Takumi's consciousness flickered in and out—voices, warmth, the distant sound of lullabies.
He still wasn't sure if he had truly been reborn in another world. But realizing he couldn't move properly and couldn't speak, he gave up and accepted the reality: he had been reborn as a baby.
He felt soft hands holding him, and a soothing woman's voice called him by a new name—Saevyn Yllarith.
"So this… is what being reborn feels like?" Takumi thought, blinking slowly at the ceiling.
It wasn't white like a hospital's; rather, it was carved stone, glowing faintly under the morning sun.
"It's warm… softer than I imagined."
A gentle voice murmured nearby,
"Welcome to the world, Saevyn."
And though he couldn't speak, the corners of his mouth curled up.
Mythrune… huh? Let's see what you've got.
Ten years passed in what felt like the blink of an eye.
Saevyn Yllarith had grown into a bright and curious boy. His mother, Seiryn, was gentle and patient—her kindness capable of softening even the hardest hearts. His father, Flicht, was a man of iron discipline—gruff but fair.Yet between them, Saevyn never lacked warmth.
Their home rested high among the cliffs of Obsidara, a quiet mountain village belonging to the Kingdom of Glindara—a land steeped in stone, minerals, and myths of ancient magic. The air always smelled faintly of mist and minerals, and when the clouds drifted low, the whole village seemed to float above the world.
Though still young, Saevyn's mind often wandered deeper than most grown men's.
He analyzed things too sharply, noticed patterns others ignored, and occasionally spoke in ways that startled even his parents.
Once, when his mother dropped a bowl, he muttered, "Ah, reaction time miscalculated," earning a puzzled look.
Seiryn often smiled faintly at moments like that, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face.
"You're such a strange child sometimes, Saevyn. Like you've lived before."
He only smiled awkwardly, scratching his cheek. "Guess I just… think too much."
Despite his oddities, he wasn't alone. His closest friend, a loud and energetic girl named Lyra, often dragged him into adventures around the cliffs.
Where Saevyn was calm and methodical, Lyra was impulsive and fiery—a balance that kept him grounded in this world. They raced down stone paths, climbed boulders, and once tried to build a kite that nearly lifted Lyra off the cliff.
One morning, while wandering near his parents' room, Saevyn overheard their quiet conversation. Words like "Mana," "Blessings," and "Magical Affinities" drifted through the half-open door.
He froze, the words tugging at something buried deep in his memory.
Then, it came back to him—Geo's voice, echoing faintly in his mind:
"There are seven magical affinities in Mythrune: Fire, Water, Wind, Earth, Light, Dark, and Spirit.
Earth—also called Dustcraft—is treated as useless, limited to forming small stones and bricks.
Those born with Earth magic are often exiled… or worse, killed for it."
A faint chill ran down Saevyn's spine.
He clenched his small fists and whispered softly to himself,
"Dustcraft… huh? So that's what I'll have to face."
That night, he dreamed again.
A bodiless voice echoed through the darkness:
"Your gift is extraordinary, Takumi. You just haven't seen how yet..."
He reached toward the voice, but the dream shattered like dust between his fingers.
When he awoke, the moonlight cast strange shapes across the floor—and for a moment, the pebbles on his windowsill hovered faintly in the air before falling soundlessly.
By the time Saevyn reached fourteen, the entire village buzzed with anticipation—the time had come for the Affinity Ceremony.
All children stood before the elders, one by one, placing their palms on an ancient crystal orb to reveal their magical potential.
The orb shone brilliantly with every child—ruby red for Fire, azure for Water, gold for Light.
Cheers and applause followed each glow.
Then came Saevyn's turn.
He stepped forward quietly, his heart thudding.
When his fingers touched the orb, a faint brown shimmer flickered within it—weak, dusty, and dim. The color of failure.
The murmurs started immediately.
"A Dustcraft user? Poor child…"
"What a shame… with the Yllarith bloodline, too."
The light faded, leaving only silence.
Saevyn withdrew his hand slowly, forcing a small smile.
Inside, however, Geo's words echoed again.
"Those born with Earth magic are often exiled.. or worse, killed for it."