A bird flew by and landed on the branch of a tree, its head darting around as it looked in every direction.
The wind swept through the forest, stirring the leaves that had fallen to the ground. A distant, unknown roar echoed from deep within the trees. The sun shone down as the clouds drifted slowly across the sky.
On the same tree where the bird had landed, an unknown creature slithered silently along the bark. Its eyes locked onto the bird above. With no warning, it opened its mouth wide and swallowed the bird whole. The bird never had a chance to react, never even knew what happened.
In the creature's dark eyes, a reflection shimmered, a small wooden hut hidden among the trees.
Inside the hut, a handsome young man lay on a bed. His closed eyes fluttered, as if caught in the grip of a nightmare. Then, suddenly, they snapped open.
The first thing he did was look around. He sat up slowly, glancing around the room, his face written with surprise while confusion flickered in his eyes.
"Did I just die like that…?" he muttered, scratching his head. He still couldn't believe it, that he had died just because he couldn't breathe from laughing too hard.
There was a video online, one with no likes, no views, and nothing at all. But curiosity got the better of him, so he clicked on it. It turned out to be a ridiculous comedy that had him laughing so hard he couldn't stop. The laughter took over, and in the end, he couldn't even catch his breath.
"What a weird way to die. At least I died happy," he said, a faint smile forming on his lips. He didn't mind death. After all, there was no one left in his old life to miss him.
Perhaps this new world would give him a second chance, a chance to start fresh, to rectify old regrets, and to build genuine connections. Just as the thought crossed his mind, a sudden, sharp pain stabbed through his head.
He clenched his teeth, unprepared for the overwhelming surge of pain.
A flood of unfamiliar memories rushed into his mind like a crashing wave. They were the memories of the body he now possessed.
Eventually, the pain faded, and he was able to calm down, though he continued to rub his head, still shaken by the intensity of the experience.
He began to sort through the memories he had received.
The body he now inhabited belonged to a young prince named Malrik Viremont, a member of the Viremont Empire's royal family. Despite his noble blood, Malrik had been cast aside. He was the son of a maid, and worse, completely lacking in talent. He had no skill as a knight and no gift for magic.
In the eyes of the empire, he was worthless. Not smart, not strong, not special in any way. He existed not to thrive, but simply to take up space in the world.
So Malrik had been thrown out, sent to a distant and dangerous place known as the Forest of Hollow, one of the deadliest forests in the world. All he had with him was a small hut, a sword, and a bit of gold.
Later, after his exile, Malrik discovered something unexpected. He had a talent for magic. He possessed what was known as a Life affinity, a rare type of magical connection. Those born with it could become both a Wizard and a Knight at the same time.
But the discovery came too late. In desperation, Malrik tried using unknown and bizarre spells to grow stronger quickly. The spell backfired, and now Alaric had taken his place.
Alaric shook his head and let out a sigh. He couldn't help but feel a little pity for the young prince, a man with nothing, thrown away by the world, only to realize his potential far too late. In Malrik's memories, the moment he discovered his affinity, he swore revenge on the Empire. But he died before he could do anything about it.
Still, Alaric had no intention of carrying on that vengeance. That was Malrik's life.
His own life started today.
Revenge would only bring unnecessary trouble, and Alaric wasn't interested in dragging himself into chaos that didn't belong to him.
"What a sad life… I hope you made it to heaven and found peace. But now, let me live my own life and chase the dream I've waited for so long. A life of magic."
Raising his hand, Alaric transferred some of his spiritual energy. Despite being a fallen prince, Malrik had possessed decent knowledge about magic and the ways of Wizards.
Spiritual energy was the source of everything. It was like mana in other worlds, the energy that Wizards used to cast spells. Alaric tried casting a simple spell, just to see what would happen. But as he looked at his hand, his eyes narrowed.
Instead of the usual green glow that represented Life magic, a dark light flickered in his palm.
The strange, shadowy light danced across his fingers, and he studied it with quiet curiosity.
"If green represents Life," he murmured, "then this must represent Shadow… or maybe Death?"
Magical affinity came from the soul, which was why only a few people in the world could become Wizards. Since Malrik had died, his soul should have moved on to the afterlife or whatever lay beyond. That meant the body now held Alaric's soul, and so this Death affinity must belong to him, not Malrik.
"I think I get it now," Alaric said to himself, already forming a theory based on what he remembered from Malrik's magical knowledge.
"If I have an affinity for Death, then that means… I might be able to use necromancy. And necromancy is the only magic I know anything about."
