Kalagar S. Sully died as he had lived: quietly, and with a book in his hand.
One moment, he was in his over-stuffed leather armchair, squinting at the dense, 14th-century prose of an obscure philosophy text. The next, he was... not. There was no tunnel of light, no choir of angels, and, most disappointingly, no grand celestial library. There was only a brief, silent void, followed by the jarring sensation of a migraine and the smell of pine.
He opened his eyes. The ceiling was not the familiar, water-stained plaster of his apartment. It was rough-hewn wood, dark and unfamiliar.
"I see," Kalagar muttered, his voice coming out dry and raspy. "A stroke. This must be the hospital. A very... rustic one."
He sat up, and the world spun. A wave of information—alien, dense, and absolute—crashed into his mind, not as a memory, but as a data-file being forcibly uploaded.
World: Gaia. Size: 101.3x Terra (Earth). Inhabitants: Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, Dragons, Phoenixes, Myriad Mythical Creatures. Dominant Force: Mana. Power Structure: Mana Cultivation, Levels 1-8. Level 1-4: Adept. Level 5-7: Master. Level 8:Archmage (34 known individuals, rulers of nations). Beyond Level 8:Demigod (5 known individuals, the hidden pillars of the world).
Kalagar groaned, clutching his head as the information settled. He wasn't in a hospital. He was in a cabin, on a mountain, in a world named Gaia. He had been reincarnated. The body he now inhabited belonged to another Kalagar S. Sully—a reclusive, talentless scholar who had died of a simple, un-magical fever.
"Reincarnation," Kalagar mused, his scholar's mind kicking in, compartmentalizing the panic. "The ultimate transmigration of the soul. Fascinating. And... inconvenient."
He swung his new, slightly-too-thin legs off the cot. The cabin was a single room, impeccably clean but sparse. A fireplace, a writing desk, a chair, and shelves. So many shelves, all filled with books. He pulled one down. The title was An Introduction to Mana Principles.
He spent the next two hours absorbing his new reality. He was on the "Silent Peak," a remote, unnamed mountain in a minor barony. He had no neighbors. And, as the previous owner's memories confirmed, he had absolutely zero talent for magic.
A final piece of data slotted into his consciousness, this one feeling different. It was not a memory of the world, but something new, something for him.
[Made Up System] activated.Host: Kalagar S. Sully Mana Level: 0 (Un-measurable / Deficient) System Function: Any "lesson," "skill," or "concept" you teach to a willing disciple will be comprehended and actualized by the System. Condition 1: The host must teach it. Condition 2: The disciple must comprehend it. Condition 3: The System will auto-translate the "lesson" into a corresponding Top-Tier, SSS-Rank, or Forbidden-Rank spell/art. Host cannot use skills directly.Awaiting first disciple.
Kalagar stared at the non-existent text hovering in his vision.
"So," he summarized, "I'm a teacher in a world of magic. But I have no magic, and my lessons only work on other people. And I have no students. I am a gun with no trigger, in a body with no strength, in a world that could kill me with a stiff breeze."
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his new nose. It was the cosmic equivalent of being given a checkbook for a trillion-dollar bank account, but having no pen. He was just as useless as before, but now with a side of existential mockery.
"Well," he said to the empty cabin, "at least I have books. And peace."
He walked to the door, opening it to a view that stole his breath. He was above the clouds. A sea of white fluff stretched to the horizon, pierced only by the jagged, snow-covered peaks of even greater mountains. The air was so clean it felt like drinking ice water. Twelve moons, faint in the daylight, littered the pale blue sky.
"This... this I can work with," Kalagar said, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips. "Peace. Quiet. All the reading I can handle. System or no system, this is paradise."
He settled into a rocking chair on the porch, picked up a local treatise on The 34 Archmages, and began to read. He was a recluse. This was what he was good at. He would live out this second life in blissful solitude.
He got exactly four hours of peace.
The silence was shattered by a sound that did not belong: a high-pitched, desperate scream.
Kalagar's head snapped up from his book. It came from down the winding, treacherous path that led to his cabin. He was not a hero. He was not an adventurer. He was a 50-year-old scholar in a 20-year-old body, and his first instinct was to lock the door.
