Magic in Anterthon: The Awakening Fire

"Sleep well..."

The voice echoed softly in Kenneth's mind as he jolted awake in his bed. Sitting up, his heart raced as the image of a blue-haired man touching his forehead lingered before fading into the morning light.

"It was just a dream," he muttered, trying to shake off the strange feeling that clung to him. Glancing around, everything seemed normal, yet something felt... off.

He got up, heading downstairs, slipping back into his routine. As usual, he called his parents, updating them about school.

After hanging up, his eyes caught sight of a note left by his aunt, reminding him she'd be away on a business trip for a few days.

That familiar feeling washed over him again, like he'd seen this exact scenario before. He paused, brow furrowed, trying to recall why it felt so familiar. The harder he tried, the more the memory slipped away.

Shaking his head, he continued with his day, hoping it was just leftover confusion from the dream.

Later at school, his teacher greeted him with unexpected news. "Rika will be transferring to a school abroad" the advisor said.

Kenneth froze. Transferring? He massaged his temple as a sudden wave of déjà vu hit him. It felt like he'd heard this before—but when?

Trying to shrug off the sensation, he made his way to the meeting. At least the preparations for the upcoming school event were progressing smoothly. Salem, the first-year representative, stood next to him with his usual eagerness.

"You're my role model" Salem said, beaming up at Kenneth. Kenneth smiled at the boy's enthusiasm, patting him lightly on the head. "You'll learn plenty, Salem. Just stick with me."

But even as he spoke, that unsettling feeling lingered. It was as if pieces of his life were subtly rearranging themselves, just out of his reach.

Kenneth sighed, rubbing his temples as he leaned back in his chair. "Is there any word on the idol group we invited? Any problems?" he asked.

Salem shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, they canceled... last minute. They're willing to pay the termination fee, but it puts us in a tight spot."

Kenneth paused. For some reason, he had expected everything to be fine, yet this issue didn't trigger the déjà vu that had haunted him all morning. It was like the one thing that didn't fit in this strange loop he felt stuck in.

After the meeting, Kenneth found himself staring out the window. His thoughts drifted as he absently looked at his left hand. Without warning, an image flashed before his eyes—a vivid vision that nearly knocked the air out of him. He saw flames engulfing around him, the fire rising from his own hand. His head throbbed painfully, and he clutched his temples, trying to make sense of the overwhelming vision.

A knock on the door pulled him back to reality. "Come in," he called, his voice strained.

Salem entered, immediately noticing Kenneth's distress. "Are you okay, President?" He offered him a bottle of water. "You don't look well."

Kenneth gratefully took the water, and as he sipped, Salem's eyes fell on the book sitting on the desk. "The Wizard's Magical Adventure?" Salem asked, pointing to the novel Kenneth had been reading. "What's this about?"

Kenneth froze. "As expected of the successor of Mistral..." The words echoed in his mind, fragments of his dream bleeding into reality. His eyes widened. Mistral? That name wasn't just from his dream—it was in the book. Mistral was a family of powerful wind Wizards.

"And... that girl... wind magic..." Kenneth murmured, recalling the girl from his dream who had used wind magic to defend him. But in the novel, there were no female successor from the Mistral family. It didn't add up.

He let out a small laugh, more from confusion than amusement. "Am I mixing up with my dreams now?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Salem's voice broke through his thoughts. "President? Are you okay?"

Kenneth quickly composed himself, smiling. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... caught up in my thoughts."

Salem picked up the novel, flipping through its pages with interest. "This book seems cool. Do you like reading about magic?"

Kenneth nodded, grateful for the change in subject. "Yeah, it's pretty interesting. It's about group of friends who discovers their destinies intertwined with ancient magic."

Salem's eyes lit up as he scanned the pages. "I love fantasy too. Can I borrow it once you're done?"

Kenneth chuckled softly. "Sure. Just remind me."

As Salem continued flipping through the book, Kenneth's mind drifted back to the dream, the words "successor of Mistral", and the flames that had consumed him. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than just a dream.

Suddenly, without warning, a large magic circle appeared beneath Kenneth and Salem, radiating a blinding light that engulfed them both. The ground vanished beneath their feet, and they were pulled into what felt like an endless abyss.

The sensation of falling lasted only a moment before they landed in a grand hall. The intricate marble floors and towering stone pillars were illuminated by flickering chandeliers. Kenneth's heart pounded as he took in his surroundings, his eyes immediately locking onto the imposing figure seated on a throne at the far end of the room.

They were not alone. Two figures stood on either side, their sharp eyes watching Kenneth and Salem with expectation.

Salem clutched Kenneth's sleeve. "President, where are we?"

"I don't know," Kenneth whispered, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of their situation. The hall had an air of royalty, like something out of a fantasy novel—a throne room.

The figure on the throne stood, his eyes locked onto them. His presence was commanding, and the air grew heavy as he spoke.

"Which of you used fire magic?" His voice echoed through the hall, sharp and demanding. Kenneth's stomach dropped. Fire magic? His mind flashed back to the dream, to the fire that had surrounded him.

The figure's piercing gaze moved toward a blue-haired man standing by the throne—someone who seemed eerily familiar to Kenneth, though he couldn't place him.

The blue-haired man stepped forward, scanning both Kenneth and Salem with a calm, calculated gaze. Slowly, he raised his arm and pointed directly at Kenneth.

"It's him," he said, his voice unwavering.