Reincarnation of the Magucless pinoy!
From zero to hero! " No magic?,No Problem!"
Encounter 1 Prologue: The Taste of the Past
The Grand Duke's estate was quiet that afternoon, save for the rhythmic ticking of the old clock and the occasional rustle of pages in Rolien's small workshop. At ten years old, he sat by the window with his cheek pressed against his palm, staring at a plate of sweets his nanny, Lyra, had brought him.
They looked nice — cream-colored pastries topped with fruit jam — but when he took a bite, he frowned. Too sweet. Too grainy. Nothing like the smooth taste he remembered from before.
Lyra noticed his expression and chuckled softly. "Not to your liking again, young master?"
Rolien shook his head. "It's fine… I just wish it tasted like the ones from my old world i,i...i mean from my dreams. yeah my dreams"
Lyra raised an eyebrow, half amused, half curious. "Old world? You and your strange stories you always mumbling about ypu saw at your dreams" She leaned closer and smiled. "Then why not make it yourself? You're a genius, aren't you? If anyone can recreate that 'dessert' you're always mumbling about, it's you. I'll help however I can."
Her words struck something in him — simple, but it was all the push he needed.
That night, Rolien stayed up sketching on scraps of parchment.
Cocoa beans, sugar, milk.
But the ingredients didn't exist here — not by those names, anyway. Still, something about the taste of a local herbal bread Lyra once made caught his attention. It had a faint bitterness that reminded him of cocoa.
"What was that leaf you used?" he asked her the next morning.
Lyra blinked. "Hmm? Oh, that one? It's from the Bitter Tree. Locals use it for medicine — not much flavor, really."
Bitter Tree. The name alone made his curiosity spark.
He started asking merchants for samples, describing the shape and texture. Most of them just laughed, calling him strange. Until one grizzled trader finally said, "You'll find those trees deep in the southern forest. Bit dangerous for a kid like you, though."
Rolien only grinned. "I'll manage."
That evening, he packed his satchel with maps, tools, and — tucked carefully at his side — a small air gun he'd invented months before, a makeshift weapon powered by compressed air and gears.
As he slipped out through the side gate, the moonlight washing over the stone path, two figures watched from the balcony above.
Elian sighed. "What's this kid thinking, going to the forest alone?"
Elara appeared beside him, her arms crossed and expression sharp. "We'll find out. Come on."
Rolien followed the crude map, his boots crunching over the underbrush. He muttered to himself as he went, scanning every tree for signs of the Bitter Tree. "Oval leaves… black veins… come on, it should be close."
He didn't know that a pair of shadows — his siblings — were quietly tailing him from the trees.
Hours passed until he finally spotted it: a short tree with twisting branches and dull-green leaves that gave off a faint bitter scent. He crouched, plucked one leaf, and smiled. "This might be it."
He barely had time to celebrate before a low chittering echoed through the forest.
Elian's hand went to his sword. "You hear that?"
Elara's eyes narrowed. "Spinners."
From the shadows, half a dozen medium-sized spiders crawled out — each the size of a wolf, their fangs dripping and their eyes glinting red. Rolien froze, clutching his air gun. The nearest spider lunged.
He fired — a sharp hiss, then a metallic thud! The dart struck the spider's eye, bursting it. It screeched and staggered, but two more closed in.
Before they could reach him, a sword flashed — Elian, emerging from the trees, cutting clean through one's legs. "I swear, little brother," he muttered through gritted teeth, "if you don't get grounded for this, I'll do it myself."
"E–Elian?!" Rolien blinked, stunned.
Elara appeared right behind him, grabbed his ear, and twisted it sharply. "You idiot! Sneaking out for a leaf? What were you thinking?!"
"Ow—ow! I was just trying to—"
"Talk later," Elian cut in, slashing another spider down. "They're still coming!"
Rolien quickly loaded another dart, heart pounding. The siblings moved together — Elian deflecting the heavy blows, Elara weaving through to strike vital joints, while Rolien aimed from behind, using the gaps they created.
When the last spider finally fell, hissing its final breath, Rolien slumped against a tree trunk, panting.
