Flowery Reincarnation

There exists a place known as the land of ever-distant utopia, a detached paradise that only those without sin may enter. It is a realm filled with blossoms and the most wondrous landscapes, with a lone tower standing tall in the heart of its garden.

Its appearance is said to be otherworldly, awakening dreams in the hearts of those who glimpse it. One could easily say the place exudes a divine presence.

Atop the highest point of the tower sits a man, a scholar, gazing at the distant stars.

"Stars are beautiful," the hooded man once mused. To which the stars replied, "They are only beautiful as long as someone watches them."

The white-haired man chuckled softly, his voice light as the evening breeze. "It's true. Beauty is often in the eye of the beholder. But not always." His amethyst eyes shimmered, reflecting the brilliance of the heavens as they briefly shifted to a rosy-pink hue.

From afar, the stars were indeed beautiful, just as he said. Yet up close, within their fiery core, they were as dangerous as they were mesmerizing. Though they would self-destruct one day, these burning dots in the sky would continue to shine for thousands of years, long outliving anyone who could admire them.

As his thoughts drifted, he couldn't help but draw parallels between the stars and humanity. Like the stars, humanity held beauty and danger in equal measure. And just as he wished for the stars to burn forever, he hoped for humanity to never lose its inner light.

But his time as a guide had long passed. His role as a nurturer ended the moment the gates of the garden closed behind him. With a sigh, the Wizard closed his eyes, contemplating the future while observing the present.

Many titles had been bestowed upon him.

Advisor to the King.

Teacher.

Mythical Magus of Arthurian legend.

Womanizer.

Eh, forget the last one.

But above all, he was known simply as Merlin.

The Magus of Flowers.

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Suddenly, his body jerked, his clear vision twisted, and for a brief moment, Merlin felt an unfamiliar tug on his very existence.

There was no true magus in the Moonlit World who did not know the legendary advisor to the King of Knights. Some knew of his true nature, while others remained unaware.

Merlin had always been known as wise, discerning, and possessing an unmatched foresight, often handling crises with a calm and collected demeanor.

Yet now, he was none of these things. His consciousness flickered between dreams and the garden. The stars, once a comforting presence, now blurred into nothingness.

An overwhelming force was altering this fact—a force even his Clairvoyance couldn't predict. It struck too quickly, leaving no room to evade or analyze the source. For the first time, Merlin felt powerless, feeling a piece of himself torn away from the Garden.

But the Garden would not let go so easily. For a fleeting moment, he existed in two places at once, before his consciousness settled, leaving only an empty shell behind. The influx of foreign visions, usually a trivial matter for someone of his nature, now overwhelmed him. His head throbbed with a pain he hadn't felt in centuries as if his mind was being torn apart.

Why is there so much darkness?

Merlin's thoughts raced, trying to find an answer, grasping at the invisible. Yet the constellations, once familiar, now felt foreign. They churned and shifted, sending strange, unsettling impulses into his being.

In the countryside, where night had already fallen, a newborn's cry echoed under the stars. One star, brighter than the rest, made its first appearance in the sky, shining radiantly.

"Waaaaaaaah!"

A baby's cry? Merlin's mind strained to process the chaos, the sounds, and the disorienting mixture of noises filling his senses.

Struggling to open his eyes, Merlin felt a sudden sting as light flooded his vision. He recoiled, instinctively squinting, unprepared for the sight before him.

A blonde woman cradled him, her face flushed and flashing with sweat, as though she had just completed a great labor. Her smile was soft, filled with warmth and affection—emotions Merlin couldn't quite place.

Had he been injured? Where was he? Why did he get a headache when trying to use his Clairvoyance?

Questions tumbled through his mind, but none seemed to matter. What was this strange sensation in his chest? His face flushed, the heat rising from within. It was not unpleasant. It was oddly comforting, though different from the lust for knowledge he had always known.

Fear gripped Merlin. This feeling was far too human. It's too foreign.

Pushing the thoughts aside, Merlin focused on the woman holding him. Her care enveloped him in warmth, and for the longest time, Merlin felt as though he were under a spell. He was completely enchanted by this sensation.

Slowly, the pieces fell into place.

