*EarthLand, Ishgar, Near Magnolia, Year 769*
The room was quiet, save for the soft crackling of firewood burning inside the stone fireplace and the occasional whisper of wind brushing against the glass windows.
Warm rays of morning sunlight filtered through cream-colored curtains, painting golden streaks across the polished wooden floor.
The ceiling above was crafted from aged oak, its dark beams carrying the scent of fresh timber that lingered throughout the spacious bedroom.
Every piece of furniture, from the carved wardrobe to the elegant bedside table, spoke of quiet wealth rather than extravagant luxury.
Lying upon the large bed was a young boy no older than eight.
His silky silver hair spread messily across the pillow, shimmering faintly beneath the sunlight, while his delicate yet striking features already hinted at the handsome young man he would one day become.
His closed eyes suddenly twitched.
Then— A violent headache exploded inside my skull.
“…Argghh…!”
I gasped sharply as an unbearable wave of pain tore through my mind.
It felt as though countless voices were screaming all at once, while an endless stream of images crashed into my consciousness like a raging flood.
My body jerked upright instinctively, breathing heavily as cold sweat soaked my forehead.
“Haa… haa…”
The world around me spun for a brief moment before my vision gradually steadied.
The first thing I saw were two anxious faces staring directly at me.
“…Luke!”
A woman with chestnut-colored hair immediately leaned closer, her emerald eyes filled with fear and concern.
Before I could even react, warm hands gently cupped my cheeks, carefully inspecting every inch of my face as though afraid I would disappear if she looked away.
“Luke, sweetheart, how are you feeling?” she asked hurriedly, her voice trembling.
“Does your head hurt? Are you dizzy? Do you feel sick anywhere?”
Before I could answer, another sharp pain stabbed through my head.
“…!”
My vision blurred once more.
Then the memories came.
Not fragments but everything.
Images flashed before my eyes faster than I could comprehend them.
A crying infant wrapped in white blankets.
A woman smiling while humming lullabies.
A man proudly teaching a little boy how to hold a wooden staff.
Learning to read.
Playing in a flower garden.
Celebrating birthdays.
Running through endless fields beneath a blue sky.
Growing from infancy…
To childhood…
Every single memory of this body surged into my mind as though someone had opened a dam.
But they didn’t stop there.
Another lifetime emerged.
Towering cities.
Neon lights.
Cars.
Computers.
The internet.
A completely different world.
A completely different life.
Memories that did not belong to this world.
Memories…
Of my previous life.
“…I…”
I instinctively held my forehead, my breathing becoming uneven as the two lifetimes intertwined before finally settling into one coherent consciousness.
So…
I had reincarnated and right now I found myself standing in the world of Fairy Tail.
The realization settled over me with a mixture of disbelief and awe.
This wasn’t a dream, nor was it the product of an overactive imagination.
The mysterious being I encountered within that endless expanse of white had, without a doubt, granted me reincarnation.
It wasn’t a dream after all.
My name wasn’t just Luke.
It was now Luke Valenhart.
Eight years old.
The eldest son of House Valenhart, one of the noble houses.
We were nobles, but not the kind who lived in sprawling estates filled with glittering chandeliers, endless servants, and overflowing vaults of gold.
Our home was modest compared to the grand manors that dotted the capital, a warm stone manor tucked away on a quiet hill and the scent of old books mingled with blooming flowers from Mother’s garden.
We lived comfortably not extravagantly, but never in want.
The title attached to our family name carried far more weight than our wealth ever did.
That honor belonged to my grandparents but inherited by my father as continuance and service.
My father had earned our noble status through inheritance, and through countless years of service, sacrifice, and feats that became stories whispered throughout Fiore.
He was once a Fairy Tail mage, one of the guild’s legendary S-Class wizards, a title reserved only for those whose strength, courage, and character surpassed the ordinary.
Even years after his retirement, older adventurers would still lower their voices whenever his name surfaced in conversation, recalling impossible missions and battles that should have claimed his life.
Mother often laughed whenever people exaggerated his exploits.
One of the memories show me one dinner evening when we are eating.
(Flashback)
“They always make your father sound larger than life,” she would tease over dinner, smiling as she placed another serving onto his plate.
“At this rate, children will believe you wrestled dragons with your bare hands.”
Father would scratch the back of his head, embarrassed.
“I only fought ten wyverns,” he’d reply with a sheepish grin.
“…It was already half dead.”
Mother would sigh dramatically.
“See? That’s exactly why they never let you tell your own stories.”
