Flowery Reincarnation

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There was a time when a new life was born. In a village distant from the Asura Capital, removed from any ominous shadows, there lay an essence of peace that felt just as significant as the blessings it bestowed.

A young mother cradled her newborn in a warm embrace, her face radiating gentleness and uncontainable joy.

"You are beautiful, more than I could have imagined."

The baby, with curious, unblinking amethyst eyes, gazed back at her, and Zenith felt an irresistible pull towards those eyes, which sparkled like the stars scattered across the night sky. Such a sight was mesmerizing.

"Paul doesn't know this, but your eyes are unnatural. I told him it's from a distant family, but that's not entirely true," she confessed softly, her fingers tenderly brushing against the child's short hair. "You are Paul's, and any other reasoning is simply unacceptable."

The baby had no words, just a gaze that seemed to understand, reflecting a depth of comprehension beyond mere infancy. Zenith smiled lovingly, her heart swelling with an inexplicable connection. "I don't know what to think. No doubt you are special. There's a feeling inside me that tells me you will do something great."

Isn't this what every mother should feel when holding her child?

Yet, beneath this overwhelming joy lay a foreboding sensation, both wondrous and sorrowful. The child seemed to yearn for answers, and Zenith was determined to provide them, for that is the nature of true parenthood.

She recalled the moment she severed ties with her old home.

"This family is most precious to me, you know? Everything else is gone. Once I left, there was no turning back. This yearning for freedom led me to you, my little Rudy. You are all I have left, so please…"

This girl, now a woman, had been blissfully naive. Your mother is quite hopeless, do you understand?

And that's why she fears the pain of loss more than anything.

Tears welled in her azure eyes, her heart tightening with an overwhelming emotion. "J-just promise me you won't forget me, okay? If you do, I don't think I can bear it."

In a moment of unspoken agreement, the child in her arms reached out and touched her palm. Though he rarely cried, Zenith sensed the weight of his emotions, raw and real.

Can you see it?

Zenith sang a lullaby of love, her voice a gentle thread weaving the meaning of motherhood into the fabric of their existence.

I-is that it?

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My eyes flutter open.

Before me stand enormous gates, towering high enough to touch the sky, bathed in a dazzling light that radiates an almost ethereal glow.

I recognize this sight; I've witnessed it long ago in my visions. This place is an entrance to paradise, a realm where the boundaries of reality blur. The majestic gates stand open, inviting my spirit to enter, daring me to satisfy my curiosity.

Yet, something feels different about my body. I sense a shift; it stands a few feet taller than it should. What is this? This form has accompanied me for ages—what reason could there be for such contrast? This train of thought spirals into confusion.

"Fou!" A creature on my shoulder whines, emitting cute little sounds.

Despite being one of the most lethal beings I've encountered, this small beast looks inexplicably adorable.

"Cath Palug, is something wrong?"

"Fou, fou!"

The creature's words make me burst into laughter.

"The gates are a trap? Hahaha! I know that all too well, but it's fascinating to see if the one who set this up gives it their all. After all, it's quite the challenge to contain me."

Yet, deep within my soul, something feels amiss. I shake off the itch and redirect my focus to the present.

The... present?

My eyes narrow as the casual smile fades, replaced by a profound sense of disarray, as if puzzles refuse to assemble.

I scan my surroundings before returning my gaze to Cath Palug.

The impression it gives me is as tangible as the power it emanates. My cute familiar watches me, its little head tilted in confusion.

The aromas of the surrounding magical flora are comforting and natural. Nothing seems out of place here, apart from the soothing sounds of Mother Nature.

I am fully aware that this trap is woven from Morgan's twisted designs. I know exactly what unfolds back in Camelot. That's how it's supposed to be—Merlin is destined to pass through these gates, blind to everything surrounding him.

With a flick of my wrist, I twirl my staff, brushing off Cath Palug's annoyed taps on my head as I dismiss the little creature's concerns. Right now, my student fights for her kingdom, clinging to dreams of salvation, desperately hoping to salvage the remnants of what she once built. The blue knight remains unaware that this is merely a prelude. Oh dear, how ominous that sounds. Some might perceive my words as callous, but I assure you, I am not uncaring.

My expression is neutral, neither cheerful nor strained. Perhaps that's what makes it all worse.

Despite becoming a ruler, she is still my student, and I hum to myself, my stomach boiling with unwelcome emotions. Disgust surges through me so abruptly that I retch, the remnants of my breakfast splattering messily onto the grass beneath my pristine boots.

