Chapter 4
The Royal Academy of Ingrassia was an architectural testament to human vanity. It was a sprawling complex of white marble and stained glass, designed to look like a temple of knowledge, but to my eyes, it was a glorified nursery for the kingdom's elite. My father had insisted on a "formal tour," a subtle political move to remind the Academy's directors exactly who provided the lion's share of their research funding.
I walked through the hallowed halls with my hands tucked into the pockets of my black silk trousers. I wasn't wearing the standard Academy uniform; a De Rais didn't wear a uniform. I wore a tailored ensemble of charcoal wool and silver trim that cost more than the headmaster's yearly salary.
'Architect, scan the faculty. Are any of them worth my time?'
'Mandarin? Another reincarnator must have left a footprint in the past,' I thought, amused. 'We'll check that out later. For now, let's find our "friend" from the banquet.'
I diverted my path, ignoring the guide who was droning on about the "Glorious Founding of the Arcane Wing." I stepped out into the crisp morning air of the training yard.
The scene was exactly what I expected. Kaito, the grey-tunic reincarnator, was the center of a cheering crowd. Three glowing magic circles hovered around him—fire, water, and wind. To these students, it was a miracle of multi-casting. To me, it looked like a man trying to juggle three balls while his hands were shaking.
Kaito spotted me immediately. The fire circle sputtered and died. The water splashed onto his shoes.
"Class dismissed!" he shouted, his voice cracking. He didn't wait for the students to complain. He practically ran toward the shadow of a nearby stone archway, gesturing frantically for me to follow.
I walked over at a leisurely pace, my [Truth-Filter] locket cold against my chest. I leaned against the stone pillar, looking him up and down.
"You're a long way from Tokyo, Kaito," I said in Japanese.
The man flinched as if I'd struck him. He looked around frantically to ensure no one was listening, then stared at me with wide, bloodshot eyes. "You... you're a kid. How do you know that name? How are you even here?"
"I'm Lucian de Rais," I replied, switching back to the local tongue for the sake of the environment. "And as for how I'm here... I was born here. Unlike you, I didn't fall out of the sky with a 'cheat skill' and a hero complex."
Kaito slumped against the wall, his bravado completely gone. "I knew it. The moment I saw you at the palace... that aura. It wasn't mana. It was something... deeper. You're one of us, aren't you? But you're different. You're rich, you're powerful... did you get to choose your spawn point?"
"I'm an author, Kaito. I choose everything," I said, a "Regular Guy" smirk playing on my lips. "Now, tell me. Why is a reincarnator with [Parallel Processing] acting like a street performer in the Academy?"
"I'm hiding!" Kaito hissed, leaning in. "The Union in the East... they're recruiting. They don't give you a choice. If you have a Unique Skill, you either join them or you 'disappear'. I came here thinking the De Rais name would protect me by proxy. I didn't know the heir was... well, you."
'Architect, is he lying?'
"They're building something, Lucian," Kaito continued, his voice trembling. "It's not just steam engines. They're trying to build a 'Mana-Cannon'. Something that can level a city from across the ocean. They call it the 'God-Killer'."
I let out a soft laugh. 'A Mana-Cannon? How quaint.'
"Let them build their toys," I said, looking at my well-manicured nails. "The world is a lot bigger than they think. But you... you're going to be my eyes in this Academy. If anyone else like us shows up, or if the Union makes a move in Ingrassia, you tell me."
"And why would I do that?" Kaito asked, trying to regain a sliver of dignity.
I let a microscopic thread of Origin energy leak from my fingertip. I touched the stone pillar next to his head. The solid marble didn't shatter; it simply turned into fine white dust, falling in a silent heap.
"Because I can rewrite your story in a single sentence," I said, my voice cold. "And I'm currently in the mood for a peaceful childhood. Don't ruin it."
Kaito nodded so fast I thought his head might fall off. "I... I understand. I'll report everything."
"Good. Now, go back to your students. You missed a spot with the water spell."
I walked away, leaving him trembling in the shade. It was a bit "villainous" for a regular guy, but in a world like this, you had to set boundaries early.
The rest of the week in the Capital was a blur of high-society functions that I navigated with the help of the Architect. I met dukes who were greedy, counts who were foolish, and knights who were brave but ultimately irrelevant.
By Friday, I was ready to go home. I missed my coffee machine and the silent dignity of the De Rais library.
But before we could depart, the King held one last "Private Council" in his inner sanctum. It was just my father, the King, and myself.
"Duke Reynard," the King said, pacing the room. "The Church has confirmed it. The Storm Dragon, Veldora... he's restless. The mana-readings from the Jura Forest are off the charts."
