"Their fate is not clay to be molded by human hands; their calling should be honored, not manipulated. Yet here I am, remaining silent, acting like the coward I once was."
That afternoon, Sun—Solstara hung directly above the temple's peak, erasing every shadow from its footing. The Acolytes moved swiftly and solemnly, preparing every necessity for the summoning ritual, a duty entrusted to them as the sacred keepers of the temple. Under the direct supervision of the Hierophants, they ensured that everything proceeded according to the traditions passed down through generations.
I tilted my head upward, gazing at the massive transparent glass that shielded the ritual chamber without obstructing Solstara's light. Its golden amber glow poured in, enveloping the entire room in a divine warmth. The peak was approaching, a silent reminder that time was running out. In tradition, this moment was called the "Golden Zenith"—the hour when Solstara ascended to its throne in the sky, believed to have the power to banish the darkness of the Abyss.
In this world, depleted Mana could be replenished as every element of nature contributed to its cycle. The wind that whispered, the earth that pulsed with life, the ever-moving waves of the sea, even Solstara's rays touching the land—all served as sources that restored Mana to living beings. Each individual absorbed Mana differently, depending on their affinity and sensitivity to the environment around them.
Why must the summoning ritual be performed at midday?
Because in their original world, the Astral Voyagers did not possess an Arcana Codex—the soul code that defined their existence and magic in Midgaria—the Arcana Codex was not merely a spellbook but a blueprint of being, governing the flow of Mana, magical potential, and the fate of one's soul in this realm.
The ritual had to be conducted precisely at noon when Solstara reached its peak. Solstara was not just a celestial light; it was an anchor of energy that ensured their transition remained intact. When an Astral Voyager crossed the boundary between dimensions, their body and soul existed in a fragile state—detached from the laws of their original world. At this critical moment, Solstara's radiance stabilized their existence, allowing the Arcana Codex to imprint itself flawlessly onto their soul.
Without Solstara's energy as a catalyst, the formation of their Arcana Codex could falter—becoming flawed, sealing away their powers, or even leading to complete failure in adaptation. In the worst-case scenario, they could lose their identity entirely, trapped in the void between worlds, formless and without purpose.
That was what the ancient documents said about this summoning ritual.
But I wouldn't know. After all, I didn't even have an Arcana Codex.
The Astral Voyager summoning ritual had always been an enigma. No records detailed its exact process, let alone its origins. All we knew was that this ritual had saved Midgaria from destruction for centuries. Though my mind was clouded with doubt, I couldn't deny the reverence I felt for this tradition—a fusion of ancestral legacy and humanity's desperate struggle to survive against the threat of the Abyss.
"Your Highness, the ritual is about to begin," a soft voice broke through my thoughts. A female Acolyte stood before me, her expression calm yet resolute. I gave her a slight nod, masking the unease gnawing at me from within.
My steps were steady but heavy as I approached the altar, walking past the piercing gazes of the Hierophants who scrutinized my every move. Their doubt was palpable as if my grandfather's shadow still loomed over this chamber. To them, he alone was worthy of leading this ritual. But now, with his absence, the responsibility fell upon me. Even though I had never performed it myself, I had witnessed Grandpa conduct this ritual countless times.
I knew what needed to be done—the steps to follow, the incantations to recite, even the precise moment when blood must be spilled upon the Mana Stone. Even without an Arcana Codex, it didn't matter. This ritual wasn't about individual power; it was about bloodline. All that was required was the blood of an imperial descendant. And I, despite being deemed unworthy and weak, was still the rightful heir to the throne.
The altar chamber felt smaller, constricted by the presence of the Hierophants whose silent judgment weighed upon me. I took a deep breath, steadying myself beneath their scrutinizing stares. I knew most of them opposed my position as crown prince. To me, this was more than just a ritual—it was a test of my existence as an heir they refused to acknowledge.