In his past life, Alaric had loved playing games. Sometimes he would stay up all night, completely absorbed. His favorite class had always been the necromancer, not just for the dark power, but for the cool design of the undead. He liked being able to summon minions, let them do all the fighting, and just sit back and relax.
Thinking about it now, he felt a surge of excitement. Without wasting another moment, he stepped out of the hut.
He raised his hand again, ready to try summoning the undead. He didn't know exactly how spells were cast in this world or what he needed to do. But from Malrik's memories, he recalled something important: spells existed inside the mind of a Wizard.
Every Wizard had what was called a Memory Palace. It was a mental space where all their learned spell models were stored.
However, Alaric didn't know how to cast spells in this world. So instead, he relied on what he remembered from his past life, even though he had no idea if it would work. After all, the spells he knew back then were only from fiction.
A dark glow of death energy instantly flared in his hand, and sweat began to bead on his forehead.
"Come on… come on. Summon undead..." he whispered through gritted teeth.
The dark light flickered and vanished. Alaric dropped to the ground, panting and drenched in sweat, struggling to catch his breath.
"As expected..." he muttered. He had only tried once, driven by the overflowing excitement in his chest at the idea that he could use magic.
But without proper magical knowledge, there was no way he could cast anything successfully.
He sat up, resting his hand against his chin, deep in thought.
Then, slowly, he stood again. Raising his hand, he closed his eyes.
The leaves danced in the breeze. The wind whispered through the trees, and sunlight warmed his face. In his hand, a dark glow began to flicker again. Slowly, the light grew stronger.
After a while, he opened his eyes.
"Show," he said softly.
Out of the air, dark particles began to gather. They spun in place, fusing, growing denser. And finally, something solid took shape.
A set of cards.
When he saw them, he burst into laughter.
"I knew it! I knew it would work, I never thought it actually could!"
What he had created was his cheat, a set of cards, each one showing an image of an undead creature he could summon.
From Malrik's memories, he recalled something important. Malrik had once met a powerful Wizard who told him that magic did not respond to logic alone. It answered to imagination, intent, and the resonance of the soul.
Since Alaric had no formal magical education, his soul had expressed magic in the only way it understood, through the inner world shaped by the strategy games he had loved in his past life. His mind organized spells like game mechanics: cards, units, stats, and longing.
And so, his form of magic had taken shape.
He grabbed one of the cards and studied it.
---
[Unit: Basic Skeleton (⭐)]
[Cost: 5 Death Energy]
[Tier: Basic]
[Summon Time: Instant]
[Stats]
HP: 100
Strength (STR): 5 - Physical strength and attack damage
Agility (AG): 3 - Reaction, movement, and attack speed
Defense (DF): 2 - Reduce physical damage taken
Spiritual Energy: 0 - Cast spells
[Skills]
None
---
Naturally, casting a spell required a special kind of energy. In this case, he needed Death Energy to summon undead creatures from the cards. But right now, he had none. To gain Death Energy, he would need to kill something, or someone, since it could only be drawn from a corpse.
"My problem now is Death Energy," he muttered as the card disappeared in a shimmer of dark light. With a sigh, he walked back into the hut.
His excitement began to fade as reality settled in. He had a lot of problems to deal with, and survival was at the top of the list. Food and water would be the most immediate concern. Fortunately, this was a forest, so those two shouldn't be too hard to find.
But hunting was another matter.
He wasn't a survival expert. He didn't even know how to make a fire.
Back on Earth, everything revolved around money and education. Now, none of that mattered.
"Let's just focus on finding food and water first," he sighed.
He picked up the sword from the table, slung the bag over his shoulder, and tucked the gold into his pouch, just in case he stumbled upon a village. But deep down, he knew it was unlikely. This was the Forest of Hollow, far away from any trace of civilization.
The nearest town was seven days away on foot.
He could easily die before ever reaching it.
But he didn't want to go back anyway. He had no desire to return to the Empire, no interest in facing Malrik's family ever again. What he wanted was to stay here in the forest, where it was quiet and peaceful.
He wanted a simple life where he could practice magic in peace.
He wanted to farm.
-----
Undead Cards # 1
[Unit: Basic Skeleton (⭐)]
[Cost: 5 Death Energy]
[Tier: Basic]
[Summon Time: Instant]
[Stats]
HP: 100
Strength (STR): 5
Agility (AG): 3
Defense (DF): 2
Spiritual Energy: 0
[Skills]
None
Description:
A weak, mindless foot soldier raised from the dead.
Serves as a frontline body. Disposable, but loyal.
Notes:
Can be upgraded or combined with two other Basic Skeletons to form a Skeleton Soldier.