Part One: The Summoning of the Tome Hero
By: Alexander Frick
Segment 1: The Relics Awaken
Narrative:
The Cathedral of Solaria had not seen such a gathering in a hundred years. Its marble pillars rose like the trunks of some ancient forest, the ceiling painted with faded frescos of angles clashing against black, formless shapes. Hundreds of candles flickered along the walls, filling the air with smoke and the heady scent of frankincense. Every knight, priest, noble, and court wizard stood in anxious silence, all eyes fixed on the circular runes carved into the polished floor at the center of the hall.
Those runes had been chiseled there in the First Era, said to be cut by the gods themselves. Tonight, they glowed with blinding-white radiance, humming with power as the summoning began.
High Priest Varengar stood at the heart of the circle. His crimson robes brushed the marble as he raised his staff high, the crystal at its head flaring like a newborn star. His voice boomed, amplified by enchantments that rattled the stained-glass windows.
High Priest Varengar:
“O Divine Relics, eternal guardians of the realm! Hear our plea in this hour of darkness! Grant unto us champions from beyond the veil, chosen to wield your sacred arms! By our oath, our blood, and the covenant of the kings, we summon thee!”
Narrative:
The chanting of a hundred clerics joined his words, their voices weaving together like a net that pulled at the fabric of reality. The runes erupted in light. Wind howled through the cathedral, whipping robes and banners alike. Nobles shielded their faces, knights dug their heels into the stone, and a few even cried out as the air split like shattered glass.
Then came the light. Blinding, searing, cascading in four pillars that stabbed downward into the rune-circle. From within those pillars, shadows moved, half-formed.
The noise ended in an instant. The light flickered, then died.
Four figures knelt on the cold marble floor.
The first–a tall man with a lean frame and a sharp jawline–rose to his feet, gripping a massive sword that glowed like molten sunlight. The blade’s radiance painted his features in divine fire. He looked at the weapon with wide eyes, then at the knights around him, his lips twisting into a grin.
The second, broad-shouldered with piercing eyes, clutched a long spear wreathed in crackling flame. Heat shimmered in the air around him.
The third was a woman with silver hair tied in a long braid. Her bow was strung with threads of light, starlight gathering at her fingertips as though eager to obey her.
And the last–
He stumbled forward onto his hands, breath caught in his throat. His clothes were strange to the nobles: blue jeans, a black hoodie, sneakers scuffed from long use, His dark hair fell into his eyes as he tried to make sense of the thunderous place around him. And in his hand, resting heavily, was no weapon of glory.
It was a book.
A thick, iron-bound tome, its cover scratched with faint crimson runes. The letters pulsed faintly like veins of blood, their glow unsettling rather than divine.
Tome Hero:
“...What the hell–?”
Narrative:
The silence in the cathedral was suffocating. Every noble, knight and priest stared at the four strangers, their gazes lingering longest on the boy with the book.
The first man raised his sword proudly.
Sword Hero:
“Looks like I pulled the sword. Legendary blade, huh? Figures.”
Spear Hero:
Laughing as his weapon flared “And I’ve got the spear of fire, the monsters are finished already!”
Bow Hero:
Softly, almost reverently “The Starbow… the prophecy was true.”
Tome Hero:
Staring down at the heavy tome in his grip, his voice rising “...And me? I get the… textbook? Are you kidding me?!”
Narrative:
Whispers broke loose among the assembled. Priests exchanged uneasy glances, Knights muttered under their breath. Nobles shook their heads, lips curling in contempt.
High Priest Varengar’s expression hardened. His staff lowered slightly as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of something best left forgotten.
High Priest Varengar:
“...The Tome. The Tome Relic has been summoned.”
Noble Advisor:
to the knight captain beside him, whispering harshly “The cursed weapon. I thought it had been sealed forever.”
Knight Captain:
“Sealed, or abandoned. Why would the gods call it forth now?”
Narrative:
King Aldros, seated upon the golden throne at the far end of the hall, rose at last. He was a man of imposing height, his hair silver though his face still bore the strength of youth. His crown gleamed in the firelight, his voice ringing with trained authority.
King Aldros:
“Heroes from beyond, welcome to Solaria. YOu have been chosen to wield Divine Relics against the Maw. With your strength, we shall cast back the shadows that consume our world. Sword, Spear, Bow…” his gaze flickered briefly, coldly, to the boy still kneeling with the book in his hands “...and Tome.”
