Satria stood still, one hand resting on the crystal, the other gripping the leather-bound book Viviane had given him. The thing pulsed faintly beneath his palm—cool, smooth, and quietly humming. He'd expected something more dramatic, more magical. Instead, he just... stood there.
He sighed.
Across the room, Viviane hummed to herself, entirely focused on pouring hot tea into her cup.
"Uh... Viviane?" Satria called. "Any moment now would be good. Y'know—spell? Instructions?"
"Patience," she said, lifting the teacup to her lips. She took a long sip, eyes closed in bliss. "Mmm. Perfect."
He stared at her. "Seriously?"
Viviane finally turned toward him, setting the cup down with a clink. "Fine, fine. Don't rush the mood," she said with a smirk. "Magic requires ambiance."
She gave him a wink, clearly enjoying herself more than she should.
"Yeah, ambiance. Totally essential."
Viviane walked over to him, her footsteps soft against the floor. Without warning, she moved behind him and leaned in close, her breath warm against his ear.
"Ahem. Repeat after me," she said with exaggerated seriousness, clearly savoring the moment.
"I, seeker of knowledge, place my hand as a sign of good… unveil, to me, the things that are hidden within this record," she paused, "something like that."
Satria blinked. "You're kidding."
Viviane arched an eyebrow. "What?"
"That's the spell? It sounds like it was written by a middle schooler who read too much fantasy."
"I'm not the one who made it," she said, clearly offended. "You should be honored to speak it."
"Right." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Totally honored."
He took a breath and looked down at the crystal, now pulsing faster, brighter. The book in his hand felt heavier somehow, like it was waiting.
Well, whatever happens... this beats being dead.
Satria muttered the incantation. "I, seeker of knowledge, place my hand as a sign of good… unveil, to me, the things that are hidden within this record," he said, cringing as the words left his mouth.
The final word escaped like a puff—and for a moment, nothing happened. Then the crystal flared with a sudden burst of light.
Not just a little glow—it was like someone flipped a switch on a spotlight, bright enough to make him squint. The warmth from the crystal spread quickly up his arm, almost like the heat from a sunbeam, buzzing through his veins in a way that made his skin tingle.
He looked down at the book in his other hand, expecting it to stay the same. Instead, the cover seemed to pulse with the same rhythm as the crystal, like it was waking up too.
Then came the whispers. They weren't clear words—more like murmurs from far away, carried on the wind. Satria couldn't make out what they were saying, but the tone was urgent, like they were trying to tell him something important.
Suddenly, a sharp ringing filled his head, like a million tiny bells going off all at once. His knees felt weak, and he had to grab the edge of the table to keep from falling. The walls around him started to blur and break apart.
Everything around him faded away. The bright light and the noise disappeared, replaced by a heavy silence that wrapped around him like a thick blanket. It felt like he was falling, but also standing still—caught somewhere between here and somewhere else.
And then, just like that, everything went black.
*
Satria's eyes fluttered open. The first thing he noticed was the color—swirling and sparkling all around him like a living painting. He was floating. Weightless. Like he'd been tossed into a sea of stars and dreams.
Tiny lights flickered nearby, not like stars but more like glowing dust—only these were glowing in blues, pinks, greens, and golds, drifting lazily through the air. They blinked and shimmered as if they were alive, dancing just out of reach.
As Satria stretched out a hand, something happened. Every finger movement left a trail of glowing sparkles behind, like a comet streaking across the sky. His heart hammered with excitement—he could create light with just a motion.
Grinning, he stretched out his arms and began spinning slowly in place, twirling like he was dancing with the stars themselves. Each twist and turn left swirling ribbons of light floating around him, painting the air with glowing trails. The whole space felt like a magical playground built just for him to move and create within a single spot.
It wasn't just beautiful—it was freedom. No limits, no weight, no rules. Just endless space and a million colors swirling around him. Satria laughed aloud, the sound echoing softly in the vastness, and spun again, savoring the feeling.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't feel scared or uncertain. He was alive, grounded in this magical cosmos that seemed to hold him gently.
