SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

“Neron!”

Lily shouted out as he got to his feet and fell down again.

She rushed quickly to his side and held him while he coughed out blood.

It was clear that she was distressed over his condition as she threw caution to the wind not caring that she was in the midst of a battle.

“Are you okay? How’s your breathing? How many fingers am I holding up,” She inquired as she looked him over.

Neron didn’t know which of the questions to reply to as he found her reaction to be over the top.

Even though he was hurt, he wasn’t at the point of death or anything to warrant the care she was showing.

He appreciated her concern but he wanted to tell her to concentrate on fighting but he couldn’t bring himself to form the words.

As she busied herself with inspecting him, the scarf on her head came undone and her red hair flowed freely.

Below her, Neron gasped in surprise as he saw her face clearly for the first time.

She quickly grabbed the scarf back and put it on but the secret was already out.

It was really Serah just as he had suspected.

He couldn’t describe his emotions accurately but he felt a warmth inside just by looking at her.

He had a lot of questions but he knew that it wasn’t the time or place to address them.

He couldn’t tell if she knew who he was. He wasn’t too sure about it but he suspected that she did.

Why else would she be so caring to a random Adventurer? It was especially suspicious as he knew that Serah wasn’t the nicest of people to begin with.

“Are you alright back there?” Davis yelled at him.

“Yes I am, I’m coming.”

He got to his feet, steadying himself against the wall of the ruined temple as Serah—Lily— turned back toward the fight.

He clenched his fists, forcing himself to stand tall despite the sharp pain stabbing through his chest with each breath.

The Beast ahead of them let out a low growl as it faced off the Adventurers without showing signs of stopping.

Davis was still holding his own, his twin blades flashing in the dim light, but even he looked like he was nearing exhaustion.

“You stay behind me,” Neron said, stepping in front of Serah, his voice low but firm.

She opened her mouth to protest, but the determined look in his eyes silenced her.

Despite the confusion swirling inside him, one thing was clear to him—he needed to protect her.

Drawing his sword, Neron took a deep breath and launched himself toward the Beast.

His vision blurred as the pain in his ribs intensified, but he pushed it aside.

Each swing of his blade was met with the creature’s hard, scaled hide, his strikes barely leaving a mark.

The Beast roared, swiping a massive claw toward him, and Neron barely dodged in time, feeling the wind of its strike brush past his face.

Serah, refusing to stay idle, cast a burst of flames at the Beast, the blue flames licking at its legs.

The Beast staggered back, momentarily distracted, and Neron seized the opportunity to drive his sword into its side.

The blade sunk in, but not deep enough. The Beast let out an ear-splitting roar and twisted, sending Neron flying backward.

He hit the ground hard, pain flaring through his body. His vision darkened for a moment, but he forced himself up again, his grip tightening on his sword.

He had to keep going. Serah was right behind him, and there was no way he was letting that thing get to her.

But the Beast was too strong.

Even with Davis fighting beside him and Serah’s magic flaring, they were barely holding it off.

Blood dripped from Neron’s wounds and his strength was fading faster than he wanted to admit.

As Neron staggered to his feet, a sickening sensation crept through his veins.

It wasn’t just the pain anymore. The air was thick with the Beast’s miasma—poisonous and suffocating.

Every breath burned his lungs, and the world around him seemed to darken at the edges.

He glanced back at Serah, who was coughing, her hand over her mouth, her magic flickering weakly in her palm.

“We’re not going to last much longer,” Davis growled, his voice strained.

His face was pale, his movements sluggish. The poison was affecting everyone, slowing them down.

“Neron, Serah, Davis—get out of here!” one of the older Adventurers shouted, parrying a blow from the Beast that sent sparks flying. “We’ll hold it off! Go!”

But Neron knew they were already too weak. The Adventurers could barely stand, let alone fight the creature for much longer.

He watched in horror as the Beast’s massive claw came down, cleaving through one of them.

A cry of anguish filled the air, followed by the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground.

“Run!” Davis yelled, blood dripping down his forehead as he faced the Beast head-on, his blades trembling in his hands.

He was trying to buy them time—time they didn’t have.

Neron’s legs wobbled, his vision blurred again, but he couldn’t move.

The miasma was thickening, choking him. Beside him, Serah reached out, her hand shaking as she tried to cast another spell, but the magic fizzled, her strength fading.

“No… not like this…” Neron whispered, his voice barely audible. He couldn’t abandon them, couldn’t leave the others to die.

But as the Beast roared and turned its attention to them again, he knew that they were running out of choices.

As he ran to assist the others, his legs suddenly gave way and he crashed to the ground.

Despite several attempts to stand up, he couldn’t bring himself to and he realized how serious the matter was as he saw the creature advancing towards him.

Unfortunately for him, he was weaker than he was at the time Serah assisted him.

What was more damning was that she wasn’t anywhere around either.