saw a teleportation circle.
'Can any magician use this teleportation circle?' I overheard someone asking.
Thinking it was a good opportunity to show off my skills, I stepped forward and said, 'Yes, sir! I can use it."
'Oh? You can?' The man glanced at me and added, 'You look like a student from the Magic University. Let's see what you've got, boy.'
I confidently approached the circle, touched the floor, and concentrated all my strength on it.
'Aaaaaaaaaaah! Where am I?' I screamed as the world spun around me.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying in a valley surrounded by cherry blossom trees, wearing armor and a red scarf.
The valley was breathtakingly beautiful, blanketed in shades of pink. I was so shocked and mesmerized by the sight that I muttered to myself, 'Have I died? I think this is heaven.'
The vibrant colors made me feel as though I was in paradise.
To my right, I noticed a sword stained with blood lying on the ground. It added a grim contrast to the otherwise serene scene. Interestingly, all the trees in the valley were pink—except for the one under which I had woken up.
'Where am I? And where's the portal to go back? What is this place? Why are my clothes changed? What the hell?!'
Panicked, I looked around for answers.
About a hundred meters away, I spotted a three-story house.
'Maybe the people there can help me,' I thought.
Determined, I decided to investigate the house. It was on the other side of a river, so I had to cross it to reach my destination.
After wading through the cool waters, I arrived at the house. As I approached, I saw something terrifying: a massive, three-headed dragon guarding the entrance. It stood there as if trained, its three pairs of eyes scanning the surroundings with precision and vigilance.