The Hierophants stood in a circle around the Mana Stone altar, careful not to step on the ancient runes carved into the floor. Meanwhile, beyond these walls, Zura, Finnian, and Tavon waited. The sacred laws forbade them from entering, even though they were the people I trusted the most. Inside this chamber, there was only me, the Hierophants, and the hope entrusted to the bloodline of the imperial family.
The altar beneath my feet was etched with intricate carvings that pulsed faintly as if alive. The massive Mana Stone at the center radiated a bright blue glow, eager to absorb the energy it required.
An elderly Hierophant stepped forward, presenting a ritual dagger—its silver blade adorned with precious gemstones. My hand trembled slightly as I reached for it—not out of fear but out of the realization that this moment marked the beginning of something far greater than myself.
The Hierophant returned to his place among the others, studying me for a brief moment as if ensuring I understood the gravity of this act.
I took a deep breath, my gaze locking onto the Mana Stone, its glow flickering weakly, awaiting its final offering. There was no turning back. With one steady motion, I pressed the blade into my palm.
As the first drop of my blood met the Mana Stone, its light shifted to a deep crimson, swirling like a vortex. The air around us trembled, charged with an indescribable energy. The Hierophants began chanting ancient incantations, their voices echoing through the chamber in an eerie yet mesmerizing harmony. It felt as if time itself had stopped, holding its breath for what was about to unfold.
Closing my eyes, I whispered my plea, my voice unsteady but resolute. The words spilled from my lips like a prayer, merging with the Hierophants' chants. The Mana Stone flared, its radiance exploding like a thousand stars. The atmosphere grew dense, as though something extraordinary was manifesting.
"I am Elenio Seluna De Hawkins, the rightful heir to the throne of Midgaria," I murmured, a vow meant only for the glowing stone before me. "My blood is the bridge between past and future. With this, I bind our will as one."
The biting cold seeped from the runes into my body, making me shiver for a moment. Yet, I remained focused, channeling all my conviction and determination into them. The Mana Stone began to glow even brighter. I could feel its energy connecting with the magical circle surrounding me.
The Hierophants chanted their incantations louder and faster as if inspired by the ritual's newfound stability. I could sense how my presence—despite lacking magic—guided the flow of energy differently, not through arcane power but through unwavering resolve.
A sudden flash of light erupted from the Mana Stone, blinding everyone in the chamber. The air trembled violently as if the barrier between two worlds had been torn apart. I could feel something—a force unlike anything I had ever experienced—forming intricate patterns in the air, weaving together like invisible threads above the magical circle.
From within the light, ancient symbols emerged, floating before intertwining into something greater than mere illumination—an Arcana Codex.
Usually, multiple Arcana Codices would manifest at once during a single ritual, indicating the number of those successfully summoned. If fortune smiled upon us, even a dozen Voyagers could arrive at once. However, such an event was rare. Throughout Grandpa's fifty-year reign, only once had a ritual yielded such a large number.
But this time… there was only one.
A single Arcana Codex hovered at the heart of the summoning circle, bathed in golden radiance. Nothing else followed. No additional glowing pages, no sign that more Astral Voyagers would arrive.
The Hierophants, who were not actively performing the ritual, whispered among themselves, and their confusion was evident. But the most astonishing thing was not the number—it was the form of the Arcana Codex itself.
This soul book… was enormous.
Far thicker than any Arcana Codex I had ever seen. Its pages shimmered with shifting ancient symbols, rearranging themselves every second as if rewriting their own existence. The sheer density of its energy made the surrounding air tremble.
I clenched my robes tightly, suppressing the unease creeping into my chest. This… was not ordinary. Something about this Arcana Codex felt different.
And if only one Voyager had been summoned, yet his power was equivalent to a dozen… I couldn't begin to imagine what kind of person would emerge from the light.
As the synchronization of the Arcana Codex completed, forming a perfectly solid, massive tome, something else materialized within the summoning runes.
