Chương 1: A Million Spells Later

The library was quiet enough to make even his thoughts feel louder. No one whispered about his test scores. No one asked what college had accepted him. No one casually mentioned that his cousin was studying to become a doctor or that another relative had earned a place at a university through a sports recommendation. There were no disappointed sighs, no thinly disguised lectures, and no questions that were really accusations wearing nicer clothes. There were only books.

That was why Noah had started spending more time there. It had been almost three months since he failed the college entrance examination, and his parents had somehow found a way to mention it every day. Sometimes they did it directly. Other times, they simply talked about someone else's successful child while looking at him as though they were examining a defective appliance that had survived past its warranty. Noah understood their disappointment. He was disappointed too. He simply didn't need the daily reminders.

That afternoon, he had claimed a desk in the least popular corner of the library and surrounded himself with enough books to construct a small defensive wall. Mathematics stood on his left. Physics guarded his right. A thick volume filled with practice examinations lay open before him, displaying a problem he had read six times without understanding once. He rested his cheek against one hand.

"Just one more problem," he muttered. His eyes closed. The problem remained unsolved. At some point, Noah's head lowered onto his folded arms. His pencil rolled away, reached the edge of the desk, and dropped silently onto the carpet. He did not notice. Several nights of poor sleep, constant studying, and constant comparisons finally collected their debt. He was asleep when the floor began to tremble. At first, the vibration was gentle. Pages rustled. Pens rolled.

Somewhere in the distance, a window rattled against its frame. Then the entire building lurched. Noah's eyes snapped open. He had just enough time to see the massive bookshelf beside him tipping forward. There were moments in life when time supposedly slowed down. People noticed tiny details. They reflected on their regrets. They somehow formed complete strategies within the space between two heartbeats. Noah mostly noticed that the shelf was much larger from underneath.

"Oh," he said. It struck him before he could move. The desk shattered beneath the weight. Books burst from the shelves, hammering his arms, shoulders, and head as he was driven against the floor. Something cracked inside him. Whether it was a bone, the desk, or the last fragment of his luck, Noah couldn't tell. For a few seconds, there was nothing but pressure. Then another shelf crashed down.

The impact sent a fresh wave of agony through his body, but the pain quickly became distant, as though it belonged to someone lying several rooms away. Dust filled his mouth. His ears rang. He tried to draw a breath and discovered that his chest had apparently decided breathing was no longer included in its responsibilities. More impacts shook the wreckage around him. Books fell over his head in waves, their pages opening and folding as they landed. One struck him directly in the face.

He couldn't read the title from that angle, but he hoped it wasn't something embarrassing. Noah attempted to move his fingers. Nothing happened.

"Well," he thought, because speaking had become an ambitious project.

"That's what I get for studying with real books." He could have stayed home. The internet contained everything he needed, including practice tests, lectures, explanations, and thousands of strangers willing to call him an idiot for asking a basic question. It would have been faster, safer, and considerably less likely to drop several tons of furniture on him. But no. He had wanted to study properly. Like a serious person. Like someone who had his life under control. His vision darkened around the edges.

"Everyone else studies online, but I had to come here and become one with the literature." He might have laughed if he could still breathe. The ringing in his ears grew softer. The pain disappeared from his legs first, then his arms. That probably wasn't a good sign. He knew enough basic biology to understand that suddenly feeling better while crushed beneath several bookshelves did not mean his body had developed an emergency healing ability. His thoughts drifted.

He remembered his father setting the examination results on the dinner table as though presenting evidence at a trial. His mother had asked what happened. Noah hadn't known what to say. He studied. He tried. He failed anyway. Sometimes there wasn't a dramatic explanation for failure. Sometimes a person simply wasn't good enough on the day that mattered. His parents had not appreciated that answer. His cousin Daniel had succeeded on his first attempt and was already studying medicine.

Everyone in the family spoke about him as if he had personally discovered a cure for death instead of attending introductory classes. Then there was Victor, who earned a sports recommendation after spending most of high school running after a ball. Noah had never resented them. Not seriously, anyway. He only resented having their accomplishments used as measuring sticks against his life.

"Daniel is going to be a doctor."

"Victor earned his place through hard work."

"You have more free time than either of them."

"What are you doing with your future?" This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work. Hiding in a library, apparently. That decision had worked out wonderfully. A weak chuckle escaped him, though it came out as little more than air bubbling past his lips. He had read stories where people died saving children, fighting criminals, or standing against impossible disasters.

Even being struck by a truck would have carried a certain dignity after appearing in so many novels. Noah had fallen asleep. Then furniture killed him. He couldn't even die in an epic way. At least the obituary might sound impressive if whoever wrote it omitted certain details. Young student tragically killed while surrounded by knowledge. That was much better than: Unemployed examination failure takes a nap and loses fight against bookshelf. The darkness deepened. Noah could no longer hear the building collapsing.

He couldn't feel the books pressing against him. Even the memory of pain faded until it seemed like something he had imagined after studying for too long. His last coherent thought arrived with the strange calm of someone who knew there was nothing left to change.