Narrative:
The boy blinked rapidly, trying to piece together what was happening. Just minutes ago–at least, it felt like minutes–he had been walking home from the convenience store, an energy drink in one hand, his phone in the other. He remembered stepping into the crosswalk–then nothing. Light. Now this.
A sword glowing like the sun. A spear of flame. A bow strung with starlight.
And him. With… a book.
Tome Hero:
“...Oh, no way. This is–this is straight out of a freaking anime. Did I seriously just get isekia’d?!”
Narrative:
Scribes hurried forward, carrying crystalline spheres that pulsed faintly with magical energy. Each sphere was set atop a pedestal before the heroes.
King Aldros:
“Step forward, Chosen. Place your hands upon the crystals. YOur potential shall be revealed.”
Narrative:
The Sword Hero went first. He pressed his palm to the orb, and it erupted with golden light, flooding the cathedral with divine radiance.
Sword Hero: Potential – S Rank
The Spear Hero stepped up next. Flames leapt inside the orb, wild and bright.
Spear Hero: Potential – A Rank
The bow Hero touched the crystal, and the starlight shimmered within, cool and steady
Bow Hero: Potential: – A Rank
Finally, the boy with the Tome approached. His steps echoed in the silence, every eye fixed on him. He pressed his hand on the orb.
The crystal flickered faintly. Once. Twice. Then it dimmed, sputtering weakly as though it could barely sustain itself.
Tome Hero: Potential – E Rank
Narrative:
The silence lasted only a moment before it broke like a storm. Nobles laughed outright. Knights shook their heads in disgust. Priests whispered, some crossing themselves as if warding against evil.
Noble Advisor:
“E Rank? Impossible.”
Knight Captain:
“That’s weaker than a militia recruit.”
Sword Hero:
Laughing cruelly “Figures. The nerd’s useless.”
Spear Hero:
“Barely worth the air he breathes. Can he even swing that thing?”
Tome Hero:
Gritting his teeth “Hey! Not like I asked for this, alright?!”
Spear Hero:
“Or maybe it’s just cursed garbage.”
Narrative:
King Aldros lifted his hand, silencing the chamber.
King Aldros:
Sword, Spear, Bow–you shall have trainers, escorts, and quarters in the royal wing. Your task begins at once. As for you Tome Hero…” his voice cooled, dismissive “...you may accompany them if they allow it. Otherwise, you are free to… find your own way.”
Narrative:
The Sword, Spear, and Bow Heroes were swept away at once, nobles and knights clamoring to shower them in praise and gifts. The boy with the Tome remained standing alone, clutching the heavy book as if it might explain itself.
Not a hand was extended to him. Not a voice welcomed him.
To them, he wasn’t a hero. He was a mistake.
That night, while the other three dined in golden halls, he was led to a drafty, half-abandoned chamber in the barracks. His “quarters” were little more than a cot, a cracked table, and a single candle.
He sat heavily on the bed, the Tome glowing faintly in his lap.
Tome Hero:
“...Alright, book. Guess it’s just you and me. Please tell me you’re hiding something. Anything.”
Narrative:
He opened it. The runes writhed across the pages, a language he couldn’t read. But faint words burned themselves into the corner of the first page, as if written by fire itself.
“The Tome of Devouring. Power is stolen, not given.”
The boy froze.
Tome Hero:
“... Stolen? …What the hell does that mean?”
Segment 2: Training & Betrayal
Narrative:
The following morning, the cathedral bells rang across the city, summoning both citizenry and soldiers to witness the training of the “Chosen Heroes.” The royal courtyard had been converted into an arena. Rows of knights in shining steel lined the perimeter, their shields polished to a mirror sheen. Nobles filled the balconies above, their skills fluttering like banners in the morning breeze.
At the far end, wooden dummies and straw targets stood in neat rows. Weapon racks gleamed with steel under the sun.
The Sword, Spear, and Bow Heroes stepped proudly into the ring, their Relics gleaming in hand. The crowd erupted in cheers.
Trailing behind them, clutching his black Tome, came the fourth hero. The air turned colder around him, whispers rippled through the audience like ripples in a pond.
