Naphulae

"The veil of sanity is a lie we tell ourselves when we gaze at the night sky, hoping, in a stifled corner of our mind, that the stars aren't gazing back."

—

A nameless, insignificant, yet ambitious young man once attempted to rescue his family from poverty. But as he found hope, he also stumbled upon despair. After losing everything to the darkness of death, including himself, he woke up in another world, stuck in the body of an eleven-year-old boy with a peculiar appearance.

He soon discovered that he was a Celestial Offering—a holy sacrifice, carefully groomed by the Temple of Stars to be given to the Gods Beyond. 

His fate had already been sealed, for his blood would spill under the seven-pointed star and consecrate the birth of a new era for his nation.

Armed with nothing but his wit and the trail of good fortune, he would attempt to challenge this destiny, braving the countless hurdles that lay in waiting and the unfathomable horrors they harbored. 

In a realm of magecraft, occult rituals, madness, and prowling Eidolons, he could only count on himself to survive, as the threat of insanity loomed over everyone equally, and nothing could slow its ineluctable embrace.

—

Discord: Naphulae#1813

The Forsaken Sovereign

Meilyr finally understood the depths of the chasm separating Thaumaturges from mere Occultists.

Mental resilience, physical strength, and Mana volume aside, their most apparent—and unfair—advantage lay in their High Thaumaturgy, the pinnacle of magecraft that only they could grasp.

The sole reason he and the other Occultists had survived its onslaught was because it had never been aimed at them in the first place. No, even if they weren't the main targets, in any other situation, they would have undoubtedly succumbed.

Fortunately, the wafting aftermath of the Thaumaturge's terrible spell had broken against Lady Tsuji's time-frozen barrier, then was further dissipated by Sept's teacher through her Sorceries.

Worship of Yore