Mage Manual - Chapter 563 - 456: Is the Magic Power Reserve Sufficient?_2

Sing the story, bard, of the Firebrand. He, the youth who saved Morcaster from ruin. He, the warrior who defeated an empire. He, the archmage who crossed the Netherworld...The tale of Martel the mage, from his humble beginnings as a hapless novice at a magic school. Slow, character-focused and light-hearted progression fantasy. Updates daily.

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?

In the neon of blue and purple, under the thick steel sky, at the forefront of this surge of data, lies the world post-tech revolution.It’s also the dividing line between reality and illusion.Steel and flesh, past and future.In this place, the world outside and inside coexist. Everything in front of us feels like a wall of time within reach.The darkness is slowly creeping in.But hey, my friend, you gotta know, we can’t just counter darkness with softness.Gotta use fire.

There’s an ancient saying in Great Ruins, ‘Don’t go outside when it’s dark.’