Elara crossed her arms, glaring at him. "You could've died, you know that?"
"I just… wanted to make something," Rolien muttered, holding up the leaf. "Something from home."
Elian's expression softened. He ruffled his brother's hair, sighing. "Next time you want to play inventor, genius, tell us first."
"yeah , big bro sorry" he said smiling at him.
As the three of them walked back under the dim light of the forest, Rolien looked at the leaf again — that little piece of inspiration that almost got him killed — and smiled.
"It's worth it," he whispered.
That night, in his small workshop, he began experimenting with the Bitter Tree leaves. Roasted, crushed, and mixed with milk and honey, they formed a dark paste that carried a faintly sweet aroma.
It wasn't perfect chocolate — but it was close enough to taste like a memory.
A week after the spider incident, the Grand Duke's mansion smelled unlike it ever had before — a thick, sweet aroma that drifted down hallways and made even the most stoic guards pause mid-step.
In the kitchen, a pot simmered gently over a low flame. Rolien stood on a stool, stirring it carefully with a wooden spatula while Lyra watched nearby, arms crossed but eyes soft.
"Careful, young master. Don't let it burn again," she said, recalling their first three failures that had ended in sticky black tar and smoke.
Rolien grinned without looking up. "I adjusted the heat this time. It should melt smoother."
He poured the thick, dark mixture into a mold he'd carved from stone and let it cool. Minutes later, he broke off a small piece and tasted it. His eyes lit up.
"Perfect," he whispered.
Lyra took a hesitant bite herself — her expression shifted instantly. "By the gods… this is divine!"
Rolien's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Told you it would work."
What started as a personal experiment quickly spread faster than anyone expected. Within days, servants began whispering about the "sweet black treat" the young master made. One of them secretly brought a piece to the marketplace — and that was all it took.
By the end of the week, merchants were knocking on the estate gates asking where they could buy more. By the next, noble families from neighboring territories were sending letters — and gold — requesting boxes of "Rolien's miracle confection."
In the Grand Duke's office, chaos brewed.
Edric, the Grand Duke himself, sat behind his desk with a hand on his temple, surrounded by letters, each sealed with noble crests. His wife, Duchess Helena, stood beside him, reading one aloud.
"'To the honorable Grand Duke Edric, I write with the utmost urgency to request another shipment of that heavenly sweet—'" She stopped, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Edric, they're calling it 'Heaven's Delight' now."
Edric groaned. "Our son makes a dessert, and suddenly I'm running a candy empire."
Lyra, standing nearby, tried to stifle her laugh. "At least the boy's invention is bringing joy to the duchy, my lord."
"Joy?" Helena muttered, dropping another letter onto the pile. "Do you know how many nobles have started offering trade deals? Some are even trying to bribe our servants for the recipe."
Edric slumped back in his chair. "And who's in charge of this madness?"
At that exact moment, the door creaked open. Rolien poked his head in, holding a small pouch. "Uh… Father? Mother? The merchants paid again." He opened the pouch, revealing coins gleaming inside.
Edric just stared. "…You're profiting off this?"
Rolien blinked innocently. "Shouldn't I? People like it. Besides, I plan to use the money for more ingredients and tools. Maybe even improve the flavor."
Helena sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Our ten-year-old is running a business."
Lyra chuckled softly behind her hand. "A very successful one."
Elian and Elara peeked through the doorway, grinning. "Told you he'd turn the whole duchy upside down," Elian whispered.
Elara elbowed him. "At least he's not sneaking into forests this time."
Edric finally leaned forward, defeated. "Fine, fine. But for the love of the gods, Rolien, no more explosions, no forest runs, and no selling recipes to outsiders. Understood?"
Rolien nodded quickly, though his mind was already running with new ideas. If I can make chocolate work… maybe I can try ice next.
As he left the room, humming to himself, his parents exchanged weary glances.
Helena exhaled. "That boy will give us gray hair before he turns sixteen."
Edric smirked faintly. "Or make us the richest family in the kingdom."
