Records of the Dark Magus

Chapter 1 – Reincarnation

In the dark and oppressive swamp located in the small Island of Narth, located in the rising Dalian Kingdom, some of the fiercest creatures that could be found on the mainland were being bred, and studied.

Even the harshest sunlight was unable to penetrate the low clouds and gloomy fog that surrounded the Island of Narth, so anyone walking through this area would feel a constant chill on their skin. Worse still, there were many records of natives becoming sick due to the 'Acolyte' research ongoing. After all, magical radiations were destructive to the normal people.

There were small, foul-smelling ponds everywhere. These ponds were inhabited by a myriad of strange creatures. Whenever wanderers visited, this desolate and silent land would become a paradise for those creatures, many of whom fed on human flesh and blood: Devil Imps, Giant Swamp Crocodiles, Red-tail Sharks, Evil Maiden Ghosts or wild beasts corrupted by the negative energy that filled the air.

Each one of these terrifying demonic beings made travellers avoid this place like the plague.

However, in this Island that was thought inhabitable, a huge, dark tower loomed over the surrounding land, and provided a nice touch of civilization in an Island where Man could not survive alone.

Its foundation was made entirely of red steel, so when the darkness of night came, the entire tower would radiate a chilly, blood sand glow, making it especially attractive to evil spirits and wraiths.

Perhaps out of a lack of maintenance, the lower levels of the tower were conquered by blood vine, terrifying beginner rank Plant Creatures that sucked the blood of any creature that was unlucky enough to get entangled in its branches.

On top of the lower floor's door, the mighty name [Ivory Tower Academy] was carved in strange runes of Old, runes that belonged to the Draconic Language that was once spread across several planes, yet forgotten by most.

Numerous Blood Eagles and 'Acolytes', students of the Magus Rutherford walking the path of magic, had lost their lives to these blood vines, joining the enormous pile of bones lining the base of the tower. Anyone who found the tower would think of it as a Lich lair, rather than an academy of mages. Those students, mainly sons of nobles and wealthy merchants seeking to strengthen their family by learning the secret of magic, were close to being monsters themselves.

Besides those who transformed their bodies through rituals, the vast majority became indifferent to death, for their missions consisted in an inhuman routine of experimentation. Often, the experimentation would require human subjects. The only way to stay sane after killing dozens of fellow humans was to develop indifference and apathy, which most possessed already upon coming. After all, these heirs were forsaken by their own families, sold off for a better future.

Dim candlelight leaked through the narrow window in the side of the tower in the middle of the night. Not only did the light failed to bring any warmth in this chilling environment, it also attracted curious wisps and ghosts who were not evil or powerful enough to be stopped by the Tower's defensive formation, yet creepy enough to scare and torment the acolytes living in the tower. After all, it was near impossible to get used to these creatures which could pass through walls.

The narrow window was a passageway to a lower-floor meditation room, one that was reserved for 'Beginner Rank Acolytes', as they were called.

Arthur Landragon, who had just turned fourteen, was sitting in front of a worn-out wooden table. There was a thick magic book unfolded in front of him, from which he was silently taking notes on a shady piece of goat skin, carving words with dark, profound ink and a blood eagle's feather.

Although he had arrived in this world three years ago, the discomfort of his soul still gave him frequent headaches. His mind was distracted, fragmental memories from the previous owner of his body, taking him by surprise.

In his distraction, the tip of his writing brush paused for a moment, causing a big lump of ink to well up on the crude goat skin. "Damn it!" Arthur's face contorted.

He couldn't control himself and clenched his fists. He wanted to scream out in anger, but he took a deep breath and held still for a while. After a long time, he finally managed to suppress the urge. This world was no longer the Earth that he was familiar with, and the body he was now inhabiting was not his original body either.

It once belonged to one of the many students of Magus Rutherford, a beginner 'Acolyte', whose name was Arthur Landragon. More accurately, he became a wandering soul after dying on Earth, and he managed to take over this body right at the moment when the original Arthur died from one of the Swamp Alligators, three years ago.

Wounded in a hostile environment, he had somehow found the strength to crawl back to safety, and it had taken over a year for his injuries to fully heal under the crude medical tools he had at his disposal. It was a wonder how he managed to fully recover from such heavy wounds and with so little medical resources available.

Of course, he began to dwell into the appealing and mysterious magical studies, but he quickly came to understand that neither the language nor the weird, ancient runes were familiar to him. It took three years, for the massive and intense headaches to become scarcer and lighter. At first, he would spend several hours a day remembering fragmental memories belonging to his body, but nowadays, the sharp pain in his head would only strike him occasionally, once a month.

Naturally, with these newly found memories, he eventually learnt the language and acquired the ability to read, but there was nothing simple about the complex magic theories. It was nothing like science, or anything like he encountered back on Earth. The spell model had some link with universal geometry, and after calculating some motive, he recognized the fractal structure of some of the most widely known geometry discovery of the twenty first century. But that was it. Most of the theory talked about elemental particles and mana, which was completely unknown back on Earth.

The actual learning process of a spell – namely learning and comprehending the magical theories dealing with elemental particles, similar to electrons, except they can only be felt by 'magically gifted' creatures, visualising the spell model in one's mind and learning the chant in a runic, archaic language called Dragon Tongue – was unlike any task he had dwelled upon in the past.

After three years of daily struggle, he took pride in the one spell he had learnt during this time: [Freezing Touch – Low Grade Rank 0 Spell]. Among the acolytes who had joined the tower in the same year as he did, some already mastered two spells, or even three. But Arthur was less talented, for he only boasted 'grade 2 talent' on a scale from the lowest 1 to the highest 5. It wasn't the worst, it was only 'decent'.

Many would think of reincarnation as an appealing adventure.

But ever since he came to this magical world, life had been treating Arthur harshly.

Suddenly, his frustration for ruining the goat skin was interrupted by the sounds of his door being knocked.

*BANG*

*BANG*

Not wanting his door broken, Arthur obliged and opened the door, only to see the pale-looking William, with a flustered and anxious face. The lad was two years older than him, being 16, and he shared similar plights. The both of them could be considered good acquaintances, and they often moved together for mutual benefits. Lone wolves were being picked on in the tower after all.

"You are late", he said in an angry voice, "I have been waiting for you for one hour already"

Was it already this late?

He had been so engrossed in his magical studies that he had come to forget the passage of time. Revealing an apologetic smile, Arthur hurried and took the cross sword hidden behind his bedsheet, before joining the lad. Locking his room behind him, he sighed.

Once again, he had to risk his life to complete his weekly assignment.