I remained in place, keeping my hand on the Mana Stone, which now pulsed in sync with my heartbeat. I knew that, at this moment, everything depended on what would come next. Our world would change forever, and I had done my part to ensure that change. Now, all that remained was to see who would step forth from the light—and whether this Astral Voyager would truly be the savior we desperately needed.
From within the blinding radiance, a figure gradually took shape. As the brilliance faded, a man appeared at the center of the magical circle. His thick black hair was soaked, dripping wet as if he had just stepped out of a storm. His sharp brown eyes darted around, filled with confusion. His lips remained tightly pressed together, betraying his shock and inability to grasp the situation unfolding before him.
He was tall and powerfully built, his toned muscles visible beneath the damp fabric clinging to his frame. Water dripped from the ends of his hair, trailing down his face before splashing onto the ground, forming small puddles beneath his feet. He stood within the glowing runes, looking very much like someone who had been forcibly torn from his reality and thrust into a world utterly unfamiliar to him.
It was an expression I had seen before—one shared by nearly every Astral Voyager before him.
The man stood there, still slightly staggering from confusion. His gaze met mine, and I could see the flicker of uncertainty within them as if he wasn't sure whether this was real or just a nightmare.
I remained steadfast, trying to offer him a sense of calm through my eyes. "Welcome to Midgaria," I said softly but clearly, my voice echoing in the ritual chamber, which had now fallen into silence despite the presence of the Hierophants. You have been summoned to save this world."
He blinked several times, struggling to process what he had just heard. Slowly, he began to realize that this place was unfamiliar, nothing like what he had known.
"Who are you? Where am I?" he asked, his voice trembling with confusion and fear.
I stepped forward, lifting my hand from the Mana Stone. "I am Elenio Seluna de Hawkins, crown prince of this empire, the Empire of Midgaria. We have summoned you as an Astral Voyager to help us in this great crisis."
One of the Hierophants, an elderly man draped in a radiant white robe, stepped forward with respect, careful not to overstep my position—Hierophant High Lumen Arcanum. "Oh, chosen Astral Voyager, we have awaited your arrival for so long, and it is an honor to finally meet you. You are the one chosen by fate to bring change to our world."
Another Hierophant, a woman—Isalinde, wearing a robe that glowed with a soft blue hue, bowed her head respectfully. "It is truly a great honor for us. Please, allow us to know your name, oh hero from the distant world."
The same words, the same reverence, the same flattery always spoken by the Hierophants in situations like this. Empty praises meant to ensnare Astral Voyagers, persuading them to stay and be shackled by their so-called destiny.
The Astral Voyager stared at them in bewilderment, still trying to steady himself. "My name… Aarav. Aarav Rama Mahendra," he answered hesitantly.
The Arcana Codex, glowing even more brilliantly, trembled as if responding to the sound of its owner's name. As if drawn by an invisible force, the book floated slowly toward Aarav, its pages flipping at an increasing speed.
The Hierophants, especially Lumen, observed the phenomenon with sharp eyes. Beneath the shadow of his white hood, his gaze shimmered with both curiosity and caution. "How extraordinary…" he murmured, his voice nearly drowned out by the faint whispers of mantras still filling the room.
"What the hell is this…?" Aarav reflexively took a step back, raising his hands as if preparing to fend off something unseen. His eyes darted to me, filled with confusion and a hint of fear. "Why is there a floating book? Is this some kind of… magic trick?"
I held my breath, reminding myself that in Aarav's old world, there was no such thing as an Arcana Codex. He had likely never seen anything like this before—a magical tome bound to one's soul, something that should only belong to those born in Midgaria or summoned here.
"It is not a trick," Lumen's voice cut through the silence. The High Hierophant stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with barely contained fascination. "That is your Arcana Codex, proof that you are now a part of Midgaria."
Aarav took another step back. "Midgaria? What is this? Is it some kind of reality show? What network is this from?"
