Lumian stood at the threshold of his chamber, his heart pounding as he resolved to venture out into the castle. For a fleeting moment, he imagined himself as the brave hero he had always played in games, ready to conquer this strange new world.
But as he took his first step into the corridor, all his brave intentions crumbled, and timidity swept over him like a tidal wave. The vastness of the hallway, with its towering stone walls and echoing silence, made him feel insignificant, a mere shadow of the noble he was supposed to be.
He sighed deeply, realizing that despite inhabiting the body of Lumian von Ignysar, his own shy personality remained stubbornly intact, as unchanging as the stone beneath his feet.
As he hesitated in the corridor, a maid approached, her steps light and purposeful. She carried a tray adorned with delicate porcelain, likely intended for a morning meal. Upon noticing him, she stopped abruptly, lowered her gaze, and bowed with practiced grace, saying,
"Good morning, Your Highness."
The formality of her greeting struck Lumian like a thunderbolt, and his mind raced with a thousand possible responses, none of which made it past his lips. His throat tightened, his palms grew clammy, and he stood rooted to the spot, unable to muster even a nod in acknowledgment.
Shyness enveloped him completely, snuffing out any chance of interaction. Without a word, he turned sharply and fled back to the safety of his room, his footsteps quick and uneven.
The maid's presence lingered in his mind, her respectful demeanor a stark contrast to his panicked retreat. He closed the door behind him with a soft thud, leaning against it as if it could shield him from the world outside. His breath came in shallow gasps, and he cursed himself silently for his inability to act the part of the noble he now was.
Back within the familiar confines of his chamber, Lumian sank onto the edge of his bed, his thoughts spiraling. The maid had not seemed surprised by his silence; instead, she had offered a gentle smile before continuing on her way, as if his behavior was expected.
This observation gnawed at him, suggesting that the palace staff was accustomed to Lumian von Ignysar's reticence. Perhaps the original Lumian had been just as withdrawn, a quiet figure drifting through these halls, unnoticed and unremarkable despite his title.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself. If the people here were used to his—or rather, this body's—timid nature, then perhaps he could use that to his advantage.
For now, though, the thought of facing anyone else felt overwhelming. The room, with its heavy curtains and soft light, offered a sanctuary where he could gather his thoughts and prepare for whatever this world demanded of him next. He resolved to stay hidden a little longer, at least until he could summon the courage to try again.
The encounter with the maid replayed in Lumian's mind as he sat in solitude, his back against the cool wood of the door. His failure to respond, to even acknowledge her greeting, weighed heavily on him. It wasn't just embarrassment—it was a reminder of how ill-equipped he felt to navigate this new life.
Back in his old world, he had been content to fade into the background, but here, as a noble, such behavior seemed out of place, even if the maid's reaction suggested otherwise.
He wondered what the original Lumian had been like. Had he, too, shrunk from every interaction, preferring the quiet of his chambers to the bustle of the castle?
The maid's smile had been kind, almost understanding, as if she had seen this retreat a hundred times before.
It made Lumian think that perhaps he wasn't as out of character as he feared—that this body and his soul were more aligned than he had first assumed. Still, the thought brought little comfort; he didn't want to be trapped in a cycle of avoidance forever.
Crossing the room, he peered out the window at the sprawling castle grounds below. The sight of guards patrolling and servants bustling about only deepened his sense of isolation.
They all seemed to belong here, moving with purpose, while he felt like an imposter, a timid gamer thrust into a role he didn't understand.
The maid's lack of surprise at his silence hinted at a pattern, a routine the palace had settled into around Lumian von Ignysar. It was both a relief and a burden—he could hide behind this expectation, but it also meant he had a reputation to overcome if he ever hoped to change.
He paced the room, his mind churning. The staff's familiarity with his behavior could buy him time, a buffer to adjust to this world without immediate scrutiny.
But it also meant he'd have to work harder to break free of this shell, to prove to himself—and perhaps to others—that he could be more than the shrinking figure they knew. For now, though, he let the quiet of the room envelop him, a temporary reprieve from the expectations waiting beyond the door.
Lumian settled into a chair, staring at the flickering flame of a candle on the table. He needed a plan, a way to ease into this life without drowning in his own insecurities.
The maid's reaction had given him a glimpse into how he was perceived, and while it wasn't flattering, it was something he could work with. Step by step, he told himself—he'd figure out this world, its people, and his place in it. But first, he'd stay here, safe in the stillness, until he felt ready to face the next challenge.
As the morning light filtered through the curtains, Lumian's thoughts turned to the world beyond his chamber. He was no longer in his old life, sitting at a desk with a game controller in hand; he was here, in a place that felt both foreign and familiar.
Before he had been transported, he had been playing a game called Ancient Bane, a sprawling fantasy RPG with kingdoms, quests, and magic. It seemed logical to assume this was that same world, and so, lacking any other name, he decided to call it Ancient Bane for now.
The name felt right as he rolled it over in his mind. Ancient Bane had been a game of epic battles and hidden lore, where players could rise from nothing to become legends—or fall to the countless dangers lurking in its shadows.
Now, as Lumian von Ignysar, he wondered where he fit into that narrative. Was he a key player, destined for greatness, or just another soul caught in the game's vast tapestry? The uncertainty gnawed at him, but it also sparked a flicker of curiosity.
He recalled the moment of his arrival: a glowing screen, a cryptic message asking, "Will you be a part of this world and save it?" It had been the last thing he saw before waking up here, in this body, in this bed.
