“…More than three hundred years ago, the continent of Erana was drowned in blood and fire. Humanity buckled beneath the onslaught of demonic beasts, while witches rose in droves, wielding black magic in a bid to rule the world. With no other path left, mankind turned to the dragons.
It is said there were eight dragons in total.
The Golden Dragon bestowed upon the Realm of Light the wisdom and knowledge of thousands of years of history.
The Green Dragon sheltered the Realm of Wood with boundless vitality and the favor of nature.
The Fire Dragon empowered the Realm of Fire with courage and an unyielding spirit born from flame.
The Earth Dragon guarded the Realm of Earth with steadfastness and unwavering loyalty.
The Thunder Dragon stood watch over the Realm of Thunder with decisive will and peerless speed.
The Air Dragon favored the Realm of Wind with a gentle nature capable of softening even the hardest hearts.
The Venom Dragon protected the Realm of Poison through an unfathomable, ever-shifting mystery.
The Water Dragon bowed to no bonds, becoming the god of the seas through its tranquility and profoundness.
The dragons granted humanity their scales, forged into witch-slaying weapons, and bestowed their power upon the Braves.
It was said that no one knew how to kill a dragon save for witches, and that nothing could wound a witch except weapons born of dragonkind. Thus, the Great War raged on without end, pitting dragon-blessed humans against demonic beasts and witches alike.
Then, a hero appeared.
A hero beloved by all dragons, one to whom they willingly lent their power. With both overwhelming strength and boundless compassion, this hero unified the will of the seven realms across the continent and founded the Union, an alliance formed to stand against the witches. He became the first Ruler of the newly established Union.
With the power of dragons at their side, humanity gradually drove the demonic beasts back into forbidden regions. The witches were eradicated. At last, the war began to draw to a close.
Eight dragons. Eight invincible powers. Humanity came to believe that these beings were born to serve them.
But we were wrong.
After defeating the witches, greedy humans refused to return the borrowed power to the dragons, they desired even more. Enraged by this betrayal, the dragons reclaimed all the strength they had bestowed and vanished from the world.
The Union was maintained despite the chaos and admitted its eighth member…”
“Cough, cough…”
A fit of coughing pulled Ferir Hakken out of the moldy old book he had been holding.
Ferir had a pair of clear amber eyes beneath striking dark red hair, which was long enough to reach past his waist and tied back at the nape of his neck with a cylindrical copper clasp.
Ferir sprang to his feet and hurriedly poured a glass of water for his mother, who was coughing uncontrollably. Winter was drawing near, the cold growing sharper by the day, making Hanarn’s cough worse. She took a sip of water and spoke in a hoarse voice:
“Well, I just wanted to remind you that it’s time to go to work, and then I choked on my own saliva.”
Ferir laughed softly in response.
“Thanks, mom. I really did almost forget.”
“But I still have to ask,” she continued, “when are you planning to quit that bookshop? I’ve already arranged an apprenticeship for you with blacksmith Buma for a month now.”
Ferir hastily stuffed the books into his cloth satchel and replied absentmindedly,
“I’ve already told you, I don’t plan on becoming a blacksmith. The job at the bookshop pays quite well, and I can still help out at the inn in the evenings.”
His mother let out a quiet sigh.
“That’s not what I meant. I’m not asking you to take on more work. If anything… I feel sorry for making you work to support both of us…”
Raising a child isn’t easy, especially when you’re alone in a strange city. Mrs. Hanarn hadn’t refused any job for years, no matter how dirty or hazardous it was. That, perhaps, was why her health had deteriorated so quickly in recent times.
Ferir replied quickly:
“Don’t say that, Mom. You’ve worked enough. I’m seventeen now. I’m just doing what a grown man should be doing.”
In fact, he had started working when he was twelve. There weren’t many jobs that people wanted to hire a young boy for, but Ferir was quick-witted, he could always find a few odd jobs that paid by the hour.
