My Skills Have No Limits : Transmigirated In A Novel as An Extra

“Mana…mana…mana…I’vefreakingdiedahundredtimesalready—andmarkmywords,manadoesn’tdoshittothosebeings!”Aboyscreamed,halfinrage,halfindespair.Toweringbeforehimwasabeingsovastthatitsfacewasswallowedinshadow.“And…perhaps,whatifItoldyoumanawasneverreal?”Thevoicerumbled,coldandvast.“WhatifItoldyoumanaatomscouldbebrokendownintosmallerconstituents?”Theboyfroze.Hetiltedhisheadupward,tryingtoglimpseitshiddenvisage.Hisvoicecracked.“Huh?Whatthehellareyoueventalkingaboutnow?TheonlythingIknowisthatcatastropheiscoming—andhumanitycan’tdoshitaboutit!”Thebeing’spresencepressedheavier.“Tellme,whydoyouthinkmanadoesn’texistinthePlasmaDimension…intheUpperEchelons…ortheLakeofHarbinger?”“Well…theysaythatyearsago,duringtheDoomspireConflict,‘mana’wassuckedoutofthosedimensionsbyrealityitself.”“No.Youarewrong.”Thevoicegrewsharper,haunting.“Manastillexiststhere—butinanotherform.Aformhumanswereneverdesignedtodetect…norcontrol.”Theboy’sbreathcaught.Thebeingleanedcloser.“Haveyoueverwonderedwhysomearebornwithvastmanareserves,whileothersstarvewithnone?WhysomewielddestructivepowerslikeVoidPulse…whileothersarecursedwithtrickslikeHellBlast?”“N…no…”“Yousee…eventhoughouruniverseseemschaotic,evencruel,ithasalwayslovedrules.Order.Patternsbeneaththenoise.Thatiswhatmakesitterrifying…andbeautiful.”Thenafteralongpause.“Andwhatif...youwerefinallyabletoglimpsethoserules?”