[Talent Template: Merlin]
White Magic: SSS
Black Magic: SS+
Defense: SS+
Transfiguration: SSS
Potions: S+
Alchemy: S+
...
Special Talents: Almighty Shapeshifter, Prophecy Astrologer, Wandless Casting, Language of Nature
Innate Comprehensive Ability: SSS
[Evaluation]: In ancient times, the legendary Merlin was revered as the God of Magic. His talents had nearly broken the boundaries of mortality, touching upon divinity. He stood at the absolute pinnacle of magical mastery.
[Note]: Magical talents are graded from highest to lowest: SSS, SS, S, A, B, C, D, E, F, and G. Achieving S-level or above in any domain qualifies one as a contemporary master in that field.
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The golden talent card floated in front of Aris, casting shimmering light across his vision. His eyes lit up with an intensity that hadn't been there moments before.
Even though he had full confidence in his academic learning ability, Aris knew that in a magical world, talent was the true currency. Even with average magical aptitude, he was certain he could accomplish great things with the help of the Academic Master System.
But now…
Before him floated the talent of Merlin—a legendary figure who was practically deified in magical history. It would be dishonest to say he wasn't stirred.
All of Merlin's talents listed were above S-level, with White Magic and Transfiguration both reaching the mythical SSS-level, the absolute limit for mortals—talent that rivaled the divine.
Even if someone with such a template were a complete fool, the natural growth of their magic over time would eventually mold them into a living weapon of terrifying power.
But Aris wasn't a fool.
He was a top scholar with the Academic Master System backing him.
His heart surged with anticipation as he read the list of special talents. They were equally breathtaking.
The ability to transform into various animals, to speak the language of all living creatures, to cast spells without a wand, and even the mystical art of astrology and prophecy—each of these was a force-multiplier. They were more than rare—they were practically extinct in the modern wizarding world.
Even something seemingly simple like wandless casting had become an almost lost art. Most modern wizards were powerless without their wands—barely different from Muggles. Only a few legendary figures, like Dumbledore, could cast effective spells without one, and even then, the power was often diminished.
But for Aris, this would be as natural as breathing.
He couldn't even begin to imagine how far he could go now. With Merlin's talents and the system's unlimited potential, surpassing titans like Dumbledore, Grindelwald, or Voldemort…wasn't just possible.
It was inevitable.
"Fusion: Talent Card!" he commanded in his heart.
In response, the golden card dissolved into a radiant light, sinking into the depths of his soul.
A blissful sensation washed over him, like a wave of divine ecstasy. His entire being trembled. It was as if the gates of magic had opened for him—limitless, eternal.
—
In the room, Luna's long, golden hair danced gently. Some strands fell across Aris's forehead, tickling his skin. Her silvery eyes remained fixed on the sleeping boy, curiosity twinkling in her gaze.
She had always been… different. Ethereal. Like she belonged more to the dream world than the real one.
Even now, she seemed more fascinated than surprised, whispering softly to herself, "He's definitely not ordinary…"
As if in response, a pulse of raw magical power surged out from Aris's body.
The very air in the room shuddered.
Luna's golden locks fluttered in the invisible wind, and slowly—without any warning—her feet began to lift off the floor.
She floated upward, her eyes widening in amazement.
But it wasn't just her.
Chairs. Tables. Books. Lamps. Clothes.
Everything that wasn't nailed down had lifted into the air, spinning slowly around Aris in a slow, cosmic orbit. The entire room had been caught in the throes of a magical vortex.
"This is... a magic riot!" Luna whispered in awe.
She was in the middle of a dangerous phenomenon—an uncontrollable magical outburst caused by overwhelming energy—but her expression wasn't one of fear.
It was wonder.
She opened her arms and twirled midair, giggling like a pixie soaring through a dreamscape. "He's not a Muggle," she said to herself. "I knew it! He's like me!"
Her joy was cut short by hurried footsteps outside the door.
Bang!
The door slammed open, and Xenophilius Lovegood—wand already drawn—rushed in with urgency in his eyes.
"Luna! What did you..."
But he paused, stunned by what he saw.
The scene before him was surreal.
Objects floating, energy crackling, and in the middle of it all—a boy lying peacefully on the bed, surrounded by magic.
He looked toward Luna, assuming instinctively that it was her doing.
"Luna...what have you done?!"
But the little girl only smiled happily and pointed toward Aris. "It's not me, Father! I told you—he's not ordinary. It's his magic!"
Xenophilius froze.
He turned his gaze toward the sleeping boy, frowning as the magical aura washed over him.
The source was clear now.
Aris was at the center of it all.
"This... this power..." he muttered. "Who exactly is this child?"
Xenophilius could no longer deny what was in front of him.
The boy was clearly no Muggle.
But more importantly, this wasn't just any random wizard's magic. The sheer density and volatility of it hinted at something far more profound. The magnitude of the magic was… ancient maybe noble or even deep.
And that worried him.
Because in the wizarding world, magic is blood—and the strength of one's talent almost always stems from one's lineage. Yes, even the magic power rely on bloodline of the person; stronger bloodline means stronger raw magic power.
Yes, exceptions existed. "Mudbloods," as the old bigots called them, could sometimes defy expectations.
But this… this wasn't some weak anomaly. This was an overwhelming surge of raw, divine-like energy.
It had to mean something.
"Descend!" he said aloud, waving his wand.
With a shimmer of light, all the floating objects dropped gently back to the floor. Luna descended slowly into his arms, laughing softly as she was cradled and set down with care.
"Father," she asked innocently, "can we keep him? Please?"
Even now, with the mystery of Aris still unresolved, the little girl looked at him not as a threat—but as a new friend she could play with, now that they both had magic.
She didn't care about laws or bloodlines.
She just knew he was special.
Xenophilius, however, didn't answer immediately.
He stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at the boy—at Aris, whose eyes remained closed, breathing slow and steady.
But the energy in the room hadn't faded completely. It shimmered faintly around him, like a cocoon of magic refusing to settle.
Xeno narrowed his eyes.
Then he stepped closer.
He was silent for a long time.
Finally, he spoke—not gently, but with cautious and firm stern tone.
"Wake up." His voice was quiet, but carried a certain gravity of the situation.
"I know you're not asleep anymore."