Flowery Reincarnation

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"Father, is there a reason we're heading to Mister Eto's house?"

"Though Eto and I aren't exactly close," Paul explained, "there are times when duty calls, and we meet when needed."

Rudy raised a brow, a touch of skepticism in his young gaze. "And, if I may ask, what is this particular situation?"

"Not only have the monsters been gathering in larger numbers lately, but Miss Eto mentioned concerns about her son," Paul replied, his voice tinged with frustration.

Miss Eto had disrupted Paul's scarce free time with her sudden arrival and the urgency in her tone. She had insisted he come as soon as possible, originally suggesting he bring Zenith along.

However, Zenith had taken issue with Miss Eto's intrusion, making her displeasure clear with a cold glare, particularly irritated by the timing.

When she proposed that Rudeus accompany Paul in her stead, Paul was momentarily taken aback. Zenith had always been the dedicated healer from their adventuring days, yet now she admitted Rudeus's skill in healing magic might surpass her own.

Paul shook his head, fatigue lining his features. Problems seemed to be piling up in the village, and the mana-infused monsters appeared with unsettling frequency. Even Laws, his normally calm friend who helped fend off beasts, had hinted at the increased danger, which only made Paul's unease grow.

His jaw tightened, and Paul clenched his fist. If he was to protect his family, he'd have to train more rigorously. It wasn't just for his own sake—Rudeus was rapidly outpacing him in both magic and swordsmanship, absorbing new skills like a sponge. That quiet anxiety lingered, yet it was softened by a father's pride.

"So, you're hoping I'll make a friend?" Rudeus asked, breaking his father's train of thought.

Paul massaged his temples, carefully choosing his words. "I won't force you, but it wouldn't hurt to try. Besides, the villagers expect you to start taking on some responsibilities as a knight's son. It's only fitting they see that same aptitude in magic and swordsmanship firsthand."

"Mother… She put you up to this, didn't she?"

Paul chuckled, though a bit melancholically. "You caught that, did you? Zenith dotes on you more than she does on me." He laughed softly, a hint of resignation in his voice. "But that's alright. As long as you and your mother are happy, I can keep going. That's what matters."

"Hmm..."

...

Merlin, observing the exchange with an approving smile, felt a certain satisfaction seeing Paul's growth. The once self-centered man had matured into a father who placed his family above himself.

"Ah, I can hardly fault someone for bragging about their child," Merlin mused with a grin. He thought of how often he'd spoken fondly of Artoria in her presence even if it embarrassed her. "With Mother talking up my perks, I suppose some reactions are bound to follow."

"Not that I'd hold it against her," Paul added, sharing a knowing smile with his son. "Only we would understand, wouldn't we?"

"Haha, exactly!"

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"We're here," Paul announced, and Merlin stopped in his tracks, taking in the modest surroundings.

The Eto family home looked no different from those scattered within Buena Village. To Merlin, it seemed ordinary, nearly indistinguishable from the rest—a standard stone-and-timber structure with a thatched roof, showing signs of repairs common among the villagers' homes. There was nothing particularly memorable about it.

"Ah, there you are! Welcome, welcome!" A plump man with a scruffy beard hurriedly opened the door, his step quick and somewhat anxious. Mister Romal Eto, the household's head, greeted them with a warm yet nervous smile.

Paul returned his nod. "Good to see you, Eto."

"Hello, Mister Eto!" Merlin chimed in politely.

Romal's gaze softened as he looked at the young boy. "Ah, so you're Rudeus, the young mage I've heard so much about. Quite the talent, I understand," he said, gesturing for them to come inside. "I'll call for Somar right away. Don't want to keep you waiting."

"Take your time," Paul replied, stepping into the home's modest interior with Merlin by his side. The boy glanced around, noticing the sparse but tidy decor. The house exuded the quiet simplicity of a family who worked hard for their keep.

A moment later, a woman appeared in the doorway, her expression a mix of frustration and disdain as she locked eyes with Paul. "Why is the boy here? I called for Zenith, not a child." She tapped her foot on the wooden floor with clear irritation.

