Arcane Illusionism

[July 19, 1618 – the Age of Steam.]

In the morning, my eyes slowly opened, but the brightness made me close them again.The air in my room carried a musty smell of mold.

My alarm clock was the creaking of pipes in the other apartments. Living in an old apartment in an even older building meant noise was inevitable.

A sigh escaped my lips. The pillow was cold on one side and warm on the other, a clear sign I'd been tossing and turning all night rather than sleeping.

The mattress sank slightly under my weight as I finally forced myself to sit up.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand, but I ignored it. I didn't want to look at messages, notifications, or anything else that connected me to the outside world. The silence in the room was a rare luxury—something I needed before facing the day.

But, as always, that silence was short-lived.

The low sound of the television in the living room leaked through the hallway, mingling with the clinking of a spoon against a cup. The smell of cheap coffee wafted in, signaling that my family was already awake.

This was normal since everyone left early for work or, in Marceline's case, for school.

Forcing my body to move, I dragged myself into the living room.

When I entered, my mother was standing near the stove, and Marceline was sitting at the table.

"Finally awake," my mother commented, glancing briefly away from the frying pan where she was cooking eggs.

"Did you sleep late again?"

"Yeah... I think so." I muttered after yawning, flopping onto the couch to wait for the eggs.

My gaze turned to the radio, and I began to pay attention to what the announcer was saying.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I will repeat: the Kingdom of Durtch Climbers Association has established an alliance with the Flok Empire Climbers Association!"

"Is that serious?" I widened my eyes, getting up from the couch.

"It's an interesting agreement, isn't it?" my mother commented from the kitchen, oblivious to my shock.

"It seems that the Flokez Climbers have already reached Floor 25 a few times. Maybe this is the beginning of something good, finally."

I looked at my mother and tried to hide my nervousness at the news. If she already feared that I would join the Tower of Babel, she would try to stop me at any cost if she knew that the Flok Empire Climbers were the most terrible and cunning companions to have on a team.

"Something good?" my father, who had been in the bathroom, emerged at the end of the hallway.

"Or maybe they just want a share of the profits from the magical items that the Durtch Kingdom is importing every month," he commented, drying his hands with a small towel.

It was a pessimistic thought, but it wasn't wrong.

The Flok Empire was a large union of small nations that had emerged less than fifty years ago in the North. Their economy was buoyed by maritime trade and extensive silver and gold mining operations.

In the West, they were only economically behind the Durtch Kingdom itself, which benefited from vast plains for agriculture and a highly industrialized maritime sector.

Now that I thought about it, I shouldn't have been so surprised by the Flok Empire entering the fray.

Brandon was almost a year younger than Hunter Ruse, the original protagonist. As such, I was a year behind the events at the beginning of The Journey to the Beyond.

The dates matched almost perfectly with what I remembered.

The radio news quickly moved on to political commentators discussing the implications of the alliance between the two largest Western nations, but I didn't have time for that. I got up from the couch, stretching.

"Look, the big guy is getting a potbelly!"

The mocking voice came from the table. Looking to the side, I saw Marceline laughing.

"Potbelly, huh?" I crossed my arms, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "And what about you, skinny? How many push-ups can you do before passing out?"

The answer make my mother laugh softly. "Don't say things like that to each other."

"Marceline is right, son." my father commented to me, sitting down at the table.

John was a tall, sturdy man with wrinkles beginning to appear near his temples, but he still had that look that made it seem like he could put anyone in their place if he wanted to.

"Staying up late at the library is good for your mind, but what about your body? Are you sure you're ready to climb the Tower like that?"

My mother's expression tightened, and she turned back to the stove, but I didn't let the tension linger.

"Okay, okay," I raised my hands in surrender. "I'll go for a run now. That way I'll take care of my health and stop being a 'potbelly.'"

Marceline laughed again. "I doubt you can last five minutes without stopping!"

"Five minutes?" I feigned indignation.

"Wait, aren't you going to work at the port with your father today?" Fumiko, my mother, asked. "He said the port has been very busy since what happened near the port of Chisle."

I looked at the table, where my father was spreading butter on a piece of bread, and he seemed to be asking me the same thing as Fumiko, but with his eyes.

"I have a few things to take care of after my run. Is it okay if I don't go today? I promise I'll make it up to you later so we can help with the savings this month!"

John took a deep breath. "All right… But if you're going downtown again, at least have lunch. Your mother mentioned you came home late yesterday without eating."

"Yes, sir," I lied.

However, this time I didn't intend to go to the meeting. After all, I had a session with Erich McNee in Birsk—he just didn't know it yet.

