Flutter— Flutter—
He glanced briefly at the golden screen, still silent. "Yeah, thanks for nothing," he muttered under his breath before quickening his pace down the hallway.
The next day, Arlon's attention was drawn to a locked door he had overlooked in the study room. Its heavy wood was worn, its iron handle scratched from years of use.
His curiosity flared, adrenaline sparking. "A locked door? This feels like a secret side quest. What are you hiding, Arlon?"
He fished out the ornate key he had stumbled upon earlier and slid it into the lock. With a soft click, the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room cloaked in shadows.
Stepping inside, Arlon froze, his breath catching in his throat. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with glimmering mana stones, stacks of gold coins, and artifacts that seemed to hum faintly with energy.
"This is... incredible," he whispered, his eyes wide. He reached for a mana stone, its surface smooth and warm in his palm. A faint, rhythmic pulse coursed through it, like a heartbeat.
Flutter—
The golden screen shimmered faintly at the edge of his vision:
["Arlon uncovers a hidden trove of power and wealth, remnants of his secret plans."]
"So this is where you kept your secrets, huh?" Shin murmured, turning the stone over in his hand. "No wonder the original Arlon was so overpowered in the novel."
But as he inspected the treasures, something stirred within him. Faint, fragmented memories—not his own—began to surface. Images of Arlon hoarding these stones flashed through his mind, coupled with an ominous sense of purpose.
"What were you planning?" Shin wondered, his heart pounding. "And why does it feel like I've just stumbled into something way bigger than I'm ready for?"
The artifacts and coins faded into the background as his focus returned to the mana stones. Closing the door behind him, he set one on the desk, its faint glow illuminating the pages of an open tome.
"Mana stones are nature's lifeforce, capable of enhancing strength, agility, and perception. But improper use can result in volatile reactions..."
The words rang in his mind as he stared at the glowing crystal. For a moment, he hesitated. The book had warned against misuse. One wrong move, and the energy within could backfire.
"Dangerous... but worth it," he muttered.
Placing the stone in his palm, Arlon took a deep breath and focused, recalling the book's instructions. "Picture the result you want. Clarity is the key."
He closed his eyes. "Just a spark," he whispered.
At first, nothing happened. The stone remained cool and inert, its faint glow unchanged. Frustration bubbled up.
"Focus," he muttered, sharper this time. "Come on."
Flare—
Then it happened. The stone warmed in his hand, its glow intensifying. A flicker of light shot out, swirling like a tiny flame before vanishing into the air.
Arlon's eyes flew open, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. "I did it."
Encouraged, he practiced in secret whenever Dimitri wasn't nearby. Some attempts resulted in flickers of light; others flared wildly, forcing him to duck as sparks ricocheted across the room.
One night, he decided to push further. Holding the stone tightly, he closed his eyes and imagined water—a rushing torrent.
"Flow," he murmured.
Swish—
A moment later, a stream of water burst forth, splashing onto the floor. Arlon laughed, exhilarated. "I'm getting the hang of this."
But keeping his experiments hidden wasn't easy. Dimitri, with his hawk-like gaze, had an uncanny ability to appear at the worst possible moments.
One afternoon, as Arlon carefully channeled energy into a stone, he heard Dimitri's voice echo from the corridor.
"My lord?"
"..!"
His heart jumped. The mana stone nearly slipped from his grasp as the butler's footsteps drew closer. He shoved it into his pocket just as Dimitri entered, his green eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"What are you doing?" Dimitri asked, his tone polite but laced with curiosity.
"Research," Arlon replied smoothly, gesturing to the books scattered across the desk. He forced himself to meet Dimitri's gaze, keeping his expression calm.
The butler lingered, his sharp eyes scanning the room before nodding slowly. "Very well. Dinner will be served shortly."
Arlon waited until the door clicked shut before releasing a shaky breath. Pulling the mana stone from his pocket, he stared at it, his thoughts racing.
"That was way too close. I need to be more careful."
But even as his pulse steadied, something tugged at the edge of his consciousness. A strange unease crept over him, the memory fragments resurfacing. He glanced back at the hoard of mana stones, a sense of foreboding settling in his chest.
Then the golden screen flickered violently. New words appeared, jagged and fragmented:
["—Beware. The chain tightens."]