How ugly.

"Blegh," I throw up, repulsed.

Even my mind recoils from this action.

The body tries to proceed, but no—it's the opposite.

What's wrong? Why do I feel this sadness?

My head spins as melodic, foreign words dance around me. Someone is singing in a language I don't quite understand. Her voice, soft and enchanting, draws me in. It is akin to honey to my ears, I cannot help but listen to this lovely symphony.

Turn back.

This thought is absurd; I cannot comprehend such reasoning.

For all my intellect, I cannot fathom why the gates evoke such an alarming sensation.

Cath Palug, fully aware of what awaits, will surely be distressed by my actions.

Turn back.

I will entertain that thought.

Are these events merely to be averted, or is it time to alter their course? What would become of this world if I do? Can this timeline sustain itself, or will it collapse once I begin? To ensure no strays interfere with the lives of humans in the future, I must take everything into account.

Is this a separation, or a signal for the Cleaners to begin their work?

I have glimpsed a world where everyone eventually finds happiness. In the stars, in the distant future, I envisioned a girl free from the burdens of this mantle.

The moment I feel a sense of resolve, I realize this isn't reality. I've strayed too far from my usual train of thought. I cannot entertain these notions.

I am not this person.

The grass is not real.

The gates are not real.

The familiar is not real.

This place is not real.

A memory?

I turn back, desperate to escape this false reality.

Then, the illusion shatters.

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Darkness envelops my figure as the remaining seconds close in on me.

This is most unexpected. Have we truly made this decision, or does it stay the same?

Someone speaks to me.

Blackness forces my vision into blindness.

I'm dying.

These words echo in my mind as I stare into the crestfallen face of my human father.

I'm dying.

Given our current circumstances, it's understandable. This is what being human means—making contradictory decisions while thinking the opposite. Hah, how unbelievable.

I know who speaks to me; only one being could create such a vivid illusion. A being of dreams and falsehoods. An average human could never escape an arcane force this powerful.

It seems this is our end. A shame, really, for this path has been rather enjoyable.

Despite the cold stealing my warmth, despair washes over me like a chilling flame, forcing death to take hold without allowing me to respond.

Zenith.

I remember my mother feeding me, her soft embrace cradling me close as warmth enveloped my tiny frame. I recall planting flowers with her, the gentle soil beneath my fingers, her laughter mingling with the rustling leaves. I remember her warm hugs, a sanctuary that filled me with joy.

Paul.

I remember my father's booming laughter as he took me to see fascinating sights. Even with his oafish nature, those moments sparkled with beauty. The son and his father, lost in swordsmanship lessons, even when I failed to impress. I lied, I'm sorry.

Lilia.

I remember her reading a book, her eyes filled with distrust yet softening with time. The moments spent together in the field of flowers are etched in my heart. I felt jealousy as she conquered her faults to improve.

I remember the joy of playing with them despite my age. Their smiles brought me happiness when I think of them. Those moments are imprinted in my soul forever. I can't escape it.

Wetness blurs my vision.

This is…

Aren't you glad? We return home.

I'm scared.

"I don't want to go."

The Tower feels like a chill pressing against my body.

My honest thoughts unfold as tears and blood streak down my cheeks, watching helplessly as it all slips away.

This is my home!

The father is about to die, avenging his only son. This story should not end with madness and hurt.

My mother will hear the news. In a heartbeat, she'll break into uncontrollable cries, a scar that will haunt her forever.

This feeling of happiness... The only time I can compare it to is when my student learned her first basic spell. It seemed so trivial then, an unnoticeable afterthought. Yet now…

The heart beating in my chest cracks.

Laughter erupts in the background, numbing my body with its sensation.

And he laughs and laughs. It doesn't sound sad but rather filled with amusement. This being's goal isn't to hurt me but to make me relate—to feel the entertainment he experiences. Yet, such a thing…

"It's cruel." My throat burns, but now I can swallow this reality.

The shadows close in slowly but surely.

The Incubus stops laughing and gazes at me impassively, analyzing me with a calm demeanor. His smile contrasts with the emptiness in his eyes that only I can understand.

The air shifts, his nonchalance replaced by something subdued.

I see him, barely, as he watches everyone struggle against that cursed monster—a pathetic doll of primitive evolution, mindlessly consuming.

My body recoils in disgust.

Are you different? His humorless question pierces the atmosphere. He doesn't aim to intimidate; rather, it's surprising how drained he sounds.