Random Noble:
“Look–the cursed one.”
Another Noble:
“I heard his Potential was E Rank. Useless.”
Knight Soldier:
“Why summon him at all? The gods mock us.”
Narrative:
The boy–still nameless to these people, just “Tome Hero” – kept his head low. His stomach twisted with unease. Every glance was filled with contempt. Every whisper scraped against his nerves like nails.
The court trainer, a grizzled veteran with scars across his arms, stepped forward. His voice was gravel ground against stone.
Trainer:
“Heroes. Today you will demonstrate your Relics before the court. Show us your might, so that Solaria may know the gods’ gifts are not wasted.”
Narrative:
The Sword Hero stepped forward first. He raised his weapon with a confident grin and swung. Light erupted from the blade in a golden arc, cleaving three training dummies clean in half. The crowd roared in approval.
The Spear Hero followed, spinning his weapon with practiced flair before thrusting forward. A jet of flame exploded from the tip, incinerating his target until only ash remained. The knights stomped their boots in applause.
The Bow Hero took her place next. Calm and composed, she drew her Starbow. An arrow of starlight shimmered into being. She loosed, and the projectile split into three streaks mid-flight, striking three targets at once with precision that drew gasps from even the hardened knights.
All three stood tall as the audience cheered.
The courtyard fell into silence as he stepped into the ring. He clutched the Tome Awkwardly, its crimson runes pulsing faintly as though alive. He looked at the straw dummy ahead, then at the expectant faces around him. His palms sweated.
Trainer:
“Well? Cast something. Anything. Prove the Tome’s worth.”
Tome Hero:
“...Cast? I–I don’t know how. No one’s told me how to use this thing!”
Narrative:
A ripple of laughter passed through the knights. Even the nobles smirked behind their fans.
The Trainer scowled.
Trainer:
“Then swing it. Hit the target. Show us you’re not completely worthless.”
Narrative:
The boy grimaced, then hefted the massive tome in both hands. He stumbled forward and swung it like a brick
Thud.
The book smacked against the dummy’s chest. The dummy wobbled a little… then stayed upright.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then the laughter broke loose.
Sword Hero:
Doubling over, clutching his stomach “Pathetic!”
Spear Hero:
Wiping tears from his eyes “Even my grandmother hits harder!”
Random Knight:
“Did you see that swing? Like a drunk trying to swat a fly.”
Random Noble:
“No wonder the Tome hasn’t been summoned in centuries. It’s a curse.”
Narrative:
Heat flushed his face. The boy’s hands clenched tighter around the Tome. His humiliation weighed heavier than the weapon itself.
The Bow Hero didn’t laugh. Her expression was unreadable, though her eyes lingered on him longer than the others’.
Tome Hero:
Muttering under his breath “...This is bullsh–”
Narrative:
The trainer waved him off with disgust.
Trainer:
“Enough. Back in line. Clearly the Tome was a mistake.”
Narrative:
The audience’s laughter lingered long after the Sword, Spear and Bow Heroes basked in praise once more.
That night, the boy lay awake in his narrow cot, the Tome resting beside him. The Crimson runes glowed faintly in the dark, pulsing with each beat of his heart.
He opened it again, desperate for answers. The pages writhed with alien letters, constantly shifting, refusing to stay still long enough to understand. But there, in the margin, faint words burned anew:
“The devourer grows only through conquest. Feed me.”
The boy swallowed hard.
Tome Hero:
“...Feed you? What the hell are you–”
Narrative:
Before he could puzzle it out the door to his chamber burst open. Two knights stood in the doorway, torches flickering.
Knight Guard:
“Tome Hero. His Majesty summons you. Now.”
Narrative:
Confused, he followed them into the grand hall. The king sat upon his throne, nobles and advisors gathered at his sides. The three other heroes stood nearby, their expressions grim.
At the center of the hall, a young noblewoman knelt on the floor. Her silk gown was torn, her hair disheveled, her eyes brimming with tears.
Young Noblewoman:
Her voice trembling “H-He tried to force himself on me! The Tome Hero cornered me in the hall–I barely escaped!”
Narrative:
Gasps filled the chamber. The boy’s stomach dropped.
Tome Hero:
“What?! That’s a lie! I’ve never even spoken to you!”
