Every day, people asked me the same thing, and my response remained unchanged. All I had were pitying looks and the small checks from insurance. My life was now defined by partial paralysis—a harsh truth I couldn’t escape. People claim God never burdens you beyond your strength, but I wished for death instead. Then, in an instant, everything shifted. [Welcome to the realm of the “Sorcerer Who Rules the World.”] [Your new identity is “Mord Vernars”—live it.] Overnight, I found myself trapped as a background character in the very novel I had been reading.
The familiar world vanished, replaced by one where magic dictated fate. No longer confined to a broken body, I now faced an existence scripted by another’s words. The irony wasn’t lost on me—trading one prison for another. Yet, this world offered something my old life never could: power. If I was doomed to play a role, I’d rewrite my lines. The so-called “extra” had more influence than anyone suspected, and I intended to prove it.
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