Hanarn continued:
"Yes, you're seventeen now, It's time you found a job you'll pursue for life. I know you like books, but… we don't have the money to open a bookstore, do we? And the shop you work at is close to the Palace of Light, isn’t it? Getting involved with the nobility isn't a good thing…"
"I'll be careful, mom, don't be so worry."
Ferir quickly interrupted his mother's endless nagging. He could never understand her excessive worry toward the Palace of Light or the nobility.
Hanarn looked at her seventeen-year-old son helplessly.
She knew Ferir was a clever boy, clever to an unnatural degree.
Ever since he had learned to speak, he had shown a maturity rarely seen in children. He was curious about everything and learned at an astonishing pace, far surpassing even those children who had received a proper education.
No one understood better than Hanarn that he deserved far more than a menial job, a bleak life in this poor quarter of the city.
Yet it was precisely because of that extraordinariness that she could not shake the warning spoken on that moonlit night seventeen years ago. Nor did she want the boy to shoulder the fear that his very life might be threatened by something she herself did not fully understand.
The boy was her entire world, and she would not risk him for any reason.
Hanarn let out a sigh, again.
“Go on now. And don’t forget your lunch.”
Ferir slung his cloth satchel over his shoulder, pressed a quick kiss to his mother’s cheek, then darted out the door. He ran straight out of the narrow alleyways of the poor quarter and merged into the bustling crowd along the Grand Road.
The Grand Road was the widest and most important thoroughfare in the capital, Russher. At its far end stood the Palace of Light, towering behind an impregnable wall of stone.
The Palace of Light symbolized the social stratification of the people here. Beyond the wall lay the world of the nobility, a place commoners rarely had the chance to set foot in.
The Realm of Light lay at the very center of the Union, its level of development neither low nor exceptional. The realm had once known a brilliant age of prosperity before the Great War against the witches. Yet war had stripped it of that former splendor, leaving its economy unable to fully recover to what it once had been.
Nevertheless, the realm remains firm with its ancient culture and knowledge, along with its top-tier swordsmanship in the region.
Under the rule of the Monarch Sanguel Samuel K. Alaskarl - who inherited the throne in an unorthodox manner from her husband after giving birth to the Prince - the Realm of Light had maintained stability for the past seventeen years. Now, it awaited the Prince’s ascension, when he would come of age at eighteen and inherit the crown.
Of course, that resplendent castle was not Ferir’s destination. Instead, he headed for a grand structure to the south, pressed up against the massive stone walls of the Palace of Light - the Roman Royal Library.
The Roman Royal Library was the exclusive library for the nobility and elite of the capital. Ferir had lied to his mother about where he worked. It could not be helped. He could easily imagine how furious she would be if she knew he had so casually brushed aside her worries.
The young man entered the library using a staff pass. The doors swung open, revealing a red-carpeted corridor lined with towering, overfilled bookshelves.
Ferir stepped inside at once, unable to stop himself from smiling as he drew in a deep breath. The scent of paper had never failed to enchant him.
The Royal Library stretched with dozens of towering bookshelves lining both sides of the red-carpeted walkway, housing volumes that could no longer be found anywhere else within the Realm of Light. Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and above them rose four additional tiers stacked high with books.
Deeper inside lay the reading hall, where rows of velvet-upholstered chairs were set in neat lines. Beyond them, glass doors opened onto a breathtaking garden.
Ferir began his work, gathering the books readers had left behind on the tables and returning them to their proper places. He moved among the shelves with effortless familiarity, as though he never needed a second to recall where each book belonged.
Yet his mind preoccupied with his mother's earlier words, that he ought to give more thought to his distant future.
Even if Ferir was a good son, there was no way he could obey his mother and leave this place behind. The Royal Library housed the accumulated knowledge of the entire kingdom. To a youth starved for learning, it was nothing short of paradise.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Moreover, calling the Royal Library a “bookshop” was not the only lie he had told Madam Hanarn.
He had a bigger secret.
Ferir thought he might have been a dragon in a previous life.
If he voiced this thought aloud, he would surely be ridiculed to death. Ferir understood that all too well.
