The air was unnaturally still.
Haruto stood frozen, not because of fear, but due to the overwhelming presence of the crystal grove. The sharp scent of mana filled his lungs. Around him, crystalline structures jutted out of the ground like jagged fangs, each pulsing with a dim, bluish light. He could feel the dense flow of energy in the atmosphere—so thick it made his skin tingle.
For weeks, he had wandered the forest, surviving on roasted herbs and meat, hiding from beasts, training alone with the knowledge of a world long gone. But this… this was different. This place felt ancient, sacred. A relic untouched by time.
He reached toward one of the crystals. As his fingers brushed its cold surface, a whisper tickled his mind.
"Can you hear me…?"
Haruto recoiled, spinning around. "Who's there?!"
But there was no one—only silence and the faint hum of magic.
His instincts screamed at him to leave. But his curiosity, sharpened by his former life as a researcher in modern Tokyo, rooted him in place. He reached out again, this time placing his palm fully against the crystal.
The voice returned, clearer this time.
"One who walks with two souls… Awaken."
A flash of light erupted from the crystal, engulfing Haruto. He didn't resist. Instead, he let his consciousness be pulled inward.
He awoke… somewhere else.
A void. Black and endless. Yet he was not alone.
Before him stood a figure cloaked in shadow, yet with eyes glowing like embers. It studied him—curious, cautious.
"You're not of this world," it spoke, voice echoing across the darkness. "Yet you carry its mark now."
Haruto clenched his fists. "Who are you?"
The being laughed. "Once, I was a mage—like you'll become. I left pieces of myself across this forest, hoping that one day, someone worthy would inherit my legacy."
"So… this grove?"
"Is one of many. A fragment. And you are the first in centuries to step into it."
The figure extended its hand, and suddenly, runes danced around Haruto. Ancient symbols, elegant and complex, etched themselves into his memory. Magic—not learned, but engraved.
"I gift you the foundation: Mana Shaping and Arcane Weaving," the figure said. "But your true power… will be born through creation."
The void shattered.
Haruto gasped awake, still in the grove. The crystal beneath his hand had dimmed, now inert.
But something inside him had changed.
He could feel the mana now—not just around him, but within him. Not just as a presence, but as a tool. It was like learning to breathe for the first time, but with magic.
He stood and extended his hand. "Let's test this…"
Focusing, he envisioned a simple spell—a spark. A flicker of fire.
A blue flame danced into existence in his palm, flickering softly. His eyes widened. "No chant. No incantation. Just… will and shape."
This was Mana Shaping.
Excitement bloomed in his chest. Finally, real progress. Power.
He practiced for hours, shaping and reshaping spells, controlling their size and intensity. The night crept in slowly, but he remained in the grove, pushing the limits of what he could do.
It was deep into the night when he stumbled upon a new idea.
"If I can shape elements… can I create a new spell?"
He sat cross-legged, recalling how code worked in programming back on Earth—input, process, output. If he thought of mana like code, then could he program spells?
He imagined a combination—air compressed into a sharp line. Like a wind blade.
It took several tries—failures that scorched the nearby grass or collapsed before firing—but eventually, he formed a blade of compressed air that shot forward, slicing cleanly through a thick bush.
"Yes!" he shouted, laughing.
A new notification flared to life in his vision—something he hadn't seen in days.
You have created a new spell: Wind Edge (Custom)
Skill Gained: Spell Creation (Beginner)
+1 Intelligence, +1 Wisdom
His eyes widened. "I can create magic… like building with Legos…"
He slumped back, exhausted, but thrilled. For the first time since his reincarnation, he felt truly in control of his fate.
The next morning
Haruto packed his things.
He had remained too long in one place—and although the grove had granted him power, the forest remained deadly.
He checked his stats:
Name: Haruto
Race: Human
Age: 17
Class: Unassigned
Titles: Reincarnated Soul
MP: 120 / 150
Skills:
– Mana Shaping (Lv. 1)
– Arcane Weaving (Lv. 1)
– Spell Creation (Beginner)
– Survival (Lv. 3)
– Stealth (Lv. 2)
He smirked. "Still too weak to be flashy."
From now on, he would keep a low profile. Use simple spells. Hide his more advanced capabilities until necessary.
He set off once more through the forest.
But something was different.
Birds chirped again. The air was lighter. As if the forest itself acknowledged his growth.
After nearly three more days of trekking, Haruto finally spotted something on the horizon.
Smoke. A chimney.
A village.
His heart thumped.
He hadn't seen another person in nearly a month.
Yet… he hesitated.
They can't know who I am. Or what I can do.
He used the remaining mana to clean himself up with a makeshift water spell. Then, with dirt-stained clothes and a half-smile, he walked toward the village gates.