He was the one crying.

Beside the woman stood a tall, muscular man, his expression awkward and tense. His eyes darted between Merlin and the woman. Another figure, a red-haired woman, lingered behind him, her features too blurred for Merlin to discern.

"Tihasare patse ros?" The man stammered for some reason, it's not like Merlin could tell it. The woman holding Merlin nodded through her exhaustion and smiled.

"Heset bheraautifhol Paulu," The woman said in a language unfamiliar to Merlin. It was unlike any dialect he had ever encountered.

"Tihs ros sono." Her voice was tender, filled with an affection that Merlin found strange yet comforting. The man's eyes flickered, and for a moment, he looked completely lost.

"Yukaor rigde," The man responded, glancing down at Merlin with a strained smile. "Yahne nahme?"

"Yhues childhe nahme Rudeusuu."

It was then that Merlin understood the absurdity of the situation. He, the Legendary Magus, had been waking up as an infant, held in the arms of this woman. His tiny, fragile body squirmed as gurgling sounds escaped his throat. His vision blurred in and out as he tried to comprehend the world around him.

The man leaned closer, perhaps intending to pick him up. His rough handling caused Merlin to wince in pain. The blonde woman scolded the man lightly, too exhausted to do more. She brought Merlin closer to her chest, a wave of foreign sensations washing over him.

Here I am,

Warm in your arms,

Within this precious embrace.

The strange feeling blossomed in Merlin's chest, and with it, realization dawned.

It was love.

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To this day the warmth of the embrace lingered, calming Merlin's furious thoughts every time he tried to think about it. But the sheer absurdity of the situation gnawed at him. Reborn as a child? An infant? The concept alone would have been laughable if not for the undeniable reality of it.

He strained to focus, searching his memories for any hint as to how this had come to pass. Yet, the usual clarity of his mind was clouded, as though some invisible force had severed his connection to the garden and the stars. His Clairvoyance was wrong—no constant visions of the present, no knowledge of the future, and even the past seemed uncertain as he didn't know how things happened for him to end up in this place.

It was disorienting. His life, once so vast and filled with knowledge, had now been reduced to the senses of a newborn. His body was small and fragile, barely capable of even lifting a hand to his face.

Reincarnation.

The concept of returning to life in another form, often without the memories or experiences of a prior existence. In many cultures, it's seen as a rebirth.

A second chance one could say. But to a magus like Merlin, the idea had always seemed trivial. What use was reincarnation if you couldn't bring your knowledge with you? Immortality, where nothing was lost, was the only path worth pursuing, for that was the key to reaching the Root of Existence.

Yet, Merlin had learned something unexpected during his imprisonment in the Garden. An eternal life of observation was not true life. It was a hollow existence. To watch endlessly without participating, without growing, was to wither in a way far worse than death. He had sought freedom from his prison, never expecting to encounter rebirth. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Merlin, the Magus of Flowers, had been reborn. He was reincarnated, not as a wandering incubus or an all-seeing observer, but as a human. The irony was not lost on him. For all his fascination with mankind, to actually become one was as terrifying as it was fascinating.

And so, Merlin found himself in a world reminiscent of the Middle Ages—an era he was well-versed in. But that comfort quickly dissipated in the early years of his rebirth. The frailty of his new body was a constant reminder of his mortality, a stark contrast to the ethereal existence he once had. He couldn't even stand, let alone speak, and the language of his new parents was foreign to him at first.

It wasn't long before he mastered it, of course. Merlin's mind, sharp as ever, absorbed the language with ease. He had been born as Rudeus Greyrat, son of Paul and Zenith Greyrat, not from a noble family but not entirely peasant either. He still tried to figure it out.

Despite the difficulties of being a baby, he learned quickly. It amused him how similar learning a new tongue was to studying ancient runes or practicing magecraft. A long time has passed since he studied anything worthwhile.

But it wasn't the language or the magic that proved the most challenging part of his new life. No, it was the emotions. Love, care, affection. These were things Merlin had never truly experienced before.

