Icharus was a double graduate — a man of sharp intellect and consuming obsession, whose fascination with the occult was merely the whetstone for his true appetites: power and the conquest of the untouched. He moved through the world of men with a virginal body, not from virtue, but from a fastidious disgust for the ordinary. His desires were not for companionship but for possession; his lust was not for flesh, but for the subjugation of the formidable and the beautiful. He was a virgin not by chance, but by choice, waiting for a prize worthy of his claiming.
Beneath the roar of a stormy night, Icharus drew intricate sigils across the floor — a tapestry woven from Norse runes, Sanskrit verses, Enochian glyphs, and Greek incantations. This was no scholarly pursuit. It was a gambit for dominion, a ritual to seize the power he believed was his birthright.
Lighting the circle's candles, he pressed a ritual blade against his palm and let his blood fall upon the runes. The instant the crimson drops touched the symbols, lightning split the sky, striking the blade he held. Icharus collapsed, lifeless.
Yet the circle flared with furious light, a vortex of divine madness that tore his soul from the mortal realm and hurled it into the unknown.
When awareness returned, Icharus found himself in a small, dimly lit room. The smell of old wood and damp linen filled his senses. Pain throbbed behind his eyes as he clutched his tiny head. He stumbled toward a cracked mirror — and froze. Reflected before him was not the man he knew, but an eleven-year-old boy. Delicate features, a cascade of silver-blond hair, and eyes of piercing, calculating blue stared back.
A soft ding echoed in his mind.
"System? Panel? Anything—open!" he muttered, his new, melodious voice laced with impatience. Nothing answered.
Fragments of memories seeped in. Icharus Rodrigus. Orphan. St. Joseph's Home. Harry Potter. His desk mate — a quiet, lean boy. A potential asset. A flicker of interest, cold and strategic, ignited within him.
But then, the crushing realization: in this world of magic, he felt nothing. The hollow ache of absence was an insult. A man of his ambition, denied the very fabric of power? Unacceptable.
As despair threatened to curdle into rage, a cold, metallic voice echoed in his skull.
[System initialization: 60%... 70%... 80%... 100%.]
[New host recognized. Gift package prepared. Access privileges granted.]
Icharus froze. Then, a slow, captivating grin spread across his face, a expression far too knowing for a child.
"So… it followed me." His voice was a whisper of pure, unadulterated avarice. "System, open the gift package."
[Gift package opening...]
[Rewards: One lottery for magical-beast inheritance. Wizard-ranking chart unlocked. 200 Galleons credited.]
[Note: Extracted abilities begin at 'Newborn Beast' level.]
A great wheel of ethereal light spun before his mind's eye, names blazing with promise: Phoenix. Dragon. Unicorn. The wheel slowed, dimmed, and settled.
[Result: Demiguise.]
[Requirement: 100 ml of voluntarily offered Demiguise blood required to activate ability.]
His lip curled in disdain. "Voluntarily offered blood… from a Demiguise?" he scoffed. "Am I to seduce a seer beast?"
The system remained silent.
Then, heat surged beneath his skin—a purification. The air thickened; objects in the room trembled and rose, suspended. The world shimmered on the edge of eternity. Power, ancient and wild, whispered through his veins. He felt it not as a gift, but as a down payment on a throne.
"Panel," he commanded.
Light unfolded in his mind.
[Host: Icharus Rodrigus]Wizard Level: NoviceEndurance: 2Luck: 1Strength: 2Charm: 2Intelligence: 5Mental: 7Will: 3Magic: 4Concentration: 6Divinity: 0
He studied the numbers, his cold smile returning. "A vessel of glass and silk… for now."
Another window appeared, a chart of ascension etched in ancient runes.
[Wizard Evolution Path]
Novice → Beginner → Intermediate → Threshold → Apprentice... all the way to Omniverse and Myriad Realms.
Beneath it, a golden inscription glowed: Beginner — Equivalent to two years of Hogwarts tutelage.
"From novice to god…" he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a covetous fire. "This path will be my masterpiece."
"System," he whispered, his tone dripping with entitled expectation. "What aid can you offer your host?"
No answer. Only silence.
He willed the interface to shift.
[Market: Locked — Requires 100 System Points to Access.]
He slid again.
[Tasks: Loading…]
The glow faded. In the cold candlelight, Icharus smiled—the smile of a predator who has just found the boundaries of its new cage.
"Then let's begin," he murmured to the silence. "This world and its wonders will be mine. I will charm what I cannot break, and devour what I charm. My ascension will be written in the subjugation of everything that is."