Chapter 1: Congratulations, You're Screwed
The first thing Kael noticed was the cold.
Not the kind that came from a breeze or faulty insulation, but the sterile, unnatural kind. The kind that lived in marble floors, high ceilings, and people with names that sounded like weapons.
He opened his eyes slowly.
The ceiling above him wasn't his own. It was dark stone, veined with silver lines that pulsed faintly—arcane conduits, if he wasn't mistaken. They crawled across the surface like circuits from a motherboard fused with a cathedral. A faint humming tickled the edge of his hearing, like the world itself was charging something up.
He blinked again, more carefully this time.
He was lying in a bed. No—not a bed. A slab. A mattress so firm it might as well have been forged in a military lab. The blanket draped over him was smooth, heavy, and embroidered with a symbol he somehow recognized even before fully understanding it.
A stylized V, sharp and predatory.
Kael sat up too quickly and immediately regretted it. The motion sent a wave of dizziness through him—one that didn't feel natural. His arms were too light. His body felt like it didn't belong to him.
And then the real horror hit.
He raised a hand slowly, as if expecting it to turn to dust, and stared at the pale fingers, the long joints, the faint trace of calluses where someone—not him—had held a blade too often.
This wasn't his hand.
This wasn't his body.
He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping on the corner of the blanket, and stumbled toward the mirror set into the wall opposite the bed.
What he saw stopped his breath.
The young man staring back at him had pale skin, sharp cheekbones, and silver-flecked gray eyes. His dark hair was just long enough to fall across one brow in a deliberate, slightly arrogant wave. He looked like someone who had never worked a day in his life—but had studied four different ways to make someone disappear without consequences.
Kael Vire.
His mouth went dry.
He backed away from the mirror, heart hammering, and sat down hard on the edge of the slab. Not his body. Not his room. Not his name. But he knew where he was. The symbols. The architecture. The strange aether-hum in the walls.
He knew because he'd read it all before.
Celestia: Rise of the Eightfold Hero.
He let the name settle like dust across his thoughts. A novel. A webnovel, technically. Long-running. Wildly popular. Equal parts over-the-top and grim. He remembered reading it late at night after work, pages blurring together as the hero conquered trials, uncovered ancient secrets, gathered companions, and defeated world-ending threats.
And in the early chapters—among the list of enemies the protagonist had to face—there was a name.
Kael Vire.
Firstborn of House Vire. Genius. Arrogant. Cold-blooded. A minor villain designed to test the hero's resolve before the real threats appeared. He dueled the protagonist in Chapter 17 and died a humiliating, spectacular death.
That was his role.
A stepping stone.
A corpse with a noble title.
Kael buried his face in his hands and groaned.
"Oh, come on."
He didn't know how he got here. The memories were fragmented—like broken glass in water. A bus ride. Rain. The soft glow of a phone screen. Then pain. A lot of it. A sudden brightness. And then waking up here.
Inside a body that wasn't his.
Inside a story he knew too well.
He stood again, slower this time, and took in the room.
It was luxurious in a way that screamed power rather than comfort. The bed—if you could call it that—sat atop a platform of black stone. The walls were carved with intricate runes that occasionally flickered with pale blue light. A writing desk stood near the far wall, cluttered with tomes, glowing tablets, and a sword in a sheath made of some matte-black alloy.
A tall, narrow window let in cold light from the outside world—and what he saw made his breath catch.
The sky was not a sky.
It was a swirling void of violet and silver, pulsing with floating isles in the distance. Thin trails of light drifted between them like veins in some massive organism. And hanging in the far distance, massive and majestic, was a ring of towers arranged in a perfect circle—connected by bridges and a hovering core of raw energy.
Astralis Academy.
The floating fortress of education and cruelty. Where noble heirs learned magic, strategy, combat, and treachery.
Kael Vire's home.
"Great," Kael muttered, pressing a hand to the window. "I'm in the middle of the sky, in the body of a dead man walking, surrounded by teenagers who can cast fireballs with their eyeballs."
His reflection stared back at him.
Beautiful. Cold. Doomed.
He turned away.
He spent the next few hours cautiously exploring his room.
Every movement felt wrong—like he was wearing clothes too tight, or too loose, or stitched by someone who hated him. His balance was off. His center of gravity unfamiliar. He stretched. Bent his arms. Walked in circles. It was like driving someone else's car with the seat in the wrong position.
It took twenty minutes just to figure out the closet's layout. Another ten to understand the weird floating drawer system.
And the sword?
He left it alone.
Eventually, he collapsed back onto the slab-bed and stared at the ceiling.
"I need a plan."
Step one: don't die.
Step two: avoid the protagonist.
Step three: seriously, do not interact with the protagonist.
Kael chewed on the inside of his cheek.
In the novel, Kael Vire was powerful, yes—but reckless. He spent most of the early story provoking Arin Solari. Picking fights. Using forbidden spells. Mocking the protagonist in public. It was like he was trying to die.
This Kael wouldn't make that mistake.
New Kael would keep his head down. Drop in the rankings. Avoid every major event. Stick to the background. Blend in with the mobs and support characters.
Maybe transfer to the accounting department.
He stood again, limping slightly from unfamiliarity, and opened the door to his room.
The hallway beyond was silent. Polished floors. Silver light panels embedded in the ceiling. Banners hung between support beams—each bearing the sigil of one of the Six Great Houses.
His own house, House Vire, was at the center.
Of course it was.
As he stepped into the hall, he was greeted by a soft chime and a gentle vibration beneath his feet. The stones lit up under his steps, pulsing faintly with each move.
A low, synthetic chime echoed through the hall.
[08:12 - Morning Bell. First Course: Advanced Aether Manipulation.]
Kael flinched.
In the book, Advanced Aether Manipulation was the first class where Arin and Kael had a major confrontation.
It ended with Kael blowing up a training platform, attacking a classmate, and getting put on probation.
Right. Time to go anywhere else.
He turned left—toward the servant stairs.
The infirmary was blissfully empty.
Kael sat on the edge of the nearest med-slab, slowly wrapping a bandage around his left hand—self-inflicted injury, a light one, just enough to justify skipping combat class.
His first act of rebellion against the plot.
The nurse bot stared at him with passive-aggressive concern, scanning the room for real wounds.
"Minor trauma detected. Initiating record update," it said in a flat tone.
Kael smiled sweetly. "What can I say? I'm fragile."
He got a blank screen in return. Probably judgment.
An hour passed.
Kael wandered the lower halls of the academy, keeping his head down, avoiding anyone in gold or white. He passed a group of first-years sparring under a levitating instructor. He avoided a trio of senior students discussing political assassination over lunch. He ducked behind a pillar when he saw a familiar flash of white hair.
That's the protagonist's best friend. Nope. Hard pass.
He ended up on one of the unused upper walkways—quiet, empty, peaceful.
For the first time, he let himself breathe.
Then, a soft tone rang inside his skull.
[SYSTEM INITIATING…][UNREGISTERED SOUL PATTERN DETECTED.][NARRATIVE STABILITY: 92% — DEVIATION MINOR.][Welcome, "Kael Vire."][Achievement Unlocked: "Oh Crap, I'm the Villain."][+1 System Awareness. +5 Sarcasm Resistance.]
Kael blinked. "Excuse me?"
A transparent screen appeared in front of him, floating mid-air.
[Would you like a tutorial?][Y/N]
He jabbed at "N."
[Too bad. You're getting one anyway.]
Kael sighed and rubbed his temples.
So much for a quiet life.