Free Web NovelChapter 5: Eight Years Left? Plenty of Time for a Smug Grin
The gravity of his new reality settled over him. He knew he would be living a pinpoint life from now on.
The greater Systemverse, the omnipotent deities, and the cosmic overseers that even the Celestial Origin had been cautious about were constantly looming over his head like a sword of Damocles.
Any simple mistake, any flashy display of power that caught the wrong eye, would immediately drag him into the grand scheme of cosmic drama.
To survive, he had to be smart. He had to save as much lifespan as humanly possible, building a massive temporal bank account, all while carefully quenching his deep, desperate thirst for drawing new spells.
[You are really special...] the system’s voice echoed in his mind, the text glowing with a faint hint of genuine curiosity. [Most mortals would have broken down in tears seeing those numbers. You’re... weirdly calm.]
"Of course I am," Rhys said, entirely unashamed to express his own excellence. He stretched his arms over his head, a smug grin returning to his face. ƒгeewёbnovel.com
"I’m a transmigrator, babe. We operate on a different level. By the way, how exactly do I use this extracted lifespan to draw a spell?"
[Just like how ordinary people do it with mana,] the system replied smoothly.
[Instead of channeling energy from your circuits onto the parchment, you simply burn the required days from your total lifespan. The system will convert the time into raw, unblemished arcane force, allowing you to draw the geometric structures effortlessly.]
Rhys nodded, suppressing the intense, bubbling urge to try it right this second. He looked down at the crumpled Fire Spark parchment resting on his cot, but a sudden, sharp ache in his chest forced him to halt.
He groaned, pressing a hand against his ribs. Becoming a Celestial Origin had broken his shackles to the world order, but it hadn’t magically healed the physical damage done to his mortal shell.
His lungs still burned, and the taste of blood lingered heavily on his tongue. It was a stark reminder that he couldn’t expect the system to magically cure his physical injuries. He was still flesh and blood.
Sighing, Rhys slid his new midnight-black Spell Book back into his Space Stone, picked up his few copper coins, and limped out of the horse stall.
He needed to visit Old Tia for treatment before the internal bleeding grew worse.
The auxiliary infirmary was located at the bleakest, furthest edge of the outer courtyard, smelling heavily of boiled bitter roots and acrid sulfur.
Old Tia, a hunched old woman with wild gray hair and a permanent scowl, was grinding dried leaves into a stone mortar when Rhys walked through the squeaking wooden door. She looked up, her cloudy eyes scanning his pale face and the faint crimson stains on his sleeve.
"Injured again, you foolish boy?" she grumbled, her voice sounding like two grinding rocks.
"What do you think, Tia?" Rhys managed a weak grin, offering her a playful wink as he collapsed heavily onto a wooden stool. "Had a little disagreement with some unrefined energy. The energy won."
Old Tia shook her head in sheer exasperation, setting her pestle down with a loud thud. "Boy, at this rate, your internal organs are going to completely fail you within a few years.
How many times have I told you? You cannot circuit mana! Your body is a sieve! Every time you try to force a spell, you are literally chipping away at your own mortality."
Rhys merely smiled, staying silent. He had already learned that truth today in the most literal way possible.
Seeing his exact remaining lifespan, eight years and a handful of days, on the status screen had proven it.
If he hadn’t awakened the system today, his reckless, desperate attempts to draw magic would have completely dried out his natural lifespan before he even reached his twenty-fifth birthday.
But as he sat there watching the old woman grumble, Rhys knew deep in his soul that he would never regret it.
In a world this wondrous, filled with soaring mages and reality-bending miracles, he refused to live a safe, invisible life. Rather than dying a useless, quiet death as a compliant servant who never dared to dream, he preferred a death that came after he had tried his absolute best to touch the stars.
That was the kind of man Rhys was. He was stubborn, reckless, and entirely unwilling to let the universe dictate his limits.
If not, how could he play with an existence as the system and the Celestial Origin?
He wasn’t just stubborn, he was also a crazy intrusive thought follower. freeweɓnovel.cøm
So expect the kind of life he would express for all to read. If any of you couldn’t handle him, let’s drop from here.
Rhys surely didn’t want those with opposing views to comment on his life.
And so his creator....
Old Tia stared at him for a long moment. The harsh scowl on her face didn’t soften, but a rare, subtle glint of deep appreciation and respect bloomed within her old eyes. She recognized that unyielding spark.
Without another word, she raised her right hand. Her fingers moved with fluid, practiced grace as she began drawing a glowing, pale green medical rune directly into the air.
Rhys stared in wonder as she drew the spell. There were several different ways to draw a spell in this world.
The first and simplest way was through a conductor and a catalyst. Most initiate mages used a wand as their conductor.
Catalysts were materials that further helped the spell to last. For an F-rank spell like Fire Spark, your own body was more than enough to serve as a conductor. Most mages followed this exact path.
Rhys had tried to do the same, using dried leaves as his catalyst, but he had still failed.
The second way was through the environment. Certain environments helped a spell activate, acting as a natural catalyst to sustain it. This method was highly restrictive and required perfect planning to utilize effectively.
The third way was by runes. This was by far the most expensive and difficult way to draw a spell.
Old Tia was a Runebound Spell Master...
