Volume 1 - Prologue

The magic lamp provided enough illumination to see, yet it felt somewhat chilly. The boy stopped writing and stretched his limbs.

The rain that began falling in the evening was growing stronger. Gusts of wind battered against the wooden shutters.

“These are the best materials I can gather right now,” the boy mumbled. “But still, this only gives me a small window to cross to a different world.”

Various objects sat on the desk. Crystallized ore, dried fruit, pieces of meat, vials filled with dark liquid, scales and fangs of some creature. There were also several diagrams with texts and geometric shapes.

The boy picked up an ore. “The spell is still incomplete. To go to a different world, the soul would need to detach from the body. But is it possible to rebind a soul that has left its body? Only legendary levels of Healing Magic can do that. If it works, though, it might be possible to access this world’s spirit realm. I might be able to see Father and Mother.”

Suddenly, the boy’s ears caught a sound.

“…Who’s there?” he called out.

The magic lamp illuminated only the desk, while the corners of the room remained dim.

This was not the boy’s home, but an average hotel room. It could be a hotel staff, he thought. He went to the door and opened it, but there was no sign of anyone in the dark corridor.

“Not a soul… It’s so windy. Maybe something fell over.

He turned around, and froze. “Wh-Who goes there?”

There was a black figure in the middle of the room. A man wearing a hooded cloak, dripping rainwater.

“Are you Roland N. Zaracia?”

“I am…”

“Delivery from Count Morgstadt.”

The boy—Roland—knew the name Morgstadt all too well. Count Morgstadt was the reason why he was currently staying alone in the hotel—why his parents were dead.

“Wh-What do you want from me?!”

Roland’s heart was gripped by a mixture of anger, fear, and worry.

His father had raised him, an only son, with affection, and sometimes a firm hand. His mother, a Mage herself, had helped develop his magical talents.

Roland’s current research—a spell for crossing worlds—was a groundbreaking one, which his parents fully supported. His small-scale experiments on living organisms successfully summoned creatures that did not exist in this world, bringing him and the House of Zaracia—Viscounts in the Kingdom of Ponsonia—to prominence.

The noble faction to which the House of Zaracia belonged, led by Margrave Grugschilt, gained momentum with this breakthrough. They sought to correct the corruption that plagued the aristocracy in the kingdom, where bribery and injustice ran rampant, and frequently told the crooked aristocrats that true nobles should serve the people.

Despite their efforts, numerous nobles who had been lining their pockets only scoffed at Margrave Grugschilt and Viscount Zaracia’s statements. The Margraves were a minority in the kingdom.

However, Roland’s research results strengthened their position by demonstrating to the public the value of nobility through diligent research. They condemned the lazy and hedonistic aristocrats, which enraged the most corrupt of the nobility—Count Morgstadt. He plotted to ruin Roland’s research.

Then came the national treasure theft scandal. The Dimension Dragon Box, a precious item kept in the royal treasury, was stolen. The day the theft came to light, Viscount Zaracia was accused of being the only one who had applied to enter the treasury. The Viscount claimed that he had never applied for admission and had no knowledge of the theft, but the Dimension Dragon Box was found in his residence in the royal capital, incriminating him. He was ordered to commit suicide by poisoning.

Roland’s parents pleaded for his life in exchange for theirs, and their request was granted. The House of Zaracia went into decline, and Roland was taken in by Margrave Grugschilt. He was currently on his way to the Margrave’s domain.

Roland firmly believed that his parents did not steal the national treasure. The day after the House of Zaracia fell, a servant who had worked at the Zaracia estate was seen working for a noble aligned with Count Morgstadt. In addition, a soldier assigned to guard the treasury was spotted carrying around a large sum of money.

It was all a set-up.

Driven by a burning desire for vengeance, Roland resolved to continue his research, hoping that its results would absolve his family’s name. He also clung to the faint possibility of communicating with his parents’ souls. And one day, he vowed to expose Count Morgstadt’s evildoing.

“Can you guess what I’m here to deliver?” The mouth under the intruder’s deep hood curved into a grin.

When Roland saw the gleaming silver blade in the man’s hand, he realized his mistake. He was foolish to think that Count Morgstadt would let him live.

Roland tried to escape, but the intruder grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down. His head slammed against the floor, blurring his vision.

“Ah, coincidences,” the man said. “It just so happens that the Count is in town right now. I guess you already knew that, though. He’s on his way to the capital, while you’re just leaving.”

The intruder brandished the blade, and Roland felt a searing sensation in his abdomen.

“Guh…”

As the intruder pulled the blade back to strike again, his body suddenly stiffened and he collapsed to the floor.

Roland was holding an ore that emitted a bluish-white light, now so bright that it was difficult to look at directly.

“I-I was wrong,” Roland gasped. “He’s not the kind of man… to be confronted head-on…”

The ore was called a Soul-Sucking Stone, a stone that could absorb souls by processing it into a specific shape and channeling mana into it.

“I can use this… to invoke…”

However, the Soul-Sucking Stone had a drawback. It sucked the soul of both the target as well as the user. In other words, Roland’s own soul had been mostly sucked out of him, leaving him with only about one to two hours to live. Moreover, he was bleeding profusely from his abdomen, and he was nearing his physical limits.

Roland crawled across the floor, struggling to maintain consciousness. It felt like he was moving awfully slow. He reached out a bloody arm and pulled himself up onto a chair. He then grabbed the edge of the desk with his right hand and overturned it.

Objects were scattered all over the place. An inkwell toppled over, spilling ink on the floor. Sheets of paper fluttered in the air.

One of the sheets landed on Roland’s stomach. And it was precisely what he needed.

“Open a door that leads to another world…”

The incantation required for the spell was not needed, as what he was trying to cast was not Magic, but a kind of Sorcery. The necessary incantation—an enormous amount of words—was compiled into a magic circle, written in a special language.

And the paper in Roland’s hand had them all.

Geometric shapes glowed all over the room. As he lay dying, a door opened before his eyes—a door to another world.