For Graice, the word "deity" was both familiar and alien. Though magic seemed like a divine gift, centuries of development had turned it into something akin to technology. Most mages remained neutral about gods' existence—a stance that indirectly fueled conflicts between the Magic Council and the Holy See. But that was a story for later.
When Graice opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a woman. Beautiful, like the youngest princess he’d once met in the palace. Yet unlike ordinary women, she radiated an indescribable mystique—and an inexplicable warmth, like reuniting with parents he hadn’t seen in decades. Strange, yet deeply familiar.
"Who are you?"
Graice spoke first. But the moment his own voice reached his ears, he froze. It sounded decades younger. He lifted his hands. The calloused palms, worn from years of carving runes, were gone. In their place were soft, infant-plump fingers.
*"Greetings, Graice. Forgive my rudeness in summoning you so abruptly—but this was the only solution I could devise."*
Her lips hadn’t moved. The voice resonated directly inside his skull.
"Summon me? I remember I was—"
*"You died. I reclaimed you from the Reaper."*
"The Reaper? Are you... a god?"
*"If I recall correctly, mortals call me Nona—one of the Fate Goddesses."*
"Fate Goddess?"
Hearing this, Graice stiffened. Then he let out a hollow laugh. "So you’re saying my entire life was just a thread in your tapestry? Don’t joke."
All his struggles, erased by a single divine whim. That wasn’t fate he wanted.
*"Ah... I apologize. But blaming me won’t help. I only weave the main threads of destiny. Side paths? Those fall to my sisters. You... slipped into one due to my youngest sister’s oversight."*
"So my true fate wasn’t this?"
*"Mm."* Nona nodded. *"Your destined end was starvation. Five days from now."*
*"...Are you mocking me?"*
*"Absolutely not! I’m here to correct her mistake."*
"Whatever. I’m dead anyway—"
*"You’ve noticed your youth restored, yes?"*
"Is this my ‘compensation’? A second childhood after death?"
*"No. Life’s deity reforged this body for you. Young, yes—but far stronger than your old one."*
"What do you mean?"
*"I’ll send you back to the mortal realm. To fulfill your final wish. But without Time’s power, I can’t revert you to age twelve. This was the only way."*
"And your price?"
Graice never believed in free gifts—not even from gods. Such generosity demanded a heavy favor.
*"Three conditions."*
Nona raised one finger. *"First: Find my successor. Protect her until she accepts her role."*
"Successor? Gods need heirs?"
*"Even deities grow weary."*
Her answer was vague. Graice sensed hidden strings—but couldn’t grasp them.
"How do I find her?"
*"My power will guide you."*
*"...Continue."*
*"Second: I strip you of everything but your magic. Even your name."*
"My name? Fine. From now on, I’m Rein Hart."
*"Rein Hart? Any significance?"*
"Lionheart! Sounds epic, right?"
Rein’s youthful body reignited his long-lost confidence. If he had to rename himself, he’d choose something fierce.
*"Third,"* Nona added, *"since Starlight Magic shares roots with fate, I’ll amplify that power. Arcane Magic? Beyond my reach."*
"Whatever. At least I’m stronger."
Rein shrugged. His magic had always been his pride. This young body—though holding less Arcane Power—was still better than a withered corpse.
*"Finally—the cost of your youth."*
*"Of course there’s a catch."*
Crows were never white.
*"I’ll deduct the years I restored from your total lifespan. Roughly fifteen years."*
*"...That’s all?"*
For mages, lifespan limits were trivial. True immortality came from willpower. Most didn’t die of old age—they simply lost the will to live. A quiet tragedy.
*"So? Do you accept?"*
*"I accept."*
The terms seemed too generous. Like trading a worthless scrap of paper for a feast. Yet after tasting death, the hunger to live burned fiercer than suspicion. Rein’s purpose crystallized: revenge. Pure and simple.
