SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

The sun blazed high in the sky, its golden rays reflecting off the shimmering uniforms of two patrolling guards.

Both had golden hair that seemed to glisten in the sunlight, matching their intricate uniforms that radiated authority and sophistication. They piloted sleek, advanced vehicles that hovered effortlessly over the ground, propelled by advanced Magic Technology.

Their route stretched along the coastline, a border protected with unyielding vigilance.

"We've got a report of a breach near the western shore," one guard said, his voice calm but focused as he glanced at the glowing console embedded into the dashboard of his vehicle.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"A breach? Here?" the other replied, adjusting the controls of his craft. "That's unusual. We haven't had anything like this in years."

"Exactly. Let's not take any chances."

The two vehicles accelerated, their hum filling the air as they streaked toward the shore. The coastline came into view, waves crashing against golden sands. As they approached the site, the console beeped with increasing urgency.

"There," the first guard said, pointing. Lying amidst the sand and seaweed was the small, still figure of a boy. His dark hair clung to his face, and his clothes were torn and soaked. The tide lapped at his legs, as if reluctant to let him go.

"He's just a kid," the second guard muttered, his voice tinged with concern. Both guards dismounted from their crafts and approached cautiously, their hands hovering near their weapons out of habit rather than intent.

One of them pulled out a handheld device—a piece of advanced Magic Technology—and activated it. The device emitted a soft glow as it scanned the boy's vitals.

"He's alive," the guard confirmed. "But he's in bad shape. Let's try the resuscitation protocol."

The device was placed over the boy's chest.

A series of intricate runes appeared in the air, glowing as the device worked its magic. The boy's body jerked slightly, and he coughed, expelling a mouthful of seawater before his eyes fluttered open. His gaze was unfocused at first, but slowly, he seemed to register his surroundings.

"Hey there," the first guard said gently, crouching down to meet the boy's eye level. "You're safe now. Can you tell us your name?"

The boy's lips moved, but his voice was barely a whisper. He coughed again and tried to sit up, though his body trembled with the effort.

"I… I don't remember," he finally managed, his voice faint and hoarse. His dark eyes were clouded with confusion. "Where am I?"

The guards exchanged a glance before the second one offered a reassuring smile.

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"You're in the Midas Empire," he said, his tone warm and calming. "It's alright if you don't remember anything. We'll take care of you until you regain your memories."

"The Midas Empire?" the boy repeated, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of the unfamiliar name. He looked down at his hands, then out at the vast expanse of sea, as though searching for answers in the waves.

The first guard placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Don't worry. You're safe here. We'll take you back to the city and get you checked out. You'll be fine."

The boy nodded weakly, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and uncertainty.

The guards helped him to his feet and guided him toward one of their crafts.

As they prepared to leave, the waves rolled in again, erasing the marks on the sand where the boy had lain, as if nature itself sought to hide any trace of his arrival.

With a soft hum, the vehicles rose into the air and sped away from the shore, carrying the boy toward the heart of the Midas Empire.

************

[Weeks Later]

Weeks passed, and the boy they had found on the shore had settled into the care of the Midas Empire.

They provided him with a room in one of their splendid golden towers, a space filled with luxury he could barely comprehend. His days were spent under the watchful care of attendants and healers, who offered both kindness and curiosity about their peculiar guest.

This boy was none other than Neron.

He had given no name back when he was pressed on his identity, and that was because he remembered nothing about his identity at the time.

'I intentionally suppressed my memories so I could successfully infiltrate this place.'

It seemed like that ended in a success.

While his memories remained clouded, Neron's mind grappled with a growing unease.

This was supposed to be the place—the land where Legris and the other members of the Cult had perished. Yet, everything seemed…wrong.

The people of the Midas Empire were warm and welcoming, their kindness genuine.

They told him he was the first visitor from the outside world in centuries, a claim that only deepened his confusion. If that was true, how could the members of the Cult have met their end here?

The inconsistencies gnawed at him, leaving him restless in his golden sanctuary.

One evening, as the orange hues of sunset bathed the Empire in its glow, Neron sat by the grand window of his room. He stared out at the sprawling futuristic-looking city, its buildings gleaming like treasures against the horizon. His mind was a storm of unanswered questions, each one more frustrating than the last.

'What am I missing? This place doesn't feel like it's hiding anything, but… it has to be.'

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

'Huh?' Neron straightened, brushing off the melancholy as the door creaked open.

A guard, clad in the same radiant golden uniform as the ones who had rescued him, entered and offered a crisp salute.

"Apologies for disturbing you, sir," the guard said, his voice steady. "But His Majesty, the Midas Emperor, and his son wish to see you."

Neron's heart skipped a beat.

"The Emperor?" he repeated, his tone measured despite the turmoil within him.

"Yes, sir. They are on their way as we speak," the guard confirmed before stepping aside.

Neron stood, adjusting his posture as he prepared for the encounter.

He had heard whispers of the Emperor's unparalleled wisdom and power, as well as the prodigious talents of his son.

'What was his name again? Ah… Prince Kuzon.'