I Refused To Be Reincarnated

The glowing light emitted by the horrifying sword responded to Zarathor's energy, shaking to life for the first time in eons. The thick rocky floor rumbled as if excited for the sword... or to be freed from its ominous presence.

Meanwhile, anticipation boiled into Zarathor's blood as his hand wrapped around the pommel. However, before his joy could fully settle, a buzzing noise echoed in the cave.

With a swift movement, he retrieved his numb arm and gazed at energy sparks dancing on the great sword with a frown. "Don't refuse me. I'm your only chance to leave this place!" He yelled, gritting his teeth and steeling his resolve. Then, he extended his arm to grab the pommel again.

Unfortunately, a surge of green fire erupted before his eyes, prompting him to step back by reflexe. "No! I won't leave without retrieving you!" He spat through clenched teeth, unwilling to give up. Yet, his eyes trembled in dread as they stared at the dancing flames.

A slight touch was all they needed to turn him into a pile of smoking ashes. He knew it. But why was the blade reacting like that? With his strength and compatible powers, it should have been elated to join him and leave this damp underground.

'Did it deem me unworthy?' He pondered, his lips raising and guttural growls escaping his mouth. His hands trembled in anger as realisation struck him.

The blade wasn't just an artefact. No. It was one of his realm's most potent heirlooms, passed down to the worthiest prince or princess. Yet, his sister wielded it in battle, but he couldn't even touch it. Worse, fifteen thousand years elapsed, forcing him to a conclusion.

"Am I still weaker than her? Nonsense! I can do anything she could do better! I'm ranked number six despite my age! SO, WHY?" His powerful voice cut through the mountain. Dust billowed everywhere as loud noises echoed his soul-shattering scream.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The miners working above scrambled away in fear as gravel fell from the ceiling, burying the tunnels.

Despite the commotion, the great sword remained silent.

Exhaling smoke, Zarathor's eyes narrowed into slits. Traces of obsession flashed in their depths as he took resolute steps. Even if he lost an arm, he would make the artefact submit. It was no longer a question of benefit but pride. 'I won't tolerate anything or anyone implying that I'm inferior to Nyxara!' he thought, malevolent energy engulfing his body in blazing fire.

As he drew closer, almost grabbing the pommel for the third time, he felt a potent force tugging at his arm. Ethereal chains wrapped around his body, their rattling grating at his mind horrendously as he howled, "No! Not yet!"

Uncaring about his wants, they pulled at his being as the space cracked and shattered in a rain of glittering sparks behind him.

"Move, please. Just a few centimeters!" He pleaded, unwillingness filling his heart. He was so close to achieving his goal, yet he would fail at the last second. His muscles doubled in size, and his veins bulged. With everything he had, he resisted the merciless force in vain. The summoning contract's power was absolute.

Even tier eight existences had to bow to its rules, willingly or not. Since the twelve hours ran out, they forced him to return to whence he came.

"Wait for me!" He spat, pointing his right finger at the artifact as the cracked space devoured his body. Then, the fissures mended themselves, banishing Zarathor from the magic world, and leaving his lingering regrets behind.

In the meantime, the great sword stood motionless, awaiting a worthy master to appear.

****

Simultaneously, Julius stepped out of the humming construct, taking the safe academy environment in until he saw Shepard. "Quick! Deactivate the Gate," he yelled, racing towards him.

Stunned by the boy's panicked face, and his unconscious disciple floating powerlessly behind him, the dean moved into action with incredible speed. His hands blurred as he managed the control circle to cut the Gate's power suply entirely.

As the blue veil covering it dissipated into the air, he frowned at the boy. "What happened?" His solemn voice echoed in the gardens.

Embarrassed, Julius' cheeks flushed bright red in embarrassment. Scratching his head, he said, "We... we maybe broke the archmage sigil..." he said.

His low voice thundered into Shepard's ears like a death sentence. His body shook with dread and his bulging eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "You... What?!" He shouted, unable to remain calm after hearing such devastating news. What he had feared occurred. The duo messed with the wrong individual, and now he would die for their mistakes.

With a bitter smile, he gazed at the boy's lowered face before coughing to recompose himself. "Why is he unconscious?" He asked, pointing at his disciple.

"I don't know. He didn't let me witness the ritual and came back like this with the broken sigil," Julius answered, turning towards the girl's dorms. "I returned as fast as possible to ask Nova and Morgane to help heal him," he added, his urgent voice compelling the dean to follow him.

Hurriedly, they navigated the gardens as he recounted how he escaped in one piece, to Shepard's shock.

Then, they reached Asha's room under the gentle rays of the setting sun. The young lady rapidly opened it, alarmed by the vigorous knocks disturbing her training. However, any trace of annoyance disappeared from her face, replaced by seriousness. "Julius, Shepard? Why did you come to my room so late?" She asked.

However, Julius squinted, answering with a question, "Where is Nova?" He failed to see the ethereal beauty in the room, causing a wave of anxiety to wrap around his heart.

"She left an hour ago to play with her snowcat. I don't know where she is exactly," replied Asha, worry flashing in her green eyes as she finally spotted Adam's dim eyes.

"Is Morgane in her room?" The boy asked again, gritting his teeth in frustration. If both were absent, he really didn't know what he could do to help his brother.