THE BLACK REBIRTH OF THE CURSED MAGE
By Given
CHAPTER ONE: DEATH WAS ONLY THE BEGINNING
Death did not welcome him.
It did not offer peace, light, or answers.
It offered silence.
A suffocating, endless silence that swallowed thought itself.
Then—pain.
Agony ripped through his body as air forced itself into lungs that should no longer exist. His chest heaved violently. His fingers curled against cold stone, nails scraping as if his body were fighting its way out of a grave.
He gasped again, choking, heart slamming against his ribs.
"No… I died."
His voice cracked.
The last memory was clear—too clear.
Betrayal.
A familiar voice behind him.
Steel piercing flesh.
The ground rushing up to meet him as his life drained away.
That was how it ended.
So why was he breathing?
His eyes snapped open.
Torchlight flickered across stone walls carved with strange symbols that pulsed faintly, like veins filled with glowing blood. The air felt heavy, charged—unnatural.
Magic.
The word appeared in his mind without explanation.
He pushed himself upright, dizzy. His body felt wrong—lighter, weaker. He stared at his hands.
They were not his.
Smaller. Younger. Smooth. No scars.
Panic crept in as he staggered to his feet. His reflection shimmered faintly in the polished stone wall.
A boy stared back at him.
Dark hair. Pale skin. Eyes wide with shock.
Sixteen. Maybe younger.
"This… isn't my body," he whispered.
A sudden pressure slammed into his head.
Memories flooded in—not his own.
A name: Kael.
An orphan.
Mocked. Powerless.
Born without magic in a world ruled by it.
He clutched his head and fell to his knees as the truth settled in.
He wasn't alive again.
He was reincarnated.
Two lives collided inside one body—his past life, ended in betrayal, and Kael's miserable existence, cut short by fate.
A broken laugh escaped his lips.
"So this is hell," he muttered.
The symbols on the walls flared suddenly.
The air trembled.
Something noticed him.
A presence seeped into his mind—ancient, vast, and cruelly amused.
You remember your death, the voice whispered.
Good.
Kael groaned, clutching his skull.
"Get out of my head."
The presence laughed.
Most are reborn ignorant. Empty. Weak.
You are different.
You returned carrying hatred.
The runes blazed brighter.
Pain exploded through his veins like liquid fire. His bones screamed. His heart felt as though it might burst as something deep inside him shattered—then awakened.
Magic surged.
Not the clean magic of nobles or heroes.
This magic was dark. Ancient. Hungry.
Black symbols crawled across his arms, burning themselves into his skin like living ink. His scream echoed through the chamber as power carved itself into his soul.
Then—silence.
Kael collapsed, trembling.
Slowly, he rose.
The air bent around him now, responding to his presence. He could feel it—magic obeying him not out of loyalty, but fear.
He stared at his reflection again.
His eyes glowed faintly crimson.
A slow smile formed.
Cold. Sharp. Dangerous.
"They killed me once," he said quietly, voice steady now. "In my first life."
Outside the chamber, distant bells rang—announcing the beginning of the Mage Selection Trials.
Kael clenched his fist. Dark energy rippled outward, cracking the stone beneath his feet.
"This world won't get a second chance."