Then, Satria spotted it—a glowing blue sphere floating in the distance, pulsing like a heartbeat in the vast magical cosmos. It hovered there, mysterious and inviting.
He squinted at it. "What is that thing?"
The sphere glowed with shifting patterns inside—symbols he couldn't recognize, like ancient writing made of starlight. It seemed to breathe, almost alive, gently pulsing in sync with something unseen. Satria felt an odd tug in his chest, like the sphere was calling to him, whispering without words.
"Is that… where I'm supposed to go?" he murmured. The more he stared, the more certain he felt—it meant something. A destination. Maybe also a key.
"Only one way to find out," he muttered, eyes fixed on the glowing sphere.
A flicker of curiosity lit up his face as he tilted his head slightly. "Okay… let's try something," he murmured, already grinning as anticipation stirred in his chest.
He tilted his body forward, belly flat against the invisible plane of air. Slowly, he lifted his legs behind him until he was in a straight line, hovering in place. He stretched one arm forward.
Instantly, he began to dash forward, gently coasting through the glowing space. Trails of light followed behind him like glittery smoke. It was fun—but slow.
"Not fast enough…"
With a quick motion, he raised his other arm to match the first.
Boom. The moment both arms extended forward, the speed doubled. Then tripled.
"Wooooo!" Satria whooped, windless air rushing around him as he sliced through the magical cosmos. The lights around him blurred into streaks of color. He felt unstoppable, soaring faster than he thought possible. For a moment, it was pure euphoria.
Laughter exploded from him—loud, unrestrained, and wild.
"HAHAHA! YES! THIS IS INSANE!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the shimmering void.
He wasn't just laughing—he was howling with joy, his body vibrating with pure exhilaration. He arched, dove, spun—leaving trails of glowing light in his wake like cosmic graffiti. His eyes were wide, his grin manic.
The sphere loomed ahead, now massive, radiant and pulsing. He could see patterns swirling inside it—runes, stars, waves of light. He reached his hand out, just a little more…
Almost there…
Just as his fingertips nearly brushed the glowing surface—
Reality twisted.
The space around him snapped and distorted like glass under pressure. The sphere shattered into a thousand floating shards that spun and bent unnaturally. A sharp, shrill ringing sliced through his ears.
"Agh—!" Satria flinched, throwing his arms to the sides, instinctively curling up mid-air. His body spun slightly from the momentum, head pounding, vision blurring.
The dizziness hit hard, flipping his stomach and tightening his chest. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes, trying to make it stop.
"What the hell—!"
One moment he was flying like a superhero, the next he was caught in a cosmic glitch. The dream cracked and something else was coming.
**
Viviane sipped her tea as the light from the crystal faded, casting soft shadows across the room. She glanced over at Satria, who stood motionless, eyes shut, hand still on the crystal.
Then—he grinned.
His shoulders began to shake.
"Ha… haha… HAHAHAHA!"
Viviane flinched, nearly spilling her tea. "What the hell—?"
Satria doubled over, laughing uncontrollably. It wasn't just a chuckle—it was wild, unhinged, full-body laughter that echoed across the chamber.
Viviane slowly circled him, eyebrows raised. "Are you... okay?"
He didn't answer. His body bounced with each laugh, like he was being tickled by invisible spirits.
"Alright, nope. We're done here." She reached for his arm, her fingers glowing faintly.
The moment her mana touched his skin— ZIIING! —the crystal pulsed with a new color, sharp and electric.
Satria's laughter twisted into a scream.
"AAAAAARGH!"
He convulsed, head snapping back as the crystal shone brilliantly again.
Viviane staggered back, shielding her eyes. "Gods—!"
Then—darkness. The light vanished, and Satria dropped to his knees, panting.
Viviane stared, heart pounding. "That… was not supposed to happen."
She looked at the crystal. It pulsed twice. Quietly. Like it was laughing, too.