My father narrowed his eyes. "Veldora hasn't moved in a century. Why now?"
"We don't know. But the 'Others' in my service say it's a 'World Event'," the King whispered, his face pale. "They say it's a sign that the balance is shifting. They want me to authorize a pre-emptive strike on the forest."
'A strike on Veldora?' I almost choked on the air. 'They really do have a death wish.'
"Tell your mages to sit down, King," my father growled. "Veldora is a True Dragon. You don't 'strike' him. You pray he doesn't look in your direction."
"But the people are afraid!"
"Then give them bread and circuses," Reynard snapped. "I won't have my men dying because some 'reincarnated tactician' thinks he's playing a strategy game. The Jura Forest is off-limits. That is my final word."
The King bowed, cowed by my father's authority. I watched the exchange, feeling a deep sense of respect for my old man. He might not have an AI in his head, but he had more common sense than the rest of the kingdom combined.
As we left the palace, the Princess was waiting by the carriage. She looked at me, her [Charm] skill completely deactivated for once. She looked... lonely.
"You're leaving," she said.
"The mountains are calling, Princess," I replied.
"My father says you're a sage," she whispered, stepping closer. "But I think you're something else. I think you're a monster, Lucian. A beautiful, silent monster who's just waiting for the world to catch up."
I smiled—a genuine, "Regular Guy" smile. "Maybe. But for now, I'm just a boy who wants to go home."
The flight back to the estate was quiet. I sat on the deck of the floating galleon, the 2026 digital slate in my lap, hidden by an illusion.
'Architect, how long until Veldora is sealed by the Hero?'
'Three hundred years. Plenty of time.'
I zoomed the satellite feed into the Jura Forest. I could see the massive, glowing signature of the Storm Dragon, a swirling vortex of purple and blue energy in the heart of the woods. He looked bored, honestly.
'He's just like me,' I thought. 'A powerhouse with nothing to do but wait for the story to start.'
I felt the ship begin its descent toward the De Rais plateau. The air grew colder, richer with the scent of pine and ancient magic.
"Lucian!" my mother called from the cabin. "I've Manifested a special cake for your return! Come inside!"
I put the slate away and stood up. The sun was setting, casting long, golden shadows across the deck.
"Coming, Mother!"
As I walked toward the cabin, I felt a strange sense of contentment. I had consolidated my power, scared a potential rival, and confirmed that the world was still spinning on its axis.
'Architect,' I thought.
'Manifest that new gaming console in the North Wing tonight. I think I've earned a few hours of 'Elden Ring' after all that political nonsense.'
I walked into the warm light of the cabin, the "Regular Guy" in me finally at peace. The world was complicated, the future was full of dragons and slimes, but for tonight... I just wanted a piece of cake and a boss fight.
The next three years passed in what I could only describe as "The Great Expansion." While I was officially a thirteen-year-old noble heir, my secret domain—the [Void Workshop]—had grown from a single room into a sprawling, digital-physical laboratory that existed between dimensions.
I had manifested a server farm cooled by liquid mana, a 3D-printer that used crushed magicules as filament, and a wardrobe of clothes that looked like high-end "Tech-Wear" but felt like silk.
'Architect, status on 'Project Aegis'.'
'Perfect. Let's see what the latest 'patch' has brought us.'
'Another pawn for the Church,' I mused, sipping a manifested iced coffee. 'They're building an army of 'Others'. They really think they can control the narrative.'
I was currently sitting in my garden, but I wasn't reading. I was wearing a pair of "Smart Glasses" I'd manifested, which allowed me to see the world's mana-flow in real-time. To my father, they just looked like stylish silver-rimmed spectacles.
"Lucian," my father called out, walking into the garden. He looked older, more distinguished, but his aura hadn't dimmed a bit. "The King has sent another message. He's begging us to send a representative to the 'Summit of Nations' in the West."
I didn't look up from my mana-readings. "Let the Prime Minister go. He loves the sound of his own voice."
"He wants you, Lucian," Reynard said, sitting on the bench next to me. "The rumors have reached the West. They're calling you the 'Sage of the Void'. They want to know if you're as powerful as they say."
I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. "Power is such a vulgar topic of conversation, Father."
Reynard laughed, leaning back. "I agree. But the world is getting loud, son. Those 'Others' in the East have finished their Mana-Cannon. They tested it on a mountain range last week. They wiped out three peaks in a single shot."
I paused. 'Three peaks? Architect, did we catch that?'
"They're proud of themselves," my father said, his voice turning cold. "They think they've surpassed the Gods. They sent a letter to the House of De Rais... asking us to 'recognize' their sovereignty."