Despite the laughter, there were truths no one joked about.
The scars that crossed Father’s back were reminders of battles long finished.
Some nights, when the weather turned cold, pain settled into his bones like an unwelcome guest.
There were mornings when even lifting a teacup caused his hands to tremble slightly.
The healers had done everything they could, but magic could only mend so much.
Years of pushing his body beyond its limits had left wounds that never truly healed.
The guild had offered him countless chances to remain as an S-Class mage.
Fairy Tail never abandoned its own.
“I can still fight,” Father insisted during one of his final meetings at the guild hall.
the old guild master merely folded his arms.
“No one’s questioning that. It’s just… We’d rather have you alive than legendary.”
In the end, Father chose to retire not because he had grown weak, but because he finally had something more precious than glory waiting for him at home.
His family.
He traded dangerous missions for quiet mornings, thunderous battles for evenings by the fireplace, and the roar of monsters for Mother’s gentle voice reminding him that dinner was getting cold.
Though he no longer bore the Fairy Tail emblem on active missions, the faded guild mark on his shoulder remained, worn but unmistakable, a symbol of the life he once lived and the family he chose to protect instead.
If Father earned our family’s respect through strength, Mother secured it through knowledge.
She was one of Fiore’s most celebrated scholars, a woman whose research was sought by noble houses, guild masters, and even the Magic Council itself.
Ancient languages, magical theory, forgotten civilizations, lost relics there seemed to be no subject beyond her understanding.
Visitors traveled across the kingdom simply to consult her, often leaving our home carrying stacks of notes and grateful expressions.
Father liked to joke that she was far more terrifying than any wizard he’d ever fought.
“I’ve defeated dark guilds. I’ve survived monsters. I’ve even stared down a demon.”
He’d pause dramatically before pointing toward Mother’s study.
“But interrupt her while she’s writing? Now that is true courage.”
Mother would lift her eyes from her manuscript with an amused smile.
“If you’re quite finished exaggerating… Dinner’s ready… And if you don’t come now, I’ll start without you.”
Father would immediately stand.
“I’m coming.”
Watching them, it was difficult to imagine them as the legends everyone described.
To the world, they were a retired S-Class Fairy Tail mage and a renowned scholar whose names carried influence throughout the kingdom.
To me, they were simply Father and Mother.
One taught me that true strength was knowing what was worth protecting.
The other taught me that knowledge was a form of magic all its own.
Together, they gave our family something far more valuable than riches.
They gave us a name people respected not because of the fortune we possessed, but because of the lives they had lived.
(Flashback finish)
The realization should have shaken me far more than it did, yet strangely…
I felt calm.
Perhaps because these weren’t foreign memories anymore.
Both lives felt equally real, equally mine.
“…Luke?”
The gentle voice pulled me back to reality.
I blinked several times before looking at the worried woman beside me.
Mother.
Amy Valenhart.
According to my memories, she had once been a renowned scholar, respected for her extensive knowledge of history, languages, and magical theory.
Since marrying Father, however, she had devoted herself entirely to raising our family.
Her usually graceful face was now clouded with anxiety.
She reached out and brushed a few strands of silver hair away from my forehead.
“Sweetheart…” she whispered softly.
“You’re frightening me. Are you feeling unwell? Does anything hurt?”
Seeing the panic in her eyes stirred an unfamiliar warmth inside my chest.
Without thinking, I smiled faintly and gently shook my head.
“I’m okay, Mother.”
My voice sounded a little hoarse.
“I just… had a strange headache.”
“Really?”
She searched my face carefully, as though trying to determine whether I was forcing myself to smile.
“I promise.”
To reassure her further, I even stretched my arms and rotated my shoulders.
“See? I’m perfectly fine.”
Only then did some of the tension leave her expression, though concern still lingered in her eyes.
Beside her stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with short ash hair streaked faintly with silver.
His stern features carried the dignity expected of a noble mage, yet beneath his composed exterior, relief was unmistakable.
My father, Bor Valenhart.
An accomplished mage serving Magnolia but a former S-class mage of Fairy tail.
He folded his arms before letting out a slow breath.
“You gave us quite the scare.”
His normally calm voice carried an unusual softness.
“You collapsed immediately after attempting to awaken your First Origin.”
I blinked.
First Origin…
Right, today had been the day I awaited.
At the age of eight, I attempted to awaken my magic vessel or the first origin sleeping within my body the very foundation of the magical talent and future potential.