Outside the office, Rolien walked through the garden, the setting sun painting the sky orange. He popped a small piece of chocolate into his mouth, smiling quietly to himself as the familiar sweetness melted on his tongue.
It wasn't just candy anymore — it was proof that even in a world built on magic, a mind without it could still create wonders.
Weeks after Rolien's chocolate invention swept through the duchy, children ran around with sticky hands, nobles argued over who could order more, and his parents had started pretending not to hear the word "sweet."
But Rolien's mind was already somewhere else.
He sat on the veranda, sipping water while watching servants deliver crates of fruit to the kitchen — oranges, berries, bananas, and something like mangoes. The summer heat made everything feel sluggish, even the air.
He leaned back and muttered, "Cold, sweet, and fruity… that's what's missing."
Lyra, watering the plants nearby, looked up. "You're thinking of another experiment, aren't you?"
He grinned. "Maybe."
She sighed, but smiled anyway. "Just don't blow up the kitchen this time."
An hour later, Rolien was marching through the workshop wing with a small notebook in hand. Inside was a list of fruits, sketches, and a rough design that looked like a jar attached to a gear-cranked handle.
He found the man he needed — Mr. Yohan, the duchy's master craftsman. A burly middle-aged man with a thick beard, soot on his apron, and a patient look that suggested he'd long given up understanding the young master's "ideas."
"Mr. Yohan!" Rolien called, climbing up the stool to reach the table. "I need your help building something."
Yohan raised an eyebrow. "If this is another exploding contraption, the kitchen staff made me swear not to help you."
"It's not dangerous! Probably." Rolien opened his notebook and pointed. "It's a device that can mix and crush fruit faster than hands or spoons. You turn this crank, the blades inside spin, and it blends everything together. I call it… the 'blender.'"
Yohan stared at the sketch, blinking. "So you want… spinning knives in a cup?"
Rolien nodded eagerly. "Exactly!"
The craftsman sighed, rubbing his beard. "You know, most people your age ask for toys."
"I'm not most people," Rolien replied proudly.
Two days later, the first prototype sat on Yohan's workbench — a metal base with gears, a glass jar reinforced with mana-resistant rings, and a hand crank on the side. Rolien's eyes sparkled like he was looking at treasure.
"Let's test it," he said, placing chunks of fruit, sugar, and cold milk inside. He locked the lid and started cranking. The gears groaned, the blades whirred, and soon the mixture turned into a thick, colorful liquid.
Yohan leaned over cautiously. "And this… is safe to drink?"
Rolien took a sip through a straw he made from hollowed reed and smiled wide. "It's more than safe. It's amazing."
The next morning, chaos struck again — though this time, a cooler kind.
By breakfast, the servants were gossiping. By noon, half the estate was lining up in the kitchen. And by sunset, nobles passing through the duchy were asking for "the sweet cold drink with fruit."
Rolien couldn't help but grin as he stood behind the counter, serving cups with Lyra's help. "Try it with chocolate," he suggested to a curious maid. "It balances the flavor."
Meanwhile, in the Duke's office, Edric and Lirien sat in silence as the faint sound of happy chatter echoed from the courtyard.
Lirien groaned, covering her face. "Don't tell me he's done it again."
Edric pinched his nose, eyes half closed. "He's selling drinks now. Drinks."
Elara entered the room, holding a glass of the colorful mixture. "It's actually really good."
Edric looked at her, resigned. "Of course it is."
Elian followed, sipping from his own cup. "So when do we start bottling it for export?"
"Don't encourage him!" Lirien snapped, though she couldn't help stealing a sip herself. Her eyes widened slightly. "...Oh."
Edric sighed in defeat. "We're doomed."
That evening, Rolien sat under the stars with his notebook open, jotting notes beside an empty glass.
"Chocolate… fruit shakes… next step: cooling without magic." He smiled faintly to himself, thinking. "If I can make it stay cold longer, people won't just drink it — they'll crave it."
His pen scratched across the paper:
Project Idea #3: Artificial Ice.
And just like that, the young inventor's next obsession began.
to be continue..