[FATAL ERROR: CORE MEMORY OVERFLOW]

[SYSTEM UNSTABLE... SOUL SYNCHRONIZATION DETECTED]

The neon green code on the dual monitors glitched violently, fracturing into bleeding lines of crimson text that illuminated the dark, cramped apartment.

Ren stared at his trembling hands. Under the harsh, cool glare of the screens, his pale skin looked almost translucent, veined with faint blue lines of sheer exhaustion. He was twenty-five years old, working a grueling day job as a data analyst and spending his sleepless nights translating ancient, esoteric web novels for an obscure online forum. He hadn't slept in over ninety-six hours. Every breath felt shallow, a heavy, suffocating pressure tightening around his chest like an iron band.

"Just... one more paragraph," he whispered to the empty room, his fingers hovering uselessly over the mechanical keyboard.

His vision blurred, double images of the glitched error screens merging into a blinding haze. Suddenly, the ambient hum of his PC tower cut out completely. The room plunged into an unnatural, terrifyingly absolute silence. The temperature dropped instantly, freezing the air in his lungs. Ren’s head grew impossibly heavy, and he slumped forward, his forehead resting against the cool plastic of the desk as his heart gave one final, erratic stutter.

From the shifting shadows behind his chair, the fabric of the room peeled open. A towering, formless silhouette—neither light nor dark, radiating an ancient, cosmic authority—reached out a single, dark hand. With a precise, delicate pluck, the entity detached a glowing, vibrant violet soul from the lifeless shell slumped over the keyboard, drawing it up into the rift.

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[DESIGNATION: TRANSMIGRANT #404]

[DESTINATION: ELYSIAN EMPIRE]

[COMPATIBILITY DECLARED: 100%]

[INITIATING REBOOT...]

Ren gasped, his eyes flying open as he bolted upright, drawing in a sharp, desperate breath.

The suffocating smell of stale coffee and heated dust was completely gone. Instead, the air was crisp and rich, filled with the scent of ancient parchment, crushed lavender, and the sharp, metallic tang of raw static electricity.

He wasn't in his cramped apartment anymore. He was sitting in the dead center of a massive, circular dais crafted from flawless white marble. Beneath him, intricate runes and glowing purple geometric patterns throbbed with a slow, powerful rhythm that perfectly matched his own pulse.

Confused, Ren looked down at himself. His faded purple hoodie had vanished. He was now draped in heavy, luxurious robes of royal purple silk, lined with silver thread and deep gold embroidery that shimmered under the light. His fingers, still pale and slender, were wrapped around the smooth wood of a dark elderwood staff. At its tip, a massive, raw violet crystal pulsed with an intense, terrifying magical heat.

"You're finally awake."

The voice was deep, resonant, and dangerously close, sending a sharp shiver down Ren's spine.

Ren snapped his head to the side. Standing just inches away on the marble dais was a man who looked entirely unreal. He was twenty-six years old, tall and built with broad, immaculate shoulders, possessing sharp, aristocratic features and short, perfectly styled blonde hair. His piercing purple eyes locked onto Ren with an intense, suffocating focus that made it impossible to look away. He wore a structured, high-collared navy blue military uniform adorned with gold pauldrons and detailed imperial embroidery.

"Who..." Ren's voice caught in his throat. It sounded softer, smoother, carrying a natural, elegant resonance it never had before.

He caught his reflection in the mirrored surface of the polished marble floor. His face was still recognizable, but his features were refined, completely flawless, and his hair was a striking, vibrant shade of deep purple that fell softly around his pale face.

The blonde man stepped even closer, his heavy leather boots clicking softly against the stone. His gloved hand rested firmly on the hilt of a ceremonial sword at his hip, his posture rigid and authoritative, yet the fierce intensity in his purple eyes melted into deep, undisguised concern as he looked down at Ren.

"You collapsed the moment the ritual concluded, Grand Mage," the prince said, his voice dropping to a low, fiercely protective murmur that was meant for Ren's ears alone. "The Emperor demanded your immediate execution the second your mana failed, but I have already deployed my elite knights around the tower. No one will touch you. Are you harmed, Ren?"

Ren froze, the pieces clicking together in his mind. He knew those striking purple eyes. He knew this massive, vaulted library with its towering stone arches opening up to a twilight sky full of foreign constellations. This was Night of the Blood Oath—the dark fantasy novel he had been translating right before his body collapsed.

And the powerful man standing over him, looking at him with an obsessive, fiercely protective gaze, was Prince Caelen—a notoriously cold, ruthless leader who, according to the original plot, was supposed to despise everyone.

TO BE CONTINUE---

Ren’s mind reeled as the reality of Prince Caelen’s words sunk in. The heavy, gold-embroidered sleeves of his grand mage robes brushed against the cold marble dais as he tried to steady his breathing. The raw, metallic tang of magic still lingered on his tongue, a sharp contrast to the stale apartment air he had been breathing just moments ago.

He was inside the novel. Not just as a spectator, but as the Grand Mage Ren—a character destined to be executed in the original timeline for failing the Emperor’s summoning ritual.

