The Accidently reincarnated magician

The throne room was a glittering spectacle of gold and arrogance. Crystal chandeliers hung

from the vaulted ceiling, their light reflecting off the polished marble floors. Nobles in their finest

silks and jewels lined the walls, their faces painted with sycophantic smiles. At the center of it all

sat King Aldemar the Third, his gilded throne towering over the room like a monument to his

own ego. Today was his birthday, and the kingdom had been commanded to celebrate.

But the king was not in a celebratory mood. "He's coming," King Aldemar growled, his fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest of his throne. "That insolent magician. He thinks he can humiliate me in my own castle? On my *birthday*?"

The advisors surrounding him exchanged nervous glances. One brave soul stepped forward,

clearing his throat. "Your Majesty, perhaps it's best to ignore him. The more attention you give

him, the more he thrives." The king's face turned a shade of red usually reserved for overripe tomatoes. "Ignore him?" he roared, slamming his fist on the throne. "Do you think I'll let some street magician make a fool of me? No. This party will be a trap. Every guest will be searched, every corner guarded. He won't escape this time." The advisors nodded hurriedly, not daring to argue further. The king's paranoia was legendary, and today it was on full display. Guards were stationed at every door, their eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of the infamous prankster. Crossbowmen lined the balconies, their weapons loaded and ready. The king had even ordered that every guest bring a gift to "honor the gods," a thinly veiled excuse to enrich himself further.

The party began with all the pomp and circumstance befitting a tyrant's birthday. The nobles

lined up to present their gifts, each trying to outdo the others with their displays of wealth and

loyalty. Jewels, gold, rare artifacts—the pile of treasures at the king's feet grew taller with each

offering. King Aldemar barely glanced at them, tossing them aside or handing them to servants

without a second thought. His disdain for his subjects was as palpable as the stench of his ego.

Then, a small figure stepped forward, breaking the monotony of opulence. It was a little girl, no

more than six years old, dressed in a simple, patched dress. Her mother hovered nervously

behind her, clutching a gold bracelet in her hands. The girl held out a handmade doll, its cloth

body stitched together with care and its button eyes gleaming in the light. "Your Majesty," the girl said, her voice trembling but determined, "I made this for you. It's… it's a doll. I hope you like it."

The room fell silent. The nobles stared, some in amusement, others in horror. The king's eyes

narrowed as he took the doll, holding it between his thumb and forefinger like it was a dead rat.

He examined it for a moment, his lip curling in disgust, before dropping it to the floor and

crushing it under his boot. "What is this *junk*?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Do you not honor the gods with your gifts? Where is your gold? Your jewels?" The girl's eyes filled with tears, and her mother quickly stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Forgive her, Your Majesty. She doesn't know any better. Please, take this instead." She held out the gold

bracelet, her hands shaking.

The king snatched it from her, barely glancing at it before tossing it onto the pile of treasures.

"Get out of my sight before I change my mind," he barked, waving them away like flies.

The mother grabbed her daughter's hand and hurried out of the throne room, the girl's sobs

echoing in the silence. The nobles shifted uncomfortably, but no one dared to speak. The king

leaned back in his throne, a smug smile on his face, as if the entire ordeal had been nothing

more than a minor inconvenience. It was then that I made my move.

I had been watching from the shadows, disguised as a servant with a tray of wine glasses. My

heart had clenched at the sight of the little girl's crushed doll, and my resolve had hardened. The

king's cruelty was nothing new, but seeing it up close was a reminder of why I did what I did. I

wasn't just a prankster—I was a thorn in the side of tyranny, a voice for the voiceless. And

today, I was going to make sure the king regretted every single one of his actions.

I stepped forward, my disguise melting away as I dropped the tray and revealed myself. Gasps

rippled through the crowd as the nobles recognized me. The guards tensed, their hands flying to

their weapons, but I was already in motion. "Your Majesty," I said, my voice dripping with mock reverence, "I bring you a gift worthy of the gods themselves." I held out a small, ornate box, its surface gleaming in the light. The king's eyes narrowed, his suspicion evident. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Why haven't I seen you before?" I grinned, my eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I'm just a humble admirer, here to honor the greatest king in all the land." I bowed deeply, my sarcasm almost tangible.