Young Noblewoman:
Crying harder “he grabbed me–he whispered vile things–please, Your Majesty, protect me!”
Narrative:
The Sword Hero sneered.
Sword Hero:
“I knew he was rotten. Saw it in his eyes the moment he appeared.”
Spear Hero:
“Pathetic. Summoned as a hero, and he abuses it? Disgusting.”
Tome Hero:
“Hey! Don’t believe her! I didn’t do anything!”
Narrative:
The king’s face was carved from stone, his eyes hard.
King Aldros:
“We summoned you to save us, and you repay us with disgrace? Guards. Seize him. Strip him from his title. He is no Hero.”
Narrative:
The knights grabbed his arms. He struggled, but their grip was iron.
Tome Hero:
“Wait–no! You’ve got the wrong guy! This is insane!”
Narrative:
But his protest fell on deaf ears. The nobles whispered in satisfaction. The Sword and Spear Heroes turned their backs. Only the Boe Hero’s eyes lingered on him as he was dragged away–pity, or doubt, he couldn’t tell.
By dawn, he was cast out of the city gates. No armor, no coin, no allies. Only the black Tome chained to his wrist by glowing runes that refused to let him discard it.
The gates slammed shut behind him. The boy stood on the dirt road outside the capital walls, the wilderness stretching before him like an endless maw.
For the first time since his arrival, he was completely alone.
Tome Hero:
“...Summoned to save the world that doesn’t even want me. Figures. Screw this place.”
Segment 3: Exile & Wandering
Narrative:
The gates slammed shut behind him with a final clang of iron, echoing in his chest like a death knell. Dust swirled in the road as he stumbled forward, his only possession the black Tome chained to his wrist.
The sound of laughter from the ramparts carried on the wind. Knights who’d watched him thrown out shouted curses and insults.
Random Knight on Rampart:
“Good riddance, cursed one!”
Another Knight:
“Pray you don’t come back–the king won’t be merciful twice!”
Narrative:
The Tome Hero clenched his teeth, fists trembling. Every instinct screamed at him to yell back, to fight, to prove them wrong. But what good would it do? He had nothing. No allies. No power. Not even the respect due to a beggar.
He turned his back on the capital and walked.
The dirt road stretched into the horizon, flanked by sprawling farmland that quickly gave way to the forest. The sky, once clear, began to darken as heavy clouds rolled in. His sneakers–so out of place in this world–were already worn thin, the soles tearing against the stones of the path.
Hours turned into days. His stomach growled louder with each step. Villages along the way turned him away the moment they saw the Tome. Farmers crossed themselves, mothers pulled their children inside, and innkeepers refused him even a crust of bread.
The cursed hero. The false hero. The criminal.
That was his name now.
On the third day, he collapsed beneath an oak at the edge of the forest. His body shook with exhaustion, his lips cracked from thirst. The Tome sat heavy on his lap, pulsing faintly in the twilight.
Tome Hero:
“... You better start pulling your weight book. ‘Cause if I starve to death out here, I’m taking you with me.”
Narrative:
The pages fluttered open on their own. The crimson runes writhed, rearranging themselves into words he could read.
“The Devourer grows only through conquest. Power is stolen, not given.”
He narrowed his eyes.
Tome Hero:
“...Conquest? What, you mean I’ve gotta.. Fight something? That’s your big secret?”
Narrative:
As if in answer, the Tome’s Runes pulsed brighter.
The boy’s stomach twisted with both fear and hunger. He looked at the tree line ahead. The forest seemed to breathe, shadows shifting unnaturally, whispering curling through the branches.
He swallowed hard.
Tome Hero:
“...Yeah. Figures. No cheat codes, no free power-ups. I’ve gotta risk my neck for it. Great.”
Narrative:
The sun set, painting the sky in hues of crimson and violet. The forest swallowed the light whole, its interior choked with mist. He forced himself upright, leaning heavily on the Tome as though it were a cane, and stepped into the darkness
Leaves crunched underfoot. The air grew cold, heavy with damp earth and decay.
Every sound made his heart pound–twigs snapping, owls hooting, something moving through the underbrush. His hands tightened around the Tome until his knuckles turned white.
Then he heard it.
A low growl, guttural and wrong, echoing between the trees.
His breath caught.
