SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

The ground beneath Neron trembled as the shockwave from his mana expansion rocked the place.

The monster was completely vapourized, making the dungeon that was once noisy with growls and battle cries now silent.

~FWOOSHHHHHHH~

Neron floated down gently, his feet touching the stone floor as he surveyed the scene. His Original Magic had worked—perhaps even more effectively than he had anticipated.

But there was no time to relish the victory as his thoughts went to his comrades.

He went over to Serah and Legris who were both unconscious from their earlier battle. He could still feel the mana coursing through his veins which made him feel invincible, but the sight of their battered bodies brought him back to the reality of the situation.

They were both alive, but barely. He could see their chests heaving slightly as he studied it.

Guilt gnawed at him. He really hadn’t meant for it to go this far. Even though they hadn’t trusted him with their lives, he felt somewhat responsible for what they had gone through.

Without another word, Neron extended his hand toward them. His fingers crackled with mana as he focused on healing their injuries. A soft glow enveloped Serah and Legris, their wounds knitting together as the restorative magic did its work.

He could feel the mana leaving him, but it hardly made a dent in the well of power that now surged within him.

It wasn’t enough to ease his conscience, though. Nothing would be.

“They’ll live,” he muttered to himself, feeling the weight of his own decisions pressing down on him. His eyes flicked to the dungeon’s ceiling far above. This place was collapsing.

The creature’s destruction had triggered something deep within the structure, and Neron could feel the dungeon crumbling around them.

He had no time to waste.

With a swift motion, Neron scooped Serah and Legris into his arms. Their unconscious bodies were light, fragile, compared to the raw power he now commanded.

He lifted his eyes, and in a single burst of mana, he propelled himself upwards.

The ceiling of the dungeon shattered as Neron went through it at a great speed, an explosion of stone and dust marking his ascent. He didn’t slow down, moving with such speed that each floor’s ceiling caved beneath him as he tore through the structure, leaving destruction in his wake.

The dungeon had been designed as a labyrinth to confuse them which made running out of the place not easy.

~CRACKK!~

~CRACKKKKKK!!~

~BOOMMMMMMMMMM!!!~

Floor after floor crumbled beneath him, the force of his flight causing debris to rain down like a storm. But Neron didn’t stop. He couldn’t afford to.

He was moving faster than he had ever thought possible, the wind howling past him as he ascended through the dungeon’s layers, his mind focused on a single goal: getting Serah and Legris to safety.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Neron burst through the final barrier, the dungeon’s entrance looming before him.

The cool air of the outside world washed over him, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the dungeon. He touched down softly, laying Serah and Legris on the ground just outside the entrance.

He knelt beside them, his hands lingering as he finished the last touches of healing magic.

He wasn’t an expert but he knew that they would be fine for the moment, physically at least.

Their injuries were gone, and they were breathing steadily now. But as he looked at their faces, peaceful in their unconscious state, the guilt hit him once more.

He had used magic.

He had broken his own code.

For years, he had sworn never to wield the same power his father had embraced. The memory of Mordred’s domain haunted him still—an all-consuming force that controlled everything within its bounds.

Neron had feared becoming like him, feared what that kind of power would do to him. And yet, here he was, using the very magic he had sworn to avoid.

“All the time in the world,” he whispered, the name of his Original Magic ringing hollow in his ears now. It wasn’t just the monster he had destroyed. It was the trust of those who had fought beside him. They had no idea what he had become, and maybe that was for the best.

Standing up, Neron looked down at Serah and Legris one last time. The Adventurers Guild had been a home of sorts for him—a place where he could pretend to be normal, where he could ignore the legacy of his father.

But that illusion was gone now, shattered like the ceilings of the dungeon. He couldn’t stay. Not after this.

The weight of his decision settled on his shoulders, heavy but inevitable.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though the words were more for himself than for them. They wouldn’t understand, even if they were awake to hear him. How could they? He didn’t understand all of it himself. The power he had unleashed wasn’t just overwhelming—it was dangerous. Not just to his enemies, but to everything around him.

Without another glance, Neron turned away. His footsteps were silent as he walked away from the unconscious figures of his comrades, away from the dungeon, away from the life he had known.

He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

As he left the entrance behind, he felt mana still buzzing through him, the unfathomable well inside him wasn’t satisfied with the short display he had had with the monster.

As he reached outside, the world outside the dungeon seemed too bright, too open and he squinted his eyes as the rays of sunlight hit him.

His heart felt heavy, even as his body hummed with the thrill of his last battle.

He didn’t know where he was going, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t go back to the Guild for now. Not ever too.

“I’ll miss this place for sure. What a crazy turn of events I’ve had down here,” He said, taking one last look at the place as he smiled wryly.

He had tried to run away from his past but it had strangely caught up with him even down in a dungeon far away from where he usually frequented.