The Mage Who Went to High School: Chapter 1
A deafening BOOM! tore through the air behind him, threatening to shatter his eardrums. The colossal pillars of the ancient Magic Kingdom's hall, which had stood for millennia, crumbled into dust with the ground-shaking explosion. The bitter scent of ozone from clashing magical forces mixed with the acrid smoke of burning stone, making every breath a struggle.
"Gah…!"
The Archmage Arcane fought back a cough, throwing his body forward. His tattered robe whipped wildly behind him. In the inky blackness, every flash of light from behind him briefly illuminated his face, revealing a pallor devoid of blood. Once a face revered by every mage on the continent, it was now etched with deep exhaustion and betrayal.
A burning pain radiated from deep within his chest. The days-long chase had drained his once-limitless magical power.
"Arcane! Stop right there, traitor!"
A sinister voice, one that seemed to twist the very fabric of space, pursued him. It belonged to the Shadow Cult. Clad in black robes, they were less like men and more like walking calamities. Every step they took left the ground blackened and corroded, and every curse they muttered caused the air to ripple with a nauseating vibration.
'Traitor….'
Arcane offered a bitter smile. For five hundred years, he had reigned as the Archmage, a guardian of the continent's balance. He had been showered with reverence and awe but had never found a single friend to confide in. Such was the price of being the most powerful. He had accepted loneliness as a natural consequence, believing it was his fate.
But he had never imagined it would end like this. Betrayed by his most trusted and beloved disciple, Belloc. To lose everything and be hunted like a rat. It was Belloc to whom he had passed on all his knowledge and power, and it was that knowledge now aimed at his throat. He remembered the innocent, bright eyes of the boy ten years ago, a boy whose passion for magic shone so purely. How had that brilliant child become a monster of chaos?
"Did you think we wouldn't know the 'Cosmic Heart' was here!"
Belloc's voice, now that of the Shadow Priest, resonated directly in his mind. Arcane reached into his robe and touched the cool orb within. The Cosmic Heart. Known as the heart of the Creator, an absolute artifact that maintained the balance of all dimensions. The faint, majestic pulse he felt in his hand was the very breath of a living universe. If it fell into their hands, the order of all dimensions would crumble, leaving only chaos.
'I can't let that happen.'
He pushed himself to go faster. But his power was almost gone after days of pursuit. His breath came in ragged gasps, and the fingers that had once moved stars trembled slightly. He could almost hear the magical circuits within him creaking.
'I'll be caught... at this rate.'
The premonition of death sent a chill down his spine. It was a sense he hadn't felt in centuries, the vulnerability of a weak, mortal man. A being at the pinnacle of power forgets even death. But its end was approaching so hollowly.
Finally, he saw the end of the long hall. But it was not hope. It was a sheer cliff, with a cold wind swirling up from the chasm below. A dead end.
"Hahaha! It's over now, Arcane! My great master!"
Belloc and the Shadow Cult had caught up to him. A sinister magical light gleamed from beneath their robes. Belloc ripped off his mask. The face of his once-brilliant disciple was now twisted, corrupted by dark magic.
"Just hand over the Cosmic Heart, and as a final courtesy to my master, I will end you painlessly."
"Nonsense."
Gasping, Arcane turned around. His eyes, with his back to the cliff, still held the dignity of an Archmage. "I would rather die than give it to a follower of chaos like you." He didn't finish the sentence. Instead, he squeezed every last bit of magic he had left. A faint light began to flicker at his fingertips. Small and weak, like a firefly, but the pure essence of its magic made Belloc flinch.
Belloc laughed at the sight. "What are you going to do with that little bit of magic? A last-ditch effort?"
"A last-ditch effort… you're right. But it's not against you."
In an instant, Arcane bit his own finger, drawing blood. Using the crimson fluid as a catalyst, he began to draw a complex, geometric pattern in the air. It was an ancient script, a forbidden magic circle that used the caster's very life force as collateral.
It was a Dimensional Shift.
A random portal to an unknown destination, impossibly unstable. The success rate was less than fifty percent. Failure meant becoming a forgotten traveler in spacetime, an eternal memory erased from existence. It was not a leap of hope but a desperate escape, an all-or-nothing bid for survival.
"You…!"
Belloc finally understood Arcane's intention and was horrified. Once the spell was cast, it couldn't be stopped.
The air tore with a sound like ripping fabric. The center of the magic circle Arcane had drawn turned pitch black and began to swirl. An unstable dimensional gate was opening. Beyond the gate, tens of thousands of colors and shapes mixed in chaotic disarray. Unfamiliar cosmic landscapes and fragments of nightmares passed by in a terrifying panorama.
