I woke up in the Forbidden Forest.
My eyes were burning.
Too much magic. Too much knowledge. Runes flowed through my veins like fire. Archive screens shimmered into being around me, projecting magical data I couldn't yet understand. My heart thudded with energy. Not a wizard's core. Not bound by wand rules. I couldn't flick my wrist and alter reality like a wizard. But I had something else.
I had runes,carved language older than magic itself.
I had archive, a magical interface from another realm.
And unlike them...
I had no limit.
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My name is Damian.
A name I reclaimed in death, though it no longer held the weight of a family, nation, or bloodline. Just me and the eyes of gods I never asked for.
Still, the name grounded me.
Alone in the depths of the Forbidden Forest, I had no wand, no formal core of magic. But I had runic command, the Archive, and a mind adapted to hold too much.
I needed shelter something invisible, untouchable, mine.
Through runes etched into raw space, I bent the laws of sight and sound. A small home unfolded beneath a thicket, shaped by concepts instead of bricks its walls warded with Concealment and Non-Perception, built not to reflect light or sound but to simply be ignored. A place only I could enter.
Inside, I began my work.
The Archive shimmered into being—a shifting constellation of hard-light runes and touchscreen interfaces, suspended mid-air. With a thought, I commanded it:
"Observe. Record. Catalog."
Instantly, the forest was no longer a mystery. Every living thing tree, beetle, feather, soil grain was scanned, analyzed, and organized into structured magical data. The interface flooded with light.
It was... too much.
Archive Magic wasn't passive. It craved connection, comprehension, context. To handle this volume of magic and life, I needed more than my mind I needed fuel.
I reached down into the leyline.
Through runes of channeling, I formed a bridge between my Archive and the ancient river of magic beneath the forest floor. Power surged into my system like breath into lungs long starved. The Archive stabilized.
Then it evolved.
To understand magic beyond mere theory, I needed a living lab. A world. A system of reality where spells were born, fought, twisted, broken, and rebuilt. Not just information but application.
I remembered a story: Fairy Tail. The World where my magic comes from.
A world dense with magic. Dragons, spirits, ancient curses, celestial gates. I began building it from memory and Archive patterns city by city, spell by spell. Not perfect, not canon. But close enough.
Runes served as my programming language. The system filled in the rest, creating a magic-rich simulation built to observe and test magical evolution. Inside, I seeded AI constructs simple personalities at first, bound to predictable paths.
But something unexpected happened.
Runes adapt.
Given enough input, the constructs stopped acting like code. They began changing. Learning. Wanting.
The world, this Fairy Tail Sim started generating its own magic. Life emerged within the system, and that life created more magic. As people lived, fought, loved, and died inside the simulation, the very process looped energy. The leyline connection weakened not from collapse, but from independence.
The virtual world had become self-powered.
A perpetual magic engine.
But success had a price.
The Archive was drowning in information. Every spell cast in the simulation, every memory formed, every soul that awakened it was all logged. Thousands of magic types, mutations, rituals. Too much for my processing units.
The screens flickered. The interface trembled. Then—
"Overload. Re-routing processing to secondary node: ODIN'S EYES."
Pain split through my skull. The eyes burned not with fire, but with knowledge. They weren't just for observation anymore. They had become processors, repositories, decoding and storing volumes of magic the Archive could no longer hold alone.
I blacked out.
While I slept, something inside me responded to the crisis.
My Archive Magic needed space. Structure. Context. My subconscious answered.
I created my second world.
Not a fantasy realm but a library. A plane of endless halls and floating tomes, where every spell, soul, and secret was stored. A world built not for people but for knowledge.
Each time the Fairy Tail simulation produced new magical data, the overflow was sent here converted into books, stored on infinite shelves. Rooms adjusted themselves based on magical archetypes. Fire Magic. Lost Arts. Dimensional Theory. Curse Manipulation. Everything cataloged.
This Library World wasn't powered by ley lines it was fueled by the excess energy generated by the simulation. A perfect loop:
Life creates magic → Magic creates data → Data creates books → Books create understanding → Understanding creates more magic.
I awoke changed.
Not stronger. Not divine.
But wider.
My Archive had become a living ecosystem. One simulation. One storage world. And me, a strange anchor point, the only one who could navigate them all.
I was Damian.
And I was no longer learning magic.
I was living within it.