Yaaaawn~ Kael started the new day with a long, satisfying yawn. Yesterday, he had spent three whole hours sifting through a third of the memories belonging to 'Kael.' That’s right—this body was also named Kael, but Kael Smith, a 16-year-old ordinary high school student.

  'He comes from a pretty average background. His dad works as an oil rig laborer at some factory, while his mom takes care of the household and occasionally does some sewing to earn extra money. The kid himself is as plain as they come—nothing remarkable about him. At school, he has hardly any friends, and his grades are just above average. But recently, he’s been dabbling in some stuff about forbidden knowledge.'

  Last night, Kael had explored a third of those memories, focusing on the important aspects of this world—its history, nations, races, institutions, and major cities. Above all, he had uncovered the most precious discovery: the existence of extraordinary powers, something that had fascinated him for years, ever since he was a child devouring countless novels about such abilities in his previous life. That night, he had nearly shouted in overwhelming excitement, a feeling he had never experienced before. Beyond these extraordinary powers, there were also numerous races, most of which resembled those found in the fantasy novels he’d read in his past life. Common races included dwarves, elves, beastmen, giant orcs... and even spirits, demons, and vampires. At that moment, he had laughed maniacally, a sinister grin spreading across his face. 'Besides the races, this world also has gods. If I’m not mistaken, many of them resemble the gods from my previous life. There are temples and religions here, too, and probably some dark and foreign gods as well. Simply put, wherever you go, there’s always a struggle between good and evil, haizzz.' His thoughts turned slightly pessimistic, but he quickly shook them off and resumed analyzing his current identity, Kael Smith.

  'Kael Smith, from what I’ve gathered, somehow found a notebook about forbidden knowledge, the taboo truths of this world. But it vanished after he read it, and so did the memory of reading it. A magic lesson Smith had at school once said: "The world is a tapestry woven from threads of fate. Every spell, every arcane ritual, is a needle piercing that tapestry. But beware—pierce it wrong, and you’ll be swallowed by those very threads." From that, I know this world is far more dangerous than it seems. There are forces of darkness and evil that have surely infiltrated this world, turning everything into unpredictable variables. How Smith found that notebook, I have no idea. The memories from that point have been erased, along with the reading itself. It’s as if someone is behind all this, someone connected to it who doesn’t want me to know. So, what am I? Why was I placed in this body you’ve arranged, oh mysterious entity? What can I even do?' Kael’s thoughts spiraled, questions and analyses swirling in his mind, causing a throbbing pain. Shaking his head vigorously, his messy black hair flying, he decided to stop overthinking and take a bath, determined to learn more about this world, its extraordinary powers, and so much more.

  Stepping out of his room, he was greeted by a modest living room. The furniture here was crafted in a Steampunk style with a touch of Gothic flair. The cramped space was dimly lit by an oil lamp hanging on the wall, casting a flickering orange glow, as if the flame inside was whispering ancient tales. The walls were lined with weathered wood, some panels peeling to reveal rusted metal beams beneath—remnants of an ambitious but unfinished era. In one corner stood a worn leather armchair, patched haphazardly with burlap, next to a small wooden table with legs welded from recycled copper pipes. On the table sat a broken pocket watch, its hands stuck in a meaningless loop, beside a stack of tattered leather-bound books tied with rope instead of expensive silver clasps.

  In the center of the room lay a faded Gothic-patterned rug, its swirling designs reminiscent of magical symbols Kael had seen in comic books. On the ceiling, an iron ceiling fan with warped blades, as if forged from old sword edges, spun slowly, emitting a creaking whisper like a haunted machine. A single window, its glass cloudy with dust, was framed in tarnished brass, letting in faint morning light through intricate carvings of thorns and gears. In another corner was a small fireplace, its black stone bricks housing a few smoldering coals that gave off just enough warmth to fend off the chill of this cheap apartment. This was the place Kael Smith had rented with his meager savings. It was more than good enough for Kael, who didn’t expect Smith to have splurged on rent. 'At least this guy knew how to save and stay humble,' Kael thought, shaking his head with a faint smile as he followed Smith’s memories to the bathroom.