From the shadows padded a creature that looked like a wolf, but broken. Its fur dripped like oil, its ribs visible through rotting flesh. Its eyes burned with violet fire, twin embers of hatred. Drool sizzled as it hit the earth.
A Mawspawn.
The Tome Hero froze, his heart hammering in his throat.
Tome Hero:
“...Of course just my luck.”
Narrative:
The beast snarled and lunged.
He yelped and stumbled backward, swinging the Tome wildly. It smacked against the wolf’s jaw with a dull thud. The creature staggered, then snapped back with a roar, its fangs dripping with shadow.
He raised the book instinctively, bracing for impact.
The runes blazed crimson.
Chains of light shot out from the Tome, wrapping around the beast like serpents. The wolf howled, thrashing as its essence was ripped from its body, drawn into the pages of the book. The sound was like tearing cloth and breaking glass, a scream that echoed in his bones.
The creature crumbled to ash.
The Tome pulsed once, then opened to a new page. Words burned themselves into the parchment:
“Ability Acquired: Shadow Fang.”
The boy stood frozen, chest heaving. The silence of the forest pressed in around him, broken only by his ragged breathing. Slowly he looked down at the glowing words.
Tome Hero:
“...Wait. I can… steal their powers?”
Narrative:
A spark of hope flickered inside him, fragile but real. He clenched the Tome tighter, his lips curling into the first smile he’d worn since arriving in this cursed world.
For the first time, he wasn’t helpless.
They had laughed at him. Mocked him. Casted him out.
But they hadn’t seen this.
Tome Hero:
“...Alright, book. Let’s see just how much I can take.”
Narrative:
The forest whispered around him, alive with the presence of more Mawspawn. Their eyes glowing in the shadows, watching, waiting.
The Tome Hero straightened his back, the Tome pulsing in his grip. Hunger gnawed at his belly, fear crawled at his mind, but something else burned stronger–resolve.
He wasn’t going to die here. He wasn’t going to be forgotten. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this world write him off as useless.
If the Tome demanded conquest, then conquest it would have.
Segment 4: Blood in the Wilds
Narrative:
The forest did not stay silent long.
The corpse of the Mawspawn wolf had barely crumbled to ash when the trees trembled again. This time, three pairs of glowing eyes appeared between the undergrowth. Shapes prowled forward–two more wolves, their forms warped and dripping shadow, and something larger behind them.
The Tome Hero swallowed hard. His knuckles whitened around the Tome.
Tome Hero:
“...Great. Couldn’t just be one. Nope. Has to be a whole family pack.”
Narrative:
The wolves circled him, snarling, their teeth glowing faintly as shadow dripped from their fangs. The bigger creature emerged–a bear twisted beyond recognition, its massive body crawling with violet veins, patches of fur rotting from its flesh. Its breath reeked of sulfur and rot.
The Tome Hero’s heart hammered in his chest. His knees threatened to buckle.
Then the Tome’s runes flared. The page that had written itself only moments ago shimmered. His eyes locked onto the glowing letters:
Shadow Fang.
Instinct guided him. He raised his hand, clutching the Tome open. The page burned crimson, and a black, spectral fang of energy materialized before him. It shot forward with a roar, slicing across the nearest wolf. The beast yelped as its body was torn in half, dissolving into ash.
He staggered back, wide-eyed.
Tome Hero:
“...Holy sh– I actually did that?!”
Narrative:
The other wolf lunged. This time, he was ready. He swung the Tome upward, the runes blazing as another Shadow Fang ripped through the air, striking the beast square in the skull. Its head disintegrated in a flash of violet flame.
But the bear was still there.
It roared, the sound shaking leaves from branches. It charged, faster than anything that size should move. The Tome Hero barely managed to throw himself to the side. The beast’s claws tore through the three behind him, splitting it like firewood.
He scrambled to his feet, panting.
Tome Hero:
“...Okay, okay–big guy’s out of my league but maybe–”
Narrative:
The Tome’s pages flipped furiously on their own. New runes burned into being as though the book had decided for him.
Ability Acquired: Lesser Maw Resistance
A pulse of energy shot through him. The burning in his lungs faded. The nausea that had clung to him since the wolves appeared lessened. He blinked in shock.
Tome Hero:
“...It’s… it’s adapting me? Giving me defenses from the things I kill?”
