…
[Aurthur's POV]
Darkness.
Pitch black darkness.
I woke up in complete darkness. There was no sense of where I was, no walls, no floor, no light. It felt like I was falling, but not really. I couldn't tell if I was moving or just suspended in space. Up and down didn't feel real anymore. I tried to reach out, to feel something, anything, but there was nothing. Just a strange, empty stillness that made it hard to think straight.
Yeah.
I was just floating.
I couldn't make out any other sensation. I could feel everything about me. Being suspended in space felt, I could feel every movement I made. I could control my movement exactly how I wanted, no delay was there- maybe a little. It felt almost normal, something I hadn't felt in a long while.
Almost as if to confirm this fact a voice rang out.
[Soul-Body Synchronisation: 89% ↑]
"Damn, it increased by a whopping 30%..."
I was genuinely taken aback. After everything strange I'd witnessed these past few days, I didn't think anything could still surprise me, but this did.
…
I thought I'd feel different but… it remained the same. Nothing changed. I just kept wondering tho. If I didn't cross over to this body… would I truly have died that day?
My last life wasn't without regret. In fact, I had too many to count. Too many things I wish I could have done better… too many people I wish I could have saved. But at least I could meet those people after death… Maybe I could meet my wife.
She was my bundle of joy. A candle that could light my broken world. I was ready to suffer endlessly if it was with her, even if it meant never knowing any happiness. After all, she was all I needed.
'Elarion' was a kingdom known solely for war and conquest. I was born in a common household. My father was in the army, he was a fire mage and my mother was a scholar who was studying magic affinities.
Like my father, I possessed a natural affinity for fire- most people did. He began teaching me spells from an early age. Back in my world, there wasn't any formal method to test for mana affinities. There was simply a ritual, one that poured the heat from the 'Ancestral Flame' into you to forcibly awaken affinity towards fire. They drew a circle. Not with chalk, but with memory, the knowledge from an old fire mage, extracted painfully.
Twelve lines, spiraling inward, converged like a mouth waiting to devour. Thin silver veins connecting everything—stone to root, blood to breath. It connected your very existence to the 'Ancestral Flame'. Mana wasn't simply energy nor was it power. It was knowledge, memory. Once it got to know you, it remembered.
In a kingdom such as 'Elarion', the academy was more focused on developing loyalty towards the kingdom rather than 'teaching' so most of what I learnt was from my parents. I would simply just study under them if I could but it was mandatory to join the academy, it was necessary.
I was never exceptional in magic, I just heard it more vividly than others. Not literally though. When I wielded mana I could sense its intent, the rest was intuition or simply guessing.
I wasn't exceptional enough to learn new ways to draw the sigil to use magic, but I could find ways to maximize the power and efficiency from a spell. Though every time I attempted to do it I got a headache, sometimes even vomiting or nose bleeds.
It didn't take long for the academy to notice.
Not my spells, no. My results were mediocre at best. But my consistency, my ability to cast without error, and my unorthodox understanding of spell layering—it made them pause.
They called me an anomaly. Not gifted, not prodigious—just strange. I didn't mind. I just wanted to be left alone with my family.
That was until the news reached the Royal Palace.
My father and I were called.
That was until the news reached the Royal Palace.
My father and I were called.
The summons arrived in the form of a sealed ember scroll—one that burned through the messenger's hand the moment it was delivered. We all knew what that meant. It wasn't a request.
It was an order.
I still remember how quiet my father went that night. He didn't speak much to begin with, but that evening, the silence was… heavier. As if every word he wanted to say had been swallowed by fire before it ever reached his lips.
Mother didn't ask questions. She never did. But she stood beside him as he packed. A soldier's cloak. A ceremonial blade. My academy robes, newly pressed. She helped him fold them with trembling hands.
The next morning, we left for the capital.
Elarion's capital, Drayvontis, wasn't a place for people like us. It was forged in conquest.
And in that city of rule and flame, I was nothing more than a quiet boy in borrowed robes.
We were taken through the outer courts without delay. No explanations. No chance to rest. They led us straight to the palace gates where stone lions watched in eternal silence.
Inside, the walls were adorned with charred tapestries and portraits of monarchs past—each one sterner than the last, their eyes following you no matter where you stood.
And at the end of it all, upon the obsidian dais, sat High King Vaerion, draped in dark velvet robes trimmed with crimson. His posture was relaxed but unyielding, like a blade sheathed but never dulled. Pale-skinned and sharp-featured, his face was unreadable, framed by silver-streaked hair pulled neatly back. His eyes? Cold, molten gold, watched with quiet intensity, unmoving. A faint red crystal pulsed at his chest, hung from a blackened chain, casting soft light across the stone floor
King Vaerion: "You're the fire-mage's boy… ■■, was it?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." I replied in a low voice.
"They say you altered a formation spell during a live trial. Most would have failed—died, even."
"It wasn't right. The mana pattern conflicted. I just… corrected it."
The King paused, then I saw a small smile on his face as he continued: "You 'just corrected' a spell older than the walls of this palace?"
