Chapter 2: The Dark Magus Has Returned

Memories flooded Raze’s mind, like a torrent of emotions, emotions he had locked away for so long. They made him sick every time he revisited them.

“When did it all start, my terrible life? Was it my father? Selling me to those men… every night? No, that wasn’t what broke me. It was…”

However, the vivid memories were soon overwhelmed by something else: faces he didn’t recognize, places he had never been, and names he was sure he hadn’t heard before.

Suddenly, his eyes opened, vision blurred momentarily.

“Why… why am I in pain? My neck hurts, and it feels like… I can’t breathe!”

As his vision sharpened, it seemed to dim simultaneously. Eventually, a pair of bulging eyes became clear, staring right at him. Now, he recognized the sensation of fingers clenched around his throat.

“I’ve escaped death before, and now this? I’m being strangled, facing death again!” Raze thought. “If I were to die, I’d never choose something this painful! I won’t die again!”

He saw his attacker: a man draped in black garments, his face obscured, leaving only his eyes visible, reminiscent of a ninja.

Struggling, Raze pressed his hands against the man’s stomach.

“Let’s see how you like having your insides torn out!”

Raze pushed, but nothing happened. No explosion, no reaction from his assailant, who kept tightening the grip on Raze’s neck.

“Did I deplete all my magic using that spell? Damn it… I really am going to die…”

Darkness encroached on his vision, and he felt consciousness slipping away. Yet, he sensed the man’s strength waning for some reason.

“Did part of my spell take effect? This is my chance.”

Catching sight of a broken shard of a plate from the corner of his eye, he grabbed it, thrusting it into the man’s side. The man grunted, his grip weakening.

Blood dripped from where the shard had also cut Raze’s hand, but adrenaline numbed the pain. He pulled out the shard, stabbing repeatedly until the man’s strength failed entirely, and he collapsed atop Raze.

“I can breathe!” Raze gasped, but the weight on his chest felt oppressive. He waited for strength to return before shoving the man aside and painstakingly getting to his feet.

Exhausted, Raze huffed and panted, feeling as if he might collapse. After a few moments, the pain faded, and he surveyed his surroundings.

The motionless man in black bore injuries other than Raze’s inflicted wounds. Raze had seen enough dead bodies to know this man was truly gone.

“Arghh!” A sharp pain struck his head, memories pouring in, clearer this time. Examining his hands, the smooth skin told a story. They were smooth, his hands were responsive as he opened and closed them.

“The spell… it actually worked. I’ve been reborn!”

Judging by appearances, he seemed to inhabit a young body. That of a teenager or a young man at least. It was hard to tell without looking at himself in a mirror. “I had my doubts about that book, but it worked!” Raze mused. “Thankfully, I’m young. Who knows how it would’ve been if I’d ended up old again? Or in the body of a bed ridden man!”

His joy was tempered by the grim reality around him. His first experience in this new body had been a brush with death, hardly auspicious.

Scanning the room, Raze attempted to piece together events. The modest room had water-damaged floorboards and moldy walls. Crude wooden utensils and half-eaten food hinted at a bygone era. Feeling as if he had stepped back in time.

“They were in the middle of a meal,” Raze noted.

By “they,” he meant the three other bodies: an adult male, a female, and a teenage boy, each bearing fatal wounds. The memories suggested they were his new body’s family. A pang of sorrow surfaced, though Raze tried to suppress it.

“They were murdered, likely by the man who tried to kill me. But why?”

His new memories were fragmented. He remembered family names, which seemed pointless, but not their lives or experiences. However, he remembered his name: Raze.

“Maybe it’s coincidence this body’s named Raze,” he pondered. “Or perhaps the spell ensured it. Regardless, I’ve succeeded.”

Raising a fist, he tried to channel magic. His eyes were staring hard, he was focusing, and focusing, The veins were popping at the side of his head, but there was nothing. Leaving him to delve deep within himself. After a few moments, it started to click.

‘Now it makes sense, why my spell faltered earlier,’ Raze mused. ‘It’s because this boy doesn’t possess a mana core. And that means he hasn’t chosen an attribute either!’ 𝑂𝒱𝓵xt.𝗇𝓔t

At first, Raze had been disheartened. Inhabiting a person’s body with no mana core meant that he was devoid of magic, and he’d have to embark on the long hard journey from scratch. The painstaking years he invested to ascend as a 9-star mage seemed to evaporate in the blink of an eye. It was as if he was reset to square one.

Yet, as he delved deeper into the implications, he realized it could be a blessing. Had he inhabited a body with a pre-existing mana core, that individual would undoubtedly have an innate magic attribute.

In his former life, Raze had a natural predisposition towards wind magic, making him adept at harnessing its spells. But as the sands of time flowed, he gravitated towards the Dark Attribute. It was an arcane form of magic, pursued by few mages. He became an enigma as the only 9-star mage who exclusively delved into Dark magic, earning him a name whispered in both reverence and fear, the Dark Magus.

His inborn inclination towards Wind magic, however, ensured that his proficiency in Dark magic would always remain somewhat lacking. But now, with this clean slate, he could amend past shortcomings.

His gaze settled on the lifeless body adjacent to him. Grinning ear to ear, Raze settled into a meditative posture on the cold ground. Using the blood oozing from a wound on his palm, he meticulously sketched a magical circle around him.

‘For eons, it was believed that one’s affinity for attributes was merely a capricious act of fate. Upon a mage crafting their core – the bedrock of all magic – the core would shimmer in a colour based on one’s magical affinity.’

‘Yet, as history unfolded, it was discovered that certain acts could steer the formation of the mana core. As long as it hadn’t been made. Consuming spicy dishes could kindle fire, while a perilous fall from a great height might awaken wind magic. But for the enigmatic Dark Attribute, the path to a jet-black mana core was paved with a most sinister act…murder.’

“HAHAHA!” Raze’s laughter, unhinged and manic, reverberated through the air. “Is this fate’s own design? It’s as though the cosmos itself is directing my path!”

With the final touch to his magical circle, Raze’s concentration deepened. The ambient energy seemed to dance, twirling and wrapping itself around him, gradually getting absorbed.

He felt minuscule orbs of power wriggling within, converging near his heart – the cradle for a mage’s mana core. The energy coalesced, condensing into a potent sphere.

After what felt like hours, the process reached its crescendo. Nested within Raze was a deep-black mana core, enveloping his heart.

His eyes snapped open, gleaming with triumph.

“The Dark Magus, has returned.”