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A man with silver hair and blue eyes, clad in glorious armor, cut down a fearsome dragon with an ornate sword woven from elemental energies.
This was Estelon Silverwood. With his pointed, elven-like ears, he was clearly not human.
Known by many names—the Progenitor, the Great Ancestor of Nature—he was most notably the King of All Spirits.
As the slain dragon fell, Estelon smiled. It was his duty as the Spirit King to protect the sacred forest from intruders.
Soon, dozens of spirits, druids, and elves rushed to him, singing his praises.
"All hail the King!"
"Glory to the Great Estelon!"
The cheers were abruptly cut short as a profound darkness consumed everything.
Estelon fell into an abyss, a seemingly endless void where he slowly faded away until reality shattered like glass.
"Ahh!"
A young boy bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat.
His shout startled the cat nearby, which jumped away in a comically frantic manner, landing on its head.
The boy chuckled as the cat gave him an annoyed look before stalking away.
"More memory fragments keep flooding in... it only took two years for Alden, but three years had passed, and I think I've only gained a small fraction of Estelon's memories."
Compared to Alden, who had lived only into his twenties, Estelon had lived a far longer life.
The boy hopped out of bed and went to the bathroom.
He looked at himself in the mirror—messy black hair and purple eyes.
This face isn't bad. It's not as good as Estelon's, but I think I'm more handsome than Alden.'
He complimented himself, finished up, and headed outside.
'I still can't believe I reincarnated into the world of Danmachi.'
His first life was that of a normal person on Earth who loved anime and manga. He died of cancer.
In his second life, he was the Spirit King, protector of the sacred forest and the world tree.
'If I'm not wrong, this should be my third life.'
But one detail bothered him. '
A powerful being like Estelon Silverwood died, and I still don't know why. The sacred forest, its people, the world tree... what happened after his disappearance?'
This was a mystery he had yet to solve.
'Ah, let's not worry about that. The past is the past. I tried to separate myself from my other lives so I wouldn't have an identity crisis, but here I am, worrying about something I have zero control over.'
'Still, compared to Alden, Estelon's memory fragments are incredibly helpful and have brought some real benefits.'
At three years old, the boy had awakened bizarre abilities while helping his mother in the garden.
A withered flower, its petals black and dry, had bloomed with his touch.
A small cut from playing with the cat healed instantly.
There was even a time when his tears, falling to the ground, sprouted greenery and new plant life all around him.
'A small remnant of Estelon's spirit powers passed on to me,' he concluded.
These powers were still weak. He couldn't heal broken bones or summon giant wooden golems to fight for him.
'I can feel these powers grow stronger the more of Estelon's memories I consume.'
With his current abilities, he could barely take on the weakest goblins, but he was confident that Estelon's power would eventually become formidable.
However, these powers were not the biggest benefit of Estelon's memories.
'Estelon's world had a power system where you didn't need a god's blessing to become strong, unlike in Danmachi.'
It was a world ruled by mages who used magic that defied logic and warriors who used martial arts to flatten entire mountain ranges.
'What great luck. In his curiosity, Estelon happened to learn the path of a mage, which means I can become stronger and use magic even without a falna.'
It was then, at the age of four, that the boy began walking the path of a mage.
'I think I've gathered enough mana in the air to start constructing my mana circuits.'
He sat in a lotus position, closed his eyes, and began focusing. A whirlpool of colorful energy stirred within him.
'Guide the mana carefully. Don't mess up, or you'll be forced to endure excruciating pain all over again.'
With sweat dripping from his face, the boy knew he had to use every ounce of his concentration.
'I've been doing this for over a year now, only to fail every time.'
In Estelon's world, creating mana circuits was the first step to becoming a mage.
The process required high-level mana control, a skill that took years to develop for most beginners.
Usually, older and more experienced mages would assist, but failure could lead to extreme pain or even death if the mana ran wild inside the body.
'I don't have anyone to help me, and even if I got help from the greatest mage in Orario, Riveria Ljos Alf, I highly doubt she could comprehend what I'm doing.'
He felt a stinging pain on his lower back.
"Ngh..."
The boy gritted his teeth. A lapse in his control, less than a microsecond long, was all it took.
'Shit! Not again!'
The mana inside his body flared up, a domino effect of chaos.
'Do you think I'll give up that easily?'
After countless failures, the boy's endurance to pain was beyond that of an average person. Despite feeling as if he was bathing in molten lava, he tried his best.
'Don't let the mana run wild... control it!'
Determined to form his mana circuits, he pushed on through the anguish.
He remembered his first attempt, full of foolish confidence, which had nearly killed him.
Fortunately, Estelon's powers allowed him to heal faster, so he tried again, and failed.
Then again, and failed.
'For a whole year, I've been doing this for a whole year.'
For an entire year straight, each failure was a heavy price to pay, with each attempt putting his life at risk.
In truth, this was the proper way to build mana circuits.
The trial-and-error process forced him to learn and grow his mana control.
Getting assistance was a detriment to younger mages, as it deprived them of the greatest opportunity to train their control and strengthen their mindset by enduring pain and failure.
This was why mages of the older generation were stronger than those of the younger generation.
"Let's try again."
The boy wasn't afraid of failing or the pain it brought, which gave him the courage to keep trying.
The numerous attempts that seemed to bear no fruit eventually piled up, becoming the foundation that fine-tuned his mana control and willpower.
Each attempt brought him a step closer to his goal.
With every ounce of his willpower, he eventually calmed the chaotic mana rampaging inside his body.
His clothes were soaked in sweat and blood dripped from his mouth, but he didn't move.
He commanded the unpredictable mana that had spread evenly throughout his body and shaped it into threads.
"Inscribe!" he shouted.
Glowing lines appeared on his skin, connecting to each other and converging on his abdomen.
"I did it!"
As he yelled at the top of his lungs, a wave of exhaustion caused him to pass out.
At five years old, Judas Spade had finally taken his first step as a mage.