Ethan had always prided himself on being a man of science, logic, and efficiency. Back on Earth, he had spent years perfecting complex equations, conducting research, and generally being an absolute menace to anyone who refused to believe in scientific methodology.
Now, in a world where magic was monopolized by the elite, he was stuck in a filthy tavern, pretending to be a simple errand boy while trying to teach himself how to read.
Which, as it turned out, was significantly harder than he had hoped.
Ethan sat behind the counter of The Rusty Mug, staring at a page in an old merchant's ledger with the burning intensity of a man trying to intimidate words into making sense.
The problem wasn't just that he was illiterate—it was that this world's writing system made no damn sense.
Take, for example, the word for "bread." It had four different spellings, depending on whether you were a noble, a merchant, a commoner, or a priest. And if you pronounced it wrong? Congratulations, you just said "rotten donkey."
It was, in every way, a completely inefficient system.
Which meant Ethan had a lot of work to do.
"Boy," Raymond called from the back room, shuffling forward with the grace of a dying tortoise. "Yer starin' at that paper like it owes ya money."
"It does," Ethan muttered. "In the form of knowledge."
Raymond snorted. "Yer still on that? Just give up, kid. Readin's for nobles and priests."
"Uh-huh. And who writes your ledgers?"
Raymond scratched his chin. "…Some bastard who charges me too much."
"Exactly." Ethan grinned. "But imagine if you could do it yourself."
Raymond squinted at him. "Are ya suggestin' I become one of them scholars?"
"Not at all," Ethan said smoothly. "I'm suggesting that if someone, say, a hardworking, trustworthy young apprentice such as myself, were to learn to read, you wouldn't have to pay that bastard scribe anymore."
Raymond's eyes narrowed. "And what do you get outta this?"
"Aside from not dying penniless and uneducated?" Ethan spread his hands. "I get to expand my horizons, unravel the mysteries of language, and—"
Raymond threw a book at him.
Ethan caught it, staring at the worn-out leather cover. "Basic Letters & Symbols."
"Ya finish that, I'll give ya another," Raymond grumbled. "But don't start talkin' fancy or I'll kick ya out."
Ethan grinned. "You're a saint, Old Man."
"I'm a fool, is what I am."
Over the next two weeks, Ethan devoted himself to three things:
Learning to read.
Learning how magic worked.
Not getting killed in the process.
The first goal was going surprisingly well. His ability to recognize letters, words, and numbers improved rapidly, mostly because his brain wasn't built for ignorance.
The second goal, however? A nightmare.
Magic wasn't just restricted—it was deliberately kept mysterious and vague to prevent commoners from understanding it. Spellbooks were locked away. Mages spoke in cryptic riddles. Magic academies were guarded like royal vaults.
But Ethan was nothing if not persistent.
His first breakthrough came when he eavesdropped on a drunk noble bragging about his studies at the Grand Academy.
According to the noble (who had all the intelligence of a moldy potato), spells weren't just chants and hand gestures—they required structured mana flow, specific energy outputs, and controlled focus.
Which meant that magic wasn't random. It followed rules.
And if something follows rules, I can learn it.
But knowing magic existed in a structured way and actually getting his hands on a spell were two very different things.
Ethan needed a plan.
The opportunity arrived sooner than expected.
One evening, as he wiped down the tavern counter, a familiar face walked in.
The knight from the Holy Church.
The same one Ethan had mocked into an existential crisis two weeks ago.
"Hey, it's my favorite member of the Thought Police!" Ethan greeted cheerfully.
The knight's face immediately soured.
"You again," he grumbled. "I should have you arrested for blasphemy."
Ethan sighed. "Go ahead. I'd love a free meal."
Raymond, who had been listening in the background, immediately walked away. Coward.
The knight scowled, then pulled out a sealed scroll and slapped it onto the counter.
"I need this copied," he said. "Word for word. No mistakes."
Ethan froze.
That… that was a spell scroll.
He kept his expression neutral. "And why would I do that?"
The knight gritted his teeth. "Because my usual scribe is busy, and the Church doesn't like waiting."
Ethan grinned. "Oh? Well, in that case, I'll do it for five silvers."
The knight narrowed his eyes.
"Two."
"Four."
"Three, and I won't punch you."
Ethan immediately accepted.
Once the knight had left, Ethan raced to the back room.
He unrolled the scroll, his pulse hammering.
Written inside were rows of runes, complex symbols, and energy pathways.
This is it. A real spell.
But there was a problem.
The spell's instructions were deliberately vague. Instead of clear equations, it was filled with flowery metaphors about divine will and spiritual harmony.
Ethan ran a hand through his hair. This is ridiculous. The entire system is designed to keep people from actually understanding magic.
He needed to decode it.
So, using the same logical approach he had used back on Earth, he broke down the spell into its components.
The Chant: Likely an activation trigger. Could be bypassed if the mana flow was controlled manually.
The Runes: Contained mana flow instructions, but they were arranged inefficiently.
The Energy Conversion Rate: Designed to waste excess mana to prevent overuse.
Ethan's lips curled into a smirk. Oh, this is just lazy. They don't want efficiency—they want control.
He spent hours rewriting the formula in his head, testing different variables, rearranging the structure until—
It clicked.
He understood the spell.
And not just that—he understood how to make it BETTER.
The original spell required a lengthy chant, excessive mana, and unnecessary rune formations. But Ethan's version?
Faster. More efficient. Rational.
A shiver ran down his spine.
This is it. This is how I'll break the system.
A knock at the door jerked him out of his thoughts.
"You done yet, rat?"
The knight was back.
Ethan took a deep breath. He had to play this carefully.
He rolled up the scroll, stepping out with a grin. "Done and dusted. No mistakes."
The knight took the copy, tossing three silvers onto the counter. He gave Ethan a long, suspicious look.
"You didn't try anything stupid, did you?"
Ethan smiled innocently. "Who, me? Never."
The knight grunted and walked out.
The second he was gone, Ethan looked down at his hand.
The real spell formula was scrawled on a tiny scrap of parchment, hidden in his sleeve.
He had done it.
He had stolen magic from the Church.
And they had paid him to do it.
Ethan let out a slow, victorious breath.
Step one: Learn how magic works.
Step two: Break it.
And soon?
Step three: Change the world.