"Ren," Caelen spoke again, his deep voice slicing through Ren's spiraling thoughts. The prince stepped closer, the polished leather of his boots clicking sharply against the stone floor. He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he reached out, his heavy, gloved hand gently but firmly gripping Ren’s shoulder. "Look at me. Your focus is fractured. Did the ritual damage your soul core?"

Ren forced his eyes up, locking onto Caelen’s piercing purple gaze. In the web novel, Prince Caelen was described as a ruthless, unyielding tyrant who used people like chess pieces. Yet, the hand on Ren’s shoulder was steadying, and the intense focus in the prince's eyes held a desperate, underlying panic.

"I... I am unharmed, Your Highness," Ren managed to say, his new voice sounding impossibly elegant, though a slight tremor gave away his shock.

Caelen’s sharp features relaxed just a fraction, a subtle shift that anyone else in the room would have missed. He let his hand slide from Ren’s shoulder down to his forearm, his grip lingering over the fine silk of the royal purple sleeve. "Good. Because the Emperor’s guards are already marching up the lower spiral stairs. They believe you failed."

Right on cue, the heavy iron-reinforced doors at the far end of the grand observatory shuddered. A muffled, booming voice echoed from the other side, demanding entry in the name of the Crown.

Ren gripped the dark elderwood staff tighter, the massive violet crystal at its tip flaring with a sudden, responsive heat. If he wanted to survive this chapter, he couldn't act like a panicked data analyst. He had to act like the most powerful mage in the Elysian Empire.

"Let them come," Ren said, squaring his shoulders as the marble dais beneath his feet began to glow anew with intricate, defensive runes.

Caelen’s lips curved into a dangerous, sharp smile. He drew his ceremonial sword from his hip with a lethal hiss, stepping directly in front of Ren to shield him from the entrance. "That is the response I expected. Stand behind me, Ren. Let us remind my father who truly holds the power in this palace."

[Hi there this the author I want to all know that my English not might perfect because well I have that disease I think that's what they call slow learner it means that I'm slow at everything even speaking or writing an English that's all enjoy the novel]

TO BE CONTINUE---

The heavy iron-reinforced doors groaned under a second, more violent blow from the outside. Splinters of ancient oak showered onto the pristine stone floor of the observatory.

"Open the gates in the name of His Imperial Majesty!" the voice thundered again, accompanied by the harsh clanking of heavy plate armor.

Ren didn't retreat. The initial panic of finding himself inside Night of the Blood Oath was entirely swallowed by a sudden, instinctual wave of power rushing through his new veins. The dark elderwood staff felt like an extension of his own arm. When he took a step forward, the intricate purple runes carved into the marble dais flared to life, hissing with raw electrical static.

"Stay where you are, Ren," Caelen commanded, his voice a low, lethal purr.

The prince stood like an immovable wall of navy and gold directly between Ren and the shuddering entrance. His drawn sword gleamed beneath the starlight filtering through the vaulted arches above. The sheer intensity radiating from Caelen’s shoulders made it clear that he wasn't just defending a grand mage—he was protecting something he refused to let the empire touch.

With a deafening crash, the iron hinges gave way.

The doors burst inward, and a dozen imperial guards clad in silver armor flooded into the chamber, their halberds raised. At the front of the line stood Commander Vane, a ruthless man Ren remembered from the novel's early chapters as the Emperor's personal hound.

"Prince Caelen," Vane barked, his eyes sweeping over the wrecked entrance before locking onto the dais. "The ritual failed. The skies did not clear, and the Emperor demands the Grand Mage's head for wasting the realm's sacred catalyst. Step aside."

"You dare bring bared steel into my presence, Commander?" Caelen's voice dropped to a freezing register. He didn't lower his blade an inch. "The ritual succeeded. The Grand Mage is alive, and his mana is stable. If you take one more step forward, I will consider it an act of treason against the crown prince."

Vane sneered, his grip tightening on his halberd. "The Emperor's decree overrides your status, Your Highness. Guards, seize the mage!"

The silver-clad soldiers surged forward, their boots hammering against the marble floor.

Ren didn't wait for Caelen to clash with them. Closing his eyes for a split second, he tapped into the vast reservoir of energy humming inside his chest. It felt like manipulating a complex dataset, a familiar logic rewriting itself into physical force.

He slammed the base of the elderwood staff hard against the stone dais.

Thoom.

A shockwave of brilliant violet fire erupted from the crystal tip, tearing across the floor in a perfect, blinding circle. The purple flames didn't burn the wood or stone, but the sheer concussive force of the magical barrier slammed into the advancing guards, throwing them backward into the stone walls with a deafening clatter of steel.

Commander Vane stumbled, his boots skidding across the floor as the ring of purple fire hissed violently just inches from his face, cutting the chamber completely in half.

Through the shimmering heat of the barrier, Ren stood tall, his royal purple robes billowing around him as his glowing lavender eyes locked onto the stunned soldiers.

Beside him, Caelen slowly turned his head, looking back at Ren over his shoulder. The dangerous, sharp smile returned to the prince's lips, his purple eyes burning with an intense, dark satisfaction.

"It seems," Caelen murmured, his gaze tracing the fierce glow of Ren's face, "you won't even need my protection after all."

TO BE CONTINUE---