I felt the blood running through my body, warm and alive, as if I was finally something more than just a dream again. The cold, dry air slipped into my lungs—rough, but undeniably real. My muscles were relaxed, my skin touched a rough surface of cold stones from somewhere I couldn't recognize. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I opened my eyes.
The world around me was strange, rather unreal. Gray rocks piled atop one another like the bony remains of hundreds of dead creatures. The sand, a deep scarlet red, stretched endlessly to the horizon.
Above my head, an impossible sky loomed: a whirlwind of colors crashing into each other like a kaleidoscope shattered by time. The stars looked like deformed, unmoving eyes, as if they'd been sewn in place with thread and needle.
There was something in the air—it felt oppressive. Not a physical weight, but I could feel it pressing from all directions, like an invisible chain one drags for so long they almost forget it exists. I momentarily pulled away from observing this world and turned my attention inward.
I touched my body with a mix of urgency and confusion, trying to confirm that all of this was real. I couldn't believe that after so long, I could feel again… truly feel, as any ordinary human would.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside me: fear, awe, relief, confusion—all mixed together at once.
My mind tried to understand my situation, but without even a clue, it led nowhere.
With a sigh, I got up from the rocks I'd been lying on, almost tripping over a medium-sized backpack. It seemed to be made of leather and natural rope—something you'd expect from an artifact out of a medieval fantasy tale.
I looked around, as if expecting someone other than the eyes in the sky to be watching me. I quickly grabbed the backpack, as if it might vanish at any moment.
I opened it. There were only a few items: two extremely old books with some discoloration, a small empty wooden canteen, a knife inside a leather sheath—the knife didn't look rusty but rather brand new—and lastly, a white cloth that had clearly seen better days, as it was a bit frayed.
I took the knife and its sheath in my hands, secured the weapon to the strap that held my pants, and checked the canteen for any cracks. It seemed to be intact.
I picked up the two books. The first was a dull red, nearly brown, while the other was black and made of what appeared to be lizard leather. Although it was wrinkled, it wasn't too faded, but certainly old.
The ink of the titles seemed to have faded long ago, but the embossed lettering was still visible—if you paid enough attention.
"Human Magic" was barely legible on the red book's surface.
"Draconian Magic by the Dragon King Vritra" was written on the black leather one.
Honestly, if it weren't for the already impossible situation I was in, I would've said they were just fantasy novels.
I weighed my options. I didn't know where I was, but it definitely didn't seem like Earth. It felt more like a world that could've come straight out of the warp between the domains of the god of blood and the god of magic—something that, in my mind, sounded like near-instant death if I ran into even a minor chaos spawn.
Then there were these books, which might be nothing more than fantasy novels—or real books of magic. I vaguely remembered the name *Vritra* as a secondary character from some series, but nothing beyond that.
And finally, there was me. I didn't know what to do with this new life. Perhaps seek power, if the books were real. Maybe head toward greener pastures. Maybe stop thinking about the future altogether—or maybe all those options were correct. But I didn't know.
I opened the first book. The black and red ink blended with the yellowish stained pages. The edges were worn by time. Its texture was rough to the touch, as if it weren't paper, but the skin of some long-sacrificed animal.
I began to read, slowly, trying not just to read, but to *understand* what was written in the book.
...
Magic can be reduced to the creation, manipulation, and alteration of a supernatural phenomenon through the use of magical energy as fuel and a formula—or spell—as the medium for alteration.
That is magic, in its purest and most concise form.
Magic is composed of five fundamental elements, closely linked to each other:
The Mage – the one who must carry out all the necessary processes for magic to manifest successfully.
The Laws – the rules that magic must follow. Physics, chemistry, mechanics—everything that makes up the universe are the laws of magic.
The Process – the use of those laws to recreate, manipulate, or alter a phenomenon, whether supernatural or natural. The process can be defined as the step before the spell becomes a spell. It includes formulas, measurements, and the spell's structure itself. It's the laws in action, fulfilling a specific purpose. Therefore, one must understand the laws before even considering becoming a mage.
Magical Energy – the fuel of every spell. It is used at the end of the process to convert it into a spell and thus manifest the result. Without magical energy, the process remains a useless theory, good only for research. Each race uses different types of energy, but all originate from pure magic. Since humans aren't magical creatures, they must use pure magic, which has neither advantages nor disadvantages, as it is the base of all other magical energies. For this reason, human magic is based on measurement and recreation of phenomena through calculation.
The Spell – the final result of the process, once magical energy is added and it manifests in reality. It is the concrete expression of the previously elaborated formulas. One could say the spell *is* magic itself.
...
When I finished reading the introduction to human magic, I could say it was a very technical type of magic, requiring two things above all: pure magic and study. Fortunately, pure magic is easy to obtain. It could be said that every being with a soul possesses at least a small amount of it.
"So, what I should focus on from now on is having more pure magic, learning how to use it, and studying spells" I said to myself as I stored the book in my bag.
I took the knife from its sheath. I preferred to have something to defend myself with, even if I didn't know how to use it well. I'd have to find a place to sleep and rest without something sinking its fangs into me just because I passed out under the open sky, hoping nothing would happen.
I sighed and stepped down from the gray rocks I'd been sitting on since I woke up.
I hope I can survive.
I don't want to die again.