Success meant taking the first true step toward becoming a mage.
Failure meant waiting until the next opportunity, though repeated failures often indicated limited potential.
“You suddenly lost consciousness,” Father continued.
“There wasn’t a single scratch on you, but no matter how much we called your name, you wouldn’t respond.”
Mother lowered her head slightly, gripping my hand tighter.
“I thought…” she whispered, her voice cracking.
“I thought something terrible had happened.”
Father placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder before looking back at me.
“So I carried you back here and had the physician examine you. He couldn’t find anything wrong and suggested we let you rest.”
A faint smile appeared on his usually serious face.
“Only a few minutes passed before you woke up on your own.”
He let out a long sigh, one that seemed to release all the worry he had been holding back.
“…Thank the gods.”
Mother closed her eyes as tears quietly gathered at the corners.
Without warning, she wrapped both arms around me, pulling me tightly into her embrace.
“You silly child…”
She laughed weakly through her tears.
“Don’t ever scare us like that again.”
For a moment, I simply sat there, frozen.
In my previous life…
I lost someone who hugged me like this but now I have someone again.
Slowly, almost awkwardly, I returned the embrace.
“I’m sorry…”
The words escaped my lips naturally.
“I’ll be more careful.”
As I felt the warmth of my parents surrounding me, the reality of my new life settled deep within my heart.
This wasn’t a dream.
This wasn’t a fantasy.
I had truly been given a second chance.
And from this day onward…
I would live as Luke Valenhart.
Several days had passed since the day my magic vessel awakened.
The excitement from that incident had long settled into quiet curiosity.
Since I still wasn’t allowed to perform any strenuous activities, I spent most of my time inside our house, wandering through Mother’s vast collection of books.
One particular tome caught my attention.
Origin of Magic.
Its leather cover was old and worn, its pages yellowed by time.
Judging from its condition, it had probably passed through several generations of our family.
I gently flipped it open.
“The true beginning of magic has long been lost to history…”
That was how the first chapter began.
According to the book, no one truly knew where magic first came from.
There were only theories, each passed down from ancient civilizations that had vanished long ago.
Yet despite the uncertainty surrounding its origins, every scholar agreed on one fundamental truth.
Magic was born from the connection between life and nature itself.
The book explained that every wizard possessed an invisible vessel within their body a container capable of storing magical energy.
That energy was called Ethernano.
Countless particles of Ethernano drifted throughout the atmosphere, invisible to ordinary eyes.
Mages unconsciously absorbed these particles into their bodies, gradually filling their internal vessel with magical power.
The larger and stronger one’s vessel became, the greater the amount of magic one could wield.
But Ethernano alone wasn’t enough.
Magic itself was described as the physical manifestation of one’s spirit.
When a person’s physical existence resonated with the spiritual flow of nature, Ethernano responded to that will, giving birth to magic.
“…So magic isn’t just energy,” I muttered to myself.
“It’s the result of the body… the soul… and nature working together.”
The more I read, the more fascinated I became.
This world’s magic wasn’t merely a supernatural force.
It followed principles and Rules.
Without realizing it, I had become completely absorbed in the book.
“Hmm?”
A gentle shadow fell over the pages.
I looked up to find Mother smiling warmly at me.
“So that’s where you’ve been hiding.” She tilted her head.
“What are you reading so seriously?”
I lifted the book for her to see.
“It’s called Origin of Magic. It talks about where magic comes from… or at least the theories behind it.”
Mother’s eyes lit up almost instantly.
“Oh? You picked that one?”
Before I could even answer, she sat beside me with an expression full of excitement.
“That’s one of my favorite books! Although, personally, I think the third chapter oversimplifies the relationship between spiritual resonance and Ethernano circulation. Ancient Rune Scholars actually proposed that magical circuits form before the vessel fully matures, but modern researchers disagree because—”
“…Eh?”
“And if you compare the theories from the Belkan Kingdom with the Alvarez interpretations, you’ll notice that their understanding of spiritual synchronization differs significantly. That’s because—”
My eyes slowly glazed over.
She was speaking so quickly that the words began blending together.
“…Magical resonance… atmospheric density… spiritual conductivity…”
I nodded anyway.
“I-I see…”
“Exactly!” Mother beamed, completely misunderstanding my confusion.
“You understand faster than your father ever did.”
“…I do?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about anymore.
Still…
Seeing her speak with such passion made it strangely enjoyable to listen.
Even if most of it flew right over my head.
Just then, another familiar voice interrupted.
