The world was quiet when Ethan woke up.
No screeching bells. No snoring. No one shouting about breakfast or dorm duty. Just the soft inhale and exhale of two sleeping roommates, the faint creak of old wood, and the steady rhythm of early morning pressing gently at the edges of the windowpanes. Light—barely there—pooled across the ceiling, pale blue and cold, the kind that only came just before sunrise. The sky still hung in that limbo between night and day, as if even the sun hadn't yet made up its mind.
He didn't know what stirred him from sleep exactly. There wasn't a nightmare clawing at the back of his mind. No restless anxiety chasing him into wakefulness. Just... a feeling. A pressure. Like something waiting to be noticed.
Then came the chime.
Soft. Subtle. Almost like a thought that didn't belong to him.
[System Status: Dormant Functions Detected]
[Would you like to initiate core system update?]
Ethan sat upright, heart thudding like he'd been doused with cold water. The glowing text floated in his vision, unobtrusive but unignorable. Unlike the usual system prompts—bland, emotionless—this one felt active. Like something alive was peeking out from behind the glass.
"…Huh?"
He blinked once. Twice. But the text didn't fade.
The system—up until now—had been nothing more than a glorified spreadsheet. A convenient magic diary that showed what he already knew: what spells he'd learned, how many he'd mastered, and the same stagnant "Level 1" sitting at the top like a cruel joke. It had never spoken to him like this. Never asked. Never prompted.
And now it was waiting.
He glanced to the side. Kai was sprawled out, one leg off the bed, mouth open, probably dreaming about setting something on fire. Aiden slept soundlessly, the kind of stillness only trained minds could hold, his arms folded beneath the covers like a soldier prepared for anything but unwilling to wake.
Ethan exhaled slowly.
He moved with care, pushing the blanket aside, bare feet pressing softly against the chilled floor. He stepped over Kai's boots, still half-kicked under the bunk, and padded toward his section of the wardrobe. A robe—navy with silver trim—hung from a peg inside. He shrugged it over his sleep shirt, tied the sash once, and slipped through the door as quietly as he could.
The corridor outside was dim, painted in sleepy blue light from overhead orbs tuned to mimic the rising sun. Everything was silent. Just the echo of his footsteps, and that faint pulse of mana from the enchanted stone beneath the floor.
Once he was outside—alone, wrapped in morning air and pale gold sky—he whispered:
"Alright. Do it. Run the update."
The system didn't hesitate.
[Updating core functions… Please remain still.]
For a moment, there was no sound. No shift in pressure. But deep in his chest, something moved. Like a string being drawn tight. Not painful—but present. A resonance humming through bone and breath and memory.
Then the air stilled. The mana around him stopped moving. And the notification flickered into view.
[Update Complete.]
New functions unlocked:
— Spell Dismantling
— Spell Evolution & Fusion
You now possess sufficient spell knowledge to begin crafting, combining, and refining magical abilities. Exercise caution. Instability and mana backlash are likely without control.
Ethan blinked, slowly.
"…Wait. I can—create spells?"
The next notification popped up before he could even finish the thought.
As a reward for unlocking core spellcraft features:
— All known spells upgraded to Level 2.
— 3 new spells granted.
His pulse spiked. Fingers trembling, he pulled up the newly expanded skill list.
The interface looked cleaner now—more deliberate. Each spell listed in bold text, grouped by element and function, and when he focused on one, a short explanation blinked beneath it.
And right at the top, glowing faint gold:
[Elemental Body]
Temporarily infuse your body with a chosen element, granting physical reinforcement, magic resistance, and increased mana conductivity. While active, the body becomes attuned to elemental force. Overuse may result in backlash.
Ethan froze.
He knew that name. He'd written it. Once. Back when he was still plotting the later arcs of the book. It was one of the peak-tier combat augmentations. Not flashy like explosions or divine swords, but something deeper. Something that changed the way you fought.
It wasn't supposed to show up until halfway through the story. Reserved for the true elites—archmages, battle-scarred veterans who'd survived dozens of campaigns. People who bent nations to their will. People who bled for decades to even attempt it.
And now... it was his.
He swallowed. Slowly scrolled down.
[Mana Sense]
Passive ability. Detects ambient mana signatures, ongoing spellcasting, and magical anomalies. Sensitivity increases with practice. Crucial for battlefield awareness and magical counterplay.
Common. Practical. The kind of thing you needed to survive as a mage. The difference between walking into a trap and avoiding it without even realizing.
He hadn't learned it in class yet. But now it sat nestled in his system like it had always belonged there.
And the third reward...
[Mana Storage]
Passive ability. Stores surplus mana generated during rest or downtime. Acts as a buffer to reduce personal mana drain during intense spell usage. Storage grows with time and efficiency.
He almost laughed.
Subtle. Simple. But gods, this one was useful.
Not a flashy skill, but one that saved lives. Saved fights. Saved endurance in battles where stamina meant everything.
All three spells were his now.
No training scroll. No class. No borrowed insight.
Earned—somehow—by sheer grit.
And then, as if the system sensed the moment building, another soft chime echoed in his vision.
[All Known Spells – Upgraded to Level 2]
Increased potency. Reduced casting strain. Spell refinement unlocked.
Ethan leaned both arms against the balcony railing and stared out into the soft blue dawn. The sky was shifting now—pink and gold bleeding into the horizon like paint on wet canvas. Birds began chirping somewhere in the distance, and the cold wind tugged at the loose ends of his robe.
The buzz in his chest hadn't stopped.
If anything, it had settled. Stabilized.
He wasn't imagining it. The system had been holding back. Waiting. Watching. Not broken, not empty. Just... asleep.
And now, it was awake.
He let his head fall forward, resting on his crossed arms, breath fogging in the morning chill.
Yesterday, he'd been grasping. Scraping together pieces of a world he thought he understood.
But now? He could feel it.
A change. A shift in how the world saw him—and how he was finally beginning to see himself.
For the first time, he wasn't just Ethan, the outsider, pretending to be Darius.
He was something new.
Something forming.
And the system—his system—was finally ready to meet him halfway.