Romal shifted uncomfortably, visibly wilting under her gaze. "Dear Ada, please—"

Before she could say more, Paul interjected smoothly, though a flicker of impatience crossed his face. "Rudy here is just as skilled in healing magic as Zenith." His confident tone left no room for debate, though Merlin caught the moment Paul's gaze lingered somewhere it shouldn't, particularly to the woman's chest. Merlin's eyes narrowed and he taped his father lightly, a silent rebuke Paul caught, making him cough awkwardly and avert his gaze. "A-anyway, we're here to help, so let's check on your son, alright?"

"Yes, of course," Romal replied, quickly ignoring his wife's dissatisfied huffs. "Ada, could you please call Somar down?"

With a reluctant nod, Ada turned away, her expression still simmering with discontent. Left in the brief silence, Romal shared a look with Paul, who smirked knowingly.

"Tough luck, eh?" Paul asked, a trace of amusement breaking through.

Romal's shoulders sagged as he replied with a weak grin, "You don't know the half of it. If only things could be a little easier."

Merlin half-smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting. "But if life were that easy, Mister Eto, it'd be terribly boring. I assure you."

They were interrupted by the sound of hesitant steps descending the stairs. Somar appeared beside his mother, keeping his head low and trying to hide his face. Yet the attempt only highlighted what was wrong. As the boy looked up, Paul's eyes widened, unable to mask his reaction entirely.

"This is...!"

Somar's face was a hideous shade of greenish-gray, pocked and misshapen as if cursed by the gods themselves. If someone from the modern world saw him, they might compare him to a certain green ogre from a children's tale.

"What happened?" Paul asked carefully, quickly masking his initial shock, though his voice carried an edge of sympathy.

Romal sighed a heavy sadness in his eyes. "As you can see, he's…changed. No matter how much we wash or what remedies we try, it doesn't improve. We've come to believe…he might be cursed."

"And the church?"

Miss Eto shook her head, her face lined with worry. "They could do nothing. The curse appears too strong."

Paul frowned. Curses, as the villagers understood them, were often viewed as divine punishment—mysterious, cruel afflictions that couldn't be healed by ordinary magic. Superstition ran deep, and while scholars and mages knew curses often stemmed from individual mana rather than divine wrath, their true nature was elusive.

"Then why call a healer?" Paul's voice was blunt, almost harsh. "You know magic can't cure curses like this."

Somar's face fell, and tears welled up in his eyes, his malformed features only adding to the pitiful image.

Miss Eto clicked her tongue, a sharp glare directed at Paul. "You're as heartless as they say, Paul Greyrat. Your words cut deeper than any blade. Truly, what a cruel knight."

Paul visibly flinched, her words landing with uncomfortable weight. "W-what…?"

Merlin, standing nearby, resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This woman is infuriating, he supposed. He stared and smiled at the man of the house who noticed his unsettling gaze.

"Ada!" Romal's voice held an unusual sharpness as he looked at his wife disapprovingly. "Please, enough. She's only frightened, worried Somar will have to live with this for the rest of his life," he explained, offering a faint, apologetic smile as Ada wiped away a stray tear.

Merlin's voice broke through the tense air, lightly but calmly to present himself well. "It's not impossible." He used a little of that sage-like aura humans would call him out on.

Everyone turned toward him, surprise flickering in their eyes.

"Curses aren't always unbreakable," he continued, his tone laced with a subtle confidence. "If this curse truly came from the gods, then there must be a reason behind it, don't you think?"

Hope sparked in Miss Eto's gaze. "Is that…true?" she asked, her tone shifting, almost reverent.

Merlin nodded, his expression serious yet relaxed, as though discussing something far simpler. "Most curses rely on something—a condition if you will—to take effect. For example, if one offended a certain god, they might be cursed, but by repenting, they could find release from that curse."

"So…there is hope?" Miss Eto's voice wavered as she clutched her hands together.

"There is," Merlin replied, his voice unwavering. His gaze then fell on Somar, his amethyst eyes intense as they seemed to peer straight into the boy's soul.

"Somar," Merlin began, his voice softer yet laced with an edge that demanded honesty, "such a curse rarely appears without cause. If you've done something even unknowingly, it may be the key to understanding and lifting... this affliction."

Somar's face twisted in distress. "I-I haven't done anything! I swear!"

Merlin's eyes remained the same, his expression unyielding. "Are you calling the divine wrong, then?" he asked, his tone sharp as he subtly pressed his mana around the boy. No one noticed the shift, "Think carefully, Somar. Walk me through your last few days, and we may find an answer."

