SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

The sun beat down on a lone figure as he trekked through the vast expanse of a desert.

The plentiful mana within him had dulled down to the point where he could no longer feel it as he appeared to have used up a great part of his reserve.

The intoxicating surge he'd felt while fighting during the dungeon battle now seemed like a distant memory.

He had been traveling for weeks, though he had long since lost track of time. His mind was focused on survival now—something as mundane and exhausting as putting one foot in front of the other.

The sand stretched endlessly in every direction he could see and sometimes it shimmered in the midday heat. His throat was dry and parched beyond what healing magic could fix.

He hadn't eaten in days, and though he'd managed to conjure small amounts of water using his abilities, it wasn't enough to keep his strength up.

His legs felt like they were made of lead and it was with an effort that he dragged it through the dunes.

With each step, his body protested more and his muscles screamed for rest, but his mind pushed him forward.

"I have to keep moving," He said weakly as he knew that to stop meant to die, and after everything—Serah, Legris, the Guild—he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

But eventually, even his will wasn't enough.

~PLOPP!~

The moment came without warning. One second he was moving, and the next, his legs gave out beneath him.

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The scorching heat of the sand pressed against his skin as he fell face-first into the dunes.

His breaths came in shallow gasps as the air was heavy with dust and heat.

This is it, he thought bitterly. After everything I've been through, I'm going to die in the middle of nowhere.

He closed his eyes as he was too exhausted to care anymore. He felt the world around him begin to fade, the oppressive heat fading into a numb cold.

His mind drifted in and out of consciousness, and somewhere in the distance, a voice called out to him. It was faint at first but it grew clearer as it neared.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

The voice was familiar, irritatingly so, but Neron's mind couldn't place it for the life of him.

He felt himself being lifted, though it felt like his body was floating rather than being carried. The sensation was strange—comforting, almost.

Then darkness claimed him entirely.

*

*

*

Neron awoke in a bed, a soft pillow beneath his head and warm blankets draped over his body. His eyes fluttered open and he blinked quickly against the dim light that filled the room.

His mind was still groggy as he tried to piece together everything that had happened. He should have been dead, but instead, he felt…good. Too good, actually.

His body was in perfect health and he no longer felt hungry or thirsty. He sat up slowly and the cool sheets slipped from his chest as he took in his surroundings.

The room was elegant, though not extravagant—furnished with a large wooden desk, a chair, and shelves lined with books.

"Where am I?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

The last thing he remembered was collapsing in the desert. But this place was far from the barren wasteland he had been wandering.

As if in response to his question, the door to the room creaked open.

Neron turned his gaze toward the entrance just as a figure stepped through the doorway.

The woman who entered was tall, with an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. She wore dark, form-fitting clothes that accentuated her lean, muscular build.

Her striking features were framed by messy white hair, but it was the eyepatch covering her left eye that immediately drew Neron's attention.

His eyes lit up in recognition.

"You," he said, sitting up straighter.

The woman with the eyepatch smiled, a smirk that radiated amusement. "Me," she responded casually, closing the door behind her. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Neron didn't respond immediately as his mind was racing. He had met her before, briefly, during one of his earlier quests.

"How did you…?" he began, but she held up a hand, cutting him off.

"You passed out in the desert. Quite dramatically, I might add," she said, her voice laced with amusement. She crossed the room and took a seat in the chair by the window, lounging comfortably as if she owned the place. "Lucky for you, I was passing by. Again."

Neron narrowed his eyes, suspicion creeping into his thoughts. "You were just passing by? In the middle of a desert?"

She shrugged. "Coincidence, fate, who knows? Either way, here we are."

He didn't believe her, but something about her presence, her confidence, her knowing smile made it hard to question her outright. Instead, he focused on something else.

"You…healed me?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

She tilted her head, considering him. "In a way. Let's just say I'm good at taking care of things like that." Her smile widened, revealing a hint of something more predatory. "You're welcome, by the way."

Neron clenched his fists beneath the blanket, trying to keep his emotions in check. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

The woman's expression didn't falter. If anything, her amusement deepened.

"Oh, I don't want anything," she said, leaning forward slightly. "I just find you…interesting. You have power—more than most people I come across. But there's something else, something different about you."

Neron felt a chill run down his spine despite the warmth of the room. She wasn't just talking about his mana. Somehow, she knew more than she was letting on.

The woman stood, moving toward the door. "Get some rest," she said, glancing over her shoulder with that same knowing smile. "We'll talk more when you're ready."

Before he could respond, she left, the door closing softly behind her.

Neron stared at the door for a long moment, his mind racing as he thought about who she was.

As he tried to dwell on it, he felt himself get drowsy and he collapsed back on the bed.