“It seems I’m late to today’s lecture.”
Father walked into the room with a small chuckle.
Mother finally stopped talking and crossed her arms with a satisfied smile.
“There. Your education for the day is complete.”
“…Somehow I don’t feel any smarter,” I admitted.
Father laughed before placing a hand on my shoulder.
“It seems you’ve recovered well.”
His expression gradually became more serious.
“You awakened your magic vessel several days ago, and you’ve had enough time to rest.”
He exchanged a glance with Mother before continuing.
“We’ve discussed it. We think it’s time.”
I straightened instinctively.
“…Time?”
Father nodded.
“It’s time for you to begin learning magic.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“You don’t have to become a great wizard overnight,” he continued calmly.
“But this world isn’t always kind. If trouble ever comes knocking… I want you to have the strength to protect yourself.”
For a brief moment, silence filled the room.
Then an uncontrollable smile spread across my face.
“…Really?”
Father smiled.
“Really.”
I nearly jumped out of my seat.
“Come.” He turned toward the door.
“Let’s begin.”
Mother followed behind us as we stepped outside into the spacious training yard behind our house.
Warm sunlight bathed the grass, while a massive boulder rested near the edge of the field a familiar training tool I had seen Father use countless times.
Father stopped several meters away before facing me.
“Our family,” he began proudly, “belongs to one of Fiore’s oldest noble houses.”
His voice carried a quiet dignity.
“For generations beyond counting, our bloodline has safeguarded a unique form of magic.”
He slowly raised both hands.
“The world now considers it a Lost Magic.”
A faint glow appeared across the black gloves covering his hands.
Strange symbols emerged one after another.
Runes.
Intricate characters unlike any language I had ever seen.
Each symbol shimmered with pale golden light before arranging themselves across the fabric like living engravings.
“Our family’s magic…”
He clenched his fist.
“…is Rune Magic.”
I stared in amazement.
“So those symbols…” I asked dazely while looking at the runes magic.
“They are runes,” Father explained.
“Ancient words that embody concepts. Strength. Defense. Heat. Reinforcement. Binding.”
“There are countless possibilities,” Mother added proudly from the side.
“Our family has preserved generations of knowledge regarding them.”
Father nodded.
“I specialize in applying runes to equipment.”
He walked toward the enormous boulder.
The runes on his gloves suddenly shone brighter.
For a brief instant, A small magic circle appeared beneath his hands.
It vanished almost immediately.
Then he grabbed the enormous boulder.
“…Hup.”
The stone weighing several tons rose effortlessly into the air.
As though it were nothing more than a wooden crate.
My eyes widened.
“No way…”
Father casually lifted it above his head with one arm before gently placing it back onto the ground.
The earth trembled slightly upon impact.
“This pair of gloves,” Father explained while flexing his fingers, “has been engraved with several enhancement runes. Among them is the Rune of Strength.”
“The runes continuously reinforce the equipment and, by extension, my body.”
He smiled.
“And this is only one application.”
“Rune Magic can be used in countless ways,” he continued.
“Enchanting weapons. Reinforcing armor. Creating barriers. Setting traps. Even constructing formations.”
“I simply chose the path of combat.”
Mother let out a small sigh.
“He says that because it’s the only branch he managed to memorize.”
Father froze.
“and He still forgets half of the support runes.”
“…” father look defeated when mother said that.
“And don’t even ask him to draw complex inscriptions from memory.”
Father coughed awkwardly.
“I-I simply specialize.”
Mother smiled sweetly.
“You forgot them.”
“…. I still became an S-Class Mage.”
“…Fair point,” Mother admitted with a laugh.
Father folded his arms proudly.
“Exactly. It is called specialization”
The two of them continued bickering like this, exchanging playful jabs that clearly came from years of familiarity and love.
Watching them made me smile.
But my attention soon drifted back toward the glowing runes carved into Father’s gloves.
Runes…
Words given form.
Concepts transformed into power.
My imagination exploded with possibilities.
If runes can reinforce strength…
could they reinforce speed?
What about perception?
Durability?
Temperature?
Gravity?
Could different runes be layered together?
Combined?
Programmed into objects?
Could entire weapons be built around interconnected rune arrays?
The ideas refused to stop.
Compared to simple elemental magic…
Rune Magic felt limitless.
It wasn’t merely a spell.
It was a language.
A form of magical engineering and coding.
And with enough creativity…
Its potential was endless.
A grin slowly spread across my face.
This is the perfect magic for me.