SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

The battlefield was a sea of ruin.

The air buzzed with the residual energy of the Martial Blade God's immense power, and the ground was nothing but a charred wasteland stretching to the horizon. Craters marked every clash, every blow exchanged in the titanic struggle between him and Lilith.

Now, there was nothing left but silence, broken only by the soft breeze that carried the acrid scent of destruction.

"It's over…"

Lilith lay on the ground, her body lifeless, her once-flawless form marred by the final strike of the Martial Blade God.

His blade, still glowing faintly with remnants of his power, remained embedded in her chest. Her crimson eyes, once filled with cunning and humor, were now empty, devoid of their usual spark.

The sight sent a chill through Neron's veins, even as his legs locked in place, refusing to move.

The Martial Blade God stood tall, his alabaster hair flowing in the wind as he gazed down at Lilith's still form.

There was no triumph in his eyes, only disappointment.

"She held back," he muttered, almost to himself. "Even at the end, she refused to give me the fight I wanted."

His voice carried a detached bitterness that grated against Neron's soul.

The Martial Blade God turned his attention to Neron, his sharp eyes narrowing.

"The deal is void," he said coldly, beginning to walk toward the trembling figure of the boy. "She promised me a fight worthy of my blade, and yet she held back for your sake. Unacceptable."

Neron's breathing quickened.

His mind screamed at him to run, to escape the overwhelming presence now bearing down on him. But his feet remained rooted, his body paralyzed by the weight of his grief and fear.

"And now," the Martial Blade God continued, "I must deal with you, Singularity. You are a threat to the Cult's plans, a loose end that cannot be allowed to exist. Besides…"

He tilted his head, his gaze flicking briefly toward Neron's satchel, where the Arcanas rested.

"You have something I require."

Neron's hand instinctively tightened around the satchel's strap, though he knew it was futile. The Martial Blade God was a monster—a force of nature.

There was no way he could fight him.

Not now.

As the blade wielder approached, a sudden pulse emanated from Neron's satchel.

~VWUUUUSH!~

The air shifted, vibrating with an ancient energy that made even the Martial Blade God pause.

A brilliant light erupted from within the bag, and before Neron could react, the world around him twisted and folded, swallowing him whole.

~WUUUUUUM!~

When Neron opened his eyes, he was no longer in the desolate battlefield.

Instead, he stood in a grand hall filled with vibrant colors and intricate carvings. Massive stone pillars, each adorned with depictions of legendary beasts, stretched toward a ceiling that seemed to glow with its own light.

The scent of wildflowers and fresh rain filled the air, a stark contrast to the ashen stench of the wasteland he had just left.

"Welcome back, young one," a deep, resonant voice called out.

Neron turned to see a figure seated upon a throne made of intertwining roots and gemstones.

The Magic Beast King—Rhogar Luceron.

His presence was regal yet approachable, his golden fur shimmering like sunlight and his piercing eyes rested on Neron.

Neron didn't know whether or not to feel relieved upon seeing the King.

However, before his mind could fully process what was happening, his body moved and he pleaded with the King with a desperate tone. Find more chapters on m_v l|e-NovelBin.net

"King Rhogar—!"

Before he could speak, the King raised his hand and stopped Neron.

"I understand why you are here…" He said, rising to his feet. "Lilith told me everything through her message. You are safe here, don't worry."

"But what about her? She's still—!"

"Dead? Yeah, I know…"

"No! I meant she's still out there! There's no way she's dead! She told me she's immortal!"

"Haa… young lad…" The King sighed and looked at him with what resembled pity. "I would forget all about those words if I were you."

The King's words crashed upon Neron like heavy wave.

"Lilith is dead… please accept that."

Neron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, he simply nodded, his throat constricted by the weight of his emotions.

"I… understand."

The King's gaze softened. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish. My people will see to your every need."

Neron nodded again, his movements stiff and mechanical. The King inclined his head, signaling the end of their conversation, and Neron was led away to a room prepared for him.

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

The room was lavish, more luxurious than anything Neron had ever experienced.

Soft furs lined the floor, and the bed was enormous, piled high with cushions and blankets. A small table held a tray of fruits and a steaming cup of herbal tea, its aroma meant to comfort and relax.

But Neron felt none of it.

He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall as the events of the day replayed in his mind. Lilith's laughter.

Her sly smirks.

Her teasing words.

All of it had been silenced in an instant.

"You lied to me…" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness. "You said you were immortal…"

His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. The pressure in his chest grew unbearable, and before he knew it, tears streamed down his face. He clutched his head, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed uncontrollably.

"Why did you have to die?" he cried, his voice breaking. "You… you said you couldn't die… you promised…"

The memories came in a flood: her guiding him, training him, pushing him to be stronger. The way she protected him, always with that infuriating smirk that told him she knew exactly what she was doing.

He had trusted her, depended on her. And now she was gone.

"Why…?" he choked out, his voice muffled by his hands. "Why did you leave me too…?"

He felt an overwhelming sense of loss, not just for Lilith but for the growing number of people he had cared about who had been taken from him. The pain was suffocating, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe.

For hours, he cried, the sound of his anguish filling the room.

It was raw and unfiltered, the kind of sorrow that left scars on the soul. When his tears finally subsided, he lay back on the bed, staring up at the ornate ceiling.

"I hate you for this…" he muttered, his voice hoarse. "But I… I miss you…"

His eyes grew heavy, the exhaustion of the day catching up to him. As he drifted into an uneasy sleep, one thought lingered in his mind.

—The overhelming power that both Lilith and the Martial Blade God displayed.

He wanted that power for himself.

Power so strong that no one would be able to stop him, and no one would be able to hurt anyone he cared about.

If he was strong enough, everyone he had ever lost would be alive.

'No more weakness…' He told himself in resolute silence. 'I promise you, Lilith… I won't be the weakling you remember anymore.'