Chapter 1 – The Death of a Genius, The Birth of a Wizard
The sterile air of the laboratory was heavy with tension.
Dr. Edward McAllister sat hunched over his console, the faint glow of a dozen holographic panels reflecting off his lined, pale face. His breath was shallow, his fingers trembling slightly as he scrolled through endless lines of data.
"Three years…" he muttered, the rasp of exhaustion coating his words. "Three years, and still the damned stone won't yield its secrets."
The "stone" lay at the center of the room on a suspension platform. Roughly the size of a child's fist, its surface shimmered faintly, an uncanny swirl of metallic sheen and organic pulsing veins that seemed to throb with an alien heartbeat. It was beautiful, terrifying, and utterly incomprehensible.
The Merge Stone.
His discovery. His curse.
Edward had dedicated his life to the Supergene Project, the crowning jewel of the Global Confederation Empire's supremacy. It was through his breakthroughs that soldiers had transcended mortal limits, their bones strengthened, their muscles enhanced, their reflexes sharpened to inhuman speeds. The Empire hailed him as one of its brightest minds, a true child of the Confederation's promise.
But even for him, the stone was beyond reach.
The device consumed power like a black hole. No energy source on Earth seemed sufficient to stabilize its reaction for longer than a few seconds. It fused matter—flesh with steel, wood with glass—without shattering the properties of either, creating chimeras that defied natural law. Yet it destroyed every attempt at control.
And Edward, a man who had stood at the summit of humanity's science, had nothing.
That was until a new discovery on Mars had begun dominating academic headlines: Mana Stones.
Unlike traditional energy sources, Mana Stones radiated a peculiar resonance. Scientists, cautious as ever, described it as "spiritual frequency," though theologians claimed it was proof of a divine essence. Edward scoffed at their superstition. To him, Mana Stones were just another energy crystal—one that, hopefully, could finally awaken the Merge Stone's true nature.
Tonight, he would find out.
He arranged twelve Mana Stones in a pentagonal array on the reinforced platform, each humming faintly as they synced with the field generator. He adjusted their resonance values one last time, sweat beading on his brow despite the freezing Arctic air-conditioning.
"Perfect… this has to work."
The Merge Stone, resting innocently at the array's center, pulsed once, then again. Edward's heart skipped a beat. Its veins glowed with an inner light, brighter, stronger, alive. The surrounding Mana Stones shuddered, discharging radiant streams into the array.
The platform vibrated.
The lights flickered.
An otherworldly hum filled the lab.
Edward's eyes widened. "It's… responding—"
Then the reaction spiraled out of control.
The Merge Stone thrashed violently, warping gravity itself as sparks of green and violet energy lashed across the room. Alarms blared, containment fields strained, and the Mana Stones began cracking under the pressure.
"No! No, not now!"
Fear seized him—not for his life, but for the priceless artifact that had consumed his existence. Desperation outweighed reason. He rushed forward, stretching his hand toward the stone.
"Calm down—just a little more—"
The moment his skin touched the alien surface, his body convulsed. A violent surge of power tore through flesh and soul alike. Pain unlike anything he had known—pain that eclipsed fire, cold, and lightning—ripped him apart.
Edward screamed, but no sound left his lips. His vision shattered. His mind blurred. The last thing he saw was the Merge Stone crumbling to dust, dissolving like sand caught in the wind.
And then—
Nothing.
When he awoke, the silence was unbearable.
Edward's eyes snapped open. He gasped, expecting sterile laboratory walls, scorched machinery, or the cold metal of a morgue. Instead, he was staring at carved wooden beams above him, old yet polished, their surface painted with symbols that flickered faintly like… runes.
He sat up sharply. His body moved strangely—lighter, yet weaker. His chest heaved as unfamiliar lungs drew in air scented not of sterile disinfectant, but of ink, parchment, and burning candles.
"What…?"
He staggered to his feet, but the instant he did, pain exploded in his skull. Memories—foreign, invasive—poured into his consciousness like a flood breaking through a shattered dam.
Images of a sprawling forest kingdom.
The name Fae Wood.
