Advent of the Tenth Script

They told me my affinity was useless. That logic couldn’t cast fire, couldn’t heal wounds, couldn’t crush enemies.



They were wrong.



I woke in a place that barely remembered me, the forgotten third son of a minor baron. No fanfare. No magic. Just dust, silence, and a system whispering equations behind my eyes.



They called it “Logic.” A dead-end gift.



But Logic doesn’t scream. It sees.



Now I’m being sent to the Imperial Arcane Academy, a crucible for prodigies, monsters, and heirs to power. I’m none of those.



But I see the cracks in their spells. The patterns in their bloodlines. The truth hidden beneath the lies of mana and divine right.



Whispers speak of ten lost beings tied to the fate of the world. I think I was meant to be one of them. Or maybe the system picked me by mistake.



Either way, I’m not here to learn magic.



I’m here to dismantle it.



This is the beginning of the Tenth Script.