"You must be confused," I said in a calm voice, "but this is not a show. This is not a reality TV set. You are no longer in your old world, Aarav. You are an Astral Voyager, a hero summoned to save Midgaria from the Abyssian creatures."
Aarav blinked, trying to process my words. Then, in a flat tone, he muttered, "So… like a Narnia prophecy?"
I nearly choked at his response. "What?"
"You know," Aarav shrugged, "a bunch of school kids get sucked into another world, suddenly declared heroes by a bunch of strangers, then have to fight some ancient darkness. I think a few comics and anime have used this setting before. What's next? Am I going to get a magic sword and be told to fight an evil queen?"
He let out a deep sigh, glancing upward as if searching for hidden cameras on the ceiling. "Alright, so this isn't a reality show, not a prank, and I'm not in a fantasy movie either. Great, great." Then, he turned his attention back to the Arcana Codex, still floating before him, its pages spinning ever so slightly. "So… this book is what's supposed to turn me into a hero? I just read it, and—boom—I can use magic?"
Lumen chuckled softly as if he had grown used to such responses from newly summoned Astral Voyagers. "It's not that simple, but the Arcana Codex is the key to unlocking your potential. We merely need to scan it to understand what kind of power resides within you."
Aarav raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so this is like the tutorial phase in a game? Do I get a skill tree and power-up options too?"
I pressed my fingers to my temple, resisting the urge to completely give up on this conversation. "Yes. Think of it that way."
I supposed Grandpa must have felt the same way during every ritual.
Aarav continued to stare at the book with a look of deep confusion. "It's huge. Is this a book or a spaceship operation manual?"
At last, Lumen raised his hand with a careful motion. "Allow us to conduct the scan. We must determine… what kind of power is contained within your Arcana Codex."
"Oh, so you're scanning the book? Does it have a barcode, too?" Aarav squinted at the floating tome, hesitating to touch it. "Man, holograms these days are so advanced. The projections look completely real."
Then, as if remembering something, he muttered, "By the way… this was planned with Febby, wasn't it?"
I frowned. "Febby?"
Aarav looked at me, then at Lumen, then back at the floating book still spinning in the air. He let out a dry chuckle, closing his eyes briefly before taking a deep breath.
"This is part of the surprise, isn't it?" His voice wavered slightly as if he were trying to convince himself. "Febby wasn't supposed to pretend to drown… that was too much. I really panicked, you know? I jumped in to save her, and—"
Aarav suddenly stopped.
His head dipped slightly, his breathing growing heavier.
"—and after that, everything went dark."
I could feel the atmosphere in the chamber shift. The Hierophants exchanged glances, their eyes deep with understanding as if they had just uncovered something important.
Aarav lifted his head again, but this time, his expression was strained.
"She's okay, right?" His voice was quieter now, laced with uncertainty. "Febby… she's fine, isn't she? She didn't actually drown, did she? She's not—"
He couldn't finish his sentence.
Something twisted in my chest as I watched him like this. The Aarav, who had been joking and complaining just moments ago, now looked genuinely lost and afraid.
An elderly Hierophant in a purple robe stepped forward. His face was lined with deep wrinkles, his gaze calm, but his voice was firm as he spoke.
"We do not know who… Febby is."
Aarav blinked. "Huh?"
The Hierophant continued, his tone unwavering. "We do not know the person you are speaking of, nor do we know what happened in your world before you arrived here."
Aarav stood frozen. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. "You're kidding, right?"
No one answered.
A dry laugh escaped him, hollow and strained. "No, this has to be part of the act, right? You must know! You must have planned all of this! Febby is out there, right? She's waiting for me, isn't she?"
The other Hierophants exchanged glances, but none of them spoke.
"Don't just stand there! I need to see her now!" Aarav took a step forward, his voice rising in desperation. But before he could move any further, Lumen raised a hand, stopping him with a sharp gaze.
Aarav growled, his hands twitching as if ready to grab anyone who dared block his path. "Febby… she's my girlfriend!" His voice trembled. "We were on vacation in the village! We went to the river that afternoon, and she—"
He stopped, his words catching in his throat.
