The neon lights of New Magic City never sleep. The night sky of the 22nd century is sliced into flowing bands of light by countless holographic billboards, which coil around the Gothic spires of St. Rock Academy like glowing serpents. Rain fell in a steady drizzle, tapping against the soaring glass curtain walls. Bathed in the kaleidoscope of lights, every droplet refracted a shatter of phantom images. The air was thick with ozone and the low hum of magical engines—the unique atmosphere of this cyber-magical metropolis.
Kyle Chen stood at the edge of the academy's central plaza. Rainwater trickled down his forehead, slid over the bridge of his nose, and finally splashed onto the cold alloy pavement. He had just emerged from the annual magic assessment arena, a faint tingling sensation from the magic conductor still lingering at his fingertips. The assessment results felt like a heavy lead weight, sinking into his stomach. Last place again. No surprise there.
"Look, isn't that our 'Red Moon Loser'?" A shrill voice pierced through the rain. Victor Lancelot, the academy's acknowledged genius, was surrounded by a crowd of admirers, his dazzling blond hair glistening under the neon lights. He deliberately raised his voice to ensure everyone nearby could hear. "I wonder if the Chen bloodline is cursed? Every assessment feels like a performance on how to fail with grace."
Suppressed snickers rippled through the crowd. Kyle clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms. He could feel his cheeks burning—not from anger, but from that familiar, bone-deep shame. Beneath his left eye, the faint, crimson crescent-shaped birthmark seemed to burn beneath his skin. It was this mark—the label they called the "Red Moon Worthless"—that had kept him living in the shadows his entire life.
He didn't look back, merely quickening his pace to leave the taunts behind him. The cold rain soaked his school jacket, and the chill seeped through, yet it was nothing compared to the icy coldness in his heart.
It was late at night. The massive arched doors of the academy library slid open silently under the motion sensor, spilling out the warm, tranquil light from within. Kyle didn't return to his dorm. He needed a place to hide, to process that humiliation. He instinctively made his way to the depths of the library, to those dusty, rarely visited sections. Old Henry, the librarian, was dozing off in front of the holographic screen at the entrance, completely oblivious to Kyle's arrival.
Weaving past rows of modern bookshelves flickering with data streams, Kyle reached the library's oldest section—the banned books area. The air here carried a mingled scent of musty paper and rusted metal. Heavy metal bookcases stood like silent giants, arranged in a labyrinth. Only faint emergency lights overhead cast a dim, yellow glow.
He wandered aimlessly, his fingertips brushing against the cold edges of the metal shelves. Suddenly, his footsteps halted. In an inconspicuous corner on the lowest shelf, a thick, dust-covered manuscript with no markings on its cover caught his eye. It looked out of place, completely different from the ancient texts around it, protected by quantum encryption locks—like a forgotten orphan.
As if by some inexplicable impulse, Kyle crouched down and brushed the dust from the cover. There was no lock. He gently opened it to reveal ancient script written in dark brown ink on yellowed parchment, the characters elegant yet forceful. The very first line sent a jolt through his heart:
"The Secret Chronicles of the Chen Bloodline: To be opened only by a blood relative."
It was his family name.
Kyle's heart began to race. Holding his breath, he turned the pages one by one in the dim light. The manuscript chronicled a past buried beneath the dust of history. A century ago, a "Logic Plague" swept across the globe, bringing the laws of reality to the brink of collapse. His great-grandmother, Yelena Chen—one of the foremost "Law Weavers" of her time—signed a contract with a superior civilization from a higher-dimensional universe known as the "Observers" in order to save the world.
The core of the pact was this: the Observers would provide the technology to stabilize the world's logical framework, but the price was—any woman who truly fell in love with a direct descendant of the Chen bloodline would trigger the pact's mechanism, causing an irreversible mutation. The form of the mutation was unknown, but the outcome would inevitably be tragic. This was the so-called "Red Moon Curse."
Kyle's fingers trembled slightly. So… this was the origin of the mark? Not a curse, but the imprint of a pact? A heavy shackle that his grandmother had imposed upon the bloodline of her descendants to save the world? He recalled his mother's perpetually melancholic gaze from his childhood, and his father's occasional, evasive mentions of the family's past. A wave of indescribably complex emotions surged through him—shock, desolation, and a tinge of absurdity at being toyed with by fate.
Just then, the library's public address system blared without warning, shattering the deathly silence. A voice, both authoritative and impassioned, echoed throughout the space, even piercing the thick walls of the Forbidden Books section:
"Attention all faculty and students of St. Rock Academy! Attention all faculty and students of St. Rock Academy! By joint resolution of the Global Magic Council and the Quantum Logic Administration Bureau, the 'Embers of Truth' Global Magic Tournament will officially commence in three days!"
Kyle jerked his head up.
The announcement continued, each word striking his heart like a sledgehammer: "The champion of this tournament will receive an unprecedented supreme reward—'Law Rewriting Authority'! The winner will have the opportunity, under the witness of the World Logic Core, to make a localized, controlled amendment to the laws of reality! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! All eligible students are to proceed immediately to the central computer terminal in the academy to register!"
The broadcast gradually faded, and silence returned to the library. But at that very moment, Kyle's world was turned completely upside down.
He looked down at the family manuscript in his hands, the one containing that heavy contract. A chance to rewrite the laws of the world… Wasn't that precisely the faint, almost impossible hope that his grandmother, Yelena, had written in despair at the very end of the manuscript?
"Perhaps… one day, future generations will find the opportunity to rewrite this covenant of fate…"
The rain outside seemed to have intensified, pounding heavily against the stained-glass windows high up in the library. Kyle slowly stood up, clutching the manuscript tightly to his chest. The cold parchment pressed against his warm chest, and the dark red crescent-shaped mark seemed to glow faintly in the dim light.
His gaze swept past the rows of bookshelves, out toward the bizarre, surreal New Magic City beyond the library, shrouded in neon lights and rain. An unprecedented emotion—a mixture of fear and a faint glimmer of hope—quietly took root deep within him.
An opportunity to rewrite the rules… does it truly exist?