"The first words spoken by creation were not sounds. They were truths."— The Law of Language
Morning arrived quietly over the Royal Academy.
The sunlight reflected off the marble towers, filling the campus with warm golden light.
Students hurried toward their first official day of classes.
Some looked excited.
Others looked terrified.
Alen was somewhere in between.
"...First day of school in another world."
He adjusted the strap of his satchel.
"Guess that's a sentence I never thought I'd say."
Lyria laughed.
"Talking to yourself again?"
"...Maybe."
Darius folded his arms.
"I hope today's lessons involve swords."
"I've had enough books."
"You've had one day of books."
"Exactly."
The first class was Magical Foundations.
Professor Rowan stood before the class with an ancient scroll resting on his desk.
"Today..."
"...we begin with the language of magic."
The classroom became silent.
Rowan unrolled the scroll.
Across its surface were dozens of strange symbols.
Every student stared at them.
"These symbols form the Ancient Arcane Language."
"No one alive truly understands it."
"We simply memorize the incantations left behind by our ancestors."
He pointed to the first line.
"This spell creates a small flame."
Several students copied the symbols into their notebooks.
Alen did the same.
Then...
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He blinked.
The symbols shifted.
Not physically.
But in his mind.
Instead of meaningless runes...
He saw words.
Gather heat.
Shape it.
Give it purpose.
Release.
His eyes widened.
"...What?"
The System quietly appeared.
[Passive Translation Complete.]
[Ancient Arcane recognized.]
[Root Language: Conceptual.]
Alen frowned.
"'Conceptual?'"
The message disappeared.
Professor Rowan continued.
"The pronunciation has been preserved for over four thousand years."
He spoke the ancient words aloud.
"Igneus Fera Sol."
A small flame appeared above his hand.
The students applauded.
"Now..."
"Your turn."
One by one...
Students attempted the incantation.
"Igneus..."
Nothing.
"Fera..."
A spark.
"Sol!"
A tiny flame flickered.
The classroom filled with excitement.
Even Lyria managed a respectable flame on her second attempt.
Darius produced one on his first.
Alen waited patiently.
His notebook still displayed the translated meaning.
Gather heat. Shape it. Give it purpose. Release.
He hesitated.
Something about the ancient pronunciation felt...
Wrong.
Not incorrect.
Just...
Incomplete.
He quietly whispered the traditional incantation anyway.
"Igneus Fera Sol."
Nothing happened.
A few sparks escaped his fingertips before fading.
Professor Rowan nodded.
"Don't worry."
"Many students require weeks before producing their first spell."
Alen forced a smile.
"...Right."
After class...
He remained behind.
The room was empty.
Only Rowan's chalkboard remained.
Alen looked once more at the translated words in his notebook.
He didn't dare say them aloud.
Not yet.
Instead...
He closed the book.
"I need to understand this first."
The System chimed.
[Decision Approved.]
[Understanding precedes mastery.]
Alen smiled.
"I figured you'd say that."
That evening...
He returned to the Grand Library alone.
The ancient book from yesterday rested on the same shelf.
This time...
When he opened it...
Entire pages translated before his eyes.
No one else would have seen anything but forgotten runes.
To Alen...
They read like ordinary text.
His pulse quickened.
"This isn't a different language..."
"It's..."
He turned another page.
"...a different way of thinking."
Far below the Academy...
The hidden chamber stirred once more.
One ancient rune glowed faintly.
Then another.
Then another.
A whisper echoed through the darkness.
"He has begun to read..."
"Soon..."
"He will begin to understand."
Alen closed the book and looked toward the three moons through the library window.
He still couldn't cast even the simplest spell.
But for the first time...
He felt as though he had taken a step that no one else in the world could.
And somewhere beyond the stars...
The World Laws listened.
End of Chapter 9