Magic and magecraft.
A concept vastly different from what Merlin knew of as Mystery. Magecraft was a creation of someone whom Merlin had studied for centuries, gathering countless pieces of knowledge about his craft. Even now, Merlin couldn't resist the pull of wanting to go beyond the boundaries that had been set by the progenitor of magecraft.
King Solomon, also known as the King of Magecraft. The very man who laid the foundation of the Mystery system itself. Merlin had always admired but also struggled with the fact that his name would always be overshadowed by Solomon's legacy. All of Britannia knew Merlin as the Magus of Flowers, a man of immense power and wisdom—but in the realm of magic, it was Solomon's name that lingered in the minds of magi everywhere, a shadow Merlin could never quite shake.
The boy's fists clenched.
No matter how hard he tried, Merlin never succeeded in surpassing that ancient progenitor. Solomon seemed to hold a kind of divine favor—his Clairvoyance, blessed by God Himself, gave him a foresight so unparalleled that Merlin's own visions seemed almost trivial in comparison. Titles such as "Wise" and "All-knowing" were not just mere decorations for Solomon, but true representations of his power.
How annoying.
Was this... jealousy? The word felt foul in Merlin's mind, a foreign and ugly feeling. As an incubus, he was familiar with many emotions, yet this one... felt too human. And for all the pleasure he found in watching the emotions of others, this one left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Trying to shake away these thoughts, Merlin refocused on the book in front of him. A Textbook of Magic. A tome that he hoped would shed some light on the mysteries of this new world. As he flipped through the pages, he was struck by how different this world's magic was from his own. There was no concept of True Magic here. Instead, what they called "magic" seemed... rudimentary. Simplistic. Yet, it held its own form of beauty.
The foundations outlined in the book felt both familiar and alien to Merlin. The drawing of magic circles, the incantation of spells, the manipulation of mana. These were principles that paralleled the Mysteries he was accustomed to, yet they seemed to lack the depth that made True Magic what it was.
Mana, he noted, was seen here as an external energy source. Something that flowed through nature and could be absorbed by the human body. In Merlin's world, magic circuits were innate to those born with the gift, but here, mana was treated almost like air. A power anyone could take in if they knew how. It's amazing how vast was this compared to the cruelty and treachery of magi to acquire more control.
The book spoke of magical items as well. They were tools designed to replenish a mage's internal reserves. This was another oddity to Merlin. In his experience, magical tools or Mystic Codes were rare and precious, yet here they were common, or more accurately said, the cost was higher but the tools weren't limited to a number that much. Perhaps it was a necessity in a world where mana flowed differently.
One line in particular caught his eye: "Magic is best developed through battle."
Merlin frowned. This idea seemed... unpolished. He understood the reasoning. The human mind, after all, was most sharp in moments of crisis however this was not the only way to learn. There were other methods, more refined ways to cultivate one's power without throwing oneself into constant danger. Was this truly the best they could come up with? he thought to himself.
Obviously, this book was still just a textbook. Maybe a good library would provide him with more revered information.
He continued reading, moving on to the incantations. In this world, spells were triggered by spoken words. Chants that served as catalysts to channel the magic. Merlin's eyes flickered with faint amusement. It reminded him of the self-hypnosis techniques that younger magus used. Methods to trick the mind into enhancing one's control over mana in their bodies.
Incantations, Merlin mused, were... slow. They were crutches for those who had not yet mastered their craft. To rely on words to shape one's magic felt inefficient, though he had to admit there was a certain elegance to it—a kind of ritualistic beauty he wouldn't mind doing himself.
After all, Merlin knows the presentation is crucial.
Still, he couldn't help but smirk. "Using incantations allows magical effects to trigger automatically." He whispered the words to himself. The notion amused him. These mages, with their elaborate chants and circles, were essentially creating detailed shortcuts for themselves. In Merlin's world, such things were obsolete.
Merlin looked at more text showing elements of magic. From what he could tell there were four main categories:
Fire. One generates heat and has a certain amount of control over the burning process.
Water. One generates water and allows further control over ice and steam.
Wind. One manipulates gases in the air and environment.
Earth. One manipulates the earth and solid mass.
There were, of course, the healing magics. Something he had seen his mother perform. Merlin made a mental note to study that further. Healing magic was often dismissed by mages, but to Merlin, it represented a much purer form of magic. It wasn't about destruction or conquest. It was about life and mending the fabric of someone or something's existence.
Finally, Merlin arrived at the ranking system for mages in this world. The titles indicated their mastery over the elements.
Saint, King, Emperor, and God.
These titles, while grand, seemed more like arbitrary markers than true representations of power. The rank of God especially intrigued him. It wasn't truly divine, but it hinted at something close. Perhaps a state of overwhelming strength, recognized by those who feared it.
How quaint, Merlin thought, as he absorbed the book's contents at a remarkable speed. By the time midnight came, he had finished the entire tome, every page imprinted on his mind like a perfect memory.