"I didn't mean to disrespect the craft. It was instinct."
"Instinct, is it? Dangerous. Or useful… depending on who holds the reins."
…
After that day, everything changed.
My family was granted a place within the royal court, lavish chambers, servants, and an uneasy silence that seemed to linger in the halls. I, on the other hand, was taken under the wing of the Imperial Mage.
His name was Master Kaelreth, and he wasn't a man given to pleasantries. Cold eyes, steady voice, and a presence that pressed down on you like a mountain. He didn't praise. He didn't scold. He simply watched, waited, and instructed.
One evening, while I struggled to reconstruct a fragmented incantation, he spoke without looking at me.
"The first founder of Elarion," he said, "possessed the same... deviation as you."
I paused mid-chant. "Deviation?"
"A gift, some would call it. A curse, others. The ability to alter spells by instinct alone. It is rare, and dangerous. Most who have it burn out before they're ever noticed."
I swallowed. "Why are you telling me this?"
He finally looked at me then, his gaze sharp enough to slice mana itself.
"Because the King is watching. And so are others. You are not here to be taught, ■■. You are here to be measured."
…
One day, while learning a new spell a young boy, twelve or thirteen years old, about the same age as me walked in.
I stood frozen, taken aback by his sudden appearance.
My master broke the silence with a respectful bow. "Greetings, Your Highness. What brings you here today?"
That was the first time I met the second prince.
The prince smiled politely and walked over, his steps calm and confident.
"I was just curious," he said, glancing at the spellbook in my hand. "I heard there was someone new."
His voice didn't sound proud or rude. Just curious—like a boy who wanted to know more.
I bowed quickly, unsure of what to say.
He tilted his head, studying me for a moment. "You don't talk much, do you?"
My master chuckled. "He's focused. That's a good thing."
The prince looked at me again, then grinned. "I'm Kael."
I blinked. I had expected a long royal title. Not just… Kael.
"I'm ■■," I replied.
That was how it began.
At first, we just saw each other during lessons. Then he'd stay longer. He'd ask questions, watch me practice, sometimes even try the spells himself. We weren't friends right away. But he stayed. And little by little, that quiet presence became familiar.
Some days he would sit in silence, just watching me train. Other times, he'd pull me aside and ask strange questions.
"Do you think magic listens to us?" he once asked, holding a small ember in his palm. "Or do we just force it to obey?"
I didn't know how to answer. I never thought about it like that. Magic was... something I followed, not questioned.
"I think," I said quietly, "it remembers."
He blinked, then laughed. "That's such a weird answer. I like it."
Over time, we talked more. He'd tell me stories about the palace, about the older nobles who annoyed him, and his elder brother who barely spoke to anyone. Sometimes, he'd complain about the royal tutors.
I never said much. I wasn't sure I was allowed to. But Kael didn't seem to care.
"You know," he said one afternoon, after a long lesson, "most people treat me like I'm made of gold or glass. You don't."
"I don't know how to treat a prince," I said honestly.
"Good," he smiled. "Then just treat me like a person."
That was when our friendship truly began. He wasn't just a prince anymore. He was Kael, the boy who snuck food from the palace kitchen, who fell asleep during lectures, who stayed behind to watch me cast even the most basic fire spell.
…
Our friendship continued after that. I often heard rumours of Kael and 'me' not belonging together, and that I shouldn't even get close to him. We didn't really care about it though.
Kael would just laugh when he heard the whispers. "Let them talk," he'd say. "They've got nothing better to do."
We spent most of our free time in the training halls or the old archives, where dusty spellbooks waited for someone curious enough to read them. Kael wasn't as serious about magic as I was, but he watched everything I did with quiet interest. Sometimes he'd try casting too, though he often messed up the incantations.
"You're terrible at this," I told him once, after a spell fizzled out with a puff of smoke.
"I'm royalty. I can just order someone to cast it for me," he grinned.
I smiled, even if I didn't fully agree. Magic wasn't something to be ordered around. It responded to intent, to understanding. But Kael... he was trying, even if he didn't say it out loud.
But even as our friendship grew, I began to notice how people around us acted differently. Servants bowed lower when Kael was near but stiffened when they noticed me. Court mages would glance at me with narrowed eyes whenever I entered the halls. Some even stopped speaking when I approached.
I pretended not to notice.
Kael did too, but I could tell it bothered him. His grip would tighten. His smile would fade just for a second.
"You're going to be someone dangerous one day, ■■," he said one evening as we sat beneath the courtyard tree. "I can feel it."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"It is. But it's also a warning."
"Hah, what a weird thing to say."
"Is it? Haha"
…
My thoughts continued to drift. I remembered all kinds of things, from my past life to concepts of magic that I hadn't previously thought about before. I had all the time in the world right now after all.
…
"Huh?" Something dimmed. I could finally see- although only a bit.
I was on the ground. No longer floating.
When I looked around me, I finally realized where I was… Somewhere unexpected- somewhere 'I' didn't think I'd end up, given the current situation.
…
To Be Continued…