As promised, after breakfast, I went out for a run and walked to Birsk. The neighborhood was an interesting contrast to downtown Lovikalen — fewer well-maintained buildings, more red brick structures, dirty streets, and smoke from small factories.

I was panting, leaning against a wall and taking deep breaths.

"Haa... Haa... I'm really out of shape," I exclaimed aloud, panting. 'The system could cut me some slack and assign an exercise mission with good rewards like it did for Hunter Ruse.'

I raised my head and looked ahead, hoping that my request would be granted and a system window would appear, but nothing happened.

"Haaa... It seems even the system has its favorites."

A little more composed, I looked across the street. Erich McNee's shop was between a local café and an old bookstore that was closed. The facade was unassuming, with a weathered sign that read "Arcane Illusionism" in gold letters.

Looking from the outside, anyone would believe it was just a small shop selling items for party magicians. There were plastic wands in the window, tarot cards, fake top hats, and even a stuffed rabbit in a top hat.

I crossed the street, but before going in, I looked around. No one on the street seemed interested in me, so I pushed the door open and went inside.

The door to Erich McNee's shop opened with a small jingle, announcing my arrival.

The interior of the shop was small and messy. Wooden shelves were crammed with books, jars of strangely colored liquids, and even more unusual objects, ranging from decorated skulls to pulsating crystals.

At the counter, a man was leafing through a book with a worn leather cover. He wore a white overcoat. His blond hair, slightly disheveled, fell over tired eyes, and round red-lensed glasses rested precariously on the tip of his nose.

This man didn't even look up when I entered.

"If you're here to buy playing cards for children's parties, the amateur trick section is on the left shelf," he said as if reading from a script.

I closed the door behind me and walked closer to the counter.

"I'm not interested in magic tricks, McNee. I need the help of a true wizard."

This time, he looked up from the book he was reading. He sized me up for a moment, from head to toe, his blue eyes narrowing slightly.

I confess that I probably didn't look like the typical customer of mystical arts. All I wore was a plain robe, a dark blue shirt, second-hand shoes, and linen pants—a birthday gift from two years ago instead of a cake.

Still, McNee gave me his attention.

"Ah. You're not one of the common fools who show up here wanting to learn how to make cards disappear, are you, boy?"

"Not even close."

Erich sighed and closed the book with a sharp snap. "Okay… How can I help you?"

I raised my right hand and opened my inventory. Then I pulled out the Necronomicon. I wanted him to think I was a wizard, so I used the inventory in front of him, knowing he couldn't see the system screen. No one could—except maybe one other player.

The moment the Necronomicon was exposed, the shop's lights flickered, and a cold wind swept through the room, as though a terrible presence had manifested.

The glass jars vibrated on their shelves, and a faint, almost imperceptible whisper echoed through the corners. Everything magical in the shop seemed to recognize the Necronomicon's power.

Erich frowned and raised one hand, muttering something in a language I didn't recognize. The whispering ceased, and the room returned to normal.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, finally interested.

"The name is Necronomicon."

He raised an eyebrow. "The Necronomicon? You mean the real one? Holy crap, who are you?"

The legend of the Necronomicon was well known, both on Earth and in Aland, so Erich McNee had no doubts from the moment he felt the aura of the item I showed him.

The book of the dead from Ancient Egypt was the subject of research for many scholars, including occult scholars like McNee, which is why Hunter Ruse used it to get money when he was desperate.

I, on the other hand, felt that the powers it could give me would be more useful than money.

"As you can see, the book is locked. I tried to open it in every way I know, but I couldn't." I lied so he wouldn't think I was ignorant. "I figured someone who studied to be the Master Magician would be able to."

Erich looked at me over his glasses, surprised that I knew so much about him.

"Hmm. I'd say you've come to the right place, but I'll need to analyze how this book was locked."

He held out his hands, and I gladly handed it over. Erich turned the book over to look at the back cover and analyzed the symbols engraved on it, running his fingers over them thoughtfully.

"This was sealed by an ancient force, definitely. This isn't modern sorcery; it's primordial magic from before the Age of Blessings.

"It's the kind of seal you won't find in any spellbook."

"And that means you can open it?"

He snorted and dropped the book on the counter. "I could. But I'm not stupid."

"What?"

"Do you know what happens to people who mess with primordial magic without preparation?"

"They die?"

"If they're lucky. This isn't a toy... The Necronomicon isn't just a book—it's alive, in a way. You don't read it; it reads you."

I stared at the book and felt a slight chill. I already knew this could happen, because the Necronomicon was indeed something to be feared, but I was relying on the probable privileges of luck I had as a "Player."

"So you can't help me?" I asked, already reaching out to take the book.

"That's not what I said." He held the book. "The question is: what do you have to offer me in return that is worth the great risk?"