The words suggested purpose, a call to action that clashed with his timid nature. If this was Ancient Bane, then there were likely threats looming—monsters, rival nobles, or ancient evils waiting to be unleashed.
Lumian wasn't sure he was ready for any of it, but the idea that he might have a role to play kept him thinking.
Standing, he moved to the window again, gazing at the horizon where the castle walls met a dense forest. Ancient Bane, as a game, had been rich with detail—villages to explore, dungeons to conquer, and secrets to uncover.
If this world followed those rules, then there was much to learn, from the history of his supposed family to the laws governing this land. He'd need to start small, gathering information bit by bit, all while wrestling with his instinct to retreat.
For now, naming this place Ancient Bane gave him a foothold, a way to anchor himself in this reality. It tied his past as a gamer to his present as a noble, bridging the gap between who he had been and who he might become.
He took a deep breath, letting the name settle in his mind. It was a starting point, a foundation to build on as he unraveled the mysteries of this life—one cautious step at a time.
---
Lumian's thoughts drifted to the nature of Ancient Bane as he stood by the window, the morning breeze rustling the curtains. In the game, fantasy had been the heartbeat of the experience—knights clashing with dragons, sorcerers weaving spells that lit up the night.
If this was truly that world, then magic had to exist here, a force that could shape destinies and topple empires. He wondered if he, as Lumian von Ignysar, might possess such power, or if it was reserved for others in this intricate realm.
No sooner had the thought formed than a faint shimmer caught his eye. Before him, a translucent screen materialized, hovering in the air like a mirage. Lumian flinched, stumbling back a step as his pulse quickened.
The display was unmistakable—a system window, straight out of an RPG, its edges glowing softly. At the top, it listed his identity and abilities in crisp, clear text, a digital mirror reflecting his new reality.
The window read:
[Name: Lumian von Ignysar]
[Class: Fire Mage]
[Rank: Awakened – Stage III]
[Affinity: Fire (Primary), Heat Manipulation (Sub-type)]
[Trait: Eternal Flame]
STATS:
[HP: 1,280 / 1,280]
[MP: 3,200 / 3,200]
[STR: 42]
[AGI: 67]
[END: 55]
[INT: 178]
[WIL: 160]
[LUK: 30]
ACTIVE SKILLS:
[Fire Ball] [Flame Whip] [Blazing Surge]
PASSIVE SKILLS:
[Heat Resistance] [Mana Combustion]
Lumian stared, his breath catching in his throat. This was no mere fantasy—it was a confirmation that he was part of a system, a character with defined strengths and powers.
He was a Fire Mage, a class he'd always favored in games for its flashy, destructive potential. The rank of Awakened – Stage III hinted at progress already made, yet left room for growth, a journey he could still shape.
He reached out tentatively, half-expecting the screen to vanish, but it held steady, its details sharp and real.
His high MP and INT stats marked him as a caster, reliant on magic rather than muscle, while his modest STR and AGI suggested he wasn't built for physical feats.
The skills intrigued him most—Fire Ball was a classic, but Flame Whip and Blazing Surge promised variety, and the passives hinted at resilience and enhancement.
For the first time since arriving, Lumian felt a spark of excitement, tempered by the daunting realization that such power came with stakes he couldn't yet grasp.
Lumian's eyes darted over the system window, his gamer instincts kicking in as he absorbed the numbers and terms. He'd spent years calling himself a veteran of RPGs, poring over stats and builds, and now that experience had a purpose.
He gasped softly, not just at the reality of the screen, but at how balanced his stats seemed for a Fire Mage at Awakened – Stage III. It was a solid starting point, neither overpowered nor weak, a foundation he could refine with time and effort.
Breaking it down, he noted his HP and MP first—1,280 health and 3,200 mana were respectable for an early-stage mage, giving him room to cast without collapsing too quickly.
His STR at 42 was low, as expected; he wouldn't be swinging swords anytime soon. But his AGI of 67 and END of 55 offered decent mobility and stamina, while his INT of 178 and WIL of 160 were the stars, fueling his magical potency and focus. LUK at 30 was average, a wildcard he couldn't rely on but wouldn't hinder him either.
The skills aligned with his class perfectly. Fire Ball was likely a ranged attack, simple but effective, while Flame Whip might let him lash out up close, a rarity for mages. Blazing Surge sounded like a heavy hitter, maybe a burst or wave of flame—something to test when he found a safe space.
Heat Resistance made sense for a fire user, reducing self-inflicted burns, and Mana Combustion could amplify his spells or manage his MP, though its exact mechanics eluded him for now. Together, they painted a picture of a versatile caster, still green but with potential.
As a game veteran, Lumian knew Stage III meant he was past the tutorial phase but far from mastery. In Ancient Bane, progression might come from battles, quests, or training—systems he'd need to uncover.
His stats were balanced for now, leaning into magic as his strength, but he'd have to play to his advantages: stay back, strike hard, and avoid getting cornered. The thought of grinding levels or unlocking new skills stirred a familiar thrill, a piece of his old life he could cling to.
He dismissed the window with a mental nudge, watching it fade as he straightened up. This was his character sheet, his roadmap in this world. It wasn't just a game anymore—it was his life, and he'd approach it with the same strategy he'd honed over years of play.
Timid or not, he had power now, and with it, a chance to grow into the role he'd been given. Steeling himself, he opened the door again, stepping into the hallway with a cautious but determined stride, ready to face Ancient Bane on his terms.