"Every night, those dreams feel like a call from the future, revealing secrets hidden behind the shadows of the past. But unfortunately, I don't believe in superstitions."
Year 92, 7th Era of Conquest, Midgaria.
This world is ridiculous.
They call you Astral Voyager—someone who arrives through a ritual and is praised only to be enslaved by fate.
I was always there when my grandfather scraped his fingers at the temple to summon people like you.
Perhaps you have heard that term.
Perhaps you are a former Astral Voyager.
Or maybe someone you loved once disappeared without a trace, summoned to a world they never knew.
Who knows, maybe you are next.
You might already be familiar with stories like this—from the animated films you watched, from the comics you read.
Stories where a stranger is summoned to another world and becomes a hero.
You might think that's cool.
But believe me, being an Astral Voyager is not a blessing.
It is a shackle.
A chain that binds you as a slave to fate.
Everything has been decided since birth—Mana capacity, magical power, and the limits of how far that power will grow.
All of that is written in a absolute and unchangeable soul-book: the Arcana Codex.
The pages within the Arcana Codex are absolute and cannot be altered.
Because of this, the magical power of the people of Midgaria will not grow any further once they reach the final page of their Codex.
However, that law does not apply to you, the Astral Voyagers.
Your Codex is thick, complex, and filled with many blank pages, allowing you to grow without thinking about the limits of your power. That is why we need you.
I have seen dozens of Astral Voyagers arrive.
They came in a state of chaos, their faces filled with confusion and fear. Some cried, some screamed, and some sat silently with vacant stares.
They never arrived with the readiness or courage told in fairy tales.
They came as ordinary people—broken, lost, and alone.
And then, as always, we fed them lies.
The temple would welcome them with the utmost respect, whispering sweet, lulling words:
"The world chose you."
"You are the heroes destined to save us."
"Do not be afraid—you will find a new purpose here."
We—the empire and the nobles, the leaders—would reinforce those lies with praise and empty promises.
Telling them that their world was gone, that they had died, and that the only path left was to accept their role as saviors.
And most of them... believed.
Those still drowning in shock, those too desperate to question anything, those who needed something to hold on to—would go along with the current.
They grasped swords, wore heroes cloaks, and tried to convince themselves that they were meant for this.
But I know the truth.
I saw how their eyes slowly lost their light.
I saw how those who couldn't accept the truth eventually gave up, sinking into depression and despair.
I saw them fall apart, one by one, as the world they were forced to love kept demanding more and more from them.
And I... I could only stay silent.
Because I am part of the system that crushes them alive.
I am the crown prince—someone who still plays a part in this lie without uttering a word.
Do you think being an Astral Voyager is a dream?
No.
It is a nightmare.
But if it ever happens to you… if you suddenly wake up in a strange place with a body that feels lighter than usual, with airbrushing differently against your skin, and with a sky that seems wider than anything you've ever seen before…
I, Elenio Seluna de Hawkins, the disabled crown prince of this selfish empire, will greet you with a smile.
A smile full of lies.
"Welcome to Midgaria."
"The Empire of Five Races—the land of humans, elves, beasts, dwarves, and the Undine."
"A nation that rules ninety percent of this world, a nation that has stood firm during endless war."
"You are now a part of us."
I will say it calmly as if the words carry warmth.
I will look at you with acceptance as if you've genuinely found a new home.
But it's all a lie.
Midgaria is not a fairytale land with a happy ending.
Midgaria is not a world that will welcome you with open arms.
This empire is a battlefield—and has been so for the past seven hundred years.
So, welcome…
Welcome to a world that will never let you go and will bind you as a tool of fate for our selfishness.
~~~
I opened my eyes—damn, this place again.
I sighed, staring at the dark sky above my head.
Tonight, the same dream haunts me again.
An ancient building stretched out in silence.
The walls had crumbled, its roof long gone, leaving only the remnants of a glory eroded by time. Rows of rotting wooden benches lined its interior, some already shattered into dust. A cracked altar stood firm at the room's far end as if defying destruction.
Once, this place must have been grand.
Now, only a faint shadow of its magnificence remains.
And for some reason… I always return here every night.
