SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

"I see. So you're the one who saved me…"

"Yeah."

Mordred was once again blown away by Neron's genius and brilliance. His affinity for Magic was too unreal to simply be called talent. He was just an otherworldly entity—almost as if Mana itself blessed him.

'How could he have brought me back when he has no advanced experience dealing with the Mana Circulation of another person?'

Not only would he have to know the details of Mana Circulation and the pathways in the body, he would have also needed to have proper understanding of Mordred's body to be able to control the dispersion and flow of Mana in a safe manner.

Too fast, too slow, too strong, too weak: any of these would have meant instant death on his part.

Yet… Neron did it.

'My boy…' Mordred looked at his twelve year old son, who looked at him with glistening eyes of both worry and relief.

Neron currently sat beside Mordred, and in order to match him, Mordred was seated upright on his bed.

Thankfully, there were no tears, and neither was the moment as intense as he feared. Clearly, there was some invisible wave of tense silence, but not enough that it made Mordred dread even breathing.

In all honesty, the man was quite inexperienced when handling emotional moments like this, and from the looks of things, Neron was similar.

For the most part, they both remained silent and stared at each other.

Until—

"Dad… what exactly happened to you? I want to know."

'He called me dad again. That makes me happy…' Mordred smiled, realizing he was focusing on the wrong thing at the moment.

In the past, Neron only referred formally to Mordred as 'Father', but never as 'Dad'. They both shared a unique bond, but there was always this barrier that was yet to be crossed.

But now… things were different.

"Dad, are you listening? Tell me what happened to you!"

Mordred sighed as he smiled at Neron. He never wanted his son to find out this way, but he didn't think of anything else he could say but the truth.

'He treated me, so he must have some idea about what's going on in my body. Lying to him would be foolish.'

Besides, now that Neron had just torn down such a barrier between them, Mordred felt more motivated to share his deepest secret.

"Well… where do I begin?"

"Anywhere."

Neron's glistening black eyes showed he was impatiently waiting for an explanation, and Mordred had to deliver. The overenthusiasm of the kid scared him a little, but he decided to let it all out anyway.

After bracing himself for a moment, he finally spoke.

"It's called Mana Burst Syndrome," Mordred explained, his voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and sadness. "I was born with it. Whenever I use magic, it puts a strain on my body, and it gets worse with every spell cast."

Neron listened intently, absorbing every word as Mordred continued to explain how his thirst for magic had led him to push himself beyond his limits, despite the toll it took on his health.

"I didn't really notice it at the early stages. Not until I reached a certain peak of Magic where my Mana was beginning to overflow from my Mana Core."

Doing so meant he couldn't stir his Mana too much, since the energy would pour out and run wild within his body.

"I reached a point where I was too strong for my body to handle," Mordred admitted, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "Every time I cast a spell, it was like I was slowly killing myself."

Neron's expression shifted from concern to confusion as he processed the information. "But why did you teach me magic if it was killing you?" Sure, a lot of things were beginning to make sense to Neron. There were times when Mordred would prematurely stop their lessons together, and other moments when he refused to further his Magic Training despite the progress he was making.

All of that was due to the Mana Burst Syndrome. It reached a point when Mordred stopped using Magic or training Neron for a long period, which meant he mostly practiced with Aldred.

Back then, Neron felt it was unfair, and he desired—more than anything—to keep having fun using Magic with his father by his side. But now, it all made sense.

Still…

"You still taught me Magic for a long period, and you indulged me at certain moments, even though your life was in danger." Neron's voice trembled a little, but he did his best to appear calm.

"Why…?"

Mordred met Neron's gaze, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Because I wanted you to see how beautiful magic can be," he replied softly. "I wanted you to experience the wonder and the power of it, to understand its complexities and its potential."

Neron was very averse to Magic when they first met. The death of his friends at the hands of a Mage was more than enough to cause that.

For any normal person, Mordred would have left them alone. But…

'You're special, Neron. I could see it back then, and soon everyone will see it too.'

Even if he had to risk his life and worsen his health, he wanted the boy to grow in the art and see the amazing sides of it.

That way, perhaps Neron could do it… break through the very limits of Magic.

Mordred paused, his eyes reflecting a lifetime of memories. "And besides," he added with a chuckle, "we had a lot of fun, didn't we? I wouldn't trade those moments for anything."

As Neron let Mordred's words sink in, a sense of understanding washed over him. Despite the pain he must have suffered through, Mordred had wanted to share his love of magic with him, to impart his knowledge and his passion for the arts. And though the truth was bittersweet, Neron couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for the lessons his adopted father had taught him, both in magic and in life.

"Thank you, Dad." Soon, the look of worry on his face transformed into that of optimism.

"Don't worry! You'll never have to suffer like that again. I'll make sure of it.!"

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