But the scream came again, followed by a girl's sob. "Please! Someone, help!"
He grimaced. "Confound it."
He stood just as a small, bedraggled figure burst through the tree line and collapsed onto the small patch of flat-land in front of his cabin. It was a girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen. Her clothes were rags, her black hair was matted with leaves and dried blood, and her feet were bare, torn, and bleeding. She was half-starved, a skeleton draped in skin, and she was shaking with a terror so profound it was almost tangible.
She looked up at Kalagar, her eyes wide with a final, desperate plea.
"Please... hide me..." she whispered, before her eyes rolled back and she fainted.
Kalagar stared. This was not peaceful. This was not quiet. This was a complication.
He heard rough, angry voices from down the path. "She came this way! I see the tracks! A pretty price for that one, boss, if she's still breathing."
Kalagar's heart hammered. Slavers. His predecessor's memories supplied the context: a plague on the remote territories, brutal and without mercy. They were armed. They were mages. And he was a Level 0 scholar.
He dragged the girl inside, bolted the heavy wooden door, and splashed water on her face. "Wake up! Wake up, child!"
She spluttered, consciousness returning. "They're... they're coming..."
"I know!" Kalagar hissed, his mind racing. He had no magic, no weapons. His cabin was wood. A single Level 1 Fireball would end this.
...teach a willing disciple...
The System. It was his only chance.
"Listen to me!" Kalagar gripped the girl's bony shoulders. "What's your name?" "Lila..." she sobbed. "Lila, do you want to live?" A nod, sharp and desperate. "Do you trust me?" A hesitant, terrified look, but she nodded again. "Good. You are now my disciple. I am your master. Do you accept?" "W-what? Yes! Yes, anything!"
[New Disciple: Lila (Un-ranked) has been accepted.][Disciple State: Willing.][Teaching Module: ACTIVE.]
A heavy thud struck the door. "We know you're in there, old man! Send out the girl, and we'll let you live!"
A cackle. "No, we won't! Burn it down!"
"Lila!" Kalagar's mind was blank. What could he teach? He was a philosopher, not a wizard! He had no spells! He had to make one up. "They're going to use magic! You need to defend! Block it!"
"I... I don't know how!" she cried. "I'm only Level 2... my mana is... it's gone..."
"Forget mana! Forget what you know! Just listen to me!" Kalagar was in a full-blown panic. He babbled the first, most ridiculous "mountain" metaphor he could think of. "Breathe! Just... breathe like the mountain is snoring! A deep, slow, solid breath! Feel the rock! Be the rock! Do it! Now!"
Lila, having no other choice, squeezed her eyes shut and took a shuddering, deep breath.
[Disciple 'Lila' is attempting to comprehend [Lesson: Mountain Snoring Breath]...][...Lesson incomprehensible...][...Re-interpreting abstract concept...][...Disciple Comprehension: SUCCESS.][Disciple 'Lila' has comprehended: [Aegis of the Stone Sleeper] (Top-Tier Defense Spell).]
Outside, one of the slavers, a portly man with a Level 3 Mage's insignia, laughed and thrust his palms forward. "Eat this! Inferno Bolt!"
A streaming jet of crimson fire, thick as a man's arm, shot toward the cabin.
But it never struck.
A microsecond before impact, a vast, spectral image of a mountain peak flickered into existence around the cabin. It was translucent, gray-brown, and seemed to hum with an ancient, sleepy power. The Inferno Bolt struck the barrier and vanished. Not deflected, not absorbed. It was simply... gone. As if it had never been cast.
Outside, the three slavers stared.
"What... what was that?" the portly mage stammered. "Did you see that? An earth-elemental barrier? Up here?"
The leader, a taller man with a scarred face, snarled. "He's a hiding Master! A Level 6, maybe 7! It doesn't matter. It was just a defense spell! It can't hold forever. Break it! Both of you!"
Inside, Kalagar was hyperventilating. It worked. It actually worked. The panic was replaced by a surge of adrenaline.
"They're attacking again!" Lila shrieked as the cabin vibrated. "Master, what do I do?"
"Master? Right! Me!" Kalagar's mind was blank again. "Fight back! Hit them! Hit the ground! Hard!"
"With what?!"