A tower where robed figures practiced spells.
A proud family crest, the Goldbear sigil—a roaring golden beast upon a black shield.
Faces of nobles, retainers, knights… and enemies.
And a name that pierced through it all: Glic Goldbear.
Edward clutched his head, falling to his knees. The memories were not just dreams. They were real. They belonged to the body he now inhabited.
"I… I am… Glic… Goldbear," he whispered, his voice trembling as fragments aligned.
The truth hit him like a sledgehammer.
He was no longer Edward McAllister, scientist of the Empire. He was Viscount Glic Goldbear, heir to a noble merchant family elevated by valor and service. A minor aristocrat within the Kingdom of Fae Wood, who had dabbled in wizardry at the great Tower before abandoning it to inherit his family's title.
A wizard apprentice.
A noble.
A man both respected and resented.
Edward—no, Glic—shivered as he stood before a tall mirror on the wall. The reflection that stared back was not his aged, weary face, but that of a young man in his twenties. Strong jaw, golden-brown eyes, hair dark as night. His robes bore the Goldbear crest, stitched proudly over his chest.
"This… isn't possible," he muttered. "I should be dead."
And yet, here he was.
The Merge Stone had killed him. Or perhaps… it had merged him with this new existence.
The implications struck him cold. In his world, science had unlocked the Supergene. Here, the world pulsed with mana—the very energy he had tried to harness. Wizards ruled this realm, their path a hierarchy of rings, each level an unfathomable leap beyond mortal limits.
He remembered clearly from Glic's memories:
Apprentices began at 0 rings, dabbling in simple cantrips, before progressing to 3 rings.
Formal Wizards commanded true power from 4 to 7 rings.
Beyond them stretched realms of near-divine mastery, culminating in the Magic Law Gods at 27 rings.
Edward—now Glic—was at the very bottom. A 0-ring apprentice.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "From the peak of genetic science… to the dirt of wizardry."
Yet even as he said it, a flicker of excitement stirred in his chest.
He was alive.
Not only alive—reborn in a world where mana replaced the rigid boundaries of science, where knowledge and power intertwined into limitless possibilities.
He clenched his fists. "This… this is my chance."
If the Merge Stone had taught him anything, it was that merging—the fusion of impossible concepts—was the path forward. He was no longer bound by the Confederation's narrow definitions of progress. Here, he could blend the rationality of science with the mystery of magic.
He would start again.
From 0 rings.
And he would climb.
But first, he needed to understand the world he now lived in.
Through Glic's memories, the pieces began to align. The wizarding world was fractured into three great factions:
White Wizards – upholders of order and law.
Grey Wizards – those who walked the path of neutrality, balancing both.
Black Wizards – seekers of chaos, unbound by morality.
The Goldbear family, though noble, was small. Merchants elevated by valor, they lacked the deep-rooted prestige of ancient wizarding clans. Their power lay in trade, coin, and pragmatic alliances. For Glic to thrive—no, for Edward McAllister to truly rise again—he would need strength.
Strength only a true wizard could wield.
The door to the study creaked open. A servant, dressed in the livery of the Goldbear household, stepped in and bowed low.
"My lord," the man said respectfully, "the steward requests your presence. Matters of estate require your judgment."
Glic turned, steadying himself. The weight of nobility pressed down on him, alien yet undeniable. In his past life, he had been a scientist serving an empire. Now, he was a lord—small, yes, but with power over lives and land.
"Very well," he replied, his voice calmer than he felt. "Tell the steward I will attend shortly."
The servant bowed again and withdrew.
Alone once more, Glic faced his reflection in the mirror. His eyes burned with determination.
"I was Edward McAllister, genius of the Confederation. Now I am Glic Goldbear, wizard apprentice and viscount."
He placed a hand over his chest, feeling the unfamiliar thrum of mana within.
"This time, I will not stop at science. This time, I will master both magic and knowledge. The Merge Stone may be gone… but its path remains."
And thus began his journey.
The journey of a man reborn.
A man who would merge spells, merge paths, and create something the wizarding world had never seen before.
A mutation of magic itself.