Satria slumped forward, his arms trembling as they caught his fall. He landed on his hands and knees. His breath came out in short gasps, and his vision swam like ripples on a pond. The crystal beside him was now dim, only a faint glow pulsing gently from its core.
Viviane, who had kept a cautious distance, took a careful step forward. She tilted her head, squinting down at him. "Well," she said, hands on her hips, "you're still breathing. That's promising."
Satria looked up at her, dazed, eyes unfocused. "What... the hell just happened?"
"Judging by the scream?" Viviane smirked. "Something extremely stupid perhaps."
She leaned in, squinting at his face—then burst out laughing.
"Oh gods—there's drool all over your chin., hahaha."
Satria wiped his mouth quickly, cheeks flushing. "No there isn't."
"There absolutely is." Viviane leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She pointed a finger deliberately at Satria's chin, wiggling it with mock seriousness.
"I—That was from... the wind! Yeah, wind!" he snapped, struggling to his feet. "Cosmic wind."
Viviane folded her arms. "Sure. Cosmic wind made you laugh like a maniac and scream like you were being possessed."
Satria coughed, trying to regain some dignity. "Anyway—before everything went sideways, I saw something."
Viviane raised an eyebrow.
"There was this sphere. Blue. Glowing. Floating in the middle of the stars. It had patterns in it—like runes or… data." He paused, recalling the strange sensation in his chest. "It felt... familiar. "
Viviane's smile faded into something softer, more thoughtful. "Ah. The Archive."
"The what?"
"The information stored inside this book," Viviane explained, gesturing to the leather-bound tome in Satria's hand. "The crystal links you directly to it through resonance. You didn't just see it—you connected with the knowledge inside."
Satria blinked, eyes narrowing. "Wait… so I basically just downloaded your brain?"
Viviane grinned, crossing her arms. "Only the parts that matter. It's my notes, scribbles, everything I've learned about magic so far. Plus, some basics of the ancient Aerithan runic language."
He shook his head in disbelief. "That's wild. So I'm understanding all this without even reading?"
"Exactly," she said. "The crystal – or specifically The Archive, able translates and transfers it straight into your mind. No boring study sessions—magic made it easy."
Satria's eyes widened, his mouth falling slightly open. "That's… actually incredible." He shook his head in disbelief, still trying to wrap his mind around it.
Viviane folded her arms, her gaze sharp and steady. "Now, you've got sixteen hours. That's your time to explore the sphere—The Archive. Absorb what you can."
Satria blinked, processing the weight of her words. Sixteen hours to make sense of a world of magic he barely understood. It felt like staring at the ocean and being told to learn its secrets overnight.
"If you don't choose a power by then," Viviane continued, her voice firm but not unkind, "I'll pick one for you. And you might not like what I choose."
Satria smirked, a spark of challenge lighting his eyes. "So basically, you're giving me a deadline and a threat?"
Viviane's lips twitched into a smile. "Precisely. Motivation is key."
He extended his hand without hesitation, feeling the weight of this new responsibility. Viviane grasped his hand firmly. Their handshake was more than a gesture—it was a promise, a pact sealed.
"This is your first real step toward magic," she said softly.
Satria met her gaze, determination hardening inside him. "Alright, let's see what this magic is all about."
Viviane smiled in satisfaction, clearly pleased with his answer.
*
Twelve hours had passed since Satria sealed the deal with Viviane. In that time, the magical cosmos—the vast, shimmering expanse of The Archive—had become both his classroom and playground.
He floated weightless amid the swirling lights and colors, the sphere's endless knowledge flowing directly into his mind. It was like drinking from a firehose of magic—overwhelming, exhilarating, and addictive all at once. Concepts and runes he'd never even dreamed of filled his thoughts, sparking ideas and possibilities faster than he could process.
Magic wasn't just spells or words; it was energy, a living force that bent reality to will. Satria marveled at its scale—limitless, breathtaking, and more powerful than anything he'd imagined.