My feet stepped toward the decaying altar, the stench of iron stabbing my nose so sharply it nearly made me gag. Yet my expression remained flat. I continued walking through the smell of fresh blood—a scent so familiar I didn't need to guess where it came from.
In the suffocating stillness of the night, the body of a girl lay lifeless upon the altar, submerged in a pool of red that had seeped deep into the stone's surface. A sword was embedded in her chest, leaving the wound that stood as a silent witness to tragedy.
I stood before her, gazing without a word.
There was no shock—only cold resignation.
This dream is always the same.
"Zura..."
I whispered, barely audible. Back then, during the early nights when this dream first haunted me, I used to scream and cry out until I drowned in unbearable grief. But now? Only silence remains.
My fingers touched her cold cheek. Kazura Soratha—the name I gave her, though her existence was a gift from my grandfather. A present for my sixth birthday. That old emperor bought her from a slave market and wrapped her in a red ribbon as if she were nothing more than merchandise. His depravity truly knew no bounds.
Aside from filling the palace with his concubines, he had a disgusting habit—disguising himself as a commoner and wandering the black markets, buying slaves with eyes gleaming in twisted fascination. Zura was one of them. From that day on, she was always by my side.
I sighed, letting the coldness of her body seep into my fingers. Yet, as always, this peace never lasted long.
The night wind blew, carrying something denser than mere cold air. From the corner of the temple untouched by light, black smoke began to swirl, gathering and forming a horrifying silhouette. Dark as a starless night, that entity stared at me with blazing red eyes. Its gaze was filled with mockery, filled with threat.
Then, that raspy laugh broke the silence.
"It's been a while since you last cried for that slave girl, hasn't it?" That harsh voice echoed, slipping into every corner of the silence, twisting my stomach with revulsion. Every night, he came. Every night, he stood there, grinning from within the shadows, like a nightmare that knew no end.
He called himself the child of ruin, death's most loyal follower. I called him Abyssian—the Abyss demon that had plagued Midgaria for the past seven hundred years—the main enemy of the Astral Voyagers.
Every time he appeared in my dream, the world seemed to plunge into endless darkness. Night after night, he crept into my consciousness, turning my sleep into a prison without light.
"Whose fault do you think it is that I've gotten used to all this?" I muttered softly, lowering my gaze to avoid his stare, trying to hide the fear etched into my face.
The demon let out a low laugh, his raspy voice echoing, slithering through the air like poison.
"No need to whisper, boy. I can hear everything here, even the trembling of your frightened heart."
I clenched my fists. "Why does it always have to be in my dreams? Why every night? Why her?"
My gaze shifted to the figure lying on the altar—Zura. Her body cold, wrapped in the light of the three night goddesses in the sky, a pale glow falling through the cracks of the ruins.
I was sick of seeing her like this.
I was sick of watching her die over and over again.
The demon's laughter faded, replaced by a terrifying whisper that echoed between the walls of the ruined temple.
"The answer remains the same, just like the previous nights," he hissed. "I am the nightmare left behind by your past… and that girl is the nightmare fate has passed down for your future."
I looked up, staring at him with hatred. His figure moved above the altar, churning like a living shadow with red eyes glowing through the darkness. The longer I looked at him, the more real he felt—as if he wasn't just an illusion in my dream.
Without warning, his body expanded. The black smoke that formed him grew thicker, swirling wildly, creating a vortex that trapped me in suffocating darkness. My breath hitched. Cold crept into my bones.
This dream, this curse… when will it end?
I no longer dared to run. Like the nights before, this body froze in fear. Before I could react, a black hand made of thick smoke had already coiled around my body, gripping tightly like an endless serpent.
Breathing became heavy, and my chest crushed as if the world refused to give me room to breathe. I struggled, but the tighter his grip became the more I resisted. I was trapped in a battle between dream and reality, faced with a demon born from the shadows of the night.
"Khakhakhakha! As always, you look pathetic!" His voice vibrated through the silence, mocking with a tone full of satisfaction.
"A descendant of the first Astral Voyager—the first emperor, the only member of the imperial family… no, I suppose the only creature in this world without an Arcana Codex."
I fell silent, not answering the taunt so full of truth.
He was right.
In this world, where Mana—the magic energy directly linked to the soul—is everything, I was born without it. An unforgivable defect.