The king's face turned purple. "Seize him!" he roared, and the room erupted into chaos.

"Minor Illusion"The box appeared to contain a priceless artifact—a glowing orb that pulsed with

divine energy. The nobles gasped, their eyes wide with awe. But when the king reached for it,

the orb vanished, leaving behind nothing but empty air.

"Sound Manipulation" A loud, mocking laugh echoed through the room, seemingly coming from

everywhere at once. The nobles looked around in confusion, while the king's face twisted in fury.

"Minor Levitation" The king's crown began to float off his head, spinning in circles above him. He

swatted at it like a man trying to catch a fly, but it danced just out of reach. "Minor Enchantment" The gifts piled around the throne came to life. Jewels rolled away, gold coins bounced like jumping beans, and a tapestry unraveled itself, its threads weaving into the shape of a giant, mocking smile. The nobles screamed, the guards scrambled, and the king was left shouting orders that no one

could hear over the chaos. I stood in the center of it all, a grin on my face as I watched my

handiwork unfold. But the king's trap was already in motion. Crossbowmen on the balconies took aim, their bolts gleaming in the light. Swordsmen closed in from all sides, their blades drawn and ready. My grin faltered for a moment as I realized the danger I was in. The first arrow whistled through the air, narrowly missing my shoulder and embedding itself in the wall behind me. I ducked just in time to avoid a second bolt, which struck a nobleman in the arm. The man screamed, clutching the wound as blood seeped through his fine robes. "Watch where you're shooting, you idiots!" the king bellowed, but the guards were too focused on their target to listen.

I darted through the crowd, using the panicking nobles as cover. A swordsman lunged at me,

but I sidestepped the blade and used Minor Levitation to send a nearby chair crashing into the

man's legs. The guard stumbled, and I was already moving, weaving through the chaos with the

agility of a cat. Another arrow flew past me, this one striking a servant carrying a tray of wine glasses. The man cried out as the tray clattered to the floor, the sound of shattering glass adding to the cacophony. I barely noticed, too focused on my next move. I didn't see the servant collapse, clutching the arrow in his side. I didn't see the blood pooling on the marble floor. I was too busy laughing. "Stop him!" the king screamed, his voice rising above the din. "I don't care who you have to

kill—just stop him!" The guards redoubled their efforts, their attacks growing more reckless. Arrows flew indiscriminately, striking nobles and servants alike. Swordsmen hacked at anything that moved, their blades cutting through the air with deadly precision. I dodged and weaved, my magic the only thing keeping me alive.

I used Minor Illusion to create a decoy of myself, drawing the guards' attention while I slipped

behind a pillar. Sound Manipulation let me mimic the clash of swords, confusing my pursuers.

Minor Levitation sent a chandelier swinging into a group of guards, knocking them off their feet.

The chaos was glorious, and I was loving every second of it. As the guards closed in, I prepared my escape. I pulled a small pouch from my pocket and tossed it to the ground, where it exploded into a cloud of smoke. The room was plunged into darkness, and when the smoke cleared, I was gone.

But I left behind one final "gift" for the king—a note, pinned to the throne with a dagger. It read:

*"Happy Birthday, Your Majesty. Don't forget to honor the gods!"* The king's face turned a deep shade of crimson as he read the note. His hands trembled with rage, and his voice boomed through the throne room like thunder. "Find him!" he roared, his eyes wild with fury. "I don't care how many men it takes, how many lives are lost—I want that magician's head on a pike! Do you hear me? Destroy him! Destroy everything he loves! I will not rest until he is nothing but a memory!" The guards scrambled to obey, but I was already far away, my heart light and my spirits high.

The king's vow echoed in the distance, but I didn't care. I had won. Again. And I couldn't wait to

see what I'd do next