Experimentation came naturally. With a focused thought, he lifted himself higher, hovering effortlessly. A flicker of energy sparked behind his eyes—then, twin beams of light shot out, slicing through the void like magical lasers. He grinned wide, feeling the surge of power coursing through him.
Gravity, too, was his to command. He twisted it, pulling objects closer, then pushing them away, feeling the invisible threads that bound matter in place. It was like playing a game with the laws of physics as his rules.
Each new ability came with its own rush, each discovery deeper and more thrilling than the last.
But the most important lesson came quietly, almost as an afterthought—how to leave the cosmos. Satria learned to fold the magical space back into itself, closing the sphere's gateway, returning to reality on his own terms.
Breathing deeply, back in the quiet room with the crystal dimmed once more, he felt different—changed. More confident. Ready.
Satria slumped back into reality. One second, he was floating through the endless expanse of The Archive, light pouring from his eyes, thoughts moving faster than sound—and the next, he was back in the quiet chamber of Avalon. Still. Solid. Dim.
His knees buckled. He sat down hard, arms limp at his sides. His breathing was heavy, uneven. He blinked several times, eyes adjusting to the gentle glow of the room.
"Ugh..." he groaned, rubbing his face. His fingertips brushed over his chin—and froze.
He swiped at it quickly. Dry.
"No drool this time. Progress."
A weak grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. But inside, his head still buzzed with echoes of spells, diagrams, voices—too much at once. The Archive hadn't just taught him; it had flooded him. Magic, language, symbols, theory. So much to remember. His brain felt like someone had crammed a library into it sideways.
Dragging himself up with a groan, he reached for Viviane's book—the same one he'd held during the ritual. He flipped it open and skimmed the pages, eyes flicking over familiar symbols. He paused.
"I... I know this one," he whispered. "And this one."
Line after line, he could read what had once looked like nonsense. Her notes, her diagrams, even her rambling scribbles—they made sense now. He even chuckled at one: a poorly drawn doodle of a spell gone wrong, labeled 'don't ever do this again.'
He let out a long, slow breath. His shoulders finally relaxed.
Starlight spilled through a narrow window, casting golden light across the floor. On the table, Viviane had left a cup of tea. Still warm.
Satria sat beside it, wrapped both hands around the cup, and took a long, thoughtful sip. The warmth calmed him. For the first time since waking up in Avalon, he wasn't overwhelmed or lost.
He was just… still.
He glanced back at the book, then at the tea, then leaned back with a sigh.
This was nice.
A quiet shimmer of star ight rippled at the edge of the room as Viviane stepped in, appearing as if born from the air itself. She had just finished the preparations of the revival ritual in the inner sanctum. Returning here, she felt a mixture of anticipation and calm.
Satria sat cross-legged on the couch as the night sky's light filtered softly through the crystal window, casting golden patterns across the pages of the book resting in his hands—her personal notes. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but the set of his jaw and the quiet steadiness in his eyes told her he was no longer the confused man who had arrived yesterday.
Viviane leaned casually against the shimmering portal's edge, arms folded, watching him with a small smile. The change in him was remarkable. The few hours spent in the cosmos, learning directly from the magic crystal's Archive, had left their mark.
"Twelve hours down," Viviane said softly, breaking the silence. "Only four to go, now you have to choose."
Startled, Satria looked up, blinking at her as if waking from a trance. A tired smile curled his lips. "You were there the whole time?"
Viviane smirked softly, shaking her head. "No, I just arrived. Finished with the ritual preparations. Thought I'd check on you." She stepped closer, eyes sharp but calm, her presence steady like a grounding force in the quiet room.
She turned slowly toward her couch and, with a smooth, practiced motion, laid down several neat stacks of cards on the table. Each stack seemed to pulse softly with its own unique glow, like small pockets of magic. The faint light danced across the surface, casting shimmering reflections in the room.
"These," Viviane began, her voice steady and calm, "are the powers I've newly prepared for you to choose from. Since last time you took your time deciding—and seemed a bit confused—I gathered a fresh selection. They cover a wide range of abilities and strengths, each with its own path and challenge. But this is only a small sample."
