After the banquet finally came to an end, the once-lively hall slowly emptied as nobles and guests departed in their respective carriages, each returning to their own manors with private thoughts and quiet ambitions. Laughter faded into echoes, music dissolved into silence, and the brilliance of chandeliers dimmed until the grandeur of the night felt like an illusion—something that had never truly existed.
I was no different.
Like the others, I returned to my manor without incident. The ride back was quiet, uneventful, and almost oppressive in its stillness. City lights slid past the carriage window in streaks of gold and white, but I paid them little attention. My mind was already elsewhere, focused not on the banquet I had just attended, but on what awaited me next.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I would set out to retrieve the Sword Art—[Severed Moment].
Without it, my growth would stagnate. No matter how carefully I planned, no matter how cautiously I moved through this world, my strength would remain insufficient. In a world where power dictated survival, hesitation and weakness were luxuries I could not afford.
That sword art was not optional.
It was a necessity.
As I stepped back into the familiar halls of my manor, the warmth within did little to ease the tension coiled in my chest. This was not rest—it was merely the calm before action. I knew that once I took that step tomorrow, there would be no turning back.
If I wanted to survive what was coming, I needed [Severed Moment].
And I intended to claim it.
Anyway, the protagonist would never use these sword techniques. They were never meant for him—designed as optional content, hidden paths that most players ignored. That made them perfect for me. Claiming them wouldn't alter the story's direction in any meaningful way.
One of my greatest advantages in this world was the plotline itself.
As long as the plot remained unchanged, I could move freely within it—borrowing strength, knowledge, and opportunities without drawing the attention of fate. But the moment the story diverged too far, that advantage would vanish. And losing something like that was not a risk I was willing to take.
I had no intention of becoming an unpredictable variable.
With those thoughts settling heavily in my mind, I removed my suit and changed into something more comfortable. The exhaustion of the day finally caught up to me as I lay back on the bed, staring briefly at the ceiling.
Tomorrow was important.
To retrieve the sword art, I would need to wake up early.
Closing my eyes, I let myself drift into sleep, already preparing for what awaited me at dawn.
...…
"Young master, please wake up."
The gentle voice pulled me from the depths of sleep, soft yet clear enough to pierce through the lingering haze in my mind. I slowly opened my eyes, greeted by the familiar ceiling of my room. Standing beside my bed was a maid dressed in the Arion household uniform, her posture straight and her expression composed.
Morning already…?
I released a quiet breath and sat up, brushing the remnants of sleep from my thoughts. Without sparing her more than a brief glance, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood.
"I'm awake," I said calmly.
She bowed slightly and stepped aside as I made my way toward the bathroom.
Warm steam soon filled the spacious room as the bath was prepared. The water eased the stiffness from my body, washing away the fatigue left behind by the banquet. A few maids stood nearby to assist if needed, their movements professional and silent, careful not to overstep their boundaries.
I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift.
Today was the day.
The sword art—[Severed Moment].
Everything I had planned hinged on retrieving it. Without it, my growth would stall. With it… I could finally begin carving a path strong enough to survive this world.
Once I was done, I dried off and returned to my room. Instead of reaching for the neatly prepared formal attire, I passed it by without hesitation.
Where I was going, elegance would only be a burden.
I pulled on a simple T-shirt and a pair of jeans—comfortable, flexible, and easy to move in. Practical clothing suited this journey far better than noble garments ever could.
Adjusting my sleeves, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror.
No titles.
No expectations.
Just me—and the road ahead.
Taking a final breath, I stepped out of the room, ready to leave the manor behind and claim the power that would change everything.
I didn't take a car. Instead, I chose a bike. The location of the sword art lay in a cramped, uneven region where vehicles would be more hindrance than help.
As I rode, the wind rushed past me, carrying the scent of earth and greenery. I briefly glanced at my watch—a specialized storage device capable of holding supplies, including enough preserved food to last three full years. Technology like this was commonplace now.
This world existed in the year 2055.
Mana had been discovered decades ago, reshaping civilization entirely. Diseases once considered incurable—cancer, tumors, countless terminal illnesses—had long since been conquered. Entire industries had risen and fallen in response to mana's existence, producing tools, weapons, and artifacts that would have been considered miracles in my old world.
My destination was Rainflat Bridge.
After the First Phase Cataclysm, only thirty percent of the world's population and landmass had survived. Demons had captured and slaughtered indiscriminately, wiping out nations in a matter of weeks. Humanity had barely endured, clinging to what little remained.
As I looked ahead, massive mountains loomed in the distance.
When tectonic plates shifted during the Cataclysm, entire continents collided, forcing land upward and tearing the world apart. Mountains and ridges had erupted where plains once stood.
The Clayton Ridge was one such aftermath.
Japan had collided with the eastern edge of China, elevating the land and forming an immense chain of mountains that now dominated the horizon.
Standing at the foot of those towering peaks, I paused and admired the view. The mountains were vast, ancient, and overwhelming in their presence.
I let out a quiet sigh.
"This really isn't a novel anymore…"
Despite knowing the truth, everything still felt unreal. As the creator of the game, I couldn't shake the sense of disbelief. The buildings, the people, the geography—everything was exactly as I had designed it.
Nothing was out of place.
Sometimes, I wondered if this was all a product of my imagination. Maybe I was lying in a hospital bed somewhere, trapped in a coma and dreaming of a world I once created.
But…
I inhaled deeply.
The crisp mountain air filled my lungs, carrying the sharp, sweet scent of pine trees. The sensation was too vivid, too real to dismiss.
This world existed.
With renewed resolve, I began my ascent.
...…
"Huff… huff…"
The terrain was rougher than I had anticipated. Loose rocks and steep inclines made it difficult to maintain a steady rhythm, forcing me to stop several times to catch my breath and reorient myself. There was no clear path—only instinct and memory guided my steps.
Three hours had passed since I began climbing.
My breathing was heavy, but I wasn't exhausted. Considering the condensed mana circulating within my body, that wasn't surprising.
A normal human—one without mana—would never have reached this point. Even so, I wasn't arrogant enough to compare myself to true elites. Anyone from the academy would last far longer than I could.
Still, that didn't matter.
Right now, I was approaching the third-highest peak.
Hidden there was a small, unassuming cave.
And within it rested the Sword Art—[Severed Moment].
.........
Yo You'r Author here please support my novel and Today's Question
If You were Kael would you change the plotline or not
1.Yes
2.No
........Bye my Pumpkins