The Returned Magician Prevents the End

Chapter 6

Flames as red as blood surged everywhere the eye could see.

A sharp, unidentifiable scream pierced my ears, and the unbearable heat that felt like it would cook my face filled the air with the nauseating stench of burning flesh.

The world ablaze in the flames seemed as though it were bleeding molten blood.

I, Rough, could only helplessly watch the world crumble away.

At the center of all that destruction stood her.

The Witch of Starlight, who had obliterated this world with overwhelming magic.

Her silver hair, reflecting the burning sky of a world at its end, shimmered brilliantly like pure gold.

Floating high in the sky, she gazed down indifferently at the world she had set ablaze, and within me, Rough, anger flared.

“Witch of Starlight!”

I shouted and swung my arm, charging toward the witch.

As if I believed that by doing so, I could seize her and drag her down.

But no matter how much I ran, I never got any closer to her.

Only then did I realize that my body was bound by thick chains.

The immense weight of the chains crushed me.

What are these? Since when?

The weight of the chains pressing down on me forced me to my knees.

Unable to even raise my voice properly, all I could do, crushed by the chains, was glare at the witch.

As if responding to my gaze, the witch’s dry eyes, which had been fixed on the blazing flames, turned toward me, fallen as I was.

Through the swirling ash and smoke, her form slowly approached me.

While I struggled to free myself from the chains binding me, she steadily closed the distance until she stood right before me.

My frantic thrashing, as if I would leap at her any moment, stopped the instant I saw her face.

Revealed beneath the roaring flames, the witch’s face was my own.

* * *

“Gasp!”

I clutched my chest and opened my eyes.

The searing heat from the dream still lingered vividly on my skin.

Feeling the uncomfortable chill of cold sweat soaking my back, I, half-dazed, surveyed my surroundings.

A shoddy ceiling made of rusted scrap metal hastily woven together, a bed covered in filthy stains, and a cheap, scratchy blanket that felt unpleasant to the touch.

It was a squalid sleeping place reminiscent of a slum, but the fact that it wasn’t a ruin consumed by magical flames brought me some relief.

“Thank goodness…”

I let out a sigh, staring into the dusty, hazy air, then suddenly lifted the hand beneath the sheet to my face.

The bony, emaciated hand of a boy proved the grim reality of my situation, now trapped in the body of some unknown half-breed mage.

I gave a bitter smile.

No, maybe there’s nothing to be thankful for.

The ripples of time regression, distorted by the Witch of Starlight, were still with me.

I need to get used to this. This body is mine now.

With that thought, I tried to sit up, but a groan escaped me before I could even scream.

“Urgh!”

An excruciating pain, as if my entire body had been pummeled, overwhelmed me.

It was the recoil of mana awakening.

The exhilaration of awakening my mana for the first time had made me forget the pain, but now my body was clearly demanding the toll it had postponed.

After a struggle, I managed to shift into a more comfortable position and grumbled in frustration.

If this were the old me, this kind of pain would’ve been nothing.

To me, who had spent a lifetime battling mages on the frontlines, the sensations of this frail half-breed kid’s body were utterly foreign.

To think that this level of exertion could completely exhaust me.

Lacking even the energy to shake my head, I had no choice but to lie back down on the bed.

To make matters worse, a heavy headache, likely from the lingering effects of that wretched nightmare, began to throb.

As I squirmed on the filthy, uncomfortable bed to find a more bearable position, I suddenly noticed an unfamiliar sensation around my neck.

Puzzled, I cautiously touched the area around my throat.

The moment my fingers brushed against a cold metal ring, a chill ran through me.

What the hell is this? Why is something like this around my neck?

I couldn’t identify the ring’s exact nature, but I was certain it wasn’t placed there with kind intentions.

In a panic, I instinctively tried to spark a charge at my fingertips to break the ring.

Or rather, I tried to.

“…Huh?”

My gaze flicked meaninglessly to my fingertips, where nothing appeared.

Even though I had channeled my mana correctly, the spark I intended to create didn’t manifest.

“What… why isn’t this working?”

I kept focusing mana at my fingertips.

Attempts to create a spark, to summon a light, to ignite a flame—all failed.

Amid the repeated failures, I felt a confusion bordering on fear.

This is impossible. The mana alignment, the method of spell deployment—none of it’s wrong. So why isn’t the magic activating?

