Time Cursed Mage - Chapter 1: [Initiating Curse]

"Prepare yourselves! We are about to open the gate!" bellowed one of the men standing atop a raised platform within the vast dungeon. Clad in long robes adorned with symbols denoting high nobility, his voice echoed through the cavernous space, capturing the attention of all present.

Kaspar stood amidst the crowd, confusion etched upon his face as he tried to comprehend the unfolding events.

Before him stretched a sprawling encampment. A sea of tents numbering in the hundreds, perhaps thousands. They were erected by what appeared to be students, young men and women garbed in varying hues, their attire indicative of different years or disciplines.

Yet, despite the enigmatic tomb-like structures and the strange symbols carved into the surrounding stone walls, none of the gathered seemed even remotely interested in their peculiar surroundings. All eyes were fixed solely on the colossal door at the far end of the cavern.

The door was a marvel, so immense that thirty people stacked atop one another would still fail to reach its apex. Towering and imposing, it seemed hewn from a single slab of ancient stone, its surface embedded with thousands of intricate symbols that wove together in a labyrinthine pattern. Runes and glyphs spiraled and intersected.

Stranger still was the door's reaction to those who approached it. As individuals drew near, the symbols began to shimmer, illuminating one after another in a cascade of light that danced across the stone. Colors shifted and swirled, painting the cavern walls with a mystical glow.

But there was an exception, Kaspar. No matter how close he ventured, no symbol acknowledged his presence. The door remained cold and dark, indifferent to his existence.

‘Kaspar?’ he thought, the name feeling familiar and alien. ‘Was that truly who he was?’

Conflicting memories waged a silent battle within his mind. Two distinct lives, overlapping like shadows, cast upon one another.

One set of memories stood clear and unwavering. He was from Earth. A simple fact that anchored him amidst the bewildering reality he now faced. He had lived and grown up in a suburban neighborhood, leading an ordinary life until that fateful day when he watched the towers fall. He could still picture the plumes of smoke spiraling into the sky, the chaos and fear that gripped the nation.

He remembered his father, a firefighter, charging into the burning buildings time and again, emerging with soot-streaked faces and survivors clinging to hope. Many hailed his father as a true hero, a symbol of courage and selflessness.

Yet, during much of his adolescence, Kaspar harbored resentment and sorrow. To him, his father's actions weren't heroism but a form of celebrated self-destruction—a man who sacrificed himself repeatedly until there was nothing left to give.

But as years passed and maturity settled upon him, understanding blossomed. He began to appreciate the magnitude of his father's sacrifices. The seeds of respect took root, and he chose to honor his father's legacy by following in his footsteps and becoming a firefighter himself.

That path led him to the heart of raging infernos, where he battled walls of flames and braved collapsing structures. Until one day, during a horrific backdraft, he was separated from his team. The last memory he held was of an all-consuming blaze enveloping him, heat searing his skin, and the suffocating embrace of smoke stealing his breath.

He was certain he had died.

‘At least until earlier today,’ Kaspar reflected, his gaze drifting back to the monumental door and the crowd surrounding it.

The other set of memories was hazier and fragmented. It contained snippets of unfamiliar faces, places that evoked no recognition, and a life that felt borrowed. ‘Were they my memories or the remnants of another's existence?’

When Kaspar awoke, he found himself amid a vast encampment. Familiarity eluded him; he had no memory of setting his own tent or even arriving here. Around him, a steady hum of activity filled the air as people moved with purpose, their faces a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

"Don't just stand there! You need to proceed to the front of the gate!" a commanding voice echoed across the camp.

Kaspar turned to see an older man garbed in crimson robes, the fabric adorned with intricate golden symbols denoting high rank or perhaps arcane mastery. The man stood atop a raised wooden platform, his sharp eyes scanning the masses below. He addressed what appeared to be students, his tone brooking no argument.

"But professor, what if there's something dangerous?" a young boy called out, his voice tinged with apprehension.

"Use your magic!" the professor retorted sharply. "You have trained for this, spent the last three years at the Academy preparing for such moments. Apply what you've learned!"

"Three years? We're first-years!" the boy protested, looking around at his peers for support.

"Regardless, do not remain idle!" The professor's gaze was stern as he pointed towards a massive stone gate looming at the far end of the cavernous space beyond the camp. "Move forward!"

Kaspar's mind swirled with confusion. He had no recollection of attending any academy or learning magic. He wasn't even sure how he had come to be here. Instinctively, he decided it was best to blend in and not draw attention to himself. He fell in step behind a group of students approaching the gate.

‘I can figure out who I am later when I’m back at my tent,’ he thought, trying to quell the unease bubbling within him.

As they pressed onward, the terrain sloped gently downward, leading them into a vast cavern. The ceiling arched high above, encrusted with luminescent crystals.

"It's opening!" one of the boys exclaimed, pointing ahead.

A hush fell over the crowd as they approached the lowest point of the cavern.

At the foot of the gate, a man with flowing obsidian hair stood with arms outstretched. In each hand, he wielded three rings forged of swirling, bluish energy that crackled and writhed like captive storms. The rings rotated rapidly, and tendrils of light snaked outward, bridging the gap between the mage and the monumental door.

Kaspar watched in awe as the filaments of energy connected with the gate. The stone symbols began to shimmer and glow, one after another, lighting up. When half the symbols radiated with the mystical light, a deep rumbling resonated through the cavern. The thunderous sound of stone grinding against stone reverberated as a narrow fissure appeared between the colossal doors, gradually widening.