"At least I don't have to take the exam again." Then his mind faded. Noah became aware of himself. That alone was a problem. He remembered the shelf. He remembered the crushing impacts and the unmistakable sensation of his body shutting down. Unless medical science had advanced dramatically during the last few minutes, he shouldn't have been capable of thinking about any of it. Yet he was still there. Somewhere. He couldn't see anything.

He couldn't hear anything either, but the silence was different from the library's peaceful quiet. This was absolute. There was no distant movement, no rustling pages, and no hum of electricity. Noah tried to open his eyes. He didn't have eyes. He tried to move his arms. He couldn't find them. His panic rose slowly, mostly because he lacked a heart capable of making it rise any faster. He searched for his body but found nothing. There was no pain, pressure, heat, cold, hunger, or discomfort.

He existed as a collection of thoughts suspended in complete darkness.

"So, I'm dead." The idea should have terrified him. Instead, it felt strangely obvious. He still possessed his memories. He knew his name, remembered his life, and could recall exactly how badly his final examination had gone. Apparently, death had taken his body but generously allowed him to keep all the embarrassing parts. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? He couldn't tell. Perhaps this was the afterlife. If so, it lacked proper instructions.

There were no gates, angels, demons, judges, or helpful signs directing the recently crushed toward their designated destinations. There wasn't even a waiting room. Noah remained in that strange state for what might have been seconds or hours. Time meant very little when nothing changed. He wondered whether he would stay conscious forever, trapped without senses or a body. Then something pushed against his back. The sensation was sudden and overwhelming. Pressure squeezed him from every direction.

For the first time since his death, Noah felt something physical, although he immediately wished the experience had returned more gently. His entire existence was being compressed and forced through a space much too narrow for it. He tried to resist. His new body, or whatever he had, moved forward anyway. Wetness surrounded him. Muffled sounds reached his ears. His body twisted as another powerful contraction pushed him onward, and Noah finally understood what was happening.

"No." Another push forced him forward.

"No, no, no." Cold air struck his skin. Hands caught him and lifted him into the light. Noah attempted to demand an explanation, but his lungs filled for the first time and transformed his words into a furious cry.

"Waaaaah!" The sound was high-pitched, helpless, and humiliating. A large, blurry face appeared above him. A woman said something he couldn't understand before turning him over. A sharp slap landed against his back, drawing another outraged scream from his tiny lungs. Noah's thoughts froze. Tiny lungs. Wet skin. Someone was holding him with both hands. He had not survived the earthquake. He had been born again.

The realization should have required more time to process, but there were very few reasonable explanations for emerging naked, wet, and screaming while a smiling stranger held him upside down. He was a baby.

"No college entrance exam," Noah thought as he cried.

"I take it back. I'll take the exam again." The woman carrying him wrapped him in a rough cloth before placing him beside someone lying on a bed. Noah's vision was too weak to make out details, but he saw long hair, a pale face, and exhausted eyes filled with relief. His new mother spoke softly. Noah understood none of it. That was concerning. Being reincarnated was already inconvenient. Being reincarnated in a place where he didn't know the language made the situation worse.

He couldn't ask where he was, what year it was, or whether bookshelves had been outlawed for public safety. Then a translucent blue rectangle appeared before his eyes. Noah stopped crying. The screen floated in the air above him, perfectly clear despite his blurry vision. The adults didn't react. His new mother continued speaking while the other woman cleaned the room, apparently unaware that reality had just opened a menu. Words formed across the blue surface.

Name: Unregistered Race: Human Age: 0 Level: 1 Health: 10/10 Mana: ∞/∞ Stamina: 10/10 Strength: 1 Endurance: 1 Vitality: 1 Dexterity: 1 Magic: 1 Mentality: 12 Resistance: 1 Perception: 1 Class: None Skills: None Noah stared at the screen. A status screen. That meant this world had levels, attributes, classes, and skills. It also meant that either he had been reincarnated inside a game-like world or death had finally broken his mind in a very specific and entertaining fashion.

His gaze moved down the information again. Health was ten. Stamina was ten. His physical attributes were predictably terrible, although he felt that rating a newborn's strength at one was unnecessarily judgmental. His Mentality was much higher, presumably because he retained the mind of his previous life. Then he looked at his mana. There was no number. There was only a symbol. ∞ Noah stared at it for several seconds. He blinked. The symbol remained. He tried focusing on it, and another smaller window appeared.

Mana: Infinite Your mana has no measurable limit. Noah read the description once. Then twice. Then a third time, because failing one important examination had taught him to check his answers. The result did not change. His mana wasn't unusually high. It wasn't ten thousand, one million, or some absurd number he would need several minutes to count. It was infinite. In a world with of sytems, classes, and magic, Noah possessed an inexhaustible supply of the resource needed to cast spells.

There was only one small problem. His status showed no spells. No class. No skills. Nothing he could actually spend that infinite mana on. Noah lay silently in his new mother's arms, staring at the impossible symbol while the beginnings of a smile pulled at his tiny face. He had failed once because he hadn't studied enough. This time, he had an entire new life to prepare. And if this world eventually gave him even one spell, it had better be ready for him to cast it until something broke.