SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

The dragons roared with thunderous applause as Z'ark knelt before Neron, his massive form dwarfed by the magnitude of his defeat.

The once-proud gleam of his golden scales had dimmed, a shadow of the might he once radiated. Around them, the Dragon Nation's elders stepped forward, their ancient eyes heavy with the weight of tradition and expectation.

"By right of combat," one of the elders declared, his voice as deep and powerful as a rumbling storm, "you are now the King of Dragons."

The proclamation was met with another roar from the gathered dragons, a myriad of wings and cheers that filled the sky.

"Haa… haa… whoa!"

Neron stood still, his heart pounding in his chest as the reality of his new position sank in. He had come here with a simple goal: stop the dragons' march and prevent war. Now, not only had he succeeded, but he had also been thrust into a role far beyond anything he would have normally desired.

"Retreat," Neron commanded, his voice steady despite his racing thoughts. "The war is over. We will not march on the Magic Beast Nation."

The dragons obeyed without hesitation, a collective nod of their heads signaling their acceptance of his authority.

Even Z'ark, still kneeling, bowed his head in deference.

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The trust placed in him was as heavy as the air around him. He watched as the massive creatures took to the skies, their powerful wings creating gusts that shook the ground.

Then, without a word, he followed, his mind still awash with disbelief.

************

The Dragon Nation was a breathtaking realm, an awe-inspiring blend of nature and architecture. Towering spires carved from mountains pierced the heavens, while rivers of molten gold and veins of obsidian crisscrossed a sprawling city that glowed like a living jewel.

As the dragons descended, Neron was escorted to the grand palace at the heart of their kingdom. Its entrance was flanked by intricate carvings of past kings, each face etched with a timeless sense of duty and pride.

Inside the palace, Neron was met by the Dragon Queen, Althea. Her presence was as commanding as it was graceful. Crimson scales adorned her lithe frame, and her piercing emerald eyes regarded him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"It is tradition," she said, her voice smooth and melodic, "for the new king to consummate his rule with the queen."

Neron froze.

His pulse quickened as he fumbled for words, his mind spiraling into panic.

"I… uh… that's not… I mean…"

Before he could embarrass himself further, a knock at the door interrupted. One of the elders stepped inside, bowing deeply.

"Your Majesty, the coronation ceremony is prepared."

Relief flooded Neron, and he hurriedly excused himself, avoiding Althea's knowing smirk as he practically fled from the chamber.

*************

The coronation was a spectacle of ancient rites and solemn oaths.

The throne room was a cavernous space, its walls shimmering with veins of raw gold that reflected the flickering light of ceremonial torches. A crown, crafted from the purest gold and inlaid with gemstones that seemed to burn like dragon fire, was placed upon Neron's head. As he sat on the ornate throne, the weight of his new position pressed down on him.

He had achieved peace, but at what cost?

The cheers of the dragons were deafening, a sea of wings and voices united in celebration. Yet, amidst the revelry, Neron felt a growing unease.

This was not his place, not his life.

Late that night, Neron found himself perched on a high cliff overlooking the kingdom.

The city below sparkled like a constellation fallen to earth, its rivers of lava carving glowing paths through the darkness. The stars above mirrored the fiery rivers, their cold light a stark contrast to the heat of the Dragon Nation.

For the first time since his arrival, Neron allowed himself a moment of silence. The enormity of what he had done—and what was expected of him—settled heavily in his chest.

"Enjoying the view?"

Neron didn't even flinch as Lilith's voice broke the quiet. She stepped out of the shadows, her crimson hair catching the faint starlight. She approached with her usual casual confidence, her sharp eyes studying him.

"You did well," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "A king at your age? Not bad."

Neron scoffed, leaning back against the rock. "Yeah, well, it wasn't exactly on my bucket list."

Lilith chuckled, the sound light and teasing.

"And yet, here you are. Though, I have to ask…" She tilted her head, her expression turning mischievous. "Why didn't you take the chance to, you know,

seal the deal

with the queen?"

Neron's face flushed. "Lilith, seriously?"

"What?" she replied, her tone feigning innocence. "It's tradition, isn't it? You're not scared of a little dragon fire, are you?"

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Can we not talk about this?"

Her laughter rang out, rich and genuine. She reached out to ruffle his hair like he was a kid who had just survived his first big adventure.

"Relax, Neron. I'm just teasing you. Honestly, though… I'm proud of you."

Her sincerity caught him off guard. He looked up, meeting her gaze, and found no trace of mockery there. Just warmth.

"Thanks," he murmured, unsure of what else to say.

Lilith straightened, brushing off her coat as if preparing for the next chapter of their journey.

"Well, your royal highness, it's time to go. We've got more work to do."

"Go?" Neron blinked, confused. "Just like that? Shouldn't we let the Magic Beast King know? Or at least say goodbye to the dragons?"

Lilith waved a hand dismissively. "Too much hassle. They'll figure it out."

Her nonchalant attitude irked him, but he stayed silent. This was who she was—detached, always moving forward without looking back.

It was both frustrating and oddly admirable.

~FSHUUUU!~

The portal shimmered before them, its swirling light casting long shadows across the ground. Neron hesitated, turning back for one last look at the Dragon Nation. The kingdom stretched out before him, beautiful and untamed, a testament to the strength and pride of its people.

A pang of guilt stabbed at him for leaving so abruptly, but deep down, he understood.

This was Lilith's way, and now, it was his path too.

Lilith stepped through the portal without a backward glance, her figure vanishing into the light. Neron lingered for a moment longer, the weight of his journey pressing on him.

'I guess this is what it means to be a vagabond…"

With a deep sigh, he turned toward the portal, leaving the dragons and their kingdom behind, and ready to face whatever awaited the two of them next.

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