And yet, even with all this new knowledge, Merlin couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. There was depth here, but it wasn't the depth he sought. There was power, but it wasn't the kind he craved.
Strangely, it felt like magic wasn't everything he wished for in this new life.
He sighed and closed the book, his mind wandering back to Solomon, wondering how similar were they.
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After sleeping through the night and processing the information, Merlin returned to the same room, eager to unravel more of this world's magic. The Textbook of Magic had proven useful, but its teachings had run their course.
His mind easily recalled the spell base now stored within him. Every incantation, every technique, all cataloged and ready to be tested. The theory had its place, but it was time to turn from mere ideas to reality.
There were, however, inconsistencies that the scholar needed to figure out for himself. A spell-like Fireball, for instance, was described as conjuring a flying ball of flames. But in practice, Merlin found it wasn't so straightforward.
When Merlin first attempted the spell, he instinctively added a gust of compressed wind to push the ball forward. It was an adjustment that stood necessary to keep the fire from dispersing too early.
"Let the great protection of fire be on the place thou seekest. I call the bold heat of a torch here and now. Fireball!" The flames roared to life, only to be instantly snuffed out by a conjured wave of water. Merlin, unfazed, circulated the steam with a flick of his finger.
Undeterred, he tried again. This time, without the chant. Instead, he simply visualized the process, letting his mind take over where words were unnecessary.
The result was the same. The fire responded to his will with little need for incantations. What remained was to push the limits of this human body and see how far he could go.
"Well, let's get to it then." He calmed his underdeveloped muscles, letting the Magus of Flowers within him take control. Flesh and blood became secondary. These were mere vessels for his soul as he tapped into his true magical nature.
Power surged through his fragile form, an ethereal force that felt like slipping through the thin veil of water and emerging into an ocean of luminous energy. It was mana, pure and limitless, welcoming him like an old friend.
Merlin allowed his senses to fade momentarily, absorbing more and more of this world's mana until it became a part of him. There was no resistance. The magic responded to him naturally, as if something primordial within him had awakened. A wave of pleasure bloomed through him as he reconnected with the essence of the world.
He opened his eyes, a soft glow shimmering within them.
The pressure within him built steadily, a delightful sensation aligned perfectly with his intentions. His mastery over Mysteries remained intact, even in this unfamiliar world. All four elements began to orbit around him in rhythmic spheres.
It felt right. Familiar. Even though the origin of the magic was different, the sensation it gave was unmistakable.
Merlin smiled, a smile filled with genuine happiness.
And then he laughed—laughed so hard it echoed through the room, his heart swelling with a sense of achievement.
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"Honestly, son," Paul Greyrat's voice broke the silence, though the hint of a smirk on his face was unmistakable to Merlin. There was a fake resigned tone in his words, something the wizard found a little funny. "I knew this day would come, but I didn't expect it so soon."
Merlin raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, Father?"
Paul chuckled, shaking his head slightly, "The day I'd have to give you this talk, Rudy. Listen, it's fine to feel like you're on top of the world sometimes but don't let it become a habit. Even your mother wouldn't mind me saying this."
"What?"
"You see, every boy goes through a phase where he thinks he's the strongest. But sooner or later, he realizes there's still a long way to go. It's normal to live in a bit of fantasy, but it's important to keep your feet on the ground." Paul's expression turned serious, making Merlin fight the urge to laugh at the thought of telling his mother about this later.
"Do you need a healing spell?" Merlin asked, feigning innocence.
"What? No! I'm talking about how I heard you laughing weirdly last night. I thought something was wrong!" Paul crossed his arms, still looking concerned.
"Oh, that," Merlin waved a hand dismissively, "I was just reading a book about magic. It had some interesting spells."
Paul's eyes narrowed, "So, what? You were pretending to be an overlord or something?" His father smirked as he continued, "Hahaha! In the end, you're still just a kid, Rudy."
"Why do you sound so happy about that?" Merlin tilted his head, his amusement growing.
"Nothing to worry your little head over!" Paul ruffled Merlin's hair with a grin, "I was just worried for nothing. When I was your age, I used to think the same way. Thought I was a big deal with a sword, running around shouting and all. Everyone told me I sucked." He laughed heartily, clearly reminiscing. "Guess you take after me, huh?"
Merlin smiled, "Then I guess I'll be a great wizard one day."
"A wizard, huh..." Paul paused, seeming to consider something. "Well, Rudy, I prepared those wooden swords we talked about. Maybe trying a little swordplay would make you reconsider studying all those party tricks, hmm?"
Merlin sighed, already expecting this turn of events. "Alright," he agreed, following Paul as his father's face lit up.
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A glimpse into the future.
In the distance, rocky mountain outlines pierced through the mist. The clouds formed a gentle circle, allowing rays of sunlight to filter through, brightening the day for the awakening village in the Fittoa Region. Its roads bustled with energy, the impending Vatirus flower harvest season drawing closer.