  The bathroom was a shock in its poverty—it was so tiny, barely enough for one person to move around, yet every detail seemed scavenged from a forgotten workshop. The walls were lined with cracked ceramic tiles, some replaced by hastily polished brass plates that reflected the dim glow of a lamp dangling from a rusted chain. The lamp, with its cloudy glass, hissed softly as the oil inside burned. In one corner stood an old cast-iron bathtub. The faucet, made of bent copper pipes, dripped steadily, creating small ripples in the tub. A tiny steam valve beside it, when turned, released hot vapor with a sizzling sound, evoking images of massive steam engines. Another corner held a cracked porcelain sink, stained with yellow grime that looked revolting. On the wall, a round brass-framed mirror, its edges corroded by time, reflected a distorted version of Kael, as if he were staring at another self. Beside the mirror, a small wooden shelf held a few glass vials of amber liquid soap and a shaving razor with a yellowed bone handle. A coarse cloth curtain, printed with thorn and gear patterns, hung loosely over the doorway, swaying with every cold draft that slipped through the apartment’s cracks.

  The bathroom exuded a nostalgic yet unsettling air, as if every drop from the copper faucet or crack in the tiles was groaning, 'We’re too old and need rest.' 'Damn it, is this guy so stingy he couldn’t even hire a regular cleaner?' Kael grumbled, irritated by his earlier questions and now this scene. Bathing in the cold, grimy water calmed him somewhat, clearing his mind. Sitting on the worn armchair, he dove back into the memories of this new world. Time passed, droplets of water falling slowly from his hair. After a while, he cracked his thumb against his index finger and let out a heavy sigh. “Haizzz, finally done learning about extraordinary powers.” As he spoke, a bright smile returned, overpowering the heavy sighs from before. He sank back into thought, this time to summarize and draw conclusions.

  'The extraordinary powers here seem complex, but they’re actually quite simple. First, to gain such power, you need to awaken a kind of Bloom in your body, collectively called the Nightwisp Bloom. According to the memories, depending on the person, it takes the form of either a giant lotus or a rose larger than an adult human. It resides deep in the sea of one’s subconscious. Smith was taught that these Blooms are incredibly hard to awaken—only 1 in 10,000 can make it blossom, which is why so few in this world are extraordinary. The second path is Divine Blessings. This world has gods who grant their devout followers powers tied to their domains. For example, the God of Wisdom blesses followers with supreme intelligence, photographic memory, and the ability to attack minds with knowledge. The God of the Sun, on the other hand, wields sacred flames to burn away darkness, demons, and corruption. Their powers are specialized against spirits, demons, and pollution. The third path is that of Witches. They’ve existed since ancient times, and no one knows where they came from—only that their arrival brought countless miracles. That’s all I know about their origins. As for their powers, they can create wondrous magic. Unlike the devout or those born with the Nightwisp Bloom, Witches gain their power through ancient spellbooks crafted by countless Elder Witches. No innate talent is required—just diligence and adherence to the right path. However, mastering it is tough, taking 1 to 5 years, or even 10 in the worst cases, to reach the beginner Witch level. So, I’m ruling this path out first. Plus, the teacher said spellbooks are ridiculously hard to find, scattered across the world, and you might accidentally stumble into dark magic, which is trouble. The fourth path involves using artifacts or influences from dark forces to gain power. These can be found in the Void, a place teeming with life-threatening dangers to the entire world. Artifacts include tainted items, objects infused with demonic or void energies, holding immense but hard-to-control power. Then there’s the God’s Shard, something Smith’s teacher emphasized as INSANELY RARE. Simply put, these are fragments that fall from a god’s body or soul during battles with foreign gods or unknown entities. Their power is so great they can easily destroy a city or nation. That’s why not only humans but also other races and creatures covet them. Even the gods desperately search for their own shards to prevent becoming tools of war.'