The heightened mana sensitivity of this half-breed mage’s body told me that the mana around me was moving freely according to my will.

Yet, the mana gathered only to scatter uselessly without bearing fruit.

As I kept attempting to cast spells, another heavy headache struck.

Groaning in pain, I finally realized that this oppressive headache wasn’t just from the nightmare or exhaustion.

The unpleasant, foggy sensation in my head was emanating from the strange ring constricting my neck.

I felt not just shock but utter disbelief at this realization.

Is this really possible? An artifact that restricts the manifestation of magic?

The concept of magic restricting magic’s manifestation was, even to me, who treated magic as a technical discipline, something confined to the realm of imagination.

Magic uses mana to twist the laws of reality, creating distorted forms and materializing them in the world.

In that sense, “magic that restricts magic’s manifestation” was near impossible.

Magic is ultimately made of mana, and restricting mana with mana was as contradictory as trying to block flowing water with more water.

Yet, this strange ring was accomplishing exactly that, effortlessly.

Calm down. This won’t solve anything.

I stopped myself from instinctively tearing at the ring and took a deep breath.

Even if this was an artifact I’d never encountered before, one that restricted magic’s manifestation, there had to be a way to dismantle it.

No magic in this world is perfect and impervious to being broken.

Just as I regained my composure and arrived at that thought, a voice came from the entrance of the room.

“Hey! Half!”

Before my open eyes appeared a familiar face.

“Victor?”

Victor, making a fuss, set down a tray filled with damp cloths and hurried toward me.

“You’re finally awake? Are you hurt anywhere? God, look how skinny you are! I was so worried. I thought you were going to die like that. The boss kept saying, ‘It’s fine, it’s fine,’ but who’s going to believe that? They’re not doctors!”

“…I told you to call me Rough, not Half.”

Amid Victor’s relentless chatter, that was all I could manage to say.

Victor smacked his forehead with a thwack, as if he’d forgotten.

“Whoops, forgot again. Sorry, Half. I’ve been calling you that for so long… oops.”

“Just forget it and tell me what happened next. The plan worked, right? I mean, seeing you and me here in one piece, it must’ve worked out.”

“Yeah, exactly like you said, Rough. While you were out, Hank died. Junk, the boss, was furious.

‘Not only did he steal my stuff, but he did this to my kid!’ He was yelling so loud I thought I’d go deaf.”

“My kid? You don’t mean me, do you?”

Victor chuckled, finding my horrified expression amusing.

“Yup, that’s right. Seems like Junk’s completely taken with you, Rough. Says you, who can appraise artifacts, are the new future of the Junk Family or something. I mean, I always knew you were special.”

“So, where’s Junk now? I’ve got something to ask that guy.”

My face, which had just calmed, sharpened again.

At my cold response, Victor’s face paled, and he hurriedly pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shh! Don’t talk like that. What if someone hears? Junk went to great lengths to keep you alive. You don’t have to think so badly of him.”

“Damn it! That’s not the point! That guy put this thing on my neck. As long as it’s on, I can’t use magic!”

I irritably tapped the ring around my neck, only to groan again as pain surged.

Victor stared at me with a blank expression.

“Uh… so you can’t appraise artifacts either? Like, making your hair float and your eyes flash?”

“No, my mana sensitivity isn’t sealed, so I can still appraise artifacts. But if you’re asking if I can do that ‘hair-floating, eyes-flashing’ thing, then yeah, I can’t. This damned ring… what the hell is it?”

Realizing my irritation, Victor hesitated and stood up from my side.

“I-I’ll go get Junk. He told me to let him know as soon as you woke up.”

Seeing Victor act cautious, I clicked my tongue.

This idiot. Why did I snap at this kid? He doesn’t know anything.

I opened my mouth to calm the frightened Victor, but at that moment, a grotesque metallic screech came from outside the room.

SCREEEECH!

Frowning, I realized it was the same sound I’d heard just before passing out.

As if to affirm that realization, a slow, middle-aged man’s voice followed.

“No need for that.”

The tightly shut door flung open, and the scorching desert sunlight poured into the room.

I scowled, glaring at the stout man standing in the doorway.

“You’ve finally opened your eyes, my child.”

“Junk…”

Seeing Junk’s twisted smile, as if he were looking at a prized collectible, I spoke with disgust.