"I… I..."

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"Rudy is amazing. I didn't expect this outcome," Paul said, crossing his arms with pride. "Zenith must have known though, considering she sent Rudy in her place."

Merlin offered a modest smile, though it held a mischievous glint. "Just doing what's right."

"And Somar as a bully? Didn't see that coming. Romal looked ready to burst," Paul said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. Then he turned an appraising eye on Merlin. "Rudy, did you... anticipate things would go that way?"

Merlin held his expression steady, carefully hiding his small schemes behind a look of innocent composure. But to think Paul would ask such a question—it wasn't like him to take hints so readily. Lies about curses were pouring from Merlin's lips as naturally as breathing, and speaking of curses and nonsense, Merlin had to admit that while Morgan was likely far better at curses, he'd had his own share of experience.

"Nothing escapes you, Father," Merlin nodded with a smile. "I recently met a friend who was in a bit of trouble. She was cornered by some unpleasant boys, so I felt compelled to step in."

"It was you?" Paul's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Laws mentioned some 'shady kid'—he's been grumbling because his daughter's suddenly happier. But I bet he's secretly relieved! All along, it was you..."

"Paul!" Romal Eto interrupted with a brisk tone, snapping Paul back to the grim realities at hand. "We need to talk about these monsters."

Paul's face darkened as he crossed his arms. "I thought we'd agreed. We're not notifying the guild. They'd charge the village an arm and a leg to even consider sending help. And with the monthly rebirth rate of those things? No way, it's non-negotiable."

Romal clenched his fists, his face red with frustration. "You don't get it, Paul! They're regrouping and could attack at any moment! You and Laws can't stop them alone, not like last time!"

Merlin's thoughts drifted as Romal's voice grew louder. Phantasmal beasts springing from the ground, breaching borders. This was no natural phenomenon. He glanced sideways at his father, a chill settling in as he, too, came to the same conclusion.

"The mana's fluctuating. Unstable, almost... sinister," Paul muttered. "I've seen this before."

Merlin's mind raced. Could it be a consequence of his presence here, something slipping out of control? The thought weighed heavily on him.

"Rudy," Paul sighed, sensing his son's somber demeanor, "go outside for a bit while we talk this through."

Merlin nodded obediently, stepping out into the sunlight. Yet the unsettling feeling stayed, gnawing at him as he wandered the yard. Was it truly his fault?

Lost in thought, Merlin finally looked up to see a striking white horse grazing alone by the fence. The horse's gaze met his, and Merlin's eyes softened as he approached.

"Hello there," Merlin greeted, his voice uncharacteristically low. The horse blinked its large, curious eyes, but offered no response.

Merlin chuckled.

"Not much of a talker, huh?"

The horse snorted, clearly unimpressed.

The horse grunted, clearly unimpressed. Merlin grinned. "I'll call you Emrys. That suits you, I think. Seems like fun."

Emrys huffed as if reluctantly accepting the name. Merlin laughed, patting the horse's neck. "Now, how about we find you something tasty?"

...

A short while later, Merlin sat atop Emrys, who happily munched on an apple. Of course, Merlin too enjoyed the taste of his own apple. Feeling a bit lighter, Merlin animatedly recounted his latest adventures to the attentive horse.

"And then, I transformed her into a ma—" Emrys snorted, almost as if laughing.

"Hey, you!" a voice interrupted, causing Merlin to pause. He looked down to see Somar, the once-cursed bully, shuffling forward awkwardly.

Merlin slid off Emrys, his gaze level with Somar's. The boy fidgeted, scratching his arm and refusing to meet Merlin's eyes.

"Uh… thanks for helping me back there," Somar mumbled.

Merlin offered a reassuring smile. "Glad to hear it. Just remember, Somar. Be careful with your actions. If you don't watch your behavior, you might just turn into an ogre again."

"Ogre?!" Somar's eyes widened. "I-I'll be careful! Say, do you think we could… play sometime?"

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could answer, Somar gave Emrys a friendly but rough pat. The horse, however, had other ideas.

Emrys flinched, huffing in irritation. As Somar took a step toward Merlin, he failed to notice the rope tangled around Emrys' legs, and with a startled neigh, the horse jolted forward, tugging Somar along in a comedic spectacle.

