SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

1374  Echoes From Within

All through his journey back, Neron had multiple thoughts in his head.

He thought of the expression his father would have when he saw him in the house rather than the Academy. He knew there would probably be some letter sent to his dorm for him, but he wanted to hear his congratulations from his old man—face to face.

He also wanted to rub it all in.

'The exams were so easy! I can't wait till I tell him all about it!'

All of this anticipation and buildup—the culmination of emotions that kept climbing over the course of days—dissipated the moment he got to the front gate.

As he approached the familiar wrought iron gates, Neron's heart clenched with a mixture of relief, but suddenly began to feel dread. He had longed to return home, but now, as he stood before the imposing facade of the manor, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him from within. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

It almost felt… horrible.

Taking a deep breath, Neron pushed open the heavy gates and stepped into the courtyard beyond. The air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and roses, mingling with the musty scent of ancient stone. Memories flooded back to him, of lazy summer days spent exploring the gardens with his father, of laughter and warmth that seemed like a lifetime ago.

He didn't even know why he was having those thoughts now.

He previously thought about sneaking into the compound, but after experiencing how silent and oddly abandoned it seemed… he gave up on that venture.

'I must be overthinking it. What could possibly be wrong?' Despite the vibe of the place being wrong, Neron tried his best to convince himself that there was nothing wrong.

His instincts were lying to him.

But as Neron crossed the threshold into the manor, his heart sank like a stone. The once grand halls were silent and still, the air thick with a sense of foreboding that sent shivers down his spine. He called out for his father, his voice echoing through the empty corridors, but there was no reply.

Fearing the worst, Neron hurried through the labyrinthine halls of the manor, his footsteps echoing in the silence as he searched for any sign of life. And then, he found it - a door at the end of a long hallway, closed and forbidding, as if it held the weight of the world within its confines.

With trembling hands, Neron pushed open the door and stepped into the room beyond. And there, lying on a bed draped in white, was his father, his once vibrant eyes now closed in eternal slumber. "...." Neron's heart stopped as he took in the sight before him, the weight of grief crashing down upon him like a tidal wave.

"Dad…" He whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he rushed to his father's side. He reached out to touch him, to shake him awake from the cruel grasp of death, but his hand fell limply against the cold, lifeless flesh.

Tears welled in Neron's eyes as he knelt beside his father's bed, his mind reeling with disbelief. How could this have happened? How could his father, the strongest man he had ever known, be taken from him so suddenly?

'Where the hell is everyone? What happened here? I-I don't understand…!'

His father was very lively when he left the house.

Everyone seemed happy. They all wished him farewell, and there was not at all anything wrong with anyone or anything.

So why? How…? Neron didn't and could not understand.

"He… wasn't supposed to die…"

Memories flooded back to him - of his father's laughter, his unwavering love and support, the way he had always been there for him, no matter what. And now, he was gone, leaving Neron alone in a world that suddenly seemed darker and colder than he had ever known.

"Why did you leave me, Dad?" Neron whispered, his voice breaking with sorrow as he reached out to brush a lock of hair from his father's face. "I need you. I don't know how to go on without you."

But there was no reply, no comforting hand to wipe away his tears or soothe his aching heart. His father was gone, lost to him forever in a cruel twist of fate that Neron couldn't begin to comprehend.

'Was it that bad? Were you so sick beyond help?' Neron remembered Mordred telling him all those things, but he chose not to take them serious.

Mordred had told him he would be gone soon, but Neron didn't believe him.

He thought he could save him.

He thought… his Magic could help.

'I was wrong.'

And so, Neron did the only thing he could—he allowed himself to grieve, to let the pain wash over him like a storm as he mourned the loss of the man who had meant everything to him. "Uwaaaahhhhhh!!!" He cried until there were no tears left to shed, until the ache in his heart became a dull, throbbing pain that would never truly fade.

But even as he mourned, Neron's pain and sorrow began to be filled up with something else.

'I was wrong about it…' Something akin to guilt—or perhaps the need to blame—arose within him.

'You were also wrong about it…'

Looking at his father's body, and how saturated it was with Mana, Neron could already tell how he died.

It was his illness that caused it.

'You were going to die with or without my help anyway. All we did was prolong the inevitable…'

This was perhaps the necessary mental gymnastics a child needed to cope with the death of his father, but for Neron… it was more than that.

This was something that had also been building up for as long as he could remember.

—His distaste for Magic.

"In the end, it solves nothing…"

Magic was wonderful and beautiful… but it was even more destructive. It was useless in times like this; when it counted most.

And Neron could see all of that now.

".I hate it! I hate Magic!"

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[End Of Part 2, Arc 1: The Origins Arc]

This Arc was short, yet it felt so long for some reason. I certainly hope you stick around for the more interesting bits of the story.

Next Arc coming up… The Kingdom's Adventurer Arc

Hope you enjoy!