She motioned toward each stack with a gentle wave of her hand:
"One stack holds magical knowledge—powers like seeing and sensing mana around you, understanding the complex Draconic language spoken by ancient beings, holy magic that heals and protects, or the secrets of creating and controlling golems."
Another stack glowed brighter with warm colors. "These focus on physical strength and endurance—things like rapid body regeneration, a sixth sense to warn you of danger, a mana-infused body that resists harm, super speed and strength, or nearly unbreakable flesh and bone."
She pointed next to a pile shimmering with colorful lights. "Here are powers that allow you to summon creatures—fairies, spirits, or powerful mythical beings—and forge contracts with them. Also, control over your own aura, similar to martial arts mastery."
The fourth stack gleamed like polished metal. "These are legendary items—swords, spears, bows, wands, staffs. Each carries ancient magic and unique abilities."
Viviane gave a small smile, then added, "These are just some examples—there are many more powers stored within the other cards. You don't have to limit yourself to these. I suggest you take a good look through them all. Only then can you find the power that really suits you."
She gestured toward a larger pile of cards spread out on the table, their auras shifting and shimmering with countless possibilities. "Explore them, the right choice isn't always the obvious one."
Satria leaned forward, eyes wide with awe as he took in each card, feeling the power and possibility they held. Yet, the glow didn't overwhelm him—it invited calm reflection.
After a long pause, he shook his head slowly. "None of these… feel quite right."
He barely glanced at the cards again, his eyes distant and thoughtful, as if he was already seeing beyond them to something else. In his mind, his choice had already been made.
Viviane arched an eyebrow, folding her arms. "Not even one?"
He sighed quietly and shook his head. "None of these feel right," he said, his voice steady but carrying a quiet firmness.
Viviane's brow furrowed slightly, curiosity and caution flickering in her eyes.
"They're impressive," Satria said, "but it feels like choosing from a set menu. I don't want power handed to me—I want to figure out magic for myself."
Viviane raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Figure it out yourself?" She shook her head, half amused, half confused.
Satria didn't reply. Instead, he reached out slowly, his fingers seeking hers with a tender certainty. Their hands intertwined, his touch warm and reassuring. His eyes locked onto hers—steady, full of resolve and something more. His jaw tightened enough to reveal his conviction, silently telling her, This is real. No shortcuts.
Viviane blinked, caught off guard as Satria's fingers gently intertwined with hers. A sudden warmth flushed her cheeks, her breath hitching slightly. She glanced down at their joined hands, then back up at him, confusion and a shy smile flickering across her face.
"So… what do you want...?" she asked softly, still trying to process the unexpected closeness.
Satria held her gaze steadily, his voice low but certain. "I want you, Viviane."
Viviane blinked once. Then again.
Her breath hitched.
"Wh–what?" she stammered, a sudden blush blooming across her cheeks. Her fingers twitched in his grasp, and she instinctively tried to pull away—but his grip was gentle and unyielding. "Wait, you—what do you mean by that?"
Satria didn't move, didn't blink. His eyes bore into hers—calm, intense, sincere. The silence between them stretched, charged with tension.
Viviane's mind scrambled, her heart stumbling into an uneven rhythm. "You… you can't just say something like that with that face," she muttered, looking anywhere but him now. "Seriously—"
Then, before she could untangle her spiraling thoughts—
"I want you to be my master, Master Viviane," Satria said simply, unwavering.
The shift in her expression was immediate.
All warmth drained from her flustered face, replaced by a mix of disbelief and sheer exasperation. Her brows twitched upward, her mouth dropped into a dry, unimpressed line. For a moment, she looked genuinely betrayed.
"That's what you meant?" she muttered flatly, yanking her hand away. "Seriously? Gods, Satria—I thought—ugh."
She turned away quickly, trying-–and failing to hide the deep flush still dusting her cheeks.