An impenetrable darkness seeped from the growing aperture, a void so complete that it seemed to swallow the ambient light. No flicker of light hinted at what lay beyond, only an abyss that beckoned and warned in equal measure.

Kaspar squinted, his heart pounding in his chest. ‘What could possibly be inside?’

"They had to summon a Six-Ring Mage to open something like this," whispered a student nearby, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and admiration.

The others around him murmured in astonishment. "A Six-Ring Mage? Here, assisting the Academy? That's practically unheard of!" another student replied, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Better prepare some protection spells," suggested a boy clutching a worn spellbook to his chest. "Only the gods know what might emerge."

As the procession pressed forward, an ethereal glow began to emanate from some of the boys around Kaspar. Glowing blue rings materialized, circling their arms like serpents made of light. They chanted in low, rhythmic tones, tongues twisting around words that hummed with power. The air crackled with arcane energy, every syllable adding to the mounting tension.

Kaspar stood among them, utterly bewildered. He peered at his peers, trying to mimic their actions, but no rings appeared on his arms. No incantations formed on his lips. He had no idea what was happening or what was expected of him.

"What's going on?" he whispered to himself, anxiety gnawing at his insides.

Suddenly, a shout echoed through the cavernous space. "It's open! Advance!" The voice boomed with authority, reverberating off the ancient stone walls.

Ahead, the two massive doors stood wide open. Beyond the threshold lay a void of utter darkness, an abyss so complete that only shadows could be seen against shadows. The darkness seemed almost alive.

Despite the foreboding entrance, the crowd began to move. Thousands of people formed a solemn procession, their steps echoing in unison like a heartbeat. Some continued their mysterious chanting; eyes closed in concentration. Others clutched talismans or whispered prayers, their faces pale with fear. A few appeared on the verge of tears, their gazes fixed on the ground as if afraid to look ahead.

Kaspar felt a shiver run down his spine. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat louder than the last.

‘Just one more step. Just one more step,’ he repeated in his mind, matching the mantra to his footsteps.

He glanced at his empty hands. ‘I should have a weapon or something,’ he thought, panic edging into his consciousness.

Kaspar wasn't just unaware of what awaited them beyond the doors; he was equally lost about his own identity. He felt like the void outside mirrored the void within.

As the last of the procession crossed the threshold, a blinding light suddenly erupted from above. Kaspar threw up his arm to shield his eyes, but the brilliance pierced through, leaving spots dancing in his vision.

In the next heartbeat, chaos descended.

Torrents of flame spewed from the ceiling. The heat was immediate and intense, waves of scorching air rolling over them. Above, shadows moved; something colossal and winged flitted between the stalactites.

"What's happening?" Kaspar gasped, his voice barely audible over the roar of fire.

A thick, acrid liquid rained down, splattering onto the stone floor and igniting on contact. The inferno spread rapidly, flames licking at the edges of cloaks and grazing boots.

Around him, the others seemed protected. A shimmering aura enveloped them, a shield of light that deflected the flames and repelled the burning liquid. The magical barriers glowed in hues of blue and gold, pulsing with each assault.

Kaspar, however, was exposed. The first splash of the fiery liquid narrowly missed him, searing the ground at his feet. Instinct took over; he dropped to a crouch, trying to make himself a smaller target.

"This can't be real," he thought frantically. "What am I supposed to do?"

But his efforts only granted him a momentary respite.

He looked up just in time to see them.

Dozens of creatures soared above, their massive forms silhouetted against the fierce light of the flames. They were reptilian, with scales that glinted like molten metal and wings that stretched wide, beating with powerful strokes. Muscular hind legs ended in wicked claws, and their long, serpentine tails swayed as they maneuvered in the air.

"Wyverns," Kaspar realized, a spark of recognition flaring. Memories of fantasy games flashed in his mind.

One of the wyverns turned its baleful gaze upon him, eyes glowing like embers. It opened its maw, and a gush of flame erupted, aimed directly at him.

He had no time to react.

The fiery torrent engulfed him, the impact knocking him backward. Agony seared through his body as the flames consumed his robes, the fabric igniting in an instant. The burning liquid soaked into the cloth, adhering to his skin like molten tar.

He screamed—a raw, primal sound torn from the depths of his being.

Around him, the others continued forward, their protective shields unwavering. They didn't glance back, didn't acknowledge his plight. It was as if he were invisible, a ghost already lost to the inferno.

"Help me!" Kaspar cried out, desperation choking his words. But his pleas were drowned by the sounds of chaos, the roaring flames, the beating wings, and the incantations of those who still chanted.

The heat intensified. His skin blistered and peeled, nerves ablaze with unbearable pain. The world blurred at the edges, his vision darkening as smoke filled his lungs.

‘Not again,’ he thought bitterly, the memory of dying in flames earlier that day stabbing into his consciousness. ‘Is this how it ends?’

As the fire devoured him, time seemed to stretch. Seconds felt like hours, each moment etched with excruciating clarity.

Then, amid the torment, something shifted.

Even as his sight faded, a series of symbols materialized before him, glowing with an otherworldly light that cut through the darkness consuming his mind. The letters hovered, pristine and clear, unaffected by the destruction of his body.

[Initiating Curse]

[Restarting Day]