Narrative:
The bear’s shadow loomed over him. He raised the Tome desperately. Another chain shot out, latching onto the beast’s arm. It snarled, swiping with its other paw. The impact sent him sprawling through the dirt, the wind knocked from his lungs.
The chain snapped. The bear lumbered closer.
He coughed blood, clutching his ribs. The Tome pulsed angrily in his grip, its crimson glow burning brighter as if demanding he rise.
Tome Hero:
“...You want conquest? Fine! Then help me survive this!”
Narrative:
He screamed, thrusting the Tome forward. The runes erupted in crimson fire. Chains lashed out in a storm, dozens of spectral links binding the bear’s limbs, chest, and even its jaw. The monster roared and struggled, its bulk straining against the bindings.
Then the book opened wide, as though it were a maw itself. A whirlpool of crimson light sucked at the bear, ripping shadow essence from its flesh. The beast shrieked, a sound both rage and despair, before its massive frame collapsed inward, shredded into ash.
The forest fell silent again.
The Tome’s pages glowed.
“Ability Acquired: Iron Hide.”
“Ability Acquired: Maw Roar (Lesser)”
The Tome Hero fell to his knees, gasping. His arm shook violently, his vision blurred. Yet deep inside, beneath the exhaustion and the terror, something burned brighter than fear.
Power.
He flipped through the Tome with trembling hands. Each page now bore something new–abilities etched in crimson script, skills taken from the dead monsters. Shadow Fang. Maw Roar. Lesser Maw Resistance.
Tome Hero:
“...I… I’m actually leveling up. By stealing from them.”
Narrative:
His laughter came out broken, half hysteria, half triumph.
Tome Hero:
“...Guess the joke’s on you Solaria. You threw me away… but you just set me free.”
Narrative:
Night fell fully, cloaking the forest in darkness. But this time, he did not cower. He prowled.
Every glowing pair of violet eyes became an opportunity. Wolves lunged at him; he cut them down with Shadow Fang, their powers sucked into the Tome. Insects the size of hounds buzzed through the air; chains bound them, and their wings dissolved into ash, leaving him with heightened hearing etched into his book.
Hours passed. His body screamed with fatigue, his muscle burned, his stomach ached with hunger–but the Tome pulsed, filling him with stolen fragments of strength, stolen bits of resistance, stolen bits of survival.
By dawn, he staggered from the tree line, his clothes torn, his arms covered in shadow cuts, but alive.
Alive–and stronger.
He collapsed beside a stream, plunging his face into the cold water. He drank until his stomach sloshed, then lay back, staring at the pale morning sky. The Tome sat beside him, its runes glowing faintly in satisfaction, like a predator that had fed well.
He should have felt horrified. Sick. Corrupted. Instead… he felt something else.
Vindication.
Tome Hero:
“...You bastards. You called me useless. Weak. Cursed. But I’m still here. And I’m not stopping.”
Narrative:
His voice was hoarse, but conviction burned through it.
The Tome Hero wasn’t sure what awaited him–more monsters, more lies, more betrayals–but he knew one thing for certain now.
The Tome wasn’t a curse. It was a weapon. And with it, he would carve his place in this world, one stolen power at a time.
Segment 5: Devourer’s Awakening
Narrative:
The sun had risen pale and weak above the tree line, but the Tome Hero barely noticed. His arms and legs ached, his hoodie was torn to shreds, and his stomach growled like a beast of its own. He leaned against a rock near the stream, the Tome sitting in his lap.
Its runes pulsed faintly, crimson light reflecting in his tired eyes. Each beat was like a heart, steady and alive. He ran his fingers across the cover, still trembling from the night’s battles.
He had survived. Somehow. But survival wasn’t enough. The nobles, the king, the others “Heroes”... they had thrown him away like garbage. And part of him wanted–needed–to prove them wrong.
The Tome’s pages fluttered open on their own, new words etching across the parchment.
“The Devourer grows through trail. Strength lies not in what is given, but what is taken.”
He stared at the words, a bitter laugh catching in his throat.
Tome Hero:
“...yeah, I figured that out already. But what the hell do you mean by trail–”
Narrative:
The forest answered. A rumble shook the earth beneath him. Birds scattered from the treetops in panicked flocks. The Tome Hero froze, clutching the Tome tighter. The stream at his feet rippled as something massive moved through the underbrush.
