You know, there are Chosen Ones out there.
But Sol's Chosen? Yeah, that's a whole different beast.
I'm not even exaggerating. It's like comparing your neighborhood stray cat to a full-blown, fire-breathing dragon. The gap is that ridiculous.
And guess what?
Our lucky—some might say doomed—protagonist just so happens to be Sol's Chosen.
No pressure, right?
Oh, and speaking of Earth...
Yeah, it's not the same Earth I grew up reading about.
Forget seven continents—that's baby stuff. Here, we've got one massive supercontinent, neatly sliced into nine regions like someone dropped a cosmic pizza cutter from orbit.
Except instead of cheesy, delicious goodness, it's mostly war, politics, monsters, and the occasional world-ending catastrophe.
So, you know, way less delicious.
And way more likely to murder you.
Currently, I'm in Valoria—one of the nine regions and arguably the most important one.
Why?
Because Valoria is ruled by the House of Aryans—aka, my family.
And not just any family.
Out of the Seven Great Houses, House Aryan sits at the top, like that one smug kid who aces every exam without even trying.
We're descendants of an ancient civilization called the Israelines.
Not much is known about them nowadays—seriously, even the scholars are just out here connecting dots with crayons—but what we do know is that they were stupidly powerful.
Like, "move mountains, shatter continents, flip the world the bird and get away with it" kind of powerful.
And guess what?
Their blood runs through our veins.
Again—no pressure.
Now, above the ruling Houses, there's this so-called government called the United Alliance.
Their job? Maintain peace, organize diplomacy, and stop the world from blowing itself up every other Tuesday.
Think of it like the world's most dysfunctional HOA (Homeowners' Association)—but with tanks, mages, and political assassinations.
Where's their HQ, you ask?
Right here, in Valoria.
Because obviously, we needed even more power and influence stacked on our plate.
The Alliance is run by the Ten Pillars—aka, the ten strongest people alive.
Each one is a walking natural disaster.
Like, sneeze-the-wrong-way-and-accidentally-level-a-city kind of powerful.
And sitting at the very top of that terrifying food chain?
Marshal.
Yeah, that's it. Just Marshal.
No edgy titles like "The Death Bringer" or "The World Ender."
No fancy last name.
Nothing.
He's so powerful, he doesn't need anything else.
Marshal is the current Head of the United Alliance.
Basically, Earth's emergency "In Case of Apocalypse, Break Glass" button.
And the craziest part?
There's only one guy in the world who could even think about throwing hands with him.
Asher Aryan.
My father.
Yep.
My old man.
The man, the myth, the slightly terrifying family dinner guest.
He's the only person alive who could rival Marshal if they ever decided to go Godzilla mode on each other.
(Thank goodness that hasn't happened yet. Otherwise, Valoria would be nothing but a smoking crater that could be seen from space.)
Oh, small trivia: in the original novel, it's mentioned that Marshal and my father?
They're both students of the same master.
Yeah.
Let that sink in.
Now, about the novel itself—
It wasn't even that complicated, to be honest.
Right before the final, climactic war against the Asura King...
The author ghosted us.
No final volume. No epic conclusion.
Nada.
It's been a year since then.
And now?
I'm about to attend Union Awakened Academy—the number one academy for Aether users.
If Hogwarts had a baby with a military school, and then raised it in a world where "magic duels" meant actual city-destroying battles, you'd get Union Awakened Academy.
There are tons of academies out there, but Union Awakened?
It's under direct Alliance control.
Located in Vegas—yeah, you heard me right—the Entertainment Capital of the World.
Although...
This Vegas isn't your neon-soaked Sin City.
It's part of Silvercrest, one of the nine regions ruled by the House of Argent.
The Academy itself is on a private island just off Vegas's coast.
Because, obviously, when you're teaching hormonal teenagers how to blow up mountains, you want them somewhere isolated.
Oh, right.
I've been ranting about the world, but I haven't even told you about me.
See...
I'm in the body of Rayan Aryan.
Sixteen years old.
Proud noble brat.
And—plot twist—a minor villain in the original story.
Rayan's got talent, sure—serious talent.
But he's also a jealous, arrogant, stuck-up psycho.
The kind of guy who thinks torturing commoners for fun is a perfectly normal afternoon hobby.
In the novel, Rayan ranked third in the Academy.
Yeah—third.
Behind the Hero, who ranked second.
(Surprising, right? You'd think "Hero" would be number one.)
So who was first?
Heh.
We'll get to that.
Trust me, it's worth the wait.
Anyway, Rayan couldn't handle the fact that two commoner kids were better than him.
His ego? Shattered.
His jealousy? Nuclear.
Later in the story, he picked a fight with the Hero, tried to kidnap the Heroine (because apparently kidnapping solves all your problems?), and basically went full Saturday-morning-cartoon villain.
The first-ranker, though?
Yeah...
Rayan never dared to touch him.
Smart move, honestly.
Eventually, Rayan made a desperate contract with the Asuras—the ancient enemies of humanity—because that's obviously the most reasonable solution when your feelings get hurt.
How did that end?
Spoiler:
His own father killed him.
Rough.
So yeah.
Here I am.
In the body of a third-rate psycho noble.
Living in a supercontinent full of monsters, political intrigue, and gods walking around like it's casual Friday.
And next year?
I get to enroll in an Academy full of future warlords.
No big deal.
Right?
...Right?
—