Mana was not just a power, not merely a tool for survival. It was a part of one's Soul Code, the Arcana Codex.
Every being in Midgaria was born with an Arcana Codex—a grimoire engraved within their soul. In that Codex, their magical laws were written, their limitations determined, and their fate etched.
A noble was born with a complex Codex full of symbols and spells, allowing them to wield magic on a large scale. On the other hand, a farmer only had a few simple lines in their Codex—just enough to light a stove or heal minor wounds.
One annoying thing about this system is that if your limits were already written, then that's where your power stopped. That's how the Arcana Codex system worked for the people of Midgaria.
But that didn't apply to me. I didn't have a Codex at all. No pages, incantations, or trace of Mana flowing through my body.
I was an anomaly.
A mistake.
I gritted my teeth, trying to contain the emotional storm in my chest.
"It's not my fault I was born with a void Codex! I-I'm not happy being a loser among the rest of the imperial family either!"
My voice trembled, though I tried to hide the pain behind it.
Suddenly, an old pillar inside the temple exploded with a thunderous sound. Debris flew, dust billowing through the air. I flinched, instinctively shutting my eyes as rubble scattered around me.
When I opened them again, the demon smiled, revealing a row of sharp fangs in his mouth.
Hot wind swept across my face, carrying the scent of sulfur and blood. A massive shadow loomed among the mist of the ruins, its eyes glowing red like embers burning in the darkness.
"A loser, huh?" the demon's voice echoed, hoarse and full of mockery. "I agree."
He stepped closer, his voice slithering into my mind.
"Let's negotiate again. If you agree to form a pact with me, I will grant you the power to surpass your siblings, silence all the ridicule from your people, the power to protect this girl."
I remained silent. My body trembled, but my mind stood firm. No. I would not get further involved with this demon. Nothing good would come from a pact with him. I wouldn't just destroy myself but also drag Zura and the Emperor into an endless ruin.
Swallowing the panic, I forced a bitter smile.
"N-no, thank you. A-after my brother ascends the throne and replaces me as crown prince, I-I'll leave the palace and live peacefully with Zura."
The demon smiled again, raising his other hand and directing a clump of black smoke toward Zura's body on the Altar.
My eyes widened in shock.
"ZURA!" I knew this was only a dream, but seeing the girl's body seemingly scorched by the demon's strange black smoke made my heart erupt in rage.
I writhed, trying to break free from the creature's grip, but it was all in vain.
"Khakhakhakha! This girl will die a miserable death, even worse than this," his voice thundered, filling the space with a suffocating threat. My body tensed, my heart pounded as he continued in a sly tone,
"Whether by my hand, your people… or perhaps… by your hand."
"STOP! ANYTHING, JUST NOT HER!"
My heart throbbed with burning fury. I didn't even know when the fear that once bound me had turned into a fire of rage.
Zura, the girl I loved, was in danger. I swore in my heart—no matter what happened, this demon would never escape from my nightmare and lay a hand on her.
"Khakhakhakha! That's why you need power, boy." He grinned, his voice seeping into my mind, creeping like poison. "Sell your soul to me, and I will give you the power to silence them all."
"No!" I replied firmly. My voice might have trembled, but my heart remained resolute.
The demon stepped closer, slithering deeper as if trying to bare my soul. "Stubborn, aren't you… But you will accept it, sooner or later."
His dark shadow grew larger, swallowing everything around me with spreading darkness. "When you are bound to me, I will drag you into unending despair."
I shuddered. My breath caught in my throat, and my body—still trapped in his grasp—froze in fear.
"But it seems… tonight is not the night." His voice echoed, growing more distant.
"The light of Solstara has risen from the east. See you in the next darkness."
I clenched my fingers in frustration.
"Why?! Why do you have to haunt me?! I beg you… stop! I hate these nights with you! Go away forever!"
My scream echoed into the void. But the demon only laughed before his body vanished like smoke blown away by the wind, leaving me in torturous silence.
My chest still felt tight, as if I were being strangled by something unseen. Then, slowly, I felt another pull—something drawing me out of this nightmare.
Amid the silence, a voice could be heard. A voice I recognized.
"Nio…"
That gentle voice pierced through the darkness, pulling me back from the endless nightmare. A warmth seeped in, guiding me back to reality.