"Die!"
The frantic Shadow Cult members unleashed a volley of curses. Pitch-black magical masses, like iron chains, flew toward Arcane. With his last bit of strength, Arcane erected a shield that blocked most of the attacks, but the force of the blast made his body stagger.
It was at that very moment.
"This is the end, my master!"
Belloc concentrated all the magic he had left into the tip of his staff and fired a jet of black destruction.
[Curse of Oblivion]
The ultimate dark magic that could erase a being from existence. Arcane lunged, throwing himself backward into the dimensional gate. Just as his body vanished into the vortex, Belloc's curse slammed into his back.
"Aaaargh!"
A horrific burning pain tore through his flesh, and he heard a sound like shattering glass as his magic core, the very soul of his being, cracked. The dimensional gate began to violently twist and warp. Arcane's consciousness, like shattered shards of glass, was scattered and pulled into the infinite vortex of darkness and light. In the sickening sensation of his very existence being erased, of 500 years of memories becoming meaningless fragments, he gave up and let go.
"...Ugh."
The first thing that hit him was a disgusting smell. A foul stench of rotten garbage and wet dust. Arcane, who was used to the heavenly scent of magical incense and the clean ozone of magic, felt his nose go numb with the assault. His sense of smell was the first to be crushed.
Next came the sound. The growling of an unknown machine, a sharp warning from a distance, and the unintelligible music of a woman's voice. It was a bombardment of noise that was unimaginable in the quiet, majestic Magic Kingdom. It felt like ten thousand bugs were crawling inside his brain.
Arcane struggled to lift his heavy eyelids.
His vision was filled with a huge gray wall with red and blue lines crawling chaotically on it, and the unknown hieroglyph of "CHICKEN." He had mastered hundreds of languages, but this bizarre script was something he had never seen before.
"Where... am I?"
He tried to get up but couldn't move an inch. His body's magic was completely drained. No, it was more than just being drained. Most of the magical circuits in his body were severed. It was a sense of loss, like a giant lake that had turned into a small puddle. Belloc's last curse had inflicted a fatal wound on his magic core. He felt the emptiness of a universe that had died within him.
He barely managed to turn his head to the side. A puddle of rainwater sat on the damp ground. In it, an unfamiliar face stared back at him.
The sharp jawline and deep-set eyes were faintly visible, but the face of a sage who had lived for hundreds of years was gone. In its place was the face of a young man with black hair, who looked no older than seventeen.
"This... this is..."
He realized the shocking truth. The curse had not only degraded his magic but his body as well. He was no longer the most powerful Archmage; he was a powerless, ordinary teenager.
Despair washed over him like a tidal wave. But there was a more urgent problem.
Grrrrmble.
A thunderous noise rumbled in his stomach. It was a raw, humiliating feeling he hadn't felt in 500 years: hunger. To a being who had sustained his body with magic, it was a completely foreign pain. The simple fact that his stomach was empty was a shock powerful enough to paralyze all his thoughts.
'Am I going to... starve to death? The final end of Archmage Arcane... is starvation?'
There could be no more humiliating death. He let out a self-deprecating laugh and closed his eyes again. He wanted to give up on everything.
That's when it happened.
Step... step...
A steady rhythm of footsteps approached the alley where he lay. Arcane used his last bit of strength to turn his head toward the sound.
A boy's form entered his blurry vision. He looked about the same age as him and was wearing a neat uniform. He had a strange white object (earbuds) in his ears and was walking with his head slightly bowed.
'Is he a human of this world?'
Arcane felt wary, but the boy seemed to not notice him and was about to walk by.
'Just... like this...'
Just as his consciousness was about to fade again, the boy's footsteps stopped. He slowly turned his head and looked at Arcane, who was lying next to a pile of garbage. The music from his earbuds faded away from his world.
His name was Kevin. He was a sophomore at a prestigious private high school and a perfectly ordinary student who was just heading home after a late study session.
The sight of Arcane was a spectacle, to say the least. The expensive-looking but now-torn and filthy strange clothes, his body covered in dirt, and his face completely drained of color. It was clear that this was not a normal situation.
'What the… is he a runaway? Or did he get beaten up and passed out?'
Kevin's mind raced with countless thoughts. Just walk past him. Haven't adults always said it? Don't get involved in something that's none of your business. He hesitated for a moment, then began to walk. But he couldn't get more than a few steps before stopping again. There was something he just couldn't ignore. Maybe it was that useless sense of responsibility as the class president.
