SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

Neron stood amidst the fallen Wyrms, his breath heavy as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

The cave was eerily silent now, the only sound being the faint drip of water from the stalactites above.

DRIP!

DRIP!

DRIP!

He matched the pace of his breathing to the sound as he surveyed the carnage around him, the bodies of the massive creatures lying still, their once glowing eyes now lifeless.

He took a moment to catch his breath as he felt the adrenaline in his system slowly ebb away.

His muscles ached, but he couldn't help the satisfaction that welled within him.

The Wyrms were dead and he hadn't even used magic at all.

"Magic is overrated," he muttered to himself, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

He sheathed his sword and ran a hand across his hair as he began to make his way out of the cave.

He could see that the exit was not far, a small opening that led back to the outside world.

As he got closer to the entrance, the faint light of day filtered through which was a welcome sight after the darkness of the cave.

He started toward it, his steps steady despite the exhaustion that weighed on him.

Just as he was about to step into the light, a figure appeared at the entrance, silhouetted against the brightness.

A young lady.

He was startled though he didn't show it but she appeared to be more startled than him.

It was clear that she wasn't expecting to meet anyone in the cave and she instinctively reached for her sword, but stopped when he stepped forward, revealing itself.

"Who are you?" He asked after a brief moment of silence between them.

She had long, white hair that flowed down her back, contrasting starkly against the black clothing she wore.

She had a stunning figure and ample racks that were pleasant to look at.

An eyepatch covered her left eye, adding to her enigmatic appearance.

She didn't seem to be a threat, but he knew better than to let his guard down.

The woman's gaze swept over the cave before settling on him. A faint smile played on her lips, one that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Well done," she said, her voice smooth and laced with amusement. "But you're no Martial Artist."

Neron's brow furrowed at her words. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep his tone even.

She stepped closer, her movements graceful and deliberate. "You may carry a sword, but you fight like a Mage," she continued, her smile widening as she watched his reaction. "Deny it all you want, but I can see it in the way you move, the way you think."

Neron's grip on his sword tightened. "I'm no Mage," he replied, his voice firm. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to deny it, but something about the way she spoke unnerved him.

The woman chuckled softly, as if his denial only amused her further. "Is that so?" she said, tilting her head slightly as she regarded him.

"Why deny what you are? It's not something you can escape from, no matter how hard you try."

Neron stared at her, unsure of what to say. Her words struck a chord, one that he didn't want to acknowledge.

"Who are you?" he asked, finally breaking the silence.

The woman's smile faded slightly, her expression becoming more serious.

"That's not important," she said, turning to leave. "What's important is that you figure out who you are, before it's too late."

With that, she walked past him and he watched her ass sway as she catwalked.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't dwell on that now.

He had completed his quest, and it was time to return to the guild to claim his reward.

The road was long, but the thrill of his victory and the reward kept him energized.

As much as he tried to ignore the strange lady's observation, a small part of him wondered if she was right.

As he walked, he tried to focus on the reward waiting for him at the guild. It wasn't just about the money—though that would certainly help—but also the recognition.

It was late afternoon by the time he arrived at the outskirts of the town.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets.

Neron passed by the familiar sights—market stalls, smithies, and inns bustling with activity as townsfolk and adventurers went about their business.

He could already see the guildhall in the distance, its tall wooden doors a welcoming sight.

With that, Neron pushed open the doors to the guildhall and stepped inside.

The familiar scent of wood and ale greeted him, along with the murmur of voices and the clinking of mugs.

The hall was busy, adventurers of all kinds milling about—some celebrating victories, others planning their next quests.

Neron made his way to the front desk, where the guild's receptionist sat behind a tall counter.

She looked up as he approached, her expression professional but with a hint of surprise.

"Back already?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Neron nodded, pulling out the proof of his kill—the Wyrm's scales, heavy and thick.

He placed them on the counter, and her eyes widened slightly as she examined them.

"Y-you killed them," she stuttered out.

He nodded once to signify that he did.

"Well, well," she said, her tone impressed. "You've outdone yourself this time. A nest of Wyrms? That's quite the accomplishment."

Neron shrugged, trying to downplay the whole thing. "Just another job," he said, though he couldn't keep the satisfaction out of his voice.

She chuckled as she recorded the details in her ledger. "Don't sell yourself short—this will get you some serious recognition. And a hefty reward, too."

She handed him a heavy pouch of coins, and Neron accepted it with a nod of thanks.

As he turned to leave, he spotted a familiar face watching him from across the room.

"Well done Nero," Legris said standing up to meet him.