A short, muscular man with a long, unbrushed beard—he looks more like a hobo than a landlord. You'd think he made his money scamming tenants, but here he is, mistaken for someone off the street.
He's not tall or elegant, and it's obvious at a glance that he's got a temper. He didn't stop yelling about how he was going to kick me out and make me pay both last month's and this month's rent on the spot—no delays. Talk about petty.
"You good-for-nothing wannabe mage! You skipped last month's check on purpose, and now it's the end of the month and you still haven't paid!"
"Umm... Look, Mr. Henry, I've been really busy the past two months, and I'm so sorry for the inconvenience. How about I make it up to you—I'll pay last month's gold and this month's. Just give me until the end of next week, cool?"Obviously, I had to keep it short. The guy's attention span cuts off after two sentences anyway.
"You damn bastard. I want the payment in two weeks, or else."
He spun around, mumbling about what a terrible person I am, then stomped down the stairs still cursing.
And then karma struck—his heel caught on the third step. There was a sharp grunt, then a full-on slapstick cascade of limbs slamming wood. He tumbled like a sack of potatoes tossed from a moving cart—arms flailing, beard flapping like a banner in a windstorm. By the time he hit the bottom, face-down and wheezing, one of his shoes had flown off and a trail of coins spilled from his pocket like a defeated boss drop.
Not gonna lie—happiest I've been since I landed in this magic-flavored fever dream of a world.And considering I transmigrated less than 5 hours ago, that's saying something.
I headed back inside while the other two were still out cold—Arsen was literally in a coma. Like, how long is that supposed to last? Days? Weeks? Should I start charging rent? I got lucky with Syllia, hopefully i also get lucky with him.
sigh
With nothing better to do, I squeezed myself back into my glorified broom closet of an office to keep reading the few books I could actually make sense of.
As I walked in, a book on the bottom shelf in the far-left corner caught my eye—completely by accident. And honestly, with how many books this guy had (seriously, no friends but a personal library?), it felt like fate.
Introduction to Grimoires and Spells
Finally. Something useful.
Chapter One: Grimoire
A Grimoire is far more than just a book—it's an extension of the mage's essentia, a living vessel that grows in parallel with their inner power. The moment a mage awakens to their magical potential, a bond is formed between them and their Grimoire. This bond is deep and unique, as the Grimoire reflects the mage's personal journey, storing not just spells but their experiences, emotions, and the very essence of their being.
The first step in unlocking a Grimoire is creating a sigil, a personal symbol that ties the mage's soul to the book. The sigil acts as a key, unlocking the flow of magic and allowing the mage to begin their study of spells. This mark must be unique, reflecting the mage's core identity.
As the mage grows stronger, their Grimoire becomes a more potent tool, capable of housing more powerful spells. The mage's essence fuels the magic within, and with each spell cast, the Grimoire deepens its connection to them.
Wow, I didn't think this would be how magic in this world works. I mean, does that mean Viktor's Grimoire isn't mine? Since it's directly linked to the magical essence of a person—almost like magical DNA, not an actual soul, but something like it... Which means...
My excitement couldn't be contained. I was just as happy as a person could be.
As I continued to read, I understood a few things:
Grimoires are the only way to cast spells.
To unlock a sigil, there are usually different methods. One is through meditation, but it's not very reliable since it's incredibly rare. The second is subconsciously tapping into a metaphysical force called Essentia...
Like, how the hell do you expect me to learn? Oh, just accidentally gain magic—woohoo.
I closed the book out of frustration and finally glanced at the author's name. Of course—it was none other than Jacob. Must be nice, just being effortlessly brilliant.
Who am I to judge, though? I literally made nuclear fusion.
Thanks to both of Jacobs' books, I had a rough understanding of how magic works in this world—and how, if I played my cards right, I could hit the jackpot and get that 200-billion-dollar reward of unlocking Essentia.
Be honest… how lucky could I really get?
After a few minutes of thought and finally getting my head on straight, I decided to try meditating—and just wing it. Hopefully, something would click.
I sat down on the floor, right in front of the desk near the office door. Luckily, the other two were still asleep… I think.
Like those monks in old films—legs crossed, hands resting on my knees, back straight—I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind. No chanting, no dramatic humming. Just me, breathing slow, letting my thoughts drift. I focused on my memories, letting them flow freely like a stream, hoping one of them would spark something... anything.
After a few minutes of meditating, I started seeing these blurry lines passing by—you know, like when your eyes are closed and everything's just red and weird? Yeah, that.
Then, out of nowhere, these massive waves started rolling in. Not actual water, obviously, but something heavy—like pressure or energy or whatever mystical crap this world runs on. I couldn't even lift my head.
Still, I didn't panic. I just sat through it like a champ. Deep down, I knew I'd probably hit the jackpot.
