The Author's Reset

I stood in front of a mirror again as I adjusted some sort of aristocratic suit. It was something straight out of the Victorian era—not exactly comfortable, but it was the only thing this dumbass owned. No normal clothes. Literally none. Everything in the closet was luxurious and ridiculously expensive. I even recognized some of the brands—they'd been mentioned in the gala arc of my novel. 

In that arc, Alex, the protagonist, needed a suit for a gala he was forced to attend. Normally, he wouldn't bother with such events, seeing them as an inconvenience, but his friend and eventual love interest, Sophia, needed an escort. He had no choice. Poor as he was, he scoured the entire capital for a suit but found nothing within his budget. That's when Arthur, the arrogant rival, lent him a suit. Arthur masked the act of kindness with an excuse about not wanting a "peasant" lowering the gala's standards. But everyone present knew his real intentions. 

Anyway, I digress. 

I turned back to the closet and muttered to myself, "I could probably sell all of this for a couple thousand gold coins each." 

It was a tempting thought. If things went south and I had to make an escape, I'd need funds. Staying alive wasn't free. Arthur, with his early-novel personality, would definitely make my life hell if I didn't follow his orders. And as I currently stood, I couldn't fight back. 

I hadn't even awakened my mana. Julius—this body's previous owner—was weak. I knew this because, in the novel, Julius couldn't take on even a lowly one-circle mage. When he killed Chiyo, Alex's friend, he had to wait until she was asleep because a fair fight would've been a death sentence. 

This was a problem. I had to prepare before entering the academy. Over the last three days since waking up in this body, I'd been trying to figure out a solution. I doubted I could awaken mana on my own, and to my knowledge, the Vaelorian family didn't have a mana cultivation technique. If they did, I wouldn't still be powerless at sixteen. 

That left skill books. Expensive, sure, but effective. Luckily for me, I knew where to find some for free—or, well, "free" if you didn't count risking your life. 

I walked toward the door of my room, where the butler, Joseph, stood waiting. 

"Young Master, I have made the preparations as you requested. However, I must implore you: do not return to that village. His Lordship prohibited it after the… incident." 

Joseph, the butler, had shared this sentiment before. Hackendor Village was taboo among Lovina's nobility. The country was staunchly xenophobic, subscribing to the idea of human supremacy. Hackendor was a settlement of non-human species—elves, dwarves, and others. They were seen as "monsters," supposedly descendants of the Demon King. Absolute nonsense, of course, propagated by Lovina's primary religion, the Church of Light. That cult worshiped a deity called Solaris and was second only to the royal Belmont family in power. 

Apparently, Julius had been to Hackendor before, and it was the source of the "incident" everyone kept whispering about. 

I waved off Joseph's concern with a dismissive gesture. "I am my own man. If my actions offend my father's wishes, so be it." 

Joseph sighed but didn't argue further. He signaled the coachman to move, and we set off. 

---

The journey took five hours, but Hackendor wasn't far from Vaelorian territory. Thankfully, the entire trip would take only a day or two. You might wonder why I was so determined to go to Hackendor. The reason was simple: it housed two of the most overpowered skills in the entire novel. 

These were "cheat" skills, meant for Alex but now within my reach. Alex wouldn't need them, given he already possessed the Hero skill—the single most powerful ability in the world. It wasn't something you could acquire; you were either born with it or blessed by the gods. 

The skills in Hackendor were much more accessible, yet invaluable. The first, *Subspace*, allowed the user to store anything—an infinite inventory where time stood still. Weapons, food, treasures—anything could be preserved in perfect condition. The second, *Appraisal*, gave the ability to analyze objects and people, revealing stats, skills, and potential weaknesses. Knowing your opponent's tricks was an undeniable advantage. 

Lost in thought, I barely noticed Joseph's voice. "Young Master, we have arrived at Hackendor." 

The carriage came to a stop. I stepped out, taking in the village. 

I stepped out of the carriage and into Hackendor, and honestly, it wasn't what I'd been expecting. For a place the nobles back home called a "monster village," it looked… nice. Clean, even. The streets were cobblestone, the houses were sturdy and well-kept, and there were kids running around playing—elves with their pointy ears, beastkin with their tails wagging, even some little orc kids with green skin and tiny tusks. 

But what really caught my attention was the giant statue in the middle of the village. It was huge, like twenty feet tall, and made of pure mythril. That's right—*mythril*. You could probably sell it and fund an entire army. It was a statue of Merlin Ambrosius, the legendary Sorcerer King. He looked exactly like I wrote him in the novel—long beard, robes that made him look like your typical wizard, and a staff in his hand with a crystal orb at the top. His face was carved to look wise but kind, like he was watching over the village. 

