The rumble of thunder echoed as a flash of lightning illuminated the night. Kaito Shirogane abruptly opened his eyes, overwhelmed by unbearable dizziness. His entire body was numb, a dull pain radiating from head to toe. An unfamiliar smell, a mixture of dust and ancient magic, lingered in the air.
He forced himself to move, but even that required considerable effort. He was lying on a cold, hard floor, surrounded by a barely etched magic circle. He brought a trembling hand to his face and saw blackened veins running along his skin, evidence of a body weakened by time and sealed magic.
"Where... am I?" His voice was hoarse, unrecognizable.
Memories flooded his mind, a torrent of visions and emotions that took his breath away. He was no longer Kaito Shirogane, a simple office worker in Japan. He now inhabited the body of Aldir, the Grand Archmage, once the most powerful sorcerer in this world. But this power had been taken from him, sealed away for centuries. Now, he could access only a tiny fraction of his former strength, less than one percent of what he once possessed.
But that wasn't all. Other memories resurfaced, dark and filled with resentment. The betrayal. Aldir had been betrayed by his own disciples, those he had trained, the companions with whom he had built a magical empire... they had abandoned him. No, worse, they had destroyed him.
Kaito felt a mix of anger and detachment. This wasn't him. These memories didn't truly belong to him, but they were embedded in every fiber of this body. He could feel Aldir's bitterness, his rage, but he wasn't Aldir. Yet, he understood the injustice.
His fists clenched despite his weakness.
"They erased him from history. They took everything he had built. They betrayed him and locked him away like a monster. And now, this body belongs to me... but what can I really do in this miserable state?"
He took a deep breath. But Aldir was dead. He, Kaito, was alive. This was his second chance.
He tried to stand, but his body was so weak that he collapsed heavily onto the floor. A violent coughing fit shook his body, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. He hadn't just lost his strength; he could barely move. He needed time, and this world would likely grant him no respite.
Slowly, he crawled toward a nearby wall and leaned against the cold stone. His thoughts raced. He needed to understand this world before acting, to discover what had happened after Aldir's fall. If his former disciples still reigned, they might recognize him. He could still be hunted.
He placed a trembling hand on the ground and closed his eyes. The surrounding magical energy was weak, fragmented. But he could still feel a faint connection... a glimmer of hope.
"If I can't regain my power directly... then I'll have to draw it from elsewhere."
He thought deeply. How could he achieve this? He needed a stable and continuous method to amass mana without arousing suspicion.
His gaze fell on the old scrolls he had discovered in a dusty chest. One of them, particularly ancient, spoke of advanced illusion magic, a technique allowing the creation of entire worlds through a magical core. This text awakened a distant memory: that of video games from his former world.
Kaito had a revelation. A game. A virtual universe where he would control all the rules, where he could attract people without them realizing they were giving him their excess mana.
The logic was undeniable. This world was governed by brute force and the politics of magical guilds. He couldn't simply emerge and reclaim supremacy. But a game... a game was a system in which he dictated every interaction. In such a structure, he could not only shape his own domain but also manipulate players into providing him with mana unknowingly.
However, his system couldn't be a burden. Instead of directly stealing players' mana, he realized he could siphon only their excess mana, the unused energy that would otherwise dissipate into the air. Thus, players would experience no negative effects and could even experiment with spells that would otherwise be impossible in reality.
A game wouldn't be perceived as a threat. A game would attract thousands of people ready to invest their time and energy. And every incantation, every spell cast within this illusion would allow him to convert this surplus mana into power, slowly but surely.
He grimaced. Creating such a system would require enormous preparation. He had neither resources, nor information, nor immediate means to act. He had to survive first.
Gathering his remaining strength, he searched for something useful. His eyes scanned the room, noting every crack and debris. Behind a collapsed wall, he found an old wooden chest. At the cost of considerable effort, he managed to open it and discovered several ancient scrolls and a stone imbued with faint traces of mana.
"With this, I can maybe start..." he murmured, grasping the stone in his palm.
But that wouldn't be enough. He needed food, a safer shelter, and above all, a way to avoid being discovered too soon. Staying hidden was the priority.
He spent several hours analyzing the old scroll, searching for formulas that would allow him to engrave runes even with his limited energy. His breathing became shallow as he attempted to draw a rudimentary magic circle on the ground using a piece of charcoal he had found nearby. Every movement exhausted him, but failure was not an option.
"The game will start here. For now, it will be basic... but once I've siphoned enough mana, I'll develop it into the greatest illusion ever created."
The players' mana would become his energy source. The more they played, the more powerful he would become. He had only one thing left to do: send his invitations.
He hesitated. Should he really rush? A single mistake and he risked exposing himself to potential enemies. He had to choose his targets carefully, send his invitations without arousing suspicion.
A sly smile formed on his tired face. It would be long. It would be difficult. But it was nothing compared to what he had already endured.
"Let's see who will be my first pawns..."