Victor—I mean, Steven, you're a genius. (Sorry, Victor. Screw off.)
Another few minutes. Nothing. Just—silence.Not quiet. Silence.Like the world hit mute and forgot the remote.
Tried opening my eyes—nope.Nothing.I couldn't.
Tried moving.Nope.Finger? No. Toe? Still no.
Then it hit me. That slow, creeping dread.Like paralysis—but metaphysical.Like my body was there, but not mine.Felt like I was sinking inside myself.
Yeah. That's when the real panic started.
I tried breathing—heavily, just to feel normal.Didn't work. Just shallow breaths. Barely there.
Still couldn't move. Not a twitch.
Then outta nowhere—whoosh.Felt like I was ascending. Like, literally lifting off.Still paralyzed, mind you.
If this is what meditation feels like,I'd rather gamble with subconscious Essentia-tapping any day.Seriously—this is bullshit.
…Okay, fine.I'm joking.I hit the jackpot.
Suddenly, I was back at that place with the throne.Only this time, I wasn't sitting on it.
What the hell did I do to deserve this? I literally transmigrated a few hours ago—oh god, have mercy on me.
I saw a golden figure wearing a black robe. It didn't look human, but it was something close. It had no facial features—no mouth, no nose, nothing. Just a radiant golden form, pouring out light in every direction like a divine spotlight.
I noticed the ripples in the sea of darkness around us were getting more violent, and when I looked back toward that one table... there was only one chair now. Weird.
Then I felt its voice—Not heard. Felt.
Clear. Authoritative.A little terrifying.But strangely... admiring.
Like I was learning something, even as I stood frozen.
"You are not the first to reach this place. But you may be the last to do so."
The voice was as terrifying as it was comforting—so soothing, yet so cold, that I couldn't even lift my head or move.
"Victor... or whatever name clings to you—your Essentia hums like something rewritten. You don't belong, yet you bend the rules as if you wrote them yourself."
And of course, the clichés began to roll in: an ancient being controlling some portal dimension. Fantastic. Of course, he knew I got isekaied by truck-kun. (Thanks a lot, by the way.)
"I wasn't expecting this place to be inherited by another. At this point, I had given up—hopes of vengeance and truth, all gone. But with my final chance, I lay it upon you, Victor... or Steven."
Nope, not even surprised. I was just waiting for it. What's next, my mother's name?
"If we fail, remember: the truth won't emit, and darkness will guide the innocent to the abyss. Please, as the final heir to this broken truth, restore and fix the mistakes I made. Hold the truth in your faith."
I still couldn't respond. I wanted to ask, who, what, and how? But just as I thought that, he handed me something I wasn't expecting... a sigil.
"Take this. With it, you'll accomplish much in the beginning. And remember, Grimoires are only a limit—seek beyond."
As he said that, I returned to my office, feeling enlightened—as if I had just understood the laws of the universe in one sitting. Not that I couldn't, of course.
Finally, after getting my senses back, I didn't waste a second—I stood up and stretched my arms and legs like a guy who'd been bedridden for years. My joints cracked like popcorn, and I inhaled so hard it felt like I was trying to vacuum the room.
I was stunned. Not only had I hit the jackpot, but I'd just unlocked the deluxe transmigration package—complete with enlightenment, cryptic ancient figure, and a shiny new sigil.
As I extended my hands in front of me, the sigil materialized. I had no idea what to do with it—wasn't this supposed to unlock the Grimoire? Why didn't that guy mention how? I had no choice but to stop complaining.
The sigil wasn't physical, but a symbol made of magical energy, shimmering in a kaleidoscope of colors.
It had strange patterns etched into it. The sigil was circular, with four half-circles surrounding a central one, and intricate, unidentifiable symbols running around the edges—almost like a runic language. I guess I'd have to decipher what all of this meant.
Suddenly, I accidentally pressed the sigil against my chest—and wouldn't you know it? That was exactly what I was supposed to do.
Without warning, a book—presumably a Grimoire—began to float in front of me. It hovered silently, radiating a faint glow, as if acknowledging me.
The Grimoire was unlike anything I had ever seen. Its cover was a deep, almost black verdant shade, like shadows tangled in ivy. Intricate patterns ran along its surface—twisting, looping designs that echoed the same runic language etched into the sigil. These weren't just decorations; they pulsed faintly with shifting Essentia, almost alive, like veins of magic coursing through the book.
At the center of the cover was a golden symbol—identical to the sigil that had just merged with me. It resembled a full moon surrounded by four crescent arcs, forming a shape both ancient and cryptic. Around it, those same unreadable markings spiraled like constellations locked in orbit. It didn't just look powerful. It felt sacred.
It was elegant. Mysterious. And now, apparently, mine.