As an incubus, he had only ever mimicked emotions, feeding on the dreams and desires of others. Now, however, he was experiencing them firsthand. Zenith's gentle touch, Paul's rough but proud smile, even if the man was incredibly awkward around him. These were foreign, yet undeniably real feelings that tugged at something deep within him.

Merlin watched Zenith closely, fascinated by her as she worked in the garden. The woman who was his mother in this life had a grace to her, a warmth that Merlin could hardly put into words. He made his presence known by stomping his small feet loudly, earning her attention.

"Rudy! Come to keep me company?" Zenith smiled, brushing dirt off her hands. "Your father's training in the yard, why don't you join him?"

"I wanted to help you, Mother!" Merlin, or rather Rudeus, responded with a soft smile.

Zenith's eyes sparkled. "Oh, Rudy! Mama loves you so much, but I can't hug you with these dirty hands." She laughed lightly, clearly touched by his words.

Merlin smiled back, watching her work. "Do you love gardening, Mother?"

"I do! Flowers are beautiful, aren't they?"

He nodded, though his thoughts wandered. Flowers, precious and fragile, much like the emotions he was still learning to understand. "If Mother loves them, they must be truly precious."

"Rudy, you're always using such pretty words. I'm so proud!" She smiled fondly at him. "I love them because they make the place feel brighter and happier. Just like you and your father do."

"They smell nice and look nice in place. You can put them almost everywhere as long as you care for them well."

"I love them but I love Rudy much more you see." His mother crouched by his side and enveloped him in a hug, looking at an image that even his Clairvoyance couldn't see, "Flowers make the family home nicer, don't they? The garden also makes everything better."

"Is that so?" The wonder of nature was not lost on him, "Then let me help Mother as much as I can!"

"Rudy~ To have you help me around is the best thing~! You will grow into such a gentleman!" She kissed his cheek.

Merlin, though he had long been accustomed to playing with words since being reincarnated, but to direct contact? He felt a warmth in his chest. Was this love? It was unlike anything he'd felt before, even in his previous life as an incubus. When he spent his time enjoying women's skin.

This was more…genuine.

"Then when the time comes," Merlin said warmly, "I'll give you the prettiest flower in the world."

Zenith giggled her voice like music to his ears. "I'll hold you to that, Rudy!"

It's a promise then.

In his previous life as an incubus, Merlin could only imitate emotions, borrowing feelings from the dreams of others. But now, experiencing genuine emotions for the first time, he understood why humans would go to great lengths—even doing terrible things—to protect something so precious.

But did that apply to him as well? Would he be willing to make sacrifices for someone else? Could he act against his own nature if it meant protecting what mattered? Merlin wasn't sure. It was a question he could only ponder.

Even as Rudeus Greyrat, Merlin remained the Incubus at heart. Yet, he was no longer just that. He was both—Rudeus, the human boy, and Merlin, the Magus of Flowers. The body, mind, and soul were deeply intertwined, and neither reincarnation nor divine power could fully erase the identity of who he once was.

One could say he was both human and the legendary wizard. He couldn't explain it perfectly.

"I see it now," he murmured softly, gazing at Zenith. "It's Mother who makes the flowers special."

His words seemed to please her. She gently stroked his head, and Merlin felt a warmth spreading through him, a comforting sensation he had never known before waking up in this body.

Yet, as she pulled back, her eyes lingered on him, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. "You really are a strange one, Rudy," she mused softly. "So mature for your age... Sometimes I wonder if you're a child." Her words were light, spoken with affection, but beneath them, Merlin could sense her curiosity. She wasn't the type to question too much, but his behavior had clearly left an impression on her.

"My son is so smart and precious," Zenith whispered, her voice filled with love. "I don't know if what I say makes sense to you, but the garden seems much brighter with Rudy."

T-This feeling… Merlin savored the sensation. It was so different. He had tried his best with flowery words, and it seemed the outcome was exactly what he hoped for. Acting cute really did pay off.

As the day went on, Merlin watched his mother with a quiet reverence. He observed as she healed the withering plants with a simple spell—an incantation far too complex for such a task, yet effective all the same. The mana flowed clumsily, but it worked. Magic, crude as it was in this world, still fascinated him.

"I call upon the power of the gods. Grant me your aid and bestow the strength to rise again upon those who have suffered."