"She almost drowned…"
His expression shifted, and his body trembled slightly, as if the memory had just crashed into him with brutal clarity.
"I saw her being swept away by the current," he whispered. "I jumped in right away. I tried to grab her hand… but the water was too strong. I—I couldn't breathe. I felt something pulling me under…"
His hands gripped his hair, his eyes darting restlessly. "I don't remember anything after that."
The room fell into silence.
The eldest Hierophant lowered his head slightly, his voice softer than before. "If that is the last thing you remember… then it is likely that you have not been in your world since that moment."
Aarav stiffened. "What do you mean?"
He looked at the Hierophant, his expression unreadable—a chaotic mix of confusion, anger, and rising fear. He shook his head as if trying to reject the very idea of what he had just heard.
"What do you mean... I'm not in my world anymore?" Aarav asked again, his voice shaking, but there was a defiant edge to it.
The eldest Hierophant remained calm, though his expression carried a hint of reluctance. "Every Astral Voyager who arrives in Midgaria does not come with their former body. They have all…" He paused for a moment, carefully choosing his words. "Passed away in their original world."
Aarav stiffened, his eyes widening. "That's impossible."
I held my breath, looking at everyone in the room.
Lies.
As always, they were merely making assumptions based on the information they had just received.
But I remained silent, unwilling to challenge their claims or act against their egos.
I didn't truly know what happened to Astral Voyagers before they arrived in Midgaria. No one did. The only thing anyone understood was that those who came here lost all ties to their past lives, cut off from their former existence. But that didn't mean they were all dead.
And one thing was certain about every Astral Voyager who arrived: they were all people who had long given up on their previous lives. Because of that, most of them willingly followed along with our self-serving interests.
Those depressed souls…
Given praise, warm promises, adoration, and words that made them feel like they had finally found a new home… and BOOM! You've secured the trust of a pawn who would become your weapon in war.
But Aarav was different.
The man clearly refused to accept his presence in Midgaria. It was evident in his eyes, and the Hierophants were baffled—because something like this almost never happened.
Aarav turned sharply, scanning the faces of everyone in the room, searching for anyone who could give him a more reasonable explanation. But all he found was silence. No one denied the Hierophant's words.
His face hardened. He took a step back. Then another. As if trying to distance himself from this room, from their words, from the reality that was tightening its grip around him.
"No," Aarav shook his head violently. "No, this is just a joke. You're all messing with me, right?"
No one answered.
His voice rose. "Febby! I need to see Febby! If I'm really somewhere else if I really—really died like you said, then where is Febby?!"
His gaze snapped to me, burning with disbelief. "You! You call yourself the crown prince! You're their leader, right?! Where's Febby?! Is she here too?!"
I couldn't answer.
The solemn expressions and unwavering stares from those around him finally began to sink in. Slowly, his expression shifted—from anger to unease, then to raw, undeniable panic.
"Febby can't still be there alone…" his voice dropped, barely a whisper. His breaths came faster, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven motions. "She… she can't be alone… she needs me…"
His hands clawed at his hair, his eyes darting wildly, searching for an escape. "I have to go back! I have to go back!"
"Savior Aarav, please calm down." The elder Hierophant spoke again, his voice firm yet gentle. "You are now in Midgaria, a world separate from Earth, your homeland. This world is in grave danger, under threat from Gehenna—a dark realm beyond human comprehension. They seek to destroy Midgaria, and we need your help to stop them."
But Aarav shook his head furiously, his face twisted in confusion and denial. "No, even if this is real, I won't just accept it! I don't even know where I am! You say this isn't Earth? I don't care about your crisis! I just want to go home, back to the place I know!"
"Astral Voyager, this world needs you. The home you left behind may be safe, but Midgaria stands on the brink of destruction. Only with your help can we hope to change our fate," the elder Hierophant tried again, his tone softer yet still unwavering.