Kevin sighed and turned back. He carefully approached Arcane.
"Hey… are you okay?"
Arcane barely managed to open his eyes at the voice that reached his fading consciousness. He looked at the boy looking down at him and, with the last shred of dignity of an Archmage, opened his mouth.
"Who... are you? And where... is this place?"
The archaic way of speaking. The voice that sounded strangely unreal.
Kevin thought.
'Ah, he either hit his head... or he's just a weird kid.'
Kevin considered it for a moment, then pulled out his smartphone from his pocket and was about to call 911. But then, Arcane feebly grabbed his wrist. The hand was bloodless, but the will to refuse was clear.
"...I don't... want any fuss."
"No, but you should go to the hospital..."
"Unnecessary."
The firm voice made Kevin stop talking without realizing it. What a strange guy. He seemed hurt but didn't want to go to the hospital. But his eyes didn't seem to be lying. Deep, cold eyes. There was a strange power that overwhelmed people.
"Then what are you going to do? Just stay here like this?"
Arcane couldn't answer Kevin's question. He had nowhere to go and no one he knew. It was the first time in his 500-year life that he had felt so utterly powerless.
Reading everything from his silence, Kevin let out a deep sigh. He had a strong feeling he had just gotten involved in a very annoying situation. But what could he do? He had already spoken to him.
"...Let's just go to my place for now. You can clean up and eat something, and then we'll figure it out."
Leaning precariously on Kevin's shoulder, Arcane took a breath of the unknown world's night air and thought. At the end of his 500-year life, a completely unexpected new story was beginning. His steps were no longer those of an Archmage. They were the steps of a helplessly weak mortal, clinging to a stranger's warmth just to survive.
"Just hang in there. We're almost there."
Kevin's voice, which still sounded young as if his voice hadn't fully changed, gave him a strange sense of stability. Arcane didn't have the strength to answer and only gave a weak nod.
The landscape that unfolded before his eyes was pure chaos. Giant towers that glowed like daylight in the middle of the night, colorful rivers of light that flowed along their walls, and iron carriages (cars) that roared and sped in an orderly fashion on the roads—it completely shattered his sense of reality. Even a magical illusion couldn't be more intricate and bizarre than this.
'What kind of laws govern this world?'
Everything was new to him. He could barely feel the flow of mana in the air. Instead, an unknown microscopic vibration was intertwined like a spider's web, enveloping the entire city. If this was a world without magic, how could those giant towers glow on their own, and how could those iron carriages move so fast without magic?
"We're here. This is it."
Kevin stopped in front of a giant stone slab (an apartment entrance). When he took a small plate out of his pocket and placed it on a part of the slab, a "beep" sounded, and the firmly closed glass door slid open.
'Is it an automatic door...? A device using a low-level golem?'
Arcane was confused. As he was led inside, Kevin brought him into a small room called an "elevator." When Kevin pressed a number on the wall, the entire room gently began to rise. It was similar to a gravity-control spell, but the principle was completely different. Arcane took in everything with his pale face. He was in a position to learn. This was a new experience for the first time in 500 years.
A "ding" sound, and the door opened. Kevin walked down the familiar hallway to a metal door. Instead of grabbing the handle, he placed his finger on the square panel above the handle.
"Welcome home, son."
The door opened, and a warm breeze and a savory smell of food wafted out. In the doorway stood a middle-aged woman with a kind smile, wearing an apron. It was Kevin's mother.
"Oh? Kevin, who's your friend?"
His mother's gaze fell on Arcane, who was barely standing, leaning on Kevin's shoulder. His disheveled appearance and pale face made her eyes fill with concern.
"Mom, he was... lying on the street... I thought I should bring him in to clean up and eat something."
"Oh my goodness! What happened! Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt anywhere?"
Kevin's mother fussed over Arcane's condition. Just then, Kevin's father, who was reading the newspaper on the living room sofa, lowered his reading glasses and came to the door.
"What's all the commotion about... Huh, who is this student?"
"Dad, I met him on the street... He's not doing so well."
Kevin's parents looked Arcane up and down. His expensive-looking but now dirt-covered and torn clothes, and his face so pale it had a bluish tint. It was clear that this was not a normal situation.
"Come in, then. Quick."
At his father's words, Kevin helped Arcane into the house. As Arcane stepped inside, he stumbled slightly on the soft floorboards, a completely different sensation from the marble floors of the Magic Kingdom.
