Change Is Coming (2)

Vryne sat at his desk, his fingers idly flipping through the pages of a thick tome titled A Comprehensive History of the Modern Era: Magic and Civilization. The book was dense, filled with text detailing the past forty-five years since the world's greatest discovery—Magic.

The history of this world was eerily similar to Earth's. The political structures, the rise and fall of empires, even the cultural revolutions mirrored those of his previous life. Wars that shaped borders, technological advancements that propelled civilization forward—it was all nearly identical. But where Earth had taken hundreds of years to develop modern technology, this world had evolved in an entirely different direction after magic had entered the equation.

Magic was first discovered forty-five years ago, during what historians referred to as The Awakening. Initially, it manifested sporadically in individuals across the world, many of whom were considered anomalies or freak accidents. The first recorded case was a woman in the kingdom of Arvendell who had miraculously healed herself after suffering fatal wounds from a carriage accident. At the time, people believed it to be divine intervention. But as more cases emerged, each one displaying impossible abilities—fire igniting from bare hands, water bending to human will, objects levitating with a mere thought—the world was forced to reevaluate its understanding of reality.

Scientific institutions scrambled to study the phenomenon, governments sought control, and the masses feared what they did not understand. For the first few years, magic was seen as a chaotic, unpredictable force. That was until Magus Theory was introduced—a groundbreaking study conducted by a group of scholars, led by the renowned Archmage Tobias Greaves.

Greaves and his team identified that magic was an inherent energy within living beings, specifically an extension of one's soul. They theorized that individuals who could wield it, later termed Magus, had a unique organ within them, dubbed the Mana Core. This organ functioned as both a storage and conduit for magic, allowing the Magus to draw from their internal reserves to manipulate the elements or exert control over reality.

This discovery revolutionized the world.

With controlled training, individuals learned how to properly wield their magic, and soon, magical institutions were founded across the world. Nations that once focused on traditional military might now shifted towards magical research and development. Wars were no longer fought with just steel and gunpowder, but with devastating spells capable of leveling entire cities.

Magic and technology evolved together.

Whereas Earth had taken decades to refine the use of electricity, this world had mana-powered devices known as Mage-Tech. Trains, airships, communication devices—things that should have been decades behind Earth's modern advancements—had been propelled forward due to the integration of magic. However, despite these technological leaps, there was a balance.

Magic was powerful, but it was not infinite. The human body had limits, and overuse of mana could lead to Mana Depletion Syndrome, a condition that resulted in physical and mental deterioration. Moreover, not everyone was born with a Mana Core. Roughly seventy percent of the population remained incapable of using magic, relying instead on Mage-Tech innovations to keep up with the ever-changing world.

Vryne leaned back in his chair, adjusting the glasses on his face as he processed this information. It was all too similar.

The names of countries, historical events, even certain locations—it was all like Earth with only a few alterations. He had typed countless paragraphs about this world's setting while editing the novel, but reading about it as a part of this world himself was something else entirely.

Hell, even his old apartment name popped up when he searched for it on his phone earlier.

It was a strange, almost eerie feeling.

He wasn't himself anymore—he was Vryne El Drexsic, son of the most soon-to-be feared man in the world. The difference between this world and his was undeniable. Magic existed here, and technology had advanced at a pace unfathomable in his old life. That alone should have been enough to make this place feel alien, yet somehow, it still felt familiar.

Vryne exhaled sharply and closed the book.

His thoughts drifted back to his earlier encounter with Solara and his father.

He hadn't expected either of them today.

Solara had been direct in her approach, questioning him without hesitation. The look in her eyes held nothing but disdain, as if she had already prepared herself to be disappointed by him again. Her words, though simple, cut deep. "You're still the same, huh?"

It wasn't just an insult—it was a confirmation.

She still saw him as Vryne the Manipulator, the man who had ruined her life for the sake of his own twisted love.

Then there was Ivor.

His presence alone had been suffocating. That cold, detached voice, the way he addressed Solara with polite yet distant formality before turning to Vryne and simply saying, "What's wrong, son?" It was nothing more than an empty formality.

Ivor El Drexsic wasn't just the patriarch of the Drexsic family. He was the main villain of the novel—the mastermind orchestrating events from the shadows, a man that would be feared by both nobles and commoners alike.

Vryne sighed, running a hand through his amber hair before slowly removing his glasses.

This world, its history, its characters… everything was following a set path. A path that would inevitably lead to tragedy.

But now that he was here, that future was no longer set in stone.

He wasn't the original Vryne.

He wasn't obsessed with Solara.

And most importantly, he wasn't his father.

"Troublesome," he muttered under his breath.

Even though he had spent years editing this story, he never thought he'd be forced to live in it. And yet, here he was.

Vryne placed his glasses on the desk and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he stared at the history book once more.

This world wasn't just fiction to him anymore—it was reality.