Arcane Heir: History's Strongest Mage

A scream tore through the surroundings, getting louder, as if something was approaching. Michael's eyes widened, his gaze moving to the direction of the sound. Despite his panic, his movements were steady.

"We've got another batch coming, make room!" A female voice called from beyond the doors of the building.

Before he could react, the door burst open, bringing with it the smell of blood and groans of pain. There were mages floating in the air with an unknown levitation spell, flanked by two women with determined expressions.

Michael tried to get a look at their faces, but the dim light made it difficult. However, his attention quickly moved to the floating figures in front of him.

His stomach turned as he saw the first mage, a young man no older than twenty whose entrails were exposed, the smell of burnt flesh and blood almost overcoming him. He froze, feeling a wave of nausea consume him.

What the fuck!?

"Find a bed for each of them and work on stemming the bleeding, I'll deal with the most severe injuries first." Michael's lips moved without his consent, producing a conspicuously high pitched—yet calm tone.

The room moved into action like a well-oiled machine. No one appeared to be panicking despite the grim situation, but the same could not be said for Michael who had begun to freak out.

Not again… Not another dream.

The last time he'd experienced a dream like this he had been trapped in the General's body. Not only this, he had been eaten by a terrifying demon—something that still gave him nightmares.

Why is this happening?

"Status update." His mouth moved once more, speaking to a young woman dressed in simple clean robes.

"Tywin, the battle has already reached the second line—we might have to move camp if this keeps up…" The woman stated with some worry.

He felt his head shake in response, "Margaret, that's not what I meant."

The girl seemed a little frightened, but she soon nodded. "This boy seems to be the most injured, multiple broken ribs and breach of the abdomen, not to mention his missing leg... I've stemmed the bleeding, but he seems to be in a lot of pain."

Michael's gaze moved to the youth in question and felt his blood grow cold. He didn't want to see something like this, something so gruesome. But he didn't have a choice—Michael didn't even possess eyes to close at the moment.

"Alright, go check on the others Tywin." The host he was inhabiting said before moving closer to the injured man. She assessed the figure with practiced ease, but Michael could feel a rising feeling of sympathy and care from within—something that was definitely not his own emotions.

She knows him… he realized, feeling confused at how he could understand this.

As if to back up his realization, the woman placed a hand upon his forehead with some affection, "Rest easy Tristan, I'll have you all healed in no time," she said softly.

A warm light suffused from her palm, causing the youth's pained expression to ease considerably. The sight was intriguing as it was touching, bringing Michael some mixed emotions.

But before he could dwell on the small act of affection, Tywin straightened up and rolled up her sleeve, revealing two glowing green rings upon her left wrist.

She then began to draw runes in the air above the man's abdomen with practiced ease. Michael could only watch on with awe and confusion as the woman began to construct a magic circle that he'd never seen before—right before him.

The outer structure which was meant to signify the element of the spell was completely foreign, almost as if the runes never existed in the first place. Yet despite this, they fit the magic circle perfectly.

It was so elaborate that Michael felt his mind begin to grow hazy as he stared at it for too long. The fatigue only increased as the inner structure of the magic circle was constructed in front of him.

After almost two minutes, Tywin let out a relieved sigh and stepped back. She raised her hand, pouring a steady flow of green mana into the magic circle.

The intricate green sigil shook briefly before it stirred. A moment later, a warm light poured forth from it, bathing the disfigured abdomen with a glow that seemed to come directly from the heavens.

Michael watched in awe as the exposed entrails began to visibly heal. The gashes that had been stemmed with magic began to slowly close, returning to their previous condition—as if they'd never been injured in the first place.

The muscles around the youth's stomach began to regenerate, and the sound of bones clattering together entered his ears. He could see the ribs begin to reform, followed by the skin upon the man's abdomen.

Is this healing magic!? Michael screamed inwardly, unable to hide his shock.

This was one of the magic disciplines that were lost after the great war—arguably the biggest loss they had suffered. Yet it was taking place right in front of his eyes at this moment.

Even in his disoriented state, Michael knew how valuable healing magic was. He might not know where he was, or what was happening, but if this was real, he needed to get this magic.

His eyes moved to the magic circle and tried to burn the unfamiliar runes into his mind. He could only settle on this because looking at the sigil as a whole caused his mind to feel a crazy amount of fatigue.

Unfortunately, he only had about a minute to do so before the process was complete. The magic circle fizzled out of existence after it had done its job—leaving the affected area pristine and fully healed.

But Michael was not focused on this anymore, his mind focused on the foreign runes he'd seen. As long as he could remember these, he might be able to unlock something that was lost so many years ago.

Of course this was only if what he was seeing was real.

"Lux—"

He heard the woman mutter the beginning of an incantation before his consciousness faded completely.