The flickering candlelight cast elongated shadows across the wooden desk, illuminating the open pages of the novel before Arin. His fingers traced the faded ink, lingering over the name of the protagonist he had once followed so intently in his past life.
Elias Valtorin.
A man who had no noble lineage, no grand heritage to call upon. He was not gifted with overwhelming power at birth, nor did he possess a bloodline that guaranteed success. He was, in every sense, an anomaly in the world of Eldoria. And yet, through sheer effort, an unbreakable will, and an insatiable thirst for knowledge, he carved a path that defied the heavens themselves.
Arin exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. He remembered how engrossed he had been in Elias's story, how the protagonist had suffered, endured, and persevered. He had no grand destiny thrust upon him—he had made himself into the legend the world came to fear and respect. Unlike so many other stories where fate guided the hero's journey, Elias's strength was a product of his relentless struggle.
That was what made this novel different.
There were no shortcuts. No convenient divine blessings, no fated mentors who appeared at the perfect moment. Elias had clawed his way up from nothing, learning that power in Eldoria was not given freely—it was earned through understanding. Through mastery. Through hardship.
And that was why Arin was drawn to this story more than any other he had ever read. Because it felt real. It felt… possible.
Now, however, that story was no longer just fiction.
This world was real. The dangers, the power struggles, the unrelenting nature of existence—it was all tangible. And unlike Elias, Arin had the knowledge of what lay ahead. He had an advantage. But was it truly an advantage if the very act of knowing could alter the course of events?
His hand curled into a fist as he stared at the text before him. The novel had followed Elias's journey across Eldoria, detailing the many paths to strength that existed within this world. Each warrior, each mage, each strategist—every individual who had risen to prominence had done so not because of raw talent alone, but because they had understood the very foundation of their strength.
Swordsmanship was not just about wielding a blade—it was about embodying the concept of the sword itself. To understand its purpose, its meaning, its place in the world. A true swordsman was not one who simply swung their weapon with skill, but one who had internalized what it meant to cut, to defend, to exist within the rhythm of battle.
The same applied to spearmen, to archers, to those who wielded magic. Power was not a mere tool—it was an extension of one's beliefs, one's understanding of the world.
Elias had discovered this truth the hard way, through countless failures and battles. He had walked every path—swordsman, tactician, scholar, duelist—until he finally understood the essence of power itself.
And now, Arin had to do the same.
His past-life knowledge was a guide, but it was not a solution. If he wished to survive, if he wished to change fate, he could not simply rely on what he had read. He had to walk the path himself.
He exhaled, closing the novel gently before standing. The weight of his decision settled upon his shoulders like a silent vow. If he wanted to forge his own destiny, if he truly wanted to change Evelyne's fate and his own, then he could not hesitate.
Understanding was the key.
And the first step… was finding his own path.