It was, without a doubt, accumulating magical energy in the hands that emanated concentrated mana, focused on a specific intention. Yet the chanting seemed unnecessarily overcomplicated, making the flow of mana more difficult to control.

"Healing."

No matter how many times Merlin saw it, the fact that the end result occurred immediately without any complications was amazing. The first time his mother used this spell was when Merlin tried to stand on his own two feet at the age of less than a year, resulting in him falling on his right shoulder. Zenith then healed the bruise by using this spell.

When she wasn't looking, he reached out to the tree she cherished most, touching the bark gently. A soft glow emanated from his fingers, and the tree responded, its leaves turning a vibrant green despite the autumn chill. Blossoms began to sprout, filling the area with life.

Merlin smiled, satisfied with the result. Even in this new life, he had not lost his touch. But more importantly, he realized something profound.

Throughout his entire existence, nothing had truly changed. But now, thanks to this miracle, Merlin felt as though he was truly living.

Not just observing, not merely existing, but living—as a thinking being, this human boy. He was still Merlin, but now he was also a boy with an unpredictable future in this world.

Merlin began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, this new existence wasn't a blessing in disguise after all.

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"Were Mother and Father once knights?" Merlin asked during one of their dinners.

Sitting across from him, Paul, shirtless and fresh from sword training, slammed the table eagerly, a wide grin on his face.

"Knights, huh? Not too far off, Rudy! Your mother and I were Adventurers!" His voice brimmed with excitement as if he had been waiting for this question his whole life. "Is Rudy interested in learning swordplay with his old man!?" Paul bellowed.

Not everyone shared his enthusiasm. "Lord Paul..." Lilia's voice carried a hint of disappointment.

"We talked about this," Zenith reminded Paul.

"But you promised! If it was a boy, I'd teach him the way of the sword!" Paul protested.

"Honey, Rudy is barely four, and you want to start sword training already?" Zenith began listing reason after reason why this was a terrible idea, each one draining the life out of Paul's energetic smile.

Paul, seeing defeat on the horizon, sought a new ally. "Oi, Rudy! What do you think? Wanna train swords with your awesome dad? I'll make you a man! C'mon, you've spent all your time in the garden with your mother!"

He wanted to bond with his son, it was obvious. The garden had become their domain, a place where mother and son spent time deeply, and his father, though proud, felt like an intruder. His offer to teach swordsmanship was as much an invitation to get Merlin dirty in the mud.

Merlin couldn't help but chuckle internally. Paul was digging himself deeper, but Merlin played along. "Swordsmanship sounds cool!" he said, though his spirit wasn't real. He already possessed an advanced mastery of swordplay, far beyond what Paul could teach. After all, who was it that trained Artoria? None other than Merlin himself. His expertise went beyond magecraft; swordsmanship was also his domain.

However, he always made sure to not let it show. It was fun to see the enemy magus' face when Merlin suddenly brought out a sword.

Despite Paul's efforts, Zenith's practical reasoning crushed Paul's argument. The dream of sword training seemed to drift further away.

For now.

At least, until the maid, Lilia, added her voice to the mix. "Perhaps you should let Master Rudeus train in swordsmanship, as Lord Paul suggests? A compromise, maybe. Wooden swords wouldn't pose much risk, and the chance of injury would be minimal."

Lilia's sudden support caught Merlin's attention. She clearly had her own motives, but Merlin wasn't quite sure what they were.

"Is that right, Lord Paul?" Lilia continued, encouraging him.

As if brought back to life, Paul stammered, "Y-yeah! We've got some wooden swords lying around somewhere. If not, I'll find some tomorrow! Is that okay, Z-Zenith?"

Merlin noticed his mother hesitate, the tension in the room still present.

"Mother, there's nothing to worry about," Merlin interjected. "It's just wooden swords, right? And with your healing magic, I feel safer than ever!"

Zenith looked at him, eased by his words. "Fine," she sighed, though still cautious. "But I'll be watching closely. If Rudy gets hurt…" She leaned in to whisper something in Paul's ear.

Whatever she said, it drained the color from Paul's face. Merlin had never seen him look so pale.