SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

The Fairy Kingdom, a resplendent jewel of otherworldly beauty, nestled amidst the whispering foliage of the Luminis Forest.

Bounded by an iridescent shimmering barrier, it was a realm isolated from the external world, preserving its ethereal charm.

It was a land where time seemed to linger, the sunlight filtered through emerald canopies casting a perpetual midsummer glow.

The structures of the kingdom were architectural marvels, intricately carved from colossal toadstools and blossoms, imbued with potent magic to withstand the passage of time.

Luminescent flowers bathed the streets in an array of colors, and the air was always filled with the melodious tunes of the fairy-folk, a beautiful harmony that resonated with the soul.

The whole kingdom seemed like a daydream brought to life, yet beneath its enchanting surface, it was a land governed by firm patriarchal order.

The Fairy Kingdom was, first and foremost, a kingdom of warriors.

Despite their delicate appearances, fairies were formidable beings, their magical prowess matched by few in the known realms.

At the helm of this miniature yet formidable army sat the Fairy King, an embodiment of authority and power.

The throne room of the Fairy King was situated in the heart of the kingdom, within a monumental bloom that towered over the rest.

The interior was a sight to behold, with the ceiling encrusted with iridescent dewdrops reflecting multicolored lights.

It was here, upon a throne of lustrous petals, that the Fairy King held court.

A figure of regal stature despite his petite form, the Fairy King was a paragon of strength and wisdom.

His long silver hair cascaded down his back, a crown of woven moonflowers nestled atop his head. His clear eyes held the depth of the ancient forest, shimmering with an undying flame of resolution.

Subjects bowed before him in deep respect, their heads lowered, wings folded. His rule was absolute, his word, the law. He wielded a scepter, its gem pulsating with a soft light, the manifestation of his boundless magical power.

The Fairy King was a patriarch in the truest sense, a figure revered and feared.

His power was invincible in the land, his magic formidable enough to keep even the most audacious intruders at bay.

His leadership had seen the Fairy Kingdom through countless trials, standing as an indomitable beacon amidst the passing tides of time.

Yet, despite the strict hierarchy, his rule was just. Beneath the stern veneer of the patriarch lay a benevolent heart, cherishing his subjects like a father would his children.

He was a figure of strength and stability, a symbol of the Fairy Kingdom's invincibility. Such was the majesty of the Fairy King, a timeless ruler in a timeless land.

However… despite this known fact, there remained a shameful truth hidden from the eyes and minds of the public.

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"H-haaaa…!"

The ethereal tranquility of the Fairy King's throne room was disrupted by the appearance of a swirling vortex of emerald magic in its center.

From within the mesmerizing swirl, an image of the Elf Queen solidified, her gaze as frosty as the winter's heart, and her voice like the rustling of ancient parchment.

The moment this occurred, every single guard in the room left the Fair King alone. They understood their place, and the preference of their ruler when it came to discussions with the Elf Queen.

He preferred complete privacy.

"King Oberon," she addressed, a hint of condescension lacing her words, as though speaking to a child rather than an equal.

The Elven Queen was a towering figure of grace, her eyes a vivid shade of jade and her silver hair flowing like a waterfall of moonlight.

Her haughty demeanor was the embodiment of her status, a symbol of her untouchable authority.

"Master," the Fairy King, King Oberon, replied.

He instantly left his throne and went on his knees.

His wings fluttered nervously, a stark contrast to the usually steadfast ruler.

The power dynamic in the room shifted entirely, the omnipotent king now akin to a common serf before the Elf Queen's image.

"I greet you fervently. To what does this lowly one owe this meeting?"

Yes. This was the shameful truth hidden from the denizens of the Fairy Kingdom.

Their almighty King was nothing but a worm-like subordinate of the Elf Queen.

"First of all, let's get the irrelevant matters out of the way." The Queen began.

They discussed matters of state, the exchange, however, was far from balanced.

It was the Elf Queen who dictated terms, her voice resounding in the hall like a thunderous decree.

Oberon, under her relentless gaze, could only nod and respond with a hushed "as you wish, Master."

The proud patriarch, who seemed invincible in his realm, was now reduced to a mere puppet, his own words scarce and submissive.

His silvery eyes held a restrained anger, an unvoiced protest swallowed down like bitter poison. It was clear he was bound by some potent magic, his autonomy sacrificed at the altar of her desires.

"Ensure that your warriors are ready, Oberon," the Elf Queen commanded, her words as sharp as shards of glass, leaving no room for defiance. "I expect no failure."

"With respect, Master, the Fairy Kingdom is always at your service," Oberon answered, his voice devoid of its usual commanding vigor, replaced by a meek acceptance.

Thankfully, none of his subordinates were here to witness this disgrace. What would they say if they saw their beacon of hope grovel before an Elf?

And with her message delivered, the Elf Queen's holographic image dissolved back into a swirling vortex of emerald, leaving the throne room in a grave silence.

Oberon, left in the echoing silence of the Queen's departure, clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening.

He was a king bound by invisible shackles, his kingdom under the thumb of a formidable master.

He was more a slave than a subordinate, his power merely a facade against the reality of his servitude.

'The Triumvirate… when will we ever be free of them?' He ased himself.

It seemed too foolish to consider such a reality now.

'I better focus on the task I have been given.'

In the deafening silence that followed the departure of the Elf Queen, Oberon found himself ensnared by his thoughts.

His stern gaze, usually brimming with absolute authority, was cast on the empty space where the ethereal holograph had been moments ago.

An invisible shroud seemed to descend upon the regal throne room, the atmosphere suddenly becoming somber, heavy with the impending burden of the command that had been thrust upon the Fairy King.

'Aria...'. The name echoed in his mind like an ominous knell.

The Elf Queen's daughter, a young woman who had grown to be a formidable adversary in her own right.

And she was not alone. Alongside her were Drake, a renowned scholar, and the Great Sage, known far and wide for his knowledge and wisdom.

This formidable trio was now heading for the Fairy Territory, to the Labyrinth that lay hidden in the heart of the enchanted forest.

A Labyrinth that held secrets that Oberon, despite his profound age and knowledge, couldn't fully comprehend.

The Fairy King's heart weighed heavy in his chest, like a stone sinking into the depths of a cold, endless sea.

The Elf Queen's words echoed in his mind, "Stop them at all costs."

The severity of her tone, the icy certainty in her gaze, left no room for defiance or negotiation.

His wings twitched, mirroring his internal turmoil. He was caught in the middle, like a leaf caught in a tempest, torn between his duty as a king and his obligation to his master.

He wished to protect his realm and his subjects, yet he was also aware of the chains that bound him to the Elf Queen, chains made of potent magic and old debts that he could not simply ignore.

Despite the turmoil raging within him, Oberon knew he had to maintain his composure for his subjects, his people, who looked up to him, who needed him to be their stalwart leader.

So he forced a calm mask onto his face, concealing his inner chaos beneath a facade of serene determination.

He knew that he had no choice but to heed the Elf Queen's command.

'It pains my heart to cause the death of young ones, but this is for the sake of my subjects…'

His thoughts swirled as he considered his options.

It was a daunting task, yet one he could not avoid. He sighed, a sigh that seemed to echo the melancholy that had settled upon the Fairy Kingdom.

But, this was the hand he'd been dealt, and play it he must.

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[A/N]

Well, this is certainly no Beruel.