Arlon froze, his breath hitching.
"What does that mean?" he muttered, but the screen remained silent, its faint glow fading once more.
For the first time, a knot of fear twisted in his gut. Whatever Arlon's original plan had been, it was far from simple—and far more dangerous than Shin had realized.
A week passed, and Arlon's mastery of mana stones grew. He could now summon bursts of light, streams of water, and even enhance his strength for short periods.
Yet, every time he activated a stone, he felt the same thrill—a rush of power and possibility. This wasn't something the original Arlon Throndsen had ever delved into, and that gave him an edge.
One day, he sat back in his chair, watching the stone's glow fade after another successful test.
"Not bad for a beginner," he said aloud, a smile tugging at his lips. "Who knows? Maybe I'll be a pro at this before long."
Another day arrive again, The vast oak desk was cluttered with open books, scattered parchment, and an array of quills and inkpots. Arlon leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Before him lay a large blank sheet of paper, the beginnings of a project that would consume his focus for days: study the world map.
He flipped through another old tome, its yellowed pages filled with fragmented maps and disjointed sketches. Each page offered only a small piece of the world, a tantalizing glimpse of the grander picture that eluded him.
The faint scent of aged parchment lingered in the air as he flipped through the pages of an old atlas. The frustration was beginning to mount.
"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "Not a single book in this library has a full map?" Arlon thought as he scanned another page. "It's like they want me to suffer."
What he found instead were fragmented maps, each depicting portions of the world. Some showed mountain ranges, others highlighted key trade routes or isolated kingdoms, but none gave him the whole picture.
"Alright, if they won't give me a map, I'll make one myself," he declared to the empty room. Determination burned in his purple eyes as he grabbed a large sheet of parchment, unrolled it across the desk, and anchored it down with paperweights.
Carefully, he began copying each fragment from the book onto his blank canvas. It was slow, painstaking work. His hand cramped after hours of tracing rivers, mountains, and borders, but he didn't stop. Each completed section brought the larger picture into focus.As Arlon carefully sketched out the pieces.
By the end of the day, he had pieced together a crude but functional map of the known world. He sat back, rubbing his stiff neck as he surveyed his work.
"There," he said, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. "Not bad for someone working with scraps."
The map depicted the three great kingdoms of the world, along with their neighboring territories and uncharted lands. He reached for a red quill and began marking locations he recognized from the original novel.
He paused over one particular region, his brow furrowing.
"The Silver Woods…" he muttered. "Mentioned as a key battleground, but no one in the book ever explored it." He circled the area in red.
One by one, he marked other significant locations—the Forest Cave, the Sunken Isles, and the Forgotten Spire.
"Since the original Arlon Throndsen hasn't traveled much, it's better to be prepared for anything. Advanced knowledge is power," he thought, a determined gleam in his eyes.
Arlon shifted his attention to a different pile of books, each one detailing the unique cultures of the kingdoms in this world. His goal this time was not geography but language.
According to the novels and tomes he had studied, each kingdom had its own tongue, and mastering them could make the difference between survival and failure.
The original Arlon Throndsen had no use for such knowledge, relying instead on his status and influence. But Shin—now inhabiting Arlon's body—knew better. Communication was a weapon, one he intended to wield.
He discovered that the three dominant languages of this world were as follows
Velican: The dominant language of the Sun Empire, known for its flowing script and poetic cadence. It was the language of nobility, diplomacy, and formal documentation.It was the most widely used and the one Arlon already knew.
Kyrian: blends the lyrical flow of ancient eastern dialects with a dignified elegance.
Its tone is melodic yet assertive, reflecting the harmony of its diverse heritage. It's often associated with artistry, diplomacy, and the resilience of an island people who value tradition and innovation equally
Mythralis: A rare, ancient language spoken in the secluded kingdom of Mythralis. It was the language of scholars, mages, and those who dealt with the arcane. Its complexity was unmatched, with intricate symbols that could double as spells.
Arlon leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as he studied the dense grammar charts and pronunciation guides.
"Alright," he muttered. "Velican I already know,But Kyrian… that's going to take some practice."
As for Mythralis, he felt a strange connection to its symbols. The way the lines flowed into each other reminded him of mana circuits, almost as if the language itself was alive.