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  In summary, the extraordinary powers in this world follow four main paths, each brimming with potential but fraught with deadly risks. First is the Nightwisp Bloom, an innate gift in every human’s subconscious, but only 1 in 10,000 can make it blossom, unleashing extraordinary abilities. It’s like a giant lotus or rose, larger than a human, hidden deep in the darkness of the mind, requiring grueling mental trials or a profound shock to activate. This is the most natural path, but also the rarest and hardest to control. Second is the Divine Blessings, granted to devout followers. Gods like the God of Wisdom bestow photographic memory and mind-attacking abilities, while the God of the Sun grants sacred flames to burn demons, spirits, and corruption. However, this path demands absolute devotion, and Kael, skeptical from his past life, told himself he wasn’t cut out for kneeling to anyone, god or not. Third is the path of Witches, who gain magic through studying ancient spellbooks. It’s a long road, taking 1 to 10 years to reach the beginner level, and spellbooks are as rare as stars, with the added risk of stumbling into dark magic. Kael dismissed this option immediately, lacking the patience and unsure where to start. Finally, there are tainted artifacts and God’s Shards, originating from the Void or divine battles. Tainted artifacts wield terrifying power but can drive users mad or corrupt them, while God’s Shards are so rare they’re practically mythical, capable of leveling cities but coveted by all races and creatures. Kael shook his head, telling himself both were too dangerous and out of reach for a broke guy like him. He sighed, glancing at the notebook on the table, wondering if its forbidden knowledge could lead him to one of these paths or just trap him in another deadly snare. “If that entity chose me, it sure as hell won’t let me live in peace,” he muttered, a bitter smile curling his lips.

  Kael stood, stretching, the gnawing hunger in his stomach reminding him he couldn’t survive on memories and thoughts forever. He rummaged through the coat pocket hanging on the armchair, counting exactly 150 Coppermarks and 2 Silvermarks, the meager sum Kael Smith had left in this cheap apartment. “Barely enough for a few days of food and some small item,” he mumbled, frowning at the thought of the 10-Silvermark rent bill looming like a guillotine. “Smith, you were thrifty, but how do you live like this?” He shook his head, stuffed the coins into his pocket, threw on a tattered gray cloak from the wardrobe, and stepped outside.

  Outside the apartment, the market near the apartment buzzed under the pale Sunday morning sunlight. Steam-powered carriages chugged by, white smoke puffing from copper pipes, mingling with the aroma of roasted bread, machine oil, and burning coal from the stalls. Wooden booths with canvas awnings stood shoulder to shoulder, selling everything from vegetables and salted meat to razors and ink, all adorned with the era’s signature brass and gear motifs. Kael approached a bread stall where a middle-aged woman with her hair in a high bun and a patched apron was wiping her hands on a rag. “Black bread, 10 Coppermarks a loaf,” she said, her voice raspy but friendly. Kael nodded, handing over 10 Coppermarks, feeling the cold metal leave his hand. “Anything else, kid?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Kael gave a strained smile as Smith’s memories flashed—Mara, an old neighbor who used to give Smith leftover bread when his mom was sick. “I… uh, thanks, Aunt Mara,” he said, his voice hesitant, mimicking Smith’s tone. Mara burst out laughing, slapping his shoulder. “Look at this kid, all polite all of a sudden! How’s your mom doing?” Kael froze, Smith’s memories vague about his mother’s condition since he’d left his hometown a year ago to study here. He mumbled, “She’s… fine, ma’am,” and hurried off, heart pounding at the fear of being found out.

  Continuing through the market, Kael stopped at a stall selling personal items, where a gray-bearded dwarf in a grease-stained leather apron was arranging soap vials and razors. “Amber soap, 12 Coppermarks. Old razor, 50 Coppermarks,” the dwarf growled without looking up. Kael did the math—soap and a razor would cost 62 Coppermarks, leaving less than 80 Coppermarks and 2 Silvermarks, not enough to survive the week, let alone pay rent. He was about to settle for just the soap when his eyes caught a small metal canister etched with gear and thorn patterns, filled with gray-green herbal powder labeled “Mint Powder – Freshens breath, 15 Coppermarks.” Kael frowned, recalling his less-than-pleasant breath that morning. In his past life, he was used to brushing his teeth every day and hated the feeling of an unclean mouth. “Add this mint powder too,” he said, placing 27 Coppermarks on the counter—12 for the soap, 15 for the powder. The dwarf, Grimlok, glanced at him and squinted. “Hey, you’re that Smith kid, right? Last month, you bought ink here, said it was for some essay!” Kael flinched as Smith’s memories surfaced—Grimlok had griped when Smith spilled ink on the counter. “Uh, yeah… sorry about the ink,” Kael replied, forcing a smile. Grimlok chuckled, slamming the counter, making the mint powder canister rattle. “Fine, kid, I’ll let it slide this time. Be careful, though—that mint powder’s fragrant, but spill it on your clothes, and you’re done for!” Kael nodded, clutching the bread loaf, soap vial, and mint powder canister, hurrying off before running into more familiar faces.

