Chapter 1: The Echo of the Void and the Viscount's Calling
The faint, sour smell of old parchment and cheap tallow clung to Kaelen like a second skin. He sat hunched over a heavy ledger in the Viscount's drafty accounting office, not because he was actively working—the quarterly tax reports were already filed—but because remaining visibly employed was the safest strategy for an unremarkable man with a turbulent inner life.
Five years. It had been five years since his former life as a mundane, stressed-out programmer had been violently overwritten by the current reality of Kaelen Torvinson, an F-grade talent clerk. The physical body was nineteen, the soul within felt seventy.
This world operated on a foundation of magic, and at the apex of that foundation were the Wizards. These beings possessed power so absolute that even the mightiest kings of the mortal kingdoms were little more than high-ranking stewards, holding their thrones only through the non-interference pacts enforced by the Academies. To even be noticed by a Wizard was to escape the mundane grind of the mortal coil.
Kaelen's fate, however, seemed sealed by an objective, numerical judgment. He subtly activated his internal interface, a constant, private fixture of his existence since transmigration.
[Proficiency Panel (Kaelen Torvinson)]
[NAME: Kaelen Torvinson]
[AGE: 24]
[TALENT GRADE: F (Abysmal)]
[AFFINITY: Echo (Mind / Illusion)]
[PROFICIENCY RANK: Apprentice Stage 0 (Untrained)]
[ATTRIBUTES:]
[STRENGTH: 5 (Average Mortal Male: 10)]
[DEXTERITY: 6]
[VITALITY: 8]
[MIND: 12 (Natural Focus: 9)]
[SKILLS:]
[Basic Illusory Veil: 0.005% (Novice)]
[Mind Fortification (Passive): 1.12% (Novice)]
[Clerical Script: 45.9% (Skilled)]
[Arithmetic: 68.0% (Proficient)]
The F-grade was the world's formal dismissal. It indicated an almost total lack of Mana channels and elemental receptivity. Yet, the system was his secret weapon. Where true wizards achieved power through innate talent and spontaneous breakthroughs, Kaelen relied on the slow, linear path of sheer, focused, repetitive practice, turning time itself into his asset.
His only real advantage was his MIND score. The anomalous trauma of two souls merging had left his psyche extraordinarily tough and well-organized, a trait that naturally aligned with the subtle, cerebral Echo Affinity—Illusions and Mind.
Kaelen lifted his hand above the ledger and focused. He wasn't attempting a grand illusion, not even a simple glow. Instead, he drew the whisper-thin threads of the Echo Affinity—a power typically used to project falsehoods outward—and layered them over his own sensorium.
The external world didn't change, but his perception did. The persistent ache in his shoulders from the previous day's lifting task, the nagging hunger pangs, the mental friction of focusing on monotonous numbers—they all dimmed, pushed back by the thin, cool mental overlay.
This was his unique technique, born of necessity: Self-Optimization. He used illusion not to deceive others, but to deceive his own fatigue, essentially creating a mental feedback loop that allowed him to maintain perfect, high-intensity focus for staggering periods. It was a brutal form of self-discipline, turning his low talent into maximum efficiency by eliminating the human factor of distraction.
He held the Self-Optimization in place. He was now operating at a sustained 99% mental capacity, dedicating the remaining 1% to monitoring his surroundings.
A sharp rapping interrupted the silence. Lord Galdren, the Master of Records, entered with a nervous shuffle, his usually composed face pale with anxiety. Behind him stood a man whose very posture radiated cold, unyielding power—a Wizard Legate.
The Legate was clad in the unadorned, deep indigo robes reserved for Academy officials. His gaze swept the room, dismissive of everything until it landed on Kaelen.
"Kaelen Torvinson," the Legate said, his voice deep and flat, like stones grinding together. "I am Legate Varis, of the Central Academy. I am here regarding the annual Apprentice Selection Sweep."
Lord Galdren stammered, "Kaelen, you must be respectful! This is an honor, an immense honor, though… highly unexpected."
Kaelen offered a perfect, low bow, his internal mental state undisturbed by the terrifying presence.
Legate Varis bypassed the pleasantries. He held up a sealed crystal that glowed with arcane energy. "The Selection Sweep is blind and purely driven by the magical network's criteria. Every year, it filters the population for nascent talent. This year, the filtering criteria registered an anomaly here, in this remote Viscountcy. You are the registered candidate."
The Legate paused, his cold blue eyes studying Kaelen's F-grade aura, which the crystal probably projected. He looked profoundly skeptical.
"Despite your quantifiable lack of natural Mana receptivity, the network deems your Echo Affinity signature uniquely stable and resonant. The Academy does not question the network."
He slapped a heavy, rolled parchment onto the desk, its wax seal bearing the Imperial Crest—a stylized vortex of swirling energy.
"You are selected to attend the Grand Gathering of Novices at the Imperial Capital. This is not induction; this is a summoning for the Trial of Ascension. Thirty-five days from now, you will stand among hundreds of other novices, from D-grades to triple S-grades."
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a harsh, cutting whisper. "The trial is simple: before the induction ceremony, all novices must achieve Apprentice Stage 1 proficiency in any one core skill. Failure to meet this benchmark means instant, permanent dismissal back to your mortal life."
The requirement was clear, and it was a monumental barrier. Kaelen knew Apprentice Stage 1 equated to reaching 10.00% proficiency in a skill.
Legate Varis straightened up. "You will depart immediately. Lord Galdren, prepare the fastest transport and necessary provisioning. Do not delay, or the Viscount's future will be… problematic."
With that, the Legate dissolved into a faint shimmer of indigo light, an instantaneous magical departure that left Lord Galdren gaping and Kaelen alone with the Scroll of Summoning.
Kaelen picked up the scroll. He knew his abysmal F-grade would take hundreds of days of normal practice to reach the 10% threshold. He had only thirty-five.
He reactivated his Self-Optimization to its highest, most taxing level. The internal, muted world returned, focusing his entire being on the single, terrifying calculation. The only way to win was to be the most efficient entity in the entire competition. His low talent forced him into a unique, brutal path. The grind had begun.