SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

The dank chamber echoed with chilling sounds as the Fairy King Oberon began his methodical, terrifying process.

Despite his usual levity, Oberon was known for his expertise in extracting information.

It was an art form for him, a choreography of pain and fear danced to the rhythm of his subjects' heartbeats.

"Listen, human," Oberon began, his voice as soft as the fluttering of a moth's wings, deceptively gentle.

"I don't enjoy this any more than you do, but well, a King's got to do what a King's got to do."

He snapped his fingers, and vines ensnared the captive's limbs, pulling them taut until his body was stretched out, pinned against the cold stone wall.

The Fairy King then summoned a tendril of magical energy, wrapping it around his hand like a whip.

The stranger grimaced, his eyes reflecting his determination.

No words would pass his lips, no secrets shared. He was an enigma wrapped in the pain that Oberon intended to unfold.

With the first strike, the room was filled with the cracking sound of energy meeting flesh, the stranger's grunt of pain echoing off the stone walls.

His body jerked in response, but he bit down, refusing to give the Fairy King the satisfaction of his screams.

Again and again, Oberon struck, each time asking the same questions, each time meeting the stranger's defiant silence.

His attacks varied, sometimes physical, sometimes magical.

At times, he'd send electric shocks coursing through the stranger's body, or tendrils of magic to probe the man's mind.

Yet, throughout the ordeal, the stranger remained resolute. Sweat poured down his face, his teeth gritted against the pain, but his lips stayed firmly sealed.

In the dim, firefly-lit room, time seemed to slow as the night wore on, and still, Oberon found himself at an impasse.

Despite his best efforts, the stranger's will remained unbroken, his secrets tightly guarded. Oberon began to get impatient at this point.

After all, he didn't have all the time in the world.

In the shadow-filled room, Oberon sighed, pausing in his relentless assault.

The echoes of the stranger's agonized grunts still hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, a heavy silence reigned.

"I'm not heartless," Oberon's voice, although still soft, was filled with an uncharacteristic heaviness.

"I'd rather you just tell me what I need to know and get this over with."

The stranger lifted his head, an effort that clearly taxed him in his current state. His voice came out as a raspy whisper, yet it was filled with an unbroken resolve.

"Why do you follow her orders? The Elf Queen... she's a despot. You speak of doing a king's duty, yet you serve her."

A bitter smile twisted Oberon's lips. He looked at the man, then his gaze wandered past him, focusing on something unseen.

"I don't have a choice," he admitted, and there was a sour taste to those words, a confession that sat heavy in his mouth.

The stranger frowned, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

Oberon sighed, crossing his arms.

"This world... it's governed by a Triumvirate. The Elf Queen, the Beast King, and the Dwarven Chief. I never wanted to bow to their will, but..." His voice faltered, then hardened again.

"They forced me. Ganged up on me. The Elf Queen used her magic to curse me."

A curse. The word hung in the air, carrying a weight of its own. The stranger blinked, clearly not expecting this revelation.

Oberon continued, his voice taking on a bitter edge. "If I don't obey her, I die. And it's not just me... the whole forest will die with me. This forest is a part of me, and I'm a part of it. This curse, it binds us all."

He glanced towards the stranger, his eyes gleaming with a sad determination.

"And I can't break it. Believe me, I've tried. But it's a part of me now, as is my obedience to that damned Queen. It's the only way to protect my people, to safeguard our home."

His voice faded, leaving the echoes of his bitter confession behind. The room was silent again, the atmosphere even heavier than before.

The stranger was left with the stark reality of Oberon's plight, and the bitter truth of his own situation.

However…

"What if I could break the curse?" His voice suddenly echoed in the darkness.

Oberon's hardened gaze met the stranger's, skepticism written all over his face as the man attempted to regain his composure.

"Haha…" He chuckled dryly at the stranger's bold claim.

"You? Break the curse?" His disbelief was evident, a stark contrast to the hope that sparked briefly in the stranger's eyes.

The man didn't seem to be joking.

"Yes," the stranger coughed, steeling his gaze as he met Oberon's doubtful eyes.

"I have... unique abilities. Ways of using magic that could help free you."

A moment of silence hung between them, broken only by the rustle of leaves outside the dark room. Oberon regarded the stranger with a look that was more assessment than disbelief now.

"And why," he asked slowly, "should I believe you?"

"Because I have nothing to gain from lying." The stranger's voice was soft, yet firm, holding a sense of conviction. "And you have nothing to lose from trying."

Oberon was silent, pondering the stranger's words. The claim was bold, the possibility tantalizing.

But was it worth the risk? He turned his gaze towards the stranger again, a glimmer of intrigue replacing the previous skepticism.

"Tell me more about this... unique method of yours," Oberon instructed, folding his arms across his chest.

His voice held a note of command, but beneath it was a layer of curiosity.

If he could be free from the Elf Queen… from the Triumvirate… he wouldn't make the same mistakes as last time.

He would definitely fight for his people, and only them!

A thin smile spread on the stranger's face as he gazed into his eyes.

"First of all… I'll need a favor from you. If you can help me with that, I wouldn't mind not just curing you, but also becoming your ally."

"Ally? What can I gain from you becoming my ally?" Oberon's gaze narrowed as he stared at his prisoner.

The man was too cocky for someone who was captured, with no way out.

'Does he even have the ability to break the curse? Or is he just bluffing?'

The stranger, still tied and bound, leaned in closer. A glint of defiance shone in his eyes as he matched Oberon's gaze.

"Believe me, I'm not bluffing. In fact," he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips, "if we become allies, I could help you in your fight against the Triumvirate."

For a moment, there was a dready silence. And then…

"Hahahahahaha!" Oberon barked a harsh laugh.

"You, help me?" He gestured towards the stranger's bindings, his gaze dark. "You're not even in any position to negotiate. You're the one at the disadvantage here."

The stranger merely shrugged, unperturbed. "Am I, though?"

Suddenly, his figure began to shimmer, slowly disintegrating.

"W-wha…?!" Oberon watched in shock as the stranger turned into an energy mist, his form dissipating.

The restraints clattered to the ground, empty.

The man's voice echoed in the darkened room, taking on an ethereal quality as his form became less and less corporeal.

"Is it really a disadvantage... if it's all part of the plan?"

And with those final words, the stranger disappeared completely, leaving Oberon alone with his thoughts in the echo of the stranger's promise.

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