I used to read The Sovereign of Spell and Steel to escape reality.A world of arrogant nobles, blood-soaked battlefields, mages who burned their lives away for power, and swords that decided who deserved to live.
It was a cruel story.
It was never mine.
Now it is.
I'm writing this after everything has already begun—after blood, fear, and mistakes I can't take back. I don't know if anyone will ever read these words, but I need to record them before this world grinds me down completely.
Once, I was a 23-year-old college graduate, lying on my bed and flipping through chapters I already knew by heart. Then I woke up in a body that wasn't mine.
Lucien Tharvayne.
A name that never appeared in the story.A person who should not exist.
I know this world. I know how it was supposed to unfold. I know which kingdoms fall, which heroes die, and which monsters wear human faces. I was never meant to be part of the narrative—yet here I am, bleeding, exhausted, and surviving inside pages that were once nothing more than words on a screen.
Since awakening, I've learned one undeniable truth.
The original plot is already breaking.
Events are shifting. People who should be dead are still breathing, and those destined for glory look at me with hatred in their eyes—as if my very existence is an offense to fate itself.
I'm tired.
But I refuse to die according to someone else's ending.
If this world insists on following The Sovereign of Spell and Steel, then fine.
I'll continue the story myself.
And this time—
I'll be the one holding the pen.