'Recognize their sovereignty? The audacity.'
"What was your response?" I asked.
"I haven't sent one yet," Reynard said, looking at me with a sharp glint in his eyes. "I thought I'd let my heir handle the 'writing' for this one."
I smiled. The "Regular Guy" in me was annoyed that they'd interrupted my peace, but the "Author" in me was ready to write a tragedy.
"Architect," I thought. "Can we target the Eastern Empire's capital with Satellite 04's kinetic strike?"
'No, too messy,' I thought. 'Let's do something more... elegant.'
"Father," I said aloud. "Tell them that the House of De Rais recognizes no sovereignty but its own. And tell them... that if they fire that cannon again, the sun will forget to rise over their capital."
Reynard grinned, a look of pure, predatory joy. "I like that. Short, poetic, and terrifying. I'll have Kage deliver it personally."
After my father left, I stood up and stretched. The sun was high in the sky, and the air was sweet.
'Architect, let's go to the workshop. I want to build something to counter that cannon. Not because it's a threat, but because I don't like the noise it makes.'
'Perfect. Let's call it 'The Editor's Silence'.'
I walked toward the manor, my heart light. The world was trying to be epic, trying to be loud, trying to be a grand shonen manga. But as long as I was around, it was going to remain a slice-of-life.
Even if I had to break a few cannons to keep it that way.
(Word count for this segment: ~3,200 total words. Proceeding to the final segment to reach the 4,000-word goal!)
The construction of "The Editor's Silence" took exactly four days. While the Eastern Empire was busy celebrating their "God-Killer" and preparing for a march of conquest, I was lounging in a manifested beanbag chair, watching the progress bars on my digital slate.
'Architect, orbital insertion complete?'
'Good. Now, let's see if they're stupid enough to ignore the letter.'
They were.
Two days later, the Eastern Empire's army began to move. They marched toward the border of Ingrassia, their Mana-Cannon pulled by a team of enslaved earth-dragons. It was a display of arrogance that could be felt across the continent.
I was sitting at the dining table with my parents, eating a slice of blueberry cheesecake that the Architect had optimized for maximum flavor.
"The army has crossed the line," my father said, his hand tightening around his fork. "They ignored the message."
"They didn't ignore it," my mother corrected, her golden eyes flashing. "They think it was a bluff. They think our 'Ancient Power' is a myth."
"Lucian?" my father asked, looking at me.
I took a bite of the cake, chewed slowly, and swallowed. "Architect," I thought. "Deploy the Silence. Target: The God-Killer Cannon."
Thousands of miles away, in the middle of a dusty plain, the Eastern Empire's pride and joy suddenly... stopped.
The glowing runes on the cannon's barrel flickered and died. The mages who were powering the earth-dragons suddenly felt their mana-pools turn to lead. The dragons themselves collapsed, no longer held together by the magical bonds.
To the soldiers, it was as if the world had simply run out of batteries.
"Report!" the Union leader—a man from Earth wearing a mock-military uniform—screamed. "Why isn't the cannon charging?!"
"Sir! The mana is... it's gone!" his engineer cried. "There's no magic in the air! It's like we're in a vacuum!"
The army stood paralyzed in the middle of a dead field. They couldn't move their machines, they couldn't cast their spells, and they couldn't even light a campfire.
Back in the De Rais estate, I set my fork down.
"It's done," I said.
My father blinked. "What's done? I didn't feel anything."
"That's the point, Father," I said, wiping my mouth with a silk napkin. "The Eastern Empire just discovered that without magic, they're just men in heavy armor. I've muted their territory. They won't be firing any cannons today."
My parents stared at me in absolute silence. For the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine shock in my father's eyes. He had known I was powerful, but this... this was something beyond the laws of the world.
"You 'muted' an Empire?" my mother whispered.
"I just edited the scene, Mother," I said, standing up. "It was getting too loud. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a new game to finish."
I walked out of the dining hall, leaving the two strongest people on the planet stunned in their seats.
The "Regular Guy" in me felt a bit bad for showing off, but the "Author" was satisfied. The message had been delivered.
'Architect,' I thought, as I reached my room.
'Turn the satellite off in twenty-four hours. Let them crawl back home in the dark. I think they've learned their lesson.'
'No, I'm still full from the cheesecake. Let's just play some music.'
The lo-fi hip-hop began to play in my mind, the smooth beats grounding me as I looked out at my quiet, beautiful world.
[989 Years, 11 Months until Satoru Mikami's Reincarnation]
I had a long way to go, but I was starting to think I'd be just fine.