"With your foot! Tap your foot! Like... like you're annoyed! Like you're trying to crush a very, very annoying bug! Annoyance! Put your annoyance into it!"
This was, Kalagar knew, certifiable lunacy. He was telling a girl to tap her foot at a team of killer mages.
Lila, however, was a "comprehension genius." She didn't hear madness. She heard a profound, esoteric instruction. Channel an abstract emotion (annoyance) into a physical conduit (the foot) to strike the world (the bug). Her mind, starving for knowledge, made the leap.
She lifted her bare, bloody foot... and tapped.
[Disciple 'Lila' is attempting to comprehend [Lesson: Annoyance Foot Tap]...][...Disciple Comprehension: SUCCESS.][Disciple 'Lila' has comprehended: [Continental Fracture Step] (Top-Tier Earth Magic Spell).]
It did not make a sound.
Outside, the three slavers were preparing a combined assault when the leader stopped. He felt... a vibration.
"Boss?" the portly man asked, his spell-chant dying.
"Shut up. Do you feel..."
The ground beneath them did not shake. It split.
With the soundless, horrifying finality of a drawn line, a chasm—ten meters wide and impossibly deep—opened directly beneath the slavers. One moment, they were standing on solid rock. The next, there was only empty air.
Their screams echoed up from the darkness for a full three seconds, and then were abruptly cut off.
A gust of wind blew over the newly-formed cliff edge.
Silence.
Inside the cabin, Kalagar and Lila stared at the wooden floor.
"Did... did that do anything?" Kalagar whispered, his voice trembling.
Lila, pale as a sheet, looked at her own foot, then at her new Master. She didn't see a panicking, Level 0 scholar who had just babbled nonsense.
She saw a being who, with two casual, metaphor-laden sentences, had granted her the power to summon an unassailable defense and cleave the very mountain in two. He hadn't even stood up from his chair. He had just spoken.
This wasn't a Master. This wasn't an Archmage. This was... a God.
Lila slid from her chair, fell to her knees, and pressed her forehead to the dusty floorboards in a perfect, devout kowtow.
"Master!" she proclaimed, her voice ringing with a terrifying, absolute conviction that Kalagar had only ever heard from religious fundamentalists. "Your wisdom is as boundless as the sky! This disciple, Lila, swears her undying loyalty to you! Please, accept this unworthy one and allow me to serve you! I will do all the chores!"
Kalagar stared at the back of her head. He looked at his own shaking hands. He thought of the two spells. He thought of the chasm.
The System auto-translates the 'lesson' into a Top-Tier spell.
It wasn't that his "lesson" was good. It was that his "lesson" was so bad, so nonsensical, that the System had to fill in the blanks with the most powerful spells it could find to match the intent. He had intended to "defend" and "attack," and the System had provided.
And this girl... this "comprehension genius"... had somehow found logic in his panic.
A cold sweat ran down his back, quickly followed by a slow, calculating thought. He was a Level 0. The world was full of Archmages, Demigods, and now, apparently, slavers. He had just killed three men. Their organization, whatever it was, would investigate. He was weak, but he now had a "disciple" who could... cleave continents.
And she thought he was the god.
This misunderstanding... this was not a complication. This was survival.
Kalagar S. Sully, the reclusive scholar, slowly stood up. He smoothed the front of his simple tunic. He clasped his hands behind his back, adopting the posture of the most arrogant, profound philosophy professor he'd ever known. He let the silence stretch, allowing Lila's prostration to continue.
Finally, he spoke, pitching his voice to a calm, indifferent baritone.
"Hm. A passable first attempt," he said, as if commenting on a poorly written essay. "Your control over the [Continental Fracture Step] was sloppy. You disturbed the geological integrity of the mountain. I shall expect better next time."
He looked down at her. "Rise, Disciple Lila. You may... begin by sweeping the floor. And then, you will tell me everything. Your real lessons begin tomorrow."
"Yes, Master!" Lila scrambled to her feet, her face glowing with a fanatic's joy, her earlier trauma already overshadowed by divine purpose. She grabbed a nearby broom and began to sweep with a terrifying, earth-shattering vigor.
Kalagar watched her, then turned to gaze out the window at his new, cliff-side property.
"Peace and quiet," he muttered to himself. "Right."