Steam curled up from the bowl, thick and intoxicating. The velvety stew cradled chunks of tender, genetically enhanced meat, its aroma laced with a warmth that hinted at indulgence far beyond anything I had ever imagined. This wasn’t just any meal—it was dungeon beast flesh, harvested and infused with raw mana—a delicacy reserved for the elite.

  A translucent holographic interface flickered to life above the bowl.

  Blazebane Boar

  My fingers hovered over the bowl, trembling. Memories of my past life resurfaced, sharp and uninvited. Cold nights, empty cupboards, the dull ache of hunger. Back then, luxury like this was a fantasy I didn’t even dare to name.

  And yet, here I was.

  I swallowed hard, forcing down the knot in my throat. The weight of this moment threatened to crush me—but I couldn’t hesitate now.

  I lifted the spoon, took a deep breath, and brought it to my lips.

  The moment the stew touched my tongue, a surge of sensation exploded through me. Flavors—rich, layered, humming with an almost electrical intensity—flooded my senses. They didn't just taste divine. They moved like liquid lightning through my bloodstream. My mana reserves, once sluggish and starved, roared awake, brimming with raw vitality. The exhaustion I’d carried for so long was gone. My fingers tingled. The colors around me sharpened like shattered glass caught the sunlight.

  I leaned back, exhaling a shaky breath.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  This was what true strength tasted like.

  And I knew—I had to earn this again. And again.

  As I closed my eyes in satisfaction, the atmosphere changed.

  It was subtle at first. A strange vibration in the air, like the world had just exhaled. The warmth faded.

  A strange vibration rippled through the air, like the world had just exhaled. The restaurant’s familiar hum—clinking cutlery, murmured conversation—slowed, warped… then vanished.

  Silence. A wrong kind of silence.

  I opened my eyes.

  The world was gone.

  I stood in a vast, tranquil garden bathed in eternal twilight. The sky stretched endlessly, shifting in iridescent hues that defied logic. Wisteria blossoms, an unnatural violet, drifted through the air, glowing faintly. Their scent was sweet—nostalgic yet unfamiliar.

  Mana saturated everything. It pressed against my skin, thick and alive, humming with a presence I couldn’t ignore.

  A gleaming pond lay ahead, its surface so still it looked like a portal to another world. I reached for the grimoire at my neck. It pulsed in response—steady, sentient—syncing with the rhythm of this place.

  Across the water, pages floated in the air, suspended in a slow, deliberate orbit. Each one crackled with energy, their auras distinct—vibrant, waiting.

  Sapphire. Amethyst. Black. Amber Gold. Burgundy.

  I exhaled sharply. They weren’t just relics. They were calling to me.

  One, in particular, burned brighter than the rest.

  Amethyst.

  It pulsed violently, not just drawing me in but recognizing me.

  A weight settled in my chest. My instincts screamed caution. My body urged forward. The contradiction only made the pull stronger.

  The world held its breath.

  I stepped closer. Slowly. Deliberately. Then, with the lightest touch, my fingertips brushed against the page’s surface.

  Light erupted.

  A holographic interface snapped into existence, its text pulsing in sharp neon:

  Square One

  It was the title of a novel I wrote—back when I had nothing. A story meant to pass the time. A fantasy, nothing more.

  The screen shifted again. A familiar layout. A system window, the kind I had seen in too many stories. Quests. Stats. Fated paths.

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