Yet ever since he could remember, fragments of another life had continued to surface within his mind. In that life, he lived among other dragons. They soared together through the skies, dove into the deepest seas, wandered across uncharted lands, and passed through the smoke and flames of war.
But as he grew older, those memories faded, to the point where Ferir often wondered whether they were just the absurd dreams of a child.
The only thing that still made him believe it wasn't an illusion was, the dragons within those memories were far too real.
Ferir had searched through every book he could get his hands on. He had even gone so far as to force his way into a position as an assistant at the Royal Library, all in hopes of finding descriptions of dragons.
The war against the witches had taken place more than three hundred years ago. Many of the historical records from that era had been destroyed or lost over time. Dragons and witches have almost vanished from people's minds, surviving only as legends. To this day, every book Ferir read told a different story. Each described dragons with entirely different traits, and not a single one matched the images preserved within his memories
So where did those images in his head come from?
“I thought you wouldn’t show up today.”
The voice pulled Ferir out of his tangled thoughts. The speaker was Arvil, a disgruntled young noble who had chosen to bury his life away as a librarian of the Royal Roman Library. He looked as though he had spent the night here, and had not even bothered to wash his face before the library opened.
Arvil was easygoing to a fault and thoroughly despised cumbersome formalities. Over time, working together had made the two of them familiar enough that rank no longer mattered between them.
Frankly, because of his perpetually carefree attitude, most people in the library had forgotten that this librarian was a nobleman.
Why would you think I wouldn’t?” Ferir asked, puzzled.
Arvil let out a long yawn.
“Young people have been busy with the selection lately, haven’t they? We’ve been short-handed every single day.”
Only then did Ferir realize that the library had indeed been quieter than usual these past few days.
Although it wasn't usually crowded, there were always at least five staff members attending to the nobles and cleaning the bookshelves. Today, however, it was just him and Arvil.
“It is short-staffed, but it’s not like you need anyone else to keep your own desk clean, right?”
“Hey. I raise you from poverty, offer you wisdom and free access to the most luxurious library, and this is the gratitude I get?”
“You didn’t raise me. It’s me who’s had to save you more than once from being crushed to death by your own piles of clutter. You really should deal with it yourself.”
Arvil gave the chaotic pile of papers on his desk a half-hearted wave, as if that alone counted as tidying up. Then he slouched back into his chair, half sitting, half sprawled, and asked lazily:
“Ferir, how old are you again?”
“Seventeen,” Ferir replied. “Why?”
“Seventeen, huh… just right.”
“…Just right for what?”
Arvil raised an eyebrow:
“The Pre-Selection of Ruler. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of it?”
Ferir realized what he was talking about.
The Ruler Selection was an event held once every ten years at the Grand Palace of Union, open to all young people between the ages of 17 and 30 from the eight nations of the Union. The selection process in each individual kingdom was called the Pre-Selection.
The Ruler is the head of the Union, holding the highest position in regulating the relations between the eight nations.
While the Monarch of each kingdom holds supreme power in their country, passed down through bloodline, the Ruler is chosen fairly based on merit over a ten-year term.
The Ruler exists to preserve the stability of the Union and to ensure that each realm abides by the covenants they have sworn to uphold. A Ruler holds no right to interfere in the internal affairs of any realm. However, they possess both the authority and the obligation to intervene, restrain, and punish should any party deliberately violate the accords.
Furthermore, the Ruler plays a vital role in coordinating foreign policy and external trade among the realms.
Most notably of all, the Grand Palace - the highest governing institution of the Union, operating under the Sovereign’s command - is the only place where the study and application of magic is conducted in a systematic and formal manner.
For that very reason, no Realm was willing to miss the chance to place one of their own in the position of the Ruler, thereby securing special advantages.
A position above all Realms an open opportunity even for commoners without status, a fair chance to prove oneself—who wouldn't want that?
“Oh, I know about it,” Ferir replied. “But what does it have to do with me?”
Arvil stared at him, startled.