Aarav took another step back, his voice breaking into a desperate plea. "Help? I don't care! Just send me back to Febby! I beg you—she needs me!"
"You are the chosen one; nothing happens without reason," Isalinde finally spoke, her voice laced with persuasion. "If you turn your back on us now, this world will fall into darkness. Can you truly return to your home and live in peace, knowing that another world was destroyed because you rejected your destiny?"
"That's not my problem! You brought me here without my consent, so you have to send me back! I don't care about your world or your crisis! Take me back to Earth right now!" Aarav's defiance remained unshaken.
The man was still struggling to control his explosion of emotions. His voice echoed throughout the chamber, bouncing off the cold stone walls, a testament to his unwavering resolve. No persuasion, no incantation, no so-called destiny these Hierophants clung to would change his mind.
"The Astral Voyager, we understand your dilemma, but fate has chosen you. You are our last hope against Gehenna," Isalinde stepped closer, her face draped in an almost excessive sincerity. "Midgaria needs your power. We know this is hard, but you must accept this reality." Her voice was a soft melody, attempting to soothe the storm raging in Aarav's heart.
But the storm was far too great. Aarav clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, his entire body trembling with emotion. Anger and grief burned in his throat like an unquenchable fire. "I don't care about your fate!" he roared, his eyes blazing like embers. "I just want to go back! Send me back to Earth right now, or I—"
"You can't go back."
Isalinde cut in firmly, her voice no longer soft but sharp like cold steel piercing through him. "Your world has rejected you. You… are already dead there. Accept it, O hero! Choose this world, the world that has embraced you after your death. You can never return to that world again."
Silence swallowed the chamber. Her words hung in the air like a thick, suffocating fog.
Aarav might have believed it, but he refused to acknowledge it. His body trembled, and his eyes, filled with pain, were undeniable proof of his torment. He, like the other Astral Voyagers, was someone who had failed in his own world. Someone who had despaired, someone who had only wanted to escape the pain. The only difference was that, perhaps, he was the only Astral Voyager who still had a reason to stay there a little longer.
Midgaria was not his chosen destiny. It was a prison disguised with empty promises.
I remained silent, letting the Hierophants continue their lies. They stood with feigned innocence, masking the truth behind their false smiles and honeyed words.
Isalinde's words struck Aarav like a war hammer. His body staggered backward as if the gravity around him had suddenly increased tenfold. His eyes widened, flooded with turmoil that quickly morphed into panic and rage.
"I am not dead!" His voice cracked, raw with agony and rejection. "I'm still alive! I was still trying to swim to the shore! You—You must have killed me to bring me here! You stole my life from me!"
His fists clenched tighter, his entire body quaking as though the fury inside him was scorching every fiber of his being.
A violent surge of Mana erupted from Aarav's body, crashing through the chamber like a raging storm. The once-composed Hierophants now recoiled, their faces drained of color, their eyes wide with fear.
Aarav was no longer in control of himself. His fury, raw and unfiltered, had taken over. The air around him trembled violently, responding to his seething emotions. Within moments, it hardened and condensed, forming jagged crystals of deep violet. They shimmered ominously, exuding an energy so thick that the entire chamber felt suffocating.
His Arcana Codex glowed, its pages flipping on their own, revealing ancient spells to its master.
Several Hierophants stepped in front of me, assuming a defensive stance. Others hastily summoned their Arcana Codexes, constructing a transparent barrier around me and the others.
Aarav's rage had become an alarm bell for the temple.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he lifted his face, his gaze wild and filled with venom. "I'll find my own way," he hissed. "I don't care about your fate. I don't care about Midgaria."
Then, without warning, the crystals shot outward in every direction.
The chamber erupted into chaos—cracks splintered through the walls, voices screamed, and flashes of light flickered violently.
And amidst the mayhem, realization struck me.
There was something in Aarav's power.
Something vast.
Something that could not be stopped.