A massive redwood tree stood proudly in a dense forest. Lying among its thick branches was a young boy, seemingly asleep, the sunlight gently embracing him.
"Life is precious, after all. You are truly one lovely sapling," Merlin murmured, his voice soft and filled with warmth. The tree trembled, ever so slightly, as if responding to his words. To the untrained eye, it might seem like a passing breeze, but to someone more attuned, it was something else entirely.
Merlin chuckled, letting the cool breeze wash over him. The surrounding flora seemed to hum with satisfaction at his presence. "Take pride in your strong branches, my dear. For a young girl, you've grown magnificently." His gaze roamed over the towering tree, admiration shining in his eyes.
"I imagine your true form will be nothing short of majestic," he continued, plucking a fruit from the branch and taking a bite. "It's not every day a magus like me offers praise, you know?" He smiled to himself, savoring the moment. "When the time comes, we'll watch the stars together, you and I."
His mind drifted to a vision. The Tower and the garden surrounding it. Merlin's foresight, honed over countless years, showed him the struggles ahead. Wars, poverty, and endless suffering. As an incubus, his life was like a dream, but as a human, reality had a way of seeping in, grounding him from thinking that way.
Merlin knew some of his actions might seem cruel, even harsh, but there was no regret in his heart. He had made his choices.
"What's done is done," he muttered, a twinge of frustration creeping into his voice.
The tree stirred once more, sensing his unease. Merlin smiled at its gentle attempt to comfort him. "You sense that place within me, don't you? Even across an ocean of stars, the connection remains strong."
He reached out, resting a hand on the tree's bark. "When the boy named Rudeus Greyrat dies, I will return to that observatory of mine. Until then..." His voice trailed off, his thoughts filled with determination. Time, after all, was not infinite.
"Teacher!"
The familiar voice of his student shattered Merlin's tranquility as she approached, out of breath from searching. "Come down and teach me magic! You promised! I've been looking for you for an hour, and you were hiding up here!?"
Merlin's amethyst eyes fluttered open, and he shifted his body to sit up properly. His gaze met that of the girl, and he couldn't help but smile at her flustered expression. "I'll teach you a new spell," he teased, watching her face brighten with excitement. "But first, you'll have to come up here."
Sylphy's face fell, "No way! Why won't Teacher just come down instead? I'll wait here!"
Merlin swung his legs playfully, "I can't do that. You see... I have a fear of heights~"
Sylphy's eyes widened in disbelief. "Eh?!"
"Knowing there's so much space between me and the ground," Merlin shivered dramatically, "I get chills~"
"Liar!" Sylphy shouted, her voice trembling. "Teacher is lying!"
Merlin gasped, "N-now, now, Sylphy, there's no need to accuse your Teacher, is there? I just wanted to make this an exciting exercise! You could've used chantless magic to get up here, you know?"
"As I thought, Teacher is truly the worst!" Sylphy pouted, her face flushing with frustration. Merlin suddenly found himself missing Artoria, who'd have tried to hit him with a wooden sword by now.
Being beaten up by a sword was better than this.
"Alright, fine," Merlin sighed dramatically. "I give up. You win." With a flick of his hand, Sylphy was gently lifted by the wind and placed beside him on the tree branch. "You're a troublesome student, Sylphy. Forcing your poor teacher into submission."
"It's your fault for being so stubborn!" she retorted, puffing her cheeks in defiance.
Merlin chuckled inwardly. He was glad to see her confidence growing, though he hoped she'd eventually outgrow her impatience. For now, he'd let it slide. She was still just a kid, after all.
"Rudy! Stop ignoring me!"
"Now it's Rudy and not Teacher?" Merlin raised an eyebrow, amused. Sylphy pouted again.
"I want to be as good at magic as Rudy. Will you teach me now?"
Merlin narrowed his eyes playfully. "You used 'the mother argument' to get your way earlier, didn't you?" With that, he leaped down from the tree, using a gust of wind to land gracefully on the ground.
"Rudy, wait!" Sylphy called, panicking as she realized she was still perched on the branch. "W-wait! I'm still up here! Help me down!"
Merlin glanced up at her, feigning confusion. "What do you mean? Didn't you ask me to take you there?"
"T-that's..." Sylphy stammered, remembering her earlier words.
Merlin smiled smugly. "You wanted to learn magic, didn't you? Then it shouldn't be a problem for you to use wind magic to get down. Condensing air is elementary, after all."
As he walked away, Sylphy's frustrated voice echoed through the forest. "RUUUDY!"
But before Merlin disappeared from sight, he gently patted the tree's bark. "If she falls or falters, please take care of her for me." The tree rustled in response as if understanding.
If anyone were to ask Merlin whether he'd planned this from the start, the wizard would laugh, offering only an innocent smile.
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