The Accidently reincarnated magician

Alright, let's get one thing straight: I'm not a hero. I'm not a villain, either. I'm just… Ren. The 

guy who got reincarnated by accident. Yeah, you heard that right. Accident. Some god out there 

screwed up, and now I'm stuck in this medieval fantasy world with a class that's about as useful 

as a screen door on a submarine. Magician. Can you believe it? Not a sorcerer, not a wizard, 

not even an illusionist. Just a plain old magician. You know, the kind who pulls rabbits out of 

hats and makes coins disappear. Except I don't even have a hat. Or a rabbit. But hey, I'm not complaining. Well, not anymore. At first, I was pissed. I mean, who wouldn't be? 

You die, get reincarnated into a new world, and instead of being handed some overpowered 

ability or a legendary sword, you get… party tricks. The god who brought me here even had the 

nerve to apologize. "Sorry," he said, "I already have too many heroes in this world. You're just… 

extra." Extra. Can you believe that? Then he gave me a pouch of coins, told me to survive for a 

month, and poof—he was gone. No instructions, no guidance, no "here's how to not die in a 

world full of monsters and magic." Just… good luck, kid. 

So, what did I do? I survived. Barely. I spent that first month scraping by, doing odd jobs, and 

trying not to get killed by bandits or wild animals. But then, something clicked. If the gods didn't 

want me here, fine. I'd make them regret it. I'd be a nuisance. A thorn in their side. And what 

better way to annoy the gods than by messing with their favorite people? That's right—the royal 

family. 

Now, let me explain my magic. It's not exactly impressive, but it's versatile. I've got four basic 

spells, and I've learned to combine them in ways that make people think I'm some kind of 

magical genius. First, there's Minor Illusion. It lets me create small, visual illusions—like making 

an object look like it's floating, changing its color, or creating a simple hologram. The illusions 

are small-scale and short-lived, though. They can't interact with the physical world, and if 

someone touches them, they disappear. Still, it's great for distractions. Like the time I made a 

guard think there was a snake on the ground. He screamed like a little girl. Classic. 

Then there's Sound Manipulation. This spell lets me produce simple sounds—like a bell ringing, 

a whistle, or, yes, a fart noise. The sounds are short-range and can't be too loud or complex. I 

can't mimic voices or create music, but it's perfect for messing with people.

Next up is Minor Levitation. This one lets me lift small objects and move them slowly through the 

air. I'm talking really small—like a coin, a cup, or a crown. The heavier the object, the more 

mana it drains, and the movement is slow and clumsy. But it's great for making things 

"disappear" or creating the illusion of haunted objects. Like the time I made the king's crown 

float onto a dog's head during a banquet. The dog barked, the crown fell into a bowl of soup, 

and the king turned so red I thought he was going to explode. 

Finally, there's Minor Enchantment. This spell lets me temporarily imbue an object with a simple 

magical effect. I can make a sword glow faintly, cause a chair to wobble, or make a ledger's 

numbers rearrange themselves. The effects are weak and short-lived, though. The enchantment 

breaks if the object is used too much or if someone dispels it. But it's perfect for pranks. Like the 

time I enchanted the royal treasurer's ledger to make all the numbers add up to "420." The look 

on his face when the king saw it? Priceless. 

At first, my magic was pretty basic. I could barely light a candle without breaking a sweat. But 

the more I used it, the stronger I got. It's like… leveling up, I guess. Every time I pulled off a 

prank, I felt a little surge of power. My spells became more precise, more versatile. I started 

combining them in ways I never thought possible. That levitation spell I used on the king's 

crown? I've since upgraded it to lift slightly heavier objects—like, say, an entire banquet table. 

And that illusion spell? I can now create slightly more detailed holograms that last a bit longer. 

It's still not exactly "hero" material, but it's enough to keep me entertained. 

The key to my magic is creativity. I've learned to layer my spells to create more complex effects. 

For example, to make the king's crown float, I used Minor Levitation to lift it and Minor Illusion to 

make it look like it was floating on its own. Then I added Sound Manipulation to create a faint 

magical hum, selling the illusion that it was a powerful spell. It's all about thinking outside the 

box. 

Another example? The time I enchanted the prince's sword to make fart noises. I used Minor 

Enchantment to imbue the sword with a sound effect and Sound Manipulation to make the noise 

seem like it was coming from the sword itself. The prince was so embarrassed he locked himself 

in his room for a week. I was hiding in the rafters, laughing so hard I almost fell out.

Of course, the royal family isn't exactly thrilled with me. They've put a bounty on my head, sent 

guards after me, and even hired a few bounty hunters. But here's the thing: I'm not easy to 

catch. I'm always one step ahead, always thinking on my feet. And even if they do manage to 

corner me, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve. Literally. Like the time I used a smoke bomb 

spell—a combination of Minor Illusion and Sound Manipulation—to disappear right in front of a 

dozen guards. Or the time I enchanted a broom to chase a bounty hunter out of town. Yeah, I'm 

not exactly a threat, but I'm not exactly harmless, either. 

But the king? Oh, he's losing his mind. At first, he thought I was just some petty criminal. Then 

he thought I was a spy from a rival kingdom. Now? Now he's convinced I'm some kind of demon 

sent to torment him. And honestly, I'm not doing much to change his mind. Like the time I 

enchanted his throne to play a loud fart noise every time he sat down. Or the time I made all the 

wine in the royal cellar taste like vinegar. He's even started consulting priests and mages, trying 

to figure out how to stop me. Spoiler alert: it's not going well.

Speaking of the king, let me tell you about him. His name is **King Aldemar the Third**, and 

he's about as pleasant as a toothache. He rules the kingdom of **Eryndor**, a place where the 

rich get richer, the poor get poorer, and the gods' favor is the only currency that matters. 

Aldemar is a tall, broad-shouldered man with a face that looks like it was carved out of 

granite—hard, cold, and completely devoid of humor. He's got a crown that's way too big for his 

head (probably to compensate for something) and a temper that's even bigger. His idea of 

diplomacy is shouting until people agree with him, and his idea of justice is throwing anyone 

who disagrees with him into the dungeon. 

The kingdom itself is a mess. The streets are filled with beggars, the fields are worked by 

starving farmers, and the nobles spend their days lounging in their mansions, sipping wine and 

pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist. The gods, meanwhile, seem to love this 

arrangement. They bless the rich, ignore the poor, and occasionally send down a "hero" to deal 

with any problems that might threaten the status quo. It's a system that's rigged from top to 

bottom, and Aldemar is the smug face of it all. 

So, that's me. Ren, the accidentally reincarnated magician. A guy with no grand destiny, no 

world-saving mission, and no real purpose. Just a knack for causing chaos and a love for 

messing with the royal family. And you know what? I'm okay with that. Because in a world full of 

heroes and villains, sometimes it's the guy in the middle who has the most fun. Now, if you'll 

excuse me, I've got a prank to plan. The king's birthday is coming up, and I hear he's got a thing 

for magic.