An old man walked through an infinitely large library, each step echoing softly on the stone floor. The air was thick with the scent of ancient books and dust, and the shelves stretched endlessly in every direction. Magic and spell books filled every inch of the space—thousands, no, hundreds of thousands of them. Yet, as the man walked slowly through the aisles, a deep sense of emptiness lingered in his heart.

  *How long has it been since I’ve returned to this place?* he thought to himself. *Hundreds of thousands of books, thousands of spells I’ve collected… just for them to rot here. To a normal mage, even acquiring one of these books would be enough to shake empires. But to me… these are just useless papers.*

  A faint sigh escaped his lips as he continued on. His steps, though slow, were purposeful. His mind wandered back to a time when curiosity about magic had driven him—when he had sought answers about the world, about the hidden forces that bound everything together. But now, after centuries of study and discovery, there was no magic left for him. No more secrets to uncover.

  *Curiosity is the heart of a mage,* he mused. *A person becomes a mage because of his desire to understand how the world works. But I’ve already figured it out. I suppose you could say… there is no more magic left for me in this world.*

  The old man’s eyes shifted from one book to another, each title an echo of a past he had long since grown bored with. His hunger for knowledge, once insatiable, had now dulled. What use were these books to him when he had already mastered them all?

  Lost in his thoughts, he continued walking, each step heavier than the last. The library seemed endless, a reflection of the hollow space he now occupied in his heart. It was then that something caught his eye.

  A faint glow emanated from one of the shelves, a soft, pulsing light that seemed to call to him. He slowed, squinting to make out the source of the glow. Nestled between two ancient volumes was a small, weathered scroll. It shimmered with an otherworldly light, unlike anything he had seen in years.

  *What is this thing?* he wondered.

  He approached the shelf, his old bones creaking as he moved. As his fingers brushed the scroll, a flash of recognition struck him like a bolt of lightning. He had seen this before—long ago, during his youth, in a place filled with peril. It was a forbidden spell, one he had discovered deep within the Dragon King’s dungeon, a place few dared venture.

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  The spell was said to grant eternal youth—immortality, or so he had believed at the time. But there had been a price, a cost that he had been too cautious to pay. Forbidden magic was dangerous, and the price for using such spells was always steep. It was said that the user would lose something vital—something irreplaceable.

  But now…

  *What do I have left to lose?* the mage thought bitterly.

  He had lived countless lifetimes, seen empires rise and fall, and watched as his own power slowly waned. The years had worn him down, and the thirst for knowledge that had once consumed him was now a mere whisper in his soul. He had become tired of living, tired of being the immortal observer, with nothing left to excite him.

  In that moment, his decision was made. Without hesitation, the mage unfurled the scroll and began to recite the incantation. The words rolled off his tongue, ancient and foreign, but familiar in their rhythm.

  At first, nothing happened.

  "Hmm, that's odd," the mage muttered, his voice rough. He paused, waiting for something—anything—but there was only the silence of the library.

  Then, as if to answer his unspoken question, a sharp pain shot through his chest. His mana heart—the core of his magical being—felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible force.

  "What’s this pain?" he gasped, clutching at his chest. His vision blurred, and the library around him began to distort, the shelves warping and twisting in the light.

  His heart raced, panic rising within him as the pain intensified. *What’s happening to me?*

  Before he could process any further, his vision dimmed completely, and his body crumpled to the floor.

  ---

  The next thing the mage knew, he was lying in a bed, his head spinning with dizziness. The room around him felt strange—unfamiliar. He could hear faint sounds of the outside world—voices, birds, and the gentle rustling of trees in the wind. The air smelled different, filled with the scent of fresh earth and a warmth he wasn’t used to.

  With a groan, he slowly sat up, his body feeling light, almost weightless. His fingers, which had once been gnarled with age, were now smooth and youthful. He looked down at them, his breath catching in his throat.

  These were the hands of a young boy.

  Confusion gripped him. His heart raced. His old body was gone, replaced by this strange new form. He stood, swaying slightly as dizziness overtook him.

  “What is this place?” he whispered under his breath, his voice sounding strange—higher, softer, like the voice of a teenager.

  He stumbled to a nearby mirror, his movements shaky. As he peered into the glass, his breath caught in his throat. The reflection staring back at him was that of a young boy—dark, flowing hair, milk-white skin, and a face so unfamiliar yet undeniably his own.

  The mage's mind reeled. *What… what is this?*

  His body—once that of a man who had mastered the very forces of the world—was now the body of a youth, fragile and unfamiliar. His magic, once so powerful, felt distant, as though it belonged to someone else.

  He reached out, desperate to feel the surge of power that had once been his signature. But nothing came. The mana that had flowed through him like a river had gone dry. He tried again, concentrating harder, but it was as if the very essence of magic had abandoned him.

  *Where is it?* he thought in despair. *What happened to my magic?*

  Suddenly, a realization hit him. The forbidden spell had returned him to youth—but not his youth... It had reincarnated him into another person's body. And the price for using the forbidden spell was his own life.