SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

In the silent echo of a dream, I watched as the scenes of a life that resembled my own unfolded.

I was a silent observer, a captive audience to a drama of magic and ambition.

The boy in my dream bore a striking resemblance to me in my youth, but the more I watched his life play out, the clearer the truth became.

He had brown hair, and his eyes were deep amber, though filled with the same childlike wonder I had.

His words echoed around me, a mantra I felt in the very marrow of my bones.

"I love Magic!"

His voice was vibrant and brimming with childlike wonder, the kind that only comes with the boundless curiosity of youth.

His words resonated with the parts of me that were still innocent and untouched by the world.

A familiar desire ignited within me, a thirst for knowledge and power, a deep-seated need to grasp the intricacies of magic.

... It reminded my own past.

The boy's passion mirrored mine, his ambition matching my own.

But as I watched, a sense of unease gnawed at me.

His life was not my life.

His experiences were not mine.

His dreams were not mine.

Yet, I could not help but feel an odd kinship with him.

I saw the boy mature, his enthusiasm for magic never waning. I watched him pour over dusty books and theory, devoting himself entirely to his love for Magic.

He isolated himself from his peers, preferring the enchanting allure of Magic to the company of others.

There was a single-mindedness to his ambition, a cold, calculating determination that felt eerily familiar.

I watched him, unable to move, unable to intervene as he set his course and pledged himself to his passion.

But as he aged, so too did his ambitions grow.

They twisted and warped, becoming more than just a dream.

They became an obsession.

I watched as he spoke of grand titles and global recognition, an intense fixation in his eyes that I couldn't help but recognize.

"I... I can do it!" He would always profess. "I am SPECIAL!"

And then came the 'Awakening'.

The boy, now a young teenager, brimming with confidence and arrogance.

The scene was heartbreakingly familiar.

He was rejected, deemed Inept.

"No..." The crushing reality of his powerlessness hitting him, a cruel mockery of his dreams. His dreams shattered, his ambitions ridiculed.

His pain was palpable, raw and searing.

It was a pain I knew all too well, a pain that had once been mine.

I felt a wave of empathy wash over me, a deep ache resonating in my chest.

As the dream wound to a close, I was left with a bitter taste in my mouth.

This boy, so similar yet so different, was not me.

I was Lewis Griffith, a Magic Scholar who'd weathered countless trials and tribulations, who'd sacrificed everything for his cause.

I was Lewis Griffith, the survivor, the Great Sage, the protector.

The man who'd braved the abyss and emerged stronger.

The man who'd embraced the darkness and learned to wield it as his own. I was Lewis Griffith... not this boy.

Not...

"Hey, Legris, you're not gonna give up on your dreams, are you?" I watched as the boy was surrounded by the very people he had rejected.

They all rendered him warm smiles and support.

And what did the boy do? What response did he give to their maelstrom of encouragement and smiles of comfort?

"Of course not!" The boy bore a very prideful, bright grin.

"If I can not be a Grand Mage, then I will simply be something else! I won't let all I have learned go to waste!"

Yes... this was how the story went, wasn't it?

"I still love magic, and I will still devote myself to it! More and more knowledge of this art will be engraved within me, and even if I am unable to practice it, I will make sure no one knows Magic more than I do!"

That's right. This was the birth of a new goal for the young boy.

The desire to become...

"Legris Damien will be known throughout the land… as the Great Sage!"

And after that, the entire world went blank.

"Haaa...."

As I awoke from the dream, I couldn't help but carry with me a strange sense of deja vu, a nagging familiarity that lingered in the corners of my mind.

Th boy was not me, and yet, he could've been.

I could've been him.

But I wasn't.

"What a strange dream. Who was that kid? Why did I have that dream?" I muttered, rising to my feet as I looked around me.

I was currently standing at the center of a massive crater, everything around me completely leveled.

I must have really destroyed everything in my fight with that powerful black marker monster.

And yet, even though I was confronted with the weight of my reality... I found my thoughts returning to the dream I had.

"What was the name of that boy in the dream again?"

I couldn't remember.

I could barely remember what he looked like.

But why? What was this nagging feeling that wasn't leaving my heart? It kept gnawing at my insides for some reason.

"Well... that doesn't matter now." I whispered, my eyes narrowing on an Arcana that was now materializing in front of me.

The Arcana had a jet black color, with a dark aura radiating from it.

"Forget the dream for now. There are more pressing issues to deal with." Stretching my hand forward, I reached out for the prize before me.

The gnawing feeling within me receded, and I slowly forgot about the pangs in my heart, only focusing on the mission before me.

The forgotten dream could wait.

I was Lewis Griffith, and I had my own battles to fight.

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[A/N]

Did this chapter confuse you? Well, I had a feeling that it would. I suppose you already have some idea about what it's about.

Well, let's explore this Arc together and find out.