Transmigration Into A World With Manna

Chapter 353

The first ripple passes through Glassview before dawn. No sound marks it. No light. The air tightens, then loosens, as if the city exhales after holding its breath too long.

Windows shiver. Loose parchment slides across desks. Mana lamps flicker, dim, then burn steady again.

In the upper districts, birds lift from rooftops all at once, startled, wings beating in uneven bursts.

In the lower wards, a beggar pauses mid-step, hand pressed to a stone wall as frost creeps over his fingers and then fades.

In the academic quarter, every mana-sensitive array stutters. Students wake choking on the taste of iron.

Professors sit upright in bed, palms glowing without intent, runes spilling from their skin before snapping back into control.

In the towers, senior scholars grip railings as the floors hum beneath their feet. Something has shifted. Not exploded. Not broken. Returned.

Caster steps out into the morning street. The sky is pale, washed clean by early light. Cloud cover hangs thin and un