"I'm the same," I admit, savoring these sensations like high-quality food.

There's a tale about a certain king's advisor. It is a story about a being who observes everything with fascination yet lives a sad existence. He forever wished to understand the love of humanity.

Hehe, it's scary, the expression we're making.

Ah, he cannot comprehend it.

There's no point in masking that truth when the person before me is myself. You cannot pretend.

I know; I saw this expression in the mirror of another life. There was nothing to seek at that time.

Who are you?

I am...

A scholar.

A trickster.

A teacher.

A magus.

A wizard.

A scammer.

The reliable court mage of King Arthur.

A shady, cruel man.

One who toys with people's feelings.

A monster hiding behind a pretty face.

"I'm definitely human. I am the child of Zenith and Paul Greyrat!"

These are my true feelings, unspoken until my torso was pierced by that monster.

That's a fine answer. It's no good if we keep dying like this, so be careful next time, okay?

There will be no more second chances.

I know who says these words, yet I remain speechless. We are the same person, split on two sides of a coin.

Learn more about this humanity we embrace so much. As long as you breathe, don't let it end in vain.

"Otherwise, these feelings I acquired will become my surface."

Don't lie to yourself.

Even with blood gushing from my wound, I search within. The world stands still, shrouded in colorless paint.

"Let me show you then."

Expose myself to the fullest. Let this overflow your cold body.

What?

The Incubus gasps, amethyst orbs clashing with their counterparts, surprise etching his face. He hadn't expected this.

He doesn't understand.

The Incubus feels no attachment to these humans. They are interesting, but that's all. This situation holds no weight for him.

In another world, during the Age of Fairies in Britain, this demon was born. It doesn't matter how he appears; his form can shift with will. Only his first mother would see the true features of the baby.

This is the best time to witness our features so distinctly. It's far from the dream-like image portrayed to sway minds. Even if humans are unsettled by a false surface, it pales compared to the real thing. No description could encompass a demon, as diverse images fill the mind regardless of the truth. Such is the terror of a being; one can never fathom whether what they see is real.

The baby was born half-human, half-incubus. Shouldn't it be possible to possess some human qualities? Yet the Incubus's phantasmal nature overwhelmed human essence so quickly that it stifled growth.

We are a creature that shouldn't exist.

He doesn't understand.

They both see too much for the question of right or wrong to matter. This is why the Incubus stares at the outstretched hand in disbelief.

Don't hate it because it's your nature; hate it because it's constrained. To fully know the beings I interact with, there's no need for acceptance when we are part of the whole.

Reincarnation allowed the human side to flourish, a growth so immense it overshadowed the Incubus during this time.

"This dream is a world inaccessible to anyone but us."

Our perspectives may differ.

That's the true cause of our confusion. The impossible answers arise from our different angles of seeing the world.

It matters not, for we are one flesh.

In time, you shall see what I see.

"That's why, let's be there for them together."

The other being remains perplexed by this declaration. Yet amid chaos, he catches the glimmer of light illuminating all.

"I won't allow it." He knows this truth. "I can't abandon them."

"Understand it."

A being filled with contradictions, he smiles at the absurdity of this predicament. It's almost like a protagonist's grin.

How unusual and yet.

"Carry it."

A demon trapped in an unreachable paradise, locked in heavenly chains yet content to remain. To end up in such a place instead of hell—I couldn't be happier.

Learn of compassion and love; learn of empathy and kindness. Learn of sorrow and sadness; learn of hate and resentment.

Go beyond your nature; now that you see the chance.

Perhaps these words finally crack the barrier within the Incubus, for his expression tightens. He relives the moments provided to him, closing his eyes. With this kind of tension, no one would believe such a phenomenon. He makes a judgment.

A prayer.

O' Garden of Dreams.

Prolong your blessings to this sinful existence.

A drop of water echoes in the swallowing darkness.

It creates waves of light and arcs of flickering stars. The kind that children and adults alike wish to witness—a distant bright future in a dream.

Inside this beautiful dream, a solitary figure stands, unseen by all, overlooking it.

The Magus of Flowers.

Rose petals dance to the music of wonders in this colorless world, peace and sincere glimmers shimmering around. The tight grip of Death recedes as the Incubus pushes it back with the golden light of otherworldly Eden.

The Demon is no longer beside me. I gaze into the mirror of water, and only one person stares back.

"Let's keep walking."

Someday, we will reach that place.