"Kevin, first, take your friend to the bathroom. Let him take a hot shower. I'll hurry and set the table."
At his mother's urgent voice, Kevin nodded. "Let's get you cleaned up. You can wear some of my clothes."
Kevin led Arcane to the bathroom. It was a peculiar, white, and square space where everything seemed to sparkle.
"Just turn the handle to the hot water side. I'll leave a towel and some clothes here."
After Kevin closed the door and left, Arcane was alone in the bathroom. He stared for a long time at the strange silver faucet and the round plate (showerhead) hanging in the air.
'Is it a kind of purification magic? But I don't know the principle of its operation at all.'
He cautiously reached out and touched the faucet. The feel of cold metal. He remembered what Kevin had said and turned the handle slightly toward the "hot water" marking.
Shhh-. A stream of hot water poured down like a waterfall from the round plate above his head.
"...!"
Arcane involuntarily stumbled back from the attack of hot water he had never experienced before. It was a raw and rough sensation, completely different from the warm water created by magic. He hesitated for a moment, then threw off his dirty robe and stepped under the water.
The warm water enveloping his exhausted body made him feel the tension melt away like snow. He picked up a thing called "soap" that was on the wall. It smelled fragrant. The act of making lather and washing his body was so foreign to him, but at the same time, it was surprisingly refreshing. What used to take only 1 second with a purification spell, he was now doing meticulously for over 30 minutes. This time, spent concentrating only on the act of "washing," was ironically the first time he had felt a sense of peace since becoming a fugitive.
When he came out of the bathroom, wearing the baggy T-shirt and pants Kevin had brought, the savory smell was even more intense. On the table, there was steaming white rice, a few side dishes, and a hearty soybean paste stew.
"Come on, sit down. You must be hungry."
Kevin's mother greeted him with a warm smile. Arcane hesitated for a moment, then cautiously sat down in the chair at the table.
"What's your name?"
At his father's question, Arcane was momentarily speechless. The name "Arcane" was too alien for this world. He thought for a moment, then remembered the boy's voice he had heard in the alley earlier.
"...I don't remember."
It wasn't a lie. The memories of the last 500 years were vivid, but the life he had before becoming a mage, his name as a human, was lost in a distant fog.
His answer made Kevin's parents' faces cloud over with sadness. So, it was amnesia.
"It's okay, it's okay. Just eat first. Maybe you'll remember while you're eating."
His mother placed a warm, rolled egg on his rice bowl. Arcane awkwardly picked up a utensil called a "spoon" and took a spoonful of rice.
And his world crumbled once more.
It was warm, soft, and savory. Without any magical effects, the sheer sensation of "deliciousness" struck him like a thunderbolt. It was a raw, pure taste he had never felt, not even at the feasts of the gods created with magic. He took a spoonful of the soybean paste stew. The salty, savory, and slightly spicy taste wrapped around his tongue, invigorating his exhausted body.
He began to eat like a madman. He had long since abandoned his dignity as an Archmage. He shoveled rice into his mouth and picked up the side dishes. He ate like an animal that hadn't eaten for days.
Kevin and his parents watched him in silence. Their eyes were filled with compassion and pity. How long must he have been starving to eat like that?
When Arcane put down his spoon after finishing two bowls of rice, something hot was flowing down his cheek. Tears. It was a lump of emotion that had burst forth, a mix of hunger, sorrow, and a warmth he had never felt before. It was the first time he had shed tears in 500 years.
That night, Kevin's parents gave Arcane a temporary name, "Kang-ah," and suggested that he stay with them for a while. They decided that reporting him to the police could wait until he was more stable.
Arcane couldn't refuse. With nowhere to go and no way to get back, he had no other option.
In Kevin's room, Ar lay in the soft bed and couldn't sleep. The city lights visible through the window were as distant as the stars in the night sky. He quietly put his hand into his robe and touched the "Cosmic Heart" he had hidden inside. Fortunately, it was still intact. The faint beat from the cold orb was the only thing that reminded him that he was still the Archmage Arcane.
'I will... definitely find a way back. And Belloc, I will make you pay.'
But beyond his desire for revenge, the taste of the warm rice and soybean paste stew he had just eaten, and the gaze of the family who had looked at him with concern, came to mind. It was a strange, incomprehensible, and therefore, difficult sensation to shake off.
The Archmage Arcane's story of adapting to another world. It was beginning like that, in a mix of humiliation, survival, and a very small amount of warmth.