And he kind of was. 

See, Hackendor wasn't just some random village in the middle of nowhere. It was protected by Merlin's kingdom, the Sorcerer Kingdom of Albion. Centuries ago, Merlin had personally guaranteed Hackendor's independence and made sure no one—not even Lovina—could touch it. That statue wasn't just there to look pretty; it was a reminder to everyone that Merlin's word still held weight, even after all this time. Mess with Hackendor, and you were messing with Albion. 

So yeah, the people here worshiped Merlin. Not literally, but close enough. To them, he was the guy who made sure they could live in peace without worrying about Lovina's human supremacy nonsense. 

As I stood there taking it all in, Joseph stepped up behind me, looking as nervous as ever. 

"Young Master, I really must insist we leave soon," he said, his voice shaking a little. 

I waved him off. "Relax, Joseph. I'm just going to take care of some business. Stay with the carriage." 

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he knew better. "Very well, Young Master. But please… be careful." 

I gave him a nod and started walking toward the village square. My target was the chief's house. 

---

The chief's house wasn't hard to find. It was the biggest building in the village, sitting right at the base of Merlin's statue. That's where the skill books were—hidden in a secret vault I'd written about in the novel. Getting in wouldn't be easy, though. The village had guards everywhere, and they weren't pushovers. Most of them were non-humans, strong enough to fight off any would-be invaders. 

I needed a distraction. A big one. 

---

As I wandered around, pretending to be a clueless visitor, I spotted a group of merchants unloading their carts near the village's southern gate. Their carts were stacked with crates—some of them marked with symbols I recognized from the novel. Explosives. Not the kind you'd use in a war, but the kind you'd use for mining or celebrations. 

Perfect. 

I waited until nightfall. Once the sun set, the village got quieter, though the guards were still patrolling. I slipped into the merchants' storage area, careful not to make a sound. The guards stationed there weren't exactly paying attention—they were too busy drinking and playing cards. 

Inside one of the crates, I found exactly what I was looking for: a handful of alchemical flasks that exploded on impact, and a bunch of firecrackers. I tied the flasks together with some rope, added the firecrackers, and rigged the whole thing to a simple timer I found among their tools. 

When I was done, I snuck to the edge of the village square and set up the device near a pile of barrels. Then, I lit the timer and slipped away. 

The explosion went off a few minutes later. 

It wasn't a huge explosion, but it was loud enough to wake the entire village. The firecrackers added to the chaos, sending bright flashes of light into the air. People started shouting and running toward the square, and the guards immediately rushed to investigate. 

I smirked to myself as I moved through the shadows toward the chief's house. 

The door was locked, obviously, but I'd brought a small dagger with me. Picking the lock wasn't hard—it was almost laughable how easy it was. Once inside, I made my way to the study. 

The place was quiet, which made every step I took feel ten times louder. But I wasn't here to sightsee. I headed straight to the bookshelf. Just like in the novel, there was a hidden mechanism behind it. I pulled on three specific books in the right order, and the wall slid open, revealing a staircase leading down. 

At the bottom was the vault. 

---

The room was exactly as I'd written it—small and packed with shelves full of treasures. And there they were, sitting on a pedestal in the center: the two skill books. One had a black leather cover with a silver emblem—*Subspace*. The other was blue with gold lettering—*Appraisal*. 

I grabbed them without hesitation. 

As I turned to leave, something else caught my eye. There was a small chest sitting on one of the shelves. I opened it and found a bunch of glowing crystals. 

Mana crystals. High-grade ones. 

I couldn't leave them behind. These could be sold for a fortune or used to help awaken my mana. I stuffed them into my bag and hurried back up the stairs. 

By the time I got back to the carriage, the village was still in chaos. Guards were running around shouting orders, and some of the villagers were trying to put out a small fire near the square. 

Joseph looked like he'd aged ten years when he saw me. 

"Young Master, what happened?!" 

"Nothing you need to worry about," I said, climbing into the carriage. "Let's go." 

He didn't argue. The coachman whipped the reins, and we started moving. 

---

We'd only been on the road for about ten minutes when the carriage came to a sudden stop. 

"What's going on?" I asked. 

Joseph peeked out the window, then froze. 

Before I could ask again, the door was ripped open, and a hooded man stepped inside. 

His face was hidden, but I could feel the mana radiating off him. It wasn't just strong—it was overwhelming. 

"Hand over what you stole," he said, his voice cold and calm. 

My heart sank.