"Aaaah! H-help!" Somar's terrified cries filled the air as Emrys trotted in a small circle, dragging the unfortunate boy behind him.

Merlin rested his hand on his chin, watching with a casual smile as Somar flailed about. "Oh dear," he remarked dryly, "must be that 'bad karma' catching up with him."

...

Moments later, Paul strolled over, his eyes widening at the sight of Somar lying dazed near the well, covered in dust and straw.

"Rudy, what happened here?" Paul asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

"Nothing at all!" Merlin replied innocently.

"Really?" Paul gave him a skeptical look, "I was gone for a second."

Merlin flashed his best angelic grin. "Father, you know me. Just a little fun with friends."

Paul sighed in relief, a warm smile crossing his face. "Rudy looks like you've finally made a friend."

"Indeed! Emrys here is the best of friends." Merlin gestured grandly to the white horse, who flicked his ears back at Paul's scrutiny, giving the man an unmistakable look of disappointment.

Paul stared, bemused. "What...?"

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A figure was making its way toward a location that passing travelers referred to as Buena Village. Many mistook this figure for a lost young woman, but little did they know, that assumption was the least of the truth.

The truth? This was Roxy Migurdia, a 40-year-old high-class mage on the hunt for employment. A demon of the demon race born on the Demon Continent, Roxy had quickly proven her magical prowess, recently earning the title of Water Saint Mage after leaving the Academy. If only people could see past her youthful appearance!

"Still, I think this should be somewhere around here," she murmured to herself, her striking blue eyes darting over the grassy landscape. The brim of her hat tilted just enough to shade her face.

"I really need to ask someone; the worst thing is being late, and if I'm not careful, I'm gonna be jobless!" The urgency in her voice was palpable as she pressed onward, her thoughts running even faster than her legs.

Navigating her way from the nearby Adventurer Guild had been an exercise in patience. Roxy had no time to waste—even if, at her age, she had all the time in the world. But finding the right job was critical, especially with the promise of good pay in Buena Village.

"Excuse me," she called out to a villager laboring in the fields, her voice carrying a mix of hope and desperation. "Is this Buena Village? I didn't see any signs, and I'm having a bit of trouble pinpointing the place."

The old villager paused, staring at her as if she had just dropped from the sky. Roxy couldn't help but wonder if the heat had gotten to him.

"Ah, I'm sorry, young one. The sun is so hot today, it's making it hard for me to focus," he replied, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Roxy felt a wave of sympathy wash over her, her own limbs beginning to feel heavy under the scorching sun. "It's fine, it's fine! Can you tell me then? I can't afford to walk much longer. Why didn't I just bring a horse?"

"Kuhuhu," the old man chuckled, chewing on a stalk of wheat, his eyes twinkling with nostalgia. "You look a lot like my granddaughter, you know. She's around your age and a bit of a firecracker—always getting into trouble. When I was your age..."

Roxy felt an eye twitch at the sudden flood of familial stories, desperately trying to avoid an avalanche of "back in my day" tales. "That's nice, but—"

"Now, this isn't Buena Village, actually. You're heading in the opposite direction. That's some bad luck you've got there."

Roxy's heart sank as she let herself drop to the ground, her body sprawling in exaggerated despair. "No way… not like this…" she groaned, staring up at the glaring sun.

"I can lend you a map if you wish," the villager offered amusement dancing in his eyes.

In a flash, Roxy was on her feet, nearly bouncing with enthusiasm. "YES, THANK YOU, KIND SIR!" She snatched the map from his hand with the eagerness of a starving beast at a banquet.

Roxy took a moment to compose herself, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I'm sorry for my earlier… outburst," she said, trying to salvage some dignity.

The villager only laughed, waving her off like a bothersome fly. "Don't worry about it! Just be careful out there, lass."

With a quick farewell, Roxy set off again, this time with the proper directions in hand. As she disappeared from sight, the villager wiped the sweat from his forehead, feeling a strange sensation trickling down again.

"Wait a minute…" he mused, glancing up at the sky. "It's not sweat… it's water?"

And just as if the world had taken pity on Roxy, raindrops began to fall from the heavens, refreshing the weary villagers toiling under the sun.

"That lass, haha, thank you!" he chuckled, looking up to the clouds with a newfound appreciation for the quirky blue-haired mage who might just be a blessing in disguise.