“I’m talking about becoming the Ruler. The Ruler, you hear me. Don’t tell me you feel nothing at all?”
Ferir raised an eyebrow.
“I thought you hated the nobility.”
“That’s different!” Arvil snapped, then waved a hand irritably. “Really, what's the point of reading so much?”
Ferir shrugged, clearly uninterested in arguing further.
After all, no one stood closer to dragons than the first Ruler, the hero recorded in history as the one favored by all the dragons. Ferir had read countless books about the Ruler Selections. Of course, he had fantasized about it.
If he could become the Ruler… perhaps he might uncover the secrets of dragons after all.
But those fantasies were only in his head. He was sober enough to know that reality rarely moved in the way people wished it to.
Just like how he had been unable to graduate basic education because he could not afford the final examination fee. Or how his mother had been falsely accused during the Capital-wide sewing competition just because she could not read.
So in the end, he only replied half-jokingly, half-serious:
“Being here is enough for me. Maybe by the time you get kicked out of this position for being too lazy, I’ll have saved enough to open a small bookshop of my own.”
Arvil looked at the young man standing before him, old memories quietly surfacing.
Even a mere errand position in the Royal Roman Library required noble lineage, or at the very least a letter of recommendation from a renowned scholar. Yet Ferir Hakken was nothing more than a commoner who had only completed basic education, and still he had dared to knock on these doors and ask for work.
Faced with Ferir’s persistence, bordering on stubbornness, Arvil had set an impossible trial: memorizing the location of all the books in one week.
Somehow, Ferir had done it. Over fifty thousand books. Two hundred shelves. Four entire floors.
Just like that, Ferir became the only person with no ties to nobility ever permitted to work in the Royal Roman Library to this day.
Back then, Arvil had thought that the boy might one day become something far beyond his expectations.
Yet Arvil was also a realist. When he was Ferir’s age, he too had believed that the position of the Ruler was something utterly beyond reach.
Only now, after so many years and so many experiences, did the thought return to him tinged with regret. After all, what was there to lose by trying just once?
“I’ve heard rumors that dragons are kept inside the palace of the Ruler.”
Ferir’s fascination with dragons was obvious at a glance, so Arvil decided to prod him a little. Ferir paused briefly, then burst into laughter:
“What are you even talking about?”
Arvil clicked his tongue.
“Who knows… People keep saying they all died out, but what if the Rulers have been hiding them away inside the palace all this time? Just imagine… ah!”
The librarian suddenly stopped mid-sentence and turned toward the main entrance. Two figures had just appeared there: a teenage boy and a middle-aged man. Arvil looked genuinely surprised by their arrival and stepped forward to greet them.
Ferir, being nothing more than an errand boy, knew that receiving guests was not part of his duties. He continued dusting the bookshelves instead.
After speaking with the man for a short while, Arvil turned and waved, signaling for Ferir to come over.
Only then did Ferir get a clear look at the newcomers.
The teenage boy was tall and slender, with glossy black hair and a cool, detached face that carried a faint air of casual arrogance. The middle-aged man stood half a step behind him, posture rigid and proper, like a well-trained servant.
Ferir performed a polite bow according to proper etiquette. He said nothing, only glanced at Arvil.
“Ferir, this is Kevin. He’s looking for books related to… the… uh, what kind of system was it again?”
The black-haired boy, Kevin, answered calmly:
“Land policies of the Union from the time of the Tenth Monarch onwards.”
“Ah, that’s it.”
Ferir acknowledged his understanding, then quickly left to find the book.
Kevin cast a sidelong glance at Arvil and asked coolly,
“With such a modest enthusiasm for knowledge, how exactly have you managed to keep your position as a librarian, Arvil Sophiana?”
“Bloodline and connections?” Arvil shrugged. “The same way you’ll be inheriting the throne next year, Your Highness.”
The black-haired youth was none other than Kevin Samuel K. Alaskark, the sole prince of the Realm of Gold. He offered no comment on Arvil’s remark. Instead, he turned to his attendant and said calmly:
“It may take that errand boy some time to locate those dusty old books. Can you prepare a cup of tea for me, Lucas?”