  On the way back, Kael couldn’t stop thinking about money. The meager coins in his pocket were a constant reminder that he didn’t just need to survive in this world—he had to find a way to pay the landlord, buy food, clothes, cover school fees, and travel expenses. “Smith, how did you live with so few coins?” he muttered, gripping the coin pouch tightly. He thought of the Light Academy, where he might learn about the Nightwisp Bloom or magic, but could a poor student like him ever reach extraordinary power? Or would he have to risk seeking out magic, gambling with forbidden knowledge? The questions swirled in his mind, weighing down his steps on the misty cobblestone path.

  Back at the apartment, Kael set the bread loaf, soap vial, and mint powder canister on the wooden table, collapsing into the tattered armchair, a mix of exhaustion and excitement washing over him. He bit into the black bread, its dry, slightly bitter taste spreading across his tongue, but to his hungry stomach, it was a feast. He opened the mint powder canister, inhaling the sharp, refreshing scent of mint and cloves, and rubbed a pinch on his teeth, a wave of freshness spreading. “At least I won’t have to worry about bad breath at the academy,” he mumbled, a self-mocking smile on his lips. The faint sunlight from the window filtered through gear-shaped carvings, casting strange shadows on the faded Gothic rug. The creaking ceiling fan above droned like a lullaby, pulling Kael into a rare moment of calm. He closed his eyes, letting his mind drift through the day—the bustling market, familiar faces from Smith’s memories, and the poverty clinging to him like a shadow. Yet, beneath it all, he felt a small flame in his chest, an unnamed excitement. This world, with its Nightwisp Bloom, gods, and forbidden knowledge, was a dangerous playground but brimming with possibilities. “In my past life, I had nothing but sickness and despair,” Kael whispered, his hand unconsciously brushing the notebook on the table. “But here, I can become something… extraordinary.”

  The Sunday afternoon passed in peace. Kael sprawled on the chair, flipping through a few old books he found in the apartment—a history of races, from dwarves to vampires—but his eyes kept darting to the notebook. He didn’t dare open it yet, fearing its secrets might drag him down an inescapable path of study that would keep him up all night. Instead, he stood, opened the window, letting the cold breeze carry the scent of coal and metal from the market into the room. He inhaled deeply, feeling life pulse through his new body—a young, healthy one, unlike the frail Kael Draven of his past life. “Tomorrow, the Light Academy,” he told himself, a smile of half-excitement, half-anxiety blooming on his lips. “I’ll learn about extraordinary powers, this world, and myself.”

  As dusk fell, the living room glowed with the warm orange light of the oil lamp. Kael sat by the fireplace, adding a few coals, listening to the crackling flames as a reminder that he had been reborn, though at an unknown cost. He felt like a man standing on a precipice—one side was the ordinary life of Kael Smith, a poor student; the other was the secrets of the forbidden notebook in his memories and the whispers of the mysterious entity from the ritual. His heart was a mix of eagerness and fear. Eagerness for the chance to become extraordinary, perhaps even a legend. Fear because he knew, from the blood-soaked ritual of his past life, that all power came with a price, and that price might be his very soul. “Whatever it is,” Kael whispered, eyes fixed on the flames, “I won’t let this world swallow me. Not again.”

  He stood, cleared the table, stowing the remaining bread, soap vial, and mint powder canister, then lay on the simple bed in the bedroom. The ceiling fan’s creaking hum, like a song of the steam era, lulled him to sleep. In his dreams, he saw a colossal white Bloom, its petals shimmering silver, blossoming in the darkness of his mind. “Nightwisp Bloom,” he murmured, though it slowly darkened as tendrils of shadowy mist crept in, turning it black. He didn’t know if it was a dream or a call from the depths of his subconscious. As moonlight slipped through the window’s cracks, Kael sank into a deep sleep, filled with resolve for Monday at the Light Academy—where his journey, whether destiny or trap, would truly begin.