2. From Archmage to Beggar

Adolin felt like his head was going to explode.

Pressure built behind his eyes, like something was being forced into his mind faster than he could process it.

He groaned as his eyes fluttered open. His vision was a blur, narrowed to a tunnel. It took him a few moments to stabilize it. Then he took in his surroundings. He was in a back alley, lying in filth. A knife protruded from his chest.

“Ugh. Interesting way to start a second life,” he muttered.

The smell returned to him. The place reeked of filth and piss. It wasn’t that bad; in the last few months, he’d smelled worse. Adolin reached for his mana and felt it. The reserves were so small he barely noticed them. Just enough to cast the simplest healing spell he knew. The knife was stuck in his heart, but he was alive. He didn’t question it. He was reincarnated with the Philosopher’s Stone.

He gripped the handle, and with a deep breath, he pulled it out.

Without delay, he cast the spell. Isolated spots across his body burned. The wound on his chest burned the most, and soon after, it closed.

“Ugh…” escaped him.

He’d forgotten how strange the spell felt. It didn’t flood his body with warmth. Instead, it isolated each wound and healed it individually. It saved mana, but it always felt wrong.

And this body… It had numerous wounds that had never fully healed.

The spell didn’t solve the pressure in his head. If something was wrong with his body, the spell would have fixed it. That only left one thing. His reincarnation. Then, when he thought about where he was, the answer came.

Adolin had inherited the body’s memories.

At first, it felt weird. He had to think about something specific to get what he needed. He had enough experience with implanted memories, and this didn’t feel the same. He thought about who he was.

The answer came naturally. Like he was recalling his own memories.

The body belonged to Dareth. The boy was barely sixteen and had just awakened his system. He was from the town of Grest. His family was dead. His father was the last to go, two years ago; illness and not enough coin to treat it.

“Fuck,” Adolin cursed.

He wanted to strangle the Demon King. After everything he went through, he was reincarnated in the body of an orphan who had died over his last bronze coin. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth. The boy had a difficult life. He had come to Mith, the capital of the Mithian Empire, to find something better for himself. The little coin he had didn’t last, and he was left on the streets.

“Status,” Adolin muttered.

A translucent window flickered into existence before his eyes.

[Status:]
Name: Dareth Wood
Race: Human
Mana: 4/30
Level: 3
Class: /

[Attributes:]
Strength: 5
Agility: 6
Endurance: 7
Intelligence: 3
Constitution: 5
Attribute Points Available: 1

He stared at the mana section of the window. It was the first time he’d seen mana reduced to numbers. In his old world, there was no way to measure mana. You just felt it.

The system was a blessing from the goddess. The bitterness in his mouth deepened.

Dareth’s memories of the system didn’t seem too trustworthy.

His current attributes were those of a normal human—maybe slightly weaker. His level increased when learning new skills. The new skills encompassed everything from learning a new spell to acquiring a new farming technique. Crafting items successfully also counted toward his level.

With every increase in his level, the blessing gave one point to every attribute, and an additional point that he could use.

It took him a few minutes to find the right questions to get what he needed. Now he had a basic understanding of it.

He looked below the status window.

[New Skill Detected: Precision Healing.]
[Skill Tier: 5]
[Level Increased.]
[Attribute Points Available: 1]

He wanted to test it, but his stomach growled. He would do it later; he was hungry.

“The archmage who killed the Demon King had to find a job to eat,” Adolin said and closed the window.

But the bastard was still alive.

The goddess’s blessing worked for him. The only thing he had to do to increase his strength was to cast spells. He just needed time.

He left the alley and looked around the street.

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Disgusting.

That was the word that came to him. Rotting food and dead rodents were everywhere. The houses. There weren’t any houses. They were shacks people lived in. Most of them didn’t even have a door. Somehow, the smell was worse on the street than in the alley he’d left.

A few people were lying in their excrement, their skin pale, their eyes glossy. Drugs. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen people like this. His old world had them, too. Mana-enhanced drugs.

“Boy.”

Adolin looked at the man who called out to him.

“Co-Could you spare some c-coins for the healers?” the man said between weak coughs.

Middle-aged, the spark in his eyes was almost gone. He wouldn’t last the night. Adolin could heal him, but it wouldn’t fix the addiction. He would be back to the same condition in a few months.

His mana had slightly recovered, and it was enough for a single spell. After that, he would be left without mana for at least an hour.

Cough.

The man kept coughing.

He needed to use his spells to improve his blessing anyway. He stepped towards the man and crouched. He hesitated. The man’s body was filthy, but after glancing at his own hand, the hesitation was gone. Touching his forehead with his index finger, he cast a healing spell that would infuse life force and rejuvenation.

The spell worked fast.

Adolin was gone, moving faster than before. He could hear the man puking behind him. Getting rid of the corrupted mana the drugs had left in his body. A few eyes turned toward him, but he ignored them and kept walking.

He had to get food. For that, he needed coin. For coin, he needed a job. But to get a job, he needed to go to the market square or the Craftsman district. The former was in the center of the city, while the latter was on the other side of the city.