Valerian Ravensberg

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"Why is it so dark here?"

This was the first thought that crossed Michael's mind as he gradually regained consciousness. He glanced around in confusion at the enveloping darkness before memories of what had happened flooded back, confirming that he had, indeed, died.

"Strange... Is this the hell they warned us about? But where are the flames they always described?!"

He scanned his surroundings, searching for any sign or clue to make sense of his situation.

'I can feel my body now.'

Michael flexed his hands and feet experimentally. Though he couldn't see anything in the suffocating dark, his senses prickled with awareness.

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'Am I truly dead?'

The question looped endlessly in his mind. But there was no clear answer. No life. No death. Only... darkness.

'How long have I been here?'

Time had lost meaning. He felt nothing but emptiness—no light, no sound, not even air brushing his face. His mind swirled in disorientation, as though time itself had stalled. A strange, indescribable sensation gnawed at him. There was no pain, yet something deeper clawed at his soul.

It felt as though his spirit had been torn from his body, leaving behind only fragmented memories and a haunting sense of loss. Yet, buried within that void, he sensed something else—an elusive, foreign force whispering to him from the abyss.

Suddenly, the emptiness shuddered almost imperceptibly.

"Huh...? What was that?"

After what felt like an eternity—a span only the gods could measure—Michael's senses had sharpened unnervingly. He focused intently on the source of the disturbance.

Luckily, he didn't wait long. The void trembled again, this time accompanied by a faint sliver of light. At first dim, it grew brighter, pulsing like a beacon.

"This... is my ticket out of this cursed place."

Without hesitation, Michael lunged toward the light. Even if it led straight to hell, anything was better than this endless dark.

The light expanded, beckoning him forward. But as he neared it, an oppressive weight crushed his chest, as though mountains pressed down on him. The ground beneath his feet seemed to dissolve.

In that moment, Michael realized he wasn't just escaping darkness—he was fleeing something far more terrifying. Invisible heat seared his skin, and an unfathomable pressure threatened to crush him.

With one final leap into the light, he glimpsed a blurred world beyond it. Whatever awaited him there, he had no choice but to face it.

---

[ [ In a lavish chamber within an unnamed palace...] ]

A massive bed, fit for five, dominated the room. At its center lay a boy of about sixteen, his body swathed in bandages. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open.

"Where... am I? What is this place?!"

The boy—now Michael, reborn—jolted upright, his voice trembling with shock.

[Michael's POV]

The room felt both familiar and alien. Every piece of furniture screamed obscene luxury: the bed was gilded in gold and studded with emeralds and rubies; the table before him carved from rare, iridescent wood; the chandelier overhead glowed softly, its golden arms casting a warm, ethereal light.

"Agh—!"

Foreign memories surged into his mind. He clutched his head, writhing in pain, teeth gritted to stifle a scream. This wasn't physical agony—it was as though his brain were being rewired.

When the pain finally subsided, he exhaled sharply.

"Haaah… So I died... only to reincarnate into the very novel I was obsessed with."

Emotions clashed within him—disbelief at his rebirth, relief at escaping the void. A shiver ran down his spine at the memory of that abyss. *This couldn't be a coincidence.*

Pushing aside his dread, he focused on the critical details.

The novel's world, *Sildariyon*, was one of magic and mana, teeming with mystical races and creatures. After millennia of war, peace had reigned for 2,000 years , a fragile unity forged against a common enemy.

His new identity was *Valerian Ravensberg*, third son of the patriarch of the illustrious Ravensberg family. The Ravensbergs wielded immense power and influence, their history steeped in prestige. Yet Valerian had become a laughingstock after refusing his "Awakening" at fourteen ;the rite where one awakens their mana core and elemental affinity.

Three months ago, he'd finally attempted the ritual, only to suffer catastrophic injuries, plunging him into a coma. In the original story, this failure would twist him into a petty tyrant, bullying the weak until his eventual demise at the protagonist's hands.

"Now that I'm here... I refuse to die again."

Michael—now Valerian—slipped off the bed and faced a gilded mirror. His reflection showed bandages obscuring his face, but jet-black hair and piercing gray eyes hinted at noble features.

"Tsk... The rich really live differently."

His injuries, he deduced, were from the botched Awakening. In the novel, this event would set Valerian on a path of self-destruction. But not anymore.

"If I want to survive this world, I need power. Power that makes others think twice before crossing me."

But how? He knew of hidden treasures and plot points, but relying solely on that knowledge was reckless.

[System binding with host in progress...].

[Progress: 23%... 43%... 70%... 99%]

[System successfully linked.]

A monotone voice echoed in his mind. His pulse quickened.

"A System?!"

[Yes, Host.]

"What can you do?"

he asked, envisioning overpowered skills and magic.

[The System can display Host's stats in detail and analyze combat techniques to improve efficiency.]

"That's it?!"

[Additional functions will unlock as Host grows stronger.]

Though initially disappointed, hope flickered anew.

"Even if fate itself stands against me, I will carve my own path. This world will not claim me again."

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*Well, Guys... As you can see, even with the System, our MC still has a long way to go. Let's see how he navigates this treacherous new world.