Then he saw it
A Mawspawn boar, larger than a carriage, tusks like scythes dripping with violet ooze. Its body was covered in jagged bone-like armor, its eyes burning with hellish fire. Each step made the ground quake.
The Tome Hero's blood turned cold.
Tome Hero:
“...Oh, come on. This isn’t fair!”
Narrative:
The beast roared, charging with terrifying speed. He dove aside just in time, the tusks slicing through the tree behind him and sending it crashing down.
He scrambled to his feet, thrusting the Tome forward. Chains lashed out wrapping around the boar’s tusks. For a second, he thought it would hold–until the beast shook its head and snapped the chains like twine.
Tome Hero:
“...Okay. Not good. Really not good.”
Narrative:
The boar lunged again. He raised the Tome, casting Shadow Fang. Th black energy blade ripped across the monster’s flank, tearing through flesh. But instead of flattering, the best only grew angrier.
It barreled into him. The impact sent him flying, slamming against a tree. Pain exploded through his chest as the air was knocked from his lungs. He coughed blood, vision blurring.
The Tome clattered beside him, its runes flaring wildly.
Tome Hero:
Gasping, wheezing “...Book… if you’ve got any cheats left, no’s the time!”
Narrative:
The pages flipped violently, faster and faster, until they landed on a blank one. Crimson light seared the parchment as new words etched themselves across it:
“Trial of Devouring. Survive. Conquer. Consume.”
The runes pulsed once, then enveloped him in a crimson aura. His wounds burned–not healing, but igniting his nerves with raw energy.
The boar roared, charging once more.
He pushed himself upright, legs trembling, and raised the Tome. This time, when the chains shot out, they glowed brighter–dozens of them, snaring the beast’s tusks, legs and throat. The boar thrashed, bellowing, dragging him across the dirt.
The Tome Hero dug his heels in, screaming back.
Tome Hero: “You’re not taking me down! I won’t die here–not before I show them what I am!”
Narrative:
The Tome’s glow intensified. The chains tightened, dragging the beast’s head down. Another page flared, and new words etched themselves across the parchment.
“Ability Acquired: Devour.”
The book opened wide, and crimson light poured from its pages. The boar howled as its very essence was torn from its body, streams of shadow ripping into the Tome. Its massive frame convulsed, shrieking in agony, before collapsing into dust and ash.
The chains shattered. Silence fell.
The Tome Hero collapsed to his knees, clutching the Tome. His body shook with exhaustion, blood dripping from his mouth. But the book was alive with new power. Its pages glowed with fresh writing:
“Ability Acquired: Maw Boar’s Endurance.”
“Ability Acquired: Savage Charge.”
“Ability Acquired: Bone Armor (Lesser)”
He stared at the words, heart pounding, a manic grin spreading across his face despite the pain.
Tome Hero:
“...Holy crap. I did it. I actually… I killed that thing.”
Narrative:
The forest around him was silent. No birds. No insects. Only the faint whisper of the Tome’s runes
He laughed–a broken, wild sound, half relief and half hysteria.
Tome Hero:
“...Guess what, Solaria? Your ‘useless’ hero just took down a monster that would’ve gutted half your army.”
Narrative:
His laughter faded into heavy breaths. He slumped back against the rock, the Tome cradled in his arms like a lifeline.
For the first time since his summoning, he didn’t feel powerless. He didn’t feel discarded. He didn’t feel like a mistake.
He felt dangerous.
And that thought scared him almost as much as it thrilled him.
The sun climbed higher, casting rays of light through the trees. Dust from the fallen Mawspawn drifted lazily in the air, catching the light like embers. The Tome Hero stared at it, then down at his Tome.
The words burned brighter than ever, new lines etching themselves in glowing crimson:
“The Devourer awakens. Feed me more.”
His stomach twisted–not from hunger, but from something darker.
Tome Hero:
“...You’re… you’re hungry, huh? Yeah. Me too.”
Narrative:
He pushed himself to his feet, staggering but alive. The forest stretched out before him, filled with more threats, more prey. He clenched the Tome in his hands, a grim smile tugging at his lips.
He had been exiled. Betrayed. Mocked. Cast aside.
But they had no idea what they had thrown away.
This world thought him cursed.
It hadn’t seen cursed yet.