Hearing this, Arvil smiled slightly:
"Well, it probably not as long as you think.”
Kevin looked unconvinced. As a prince, he rarely came here in person, wary of the noise and attention. Still, he understood well enough just how vast this place was. Memorizing the cataloging rules alone took months, not to mention locating related titles, which required a fair amount of knowledge in itself.
Yet just as Kevin finished his first cup of tea, the red-haired errand boy returned, a stack of books cradled in his arms. He carefully placed the stack on the table and then respectfully stepped back.
Kevin picked up the books one by one, his doubt slowly giving way to surprise. Every single volume matched his request precisely.
Arvil raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say, I told you so.
The young prince fell silent for a moment before speaking again.
“I’ll need books on dragons as well. As many as possible.”
Ferir felt a quiet spark of delight. This was his specialty. Compared to the previous task, it would take even less effort. He hadn't expected the person in front of him to have the same interests His impression of the black hair boy improved by several degrees.
The moment Ferir left once more, Kevin remarked:
“You’ve trained yourself a rather useful errand boy.”
Arvil chuckled:
“Do I really look like the type who’s good at training others?”
Not long after, Ferir returned with another stack of books, only to leave again almost immediately to fetch yet another pile.
Kevin was quite surprised. Dragons had been nothing more than a passing thought, a whim meant to test the errand boy. He had not expected Ferir to find this many.
Arvil mentioned that Ferir could recommend the most interesting volumes, so the young prince decided to hear the boy out.
Ferir spoke with barely concealed enthusiasm as he introduced the books he valued most. Perhaps because it was rare to have such an opportunity to converse with someone his own age, his initial hesitation gradually dissipated.
“I recommend starting with A Brief History of the First Witch War. Dragons aren’t the main focus, but in my opinion, the information here is the most reliable. After that, you can move on to this one…”
In the end, by the time the sun had climbed high into the sky, Kevin had finished selecting the books he wished to take back.
Lucas looked at the two towering stacks on the table, apologetically said:
“Master, I won’t be able to carry all of these on my own. Shall we summon someone later to retrieve the rest?”
Kevin glanced at Ferir and said:
“Then let him help carry them back. May I borrow him for a while, Arvil?”
Arvil replied without hesitation:
“Be my guest. The library’s practically empty today anyway.”
Then he turned and gave Ferir a firm pat on the back.
“Looks like you’re taking a trip to the palace, kid.”
Ferir’s heart skipped a beat. Being summoned to the Palace of Light was the very last thing in the world Hanarn would ever want for him.
But he couldn’t refuse. He had no such right, and Arvil was ignoring his pleading gaze.
Left with no other choice, Ferir accepted half of the books into his arms.
Compared to having his pay docked or losing his job altogether, a single visit to the palace didn’t seem so terrible.
Just once. His mother would never know.
by Rio Uehara
I actually got isekai’d once.
It happened 10 years ago, when I was just a 16-year-old kid suffering from "main character syndrome." I slipped on the stairs, and the text thing I knew that I was in a place called Averula.
That place had monsters, a Demon King bent on world domination, and "Heroes" carrying the hopes of the kingdom on their backs.
Being the traveler from the other world I was, I figured I should shoulder some of that burden. So, I joined the Hero’s party as the sixth member.
Also the one everyone called the errand boy.
I spent three years cooking, peeling oranges, serving tea, giving massages, and literally fanning those "Heroes" - only to kick the bucket in the final boss fight.
The last thing I saw? My so-called "comrades" decided I wasn't worth wasting a Resurrection Elixir on.
Luckily, I woke up back in my old world.
After that, I’ve spent the last 10 years living a quiet, peaceful life. And I was perfectly happy keeping it that way forever.
But now, the god that kicked me to the other world in the first place wants me to go back, right to the moment before it all started.
For what? To be an errand boy again?
I’m not feeling that idea at all.
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Update everyday until April 25.
