When fate nailed me to the pillar of shame of "waste wood", an ancient book soaked in ink suddenly glowed in the pile of waste paper. I am Alvin, the most ridiculous laughing stock in the Magic Academy - I can even cast the elementary fireball technique with burning eyebrows, but when I touch the "Soul-Burning Codex" full of moth-eaten traces, I hear the whispers of the gods.
No one told me that the so-called "magic talent" is just a lie monopolized by high-level mages. The ancient book asked me in a harsh tone: "When the essence of magic is the fantasy that burns the soul, do you dare to use madness as firewood to burn the world into the shape you want?" So I practiced cutting the magic web with dreams in the ruins late at night, and let every ice blade that pierced my consciousness become a carving knife for reconstructing reality.
Now, I stand in the flames breathed by the dragon and recite my own incantations, watching the noble mages who once laughed at me tremble in front of the monster. When the angel of the temple accused me of "blaspheming the rules", I used my blood to draw an anti-fate formation on the altar - it turns out that the most powerful magic is obsession that even the gods cannot interfere with.
But the price is emerging: with each spell, the memory fades like a scroll. When the dark force Moloch threatened me with the life of my partner to hand over the code, and when I had to face the choice of "becoming a god but forgetting my loved one", I discovered that the most cruel awakening is not to gain power, but to see the truth of the world and still burn myself with a smile to become a torch that illuminates others.
"Want to become a legend? First learn to dance on the edge of collapse." The pages of the codex rustled, and I looked at the blue flame beating in the palm of my hand, finally revealing my madness.