I couldn't help but be at a loss for words—a scientist turned magician. I went from abiding by the laws of reality to potentially breaking the very ones I used to respect.I'm so damn proud of myself.(Steven, not Victor—just so we're clear.)
The book laid flat against my head—it felt strangely smooth, ancient even. Its texture was soft, almost addictive, like something you weren't supposed to touch but couldn't help yourself from reaching for. Or maybe that's just me.
I went ahead and opened the Grimoire. What awaited me inside were pages upon pages of nothing—completely blank. I didn't even bother to count them. Just like with the sigil, I placed it against my chest, and just like that… it vanished.
I thought to myself—could someone have more than one Grimoire? And where the hell was Victors? That bastard?
I know I should've taken the time to understand more about the Grimoire and Essentia before diving into spells… but the adrenaline kicked in, and I was already tearing through the shelves, searching for a spellbook.
From what I could faintly recall about Victor, some of these books came from antique shops, while others were handed to him by shady, definitely-not-trustworthy individuals. Not surprising, really—the guy did summon a demon. As for the rest of the memories… they were still buffering, so I couldn't explain much right now.
After scouring the shelves like I was on a divine quest for Pandora's box, I stumbled upon what ancient sages couldn't dream of… what even the brightest scholars couldn't fathom… okay, yeah, I don't know why I made it so dramatic. It was just a spellbook titled Basic Casting.
Yeah. Basic. Casting.
Real thrilling stuff. Not exactly the "collapse-a-star" type of magic I was hoping for. I mean, where's the Black Hole Burst? Or Multiball Firestorm? Or hell, maybe even my favorite anime classic—Uchiha Madara's Majestic Destroyer Flame. Not technically a spell, but c'mon, you know I had to mention him.
Still, I couldn't help the grin crawling onto my face. Whatever this book had, it was going to be my first real step into magic. My first spell. I was hyped. Probably way more than I should be for a book that sounded like a kindergarten curriculum.
I grabbed the book and made my way to the desk. The moment I sat down, my stomach started throwing a full-blown tantrum. I couldn't even argue—I was starving. That's when I remembered the other two even existed. Asren was still out cold, probably in a coma disguised as sleep.
Not that I cared to bother him. Hunger wasn't exactly new territory. Back on Earth, I used to fast for an entire month as part of my religious beliefs. So yeah, I could survive a little grumbling. No need to wake up those clowns just yet.
I sat down and opened the book with high hopes and dreams—finally, I could accomplish something without needing to get isekai'd.
Basic Casting by Akari TenzenThis book contains ten Tier 1 spells. The beginning includes a statement:
"This book is meant for aspiring mages and students who strive to become mages of high esteem and earn recognition. The foundation of magic starts with understanding the basics, as lower-tier spells are closer to the core of magic. Higher-tier spells simply require a deeper understanding and mastery of these basics."
The book contained ten basic spells—one for each elemental nature, with the last two being hybrid spells. I read through them one by one, and quickly realized that learning spells requires more than just memorizing incantations—it involves grasping spell philosophy and understanding the concepts behind them. No surprise there, right? Just like Jacob said. But to my surprise, I was actually able to grasp the first spell in the book, after a thorugh reading session.
The first spell listed was Ignite.
"Really?" I muttered under my breath, raising an eyebrow. Ignite? That's your big idea for a first spell? Some teeny little fire? I mean, I guess it's practical... and it could probably be used to light candles at a dinner party or something.
The instructions were simple enough: Channel Essentia, focus, and chant. Yeah, because chanting is always part of the magic fun. No escaping that.
I let out a slow breath, pulling the Essentia from within me. It wasn't much—just a faint current that fluttered beneath my skin, But it would do. I focused, and a few words slipped out from memory:
"Ignite."
My finger twitched as a tiny flicker of flame appeared, barely a spark at first, but it was there.
"Well, at least I didn't accidentally set my hair on fire. Progress."
I stared at the small flame, watching it dance on the tip of my finger. It was more of a flamelet than a fire, but still—better than nothing.
As I concentrated on the warmth, I felt the Grimoire hum. A faint glow started emanating from the pages as the spell transferred into it, memorizing the magic instantly. It wasn't anything impressive—just a little flame, really—but the Grimoire recognized it, and once it was understood, it was locked in.
"Well, that's one spell down. What's next? Fireball? No, wait, too soon for that."
I tapped the book lightly. Ignite was mine now—stored and ready for whenever I felt like it. Honestly, it wasn't much, but I wasn't going to complain. Small steps.
I glanced at my palm, the faint flame still burning. It wasn't much, but it was enough for now.
I was already feeling a bit more confident. But first things first—maybe I'd grab some food before I went around pushing people with magic.
(Author's Note:The reason he was able to cast without the spell being written in the Grimoire… well, keep reading—you'll find out.)