THE SUPREME MAGIC ONE
CHAPTER 1
My name is Drax Ceynan.
If you asked anyone who knows me, they'd probably say I'm just an ordinary guy—nothing special, nothing extraordinary. Just a kid who likes reading books.
Well… not exactly a kid anymore.
I turned eighteen this year.
Still, I feel young. Maybe because I've always been surrounded by stories—fantasy, adventure, mystery, anything that could take me away from reality, even just for a few hours. Books were my escape, my world, my everything.
Except for one kind of book.
"Light novels."
Yeah… I never really liked them. My friend kept recommending them to me, saying they were amazing, full of action and cool characters. But I don't know… something about them just didn't click with me.
I preferred old books. The kind that smelled like time itself had touched every page.
And that's exactly how I found it.
We moved to the United States a few years ago. New York, to be exact.
It was loud, busy, and alive—completely different from the quiet life I used to know. But one thing never changed in our family.
We loved books.
My parents, my grandparents—everyone had a habit of collecting and reading. Our house wasn't just a house… it was more like a small library. Shelves filled every wall, stacked with stories from all over the world.
But there was one place no one really cared about.
The garage.
Old, dusty, and filled with things no one bothered to clean anymore. Broken furniture, unused tools… and boxes.
Lots of boxes.
And inside those boxes?
Books.
It started like any normal day.
I didn't have anything to do, so I decided to explore the garage. I don't even know why. Maybe I was bored. Maybe I just wanted to find something interesting.
Or maybe…
Something was calling me.
I opened the door slowly, and a cloud of dust greeted me like an old friend.
"Ugh… cough, cough…"
I waved my hand in front of my face, trying to clear the air.
"This place seriously needs cleaning…"
As I stepped inside, I noticed stacks of books piled in one corner. Unlike the neatly arranged shelves inside the house, these were messy, forgotten, abandoned.
I walked closer.
Most of the books looked familiar. Titles I had already read or seen before. Some were old history books, others were novels my parents used to talk about.
But then…
There was one.
A single book lying slightly apart from the others.
It didn't look like it belonged there.
The cover was covered in dust, thicker than anything else in the garage. It was almost as if no one had touched it for years… maybe even decades.
Curious, I picked it up.
"Cough…! Okay, yeah, this is definitely old…"
I wiped the surface with my sleeve, slowly revealing the design beneath.
And then I froze.
"…It's colorful?"
That was the first thing I noticed.
Most old books had dull covers—faded colors, worn-out edges. But this one… even under all that dust, it still looked strangely vivid.
As if time hadn't fully erased it.
My eyes moved to the title.
"The Supreme Magic One"
"…Supreme?"
I tilted my head.
"What kind of title is that?"
It sounded… bold. Almost arrogant.
Like whoever this "Magic One" was, they considered themselves above everything else.
"A god? A king? Or just some crazy character…"
I flipped the book over and looked at the author's name.
By: Louise Lewilton
"…Never heard of it."
That was weird.
For someone who reads as much as I do, it's rare to see a name I've never even encountered before.
I took out my phone.
"Let's check this…"
I opened my browser and typed:
Louise Lewilton
Search.
Nothing.
"…Huh?"
I frowned and tried again.
"The Supreme Magic One"
Search.
Still nothing.
No results. No links. No discussions. Nothing.
It was like the book didn't exist.
"…That's impossible."
Every book leaves some kind of trace. Even unpopular ones. Even forgotten ones.
But this?
It was like it had been erased from the world.
I sat down on the cold garage floor, staring at the book in my hands.
"Why is this here…?"
If it was just a random fantasy novel, why didn't anyone in my family care about it?
And why couldn't I find anything about it online?
I needed answers.
So I did something simple.
I asked.
"Dad," I called out later that day, holding the book in my hands. "Can I ask you something?"
He looked up from his chair. "What is it?"
"This book… why is it in the garage?"
He glanced at it for a second, then shrugged.
"Oh, that thing? It's useless."
"…Useless?"
"Yeah. When we were kids, we tried reading it. It was just some weird fantasy nonsense."
"Weird… how?"
"You can't even understand it," he said. "The words don't make sense. It's like… written in some unknown language."
I blinked.
"Then why keep it?"
"Didn't bother throwing it away," he replied casually. "It's just a book."
Just a book.
I looked down at it again.
Somehow… I didn't believe that.
That night, I returned to the garage.
The house was quiet. Everyone was doing their own thing. No one paid attention as I walked back in and picked up the book again.
"Alright…"
I took a deep breath.
"Let's see what you're hiding."
"Son!"
I flinched and turned around.
My mom stood by the door, looking at me with a slightly confused expression.
"What are you doing here? It's getting late."
"Oh… uh…"
I raised the book.
"Can I take this?"
She stared at it for a moment… then laughed lightly.
"That thing? Go ahead."
"Really?"
"Yes," she said. "But don't expect too much. It's just nonsense. You won't understand it anyway."
"Why?"
"Because the words don't make sense," she replied. "We tried reading it before. It's like… it's not meant to be read."
Not meant to be read.
"…That makes me want to read it even more."
She shook her head.
"Do what you want. Just don't stay up too late."
"Yes, mom."
I brought the book to my room.
After taking a shower and getting ready for bed, I placed it carefully on my desk.
The room was quiet. The only light came from the lamp beside me.
It felt… different.
Like something was about to happen.
"…Alright."
I sat down.
"Let's read."
I opened the book.
And just like my parents said…
It didn't make sense.
The pages were filled with symbols I had never seen before. Strange letters, unfamiliar patterns—completely unreadable.
"…What is this?"
I flipped through a few pages.
Still the same.
"No way…"
I frowned.
"So it's true… this really is nonsense."
But something felt off.
Very off.
My head started to hurt.
At first, it was just a slight discomfort.
Then…
It got worse.
"Ugh…!"
I grabbed my head.
"What the—?!"
The pain spread quickly, like something was forcing its way into my mind.
My vision blurred.
The letters on the page…
They started moving.
"…What…?"
I stared at the book in shock.
The symbols were shifting. Changing. Rearranging themselves right in front of my eyes.
Forming something.
Something I could understand.
Slowly…
A sentence appeared.
"Now you can read this. Proceed."
My breath stopped.
"…No way…"
This wasn't possible.
Books don't do this.
Words don't just change.
And yet…
It was happening.
The pain in my head grew stronger.
"I… can't…"
I stood up, stumbling slightly.
"My head… it hurts…"
Everything was spinning.
I couldn't think clearly.
"…I need to sleep…"
I closed the book quickly and placed it on the table.
"I'll… read it tomorrow…"
As I collapsed onto my bed, one thought echoed in my mind.
This book…
Was not normal.
And without realizing it…
That night…
My fate had already begun to change.