Rebirth of the 8th-Circle Mage

- Henry Morris.

In his stupor of agony, Henry distinctly heard someone call his name. It wasn’t the Saint or Arthus; it was some unfamiliar entity. But oddly enough, just the sound of this voice brought Henry an immense sense of peace.

‘This is…?’

His entire body felt warm as though he had stepped into a pleasant hot spring. A comforting energy enveloped Henry, relaxing him and making him forget his pain. After some time, he slowly opened his eyes as he got used to the warmth that enveloped him. He felt like he was waking up from a deep sleep.

But when Henry finally opened his eyes, he didn’t see Arthus nor the Saint. In fact, his surroundings were nothing like Lizark Hill. Instead, he found himself in an entirely white landscape, a blank canvas.

He sat up and looked around, only to hear his name called again.

- Henry Morris.

He heard the voice more clearly this time, not echoing like before. He turned toward its direction and saw a mysterious young woman in a luxurious robe, adorned with gold embroidery on pure white fabric.

Henry quickly stood up, surprised by the figure’s appearance. However, something else surprised him as he got up on his feet.

‘What’s happening…?’

From what he remembered, Arthus had cut both his Achilles tendons, but now his body seemed to have been completely healed. His armor was also in perfect condition, as though nothing bad had happened.

After checking himself in astonishment, Henry turned his attention to the mysterious woman. As he met eyes with her, the woman spoke up first.

- Nice to meet you, Henry Morris. My name is… No, people refer to me as Irene.

‘Irene!’

Henry was shocked to find out who stood before him. She was the deity of the Church of Peace, the one whom most of the continent worshiped and who was known as the protector of love and peace.

It had been a while since Henry had last encountered a deity, that being Janus.

Seeing how surprised Henry looked, the goddess spoke up.

- There is no need to worry about what is going on in the outside world. I have created this space just for you.

“For… me?”

- Yes, just for you. And while you’re here, time in the outside world is passing very slowly.

“...”

Controlling time was something beyond Henry’s abilities, even as an 8th-Circle Archmage. But to the goddess, it seemed like a trivial matter.

- Of course, I cannot slow down time in the outside world indefinitely. There is work that has to be done, and I am here to ask you a favor.

“A… favor?”

- Yes, Henry Morris. There is something I need your help with.

Henry couldn’t comprehend why a goddess would request help from a mere human instead of just ordering him. However, the goddess seemed sincere; he could feel it from her voice.

- You might already know what I am about to ask from you, but I would like you to stop Arthus’ rampage for me, or rather, for all of us.

When Henry had previously seen the goddess descend and say that she had a request for him, he already had an idea, while not certain, as to what she would ask of him. But once the goddess actually confirmed his suspicions, he felt a mixture of emotions all at once.

“That’s…”

Henry found himself speechless. He had momentarily forgotten about the reality he was in thanks to the goddess. But now he remembered what terrible misery awaited for him at Lizark Hill.

The one responsible for that harrowing reality was Arthus, with his almighty divine power that Henry hadn’t even come close to reaching despite trying everything he could to strengthen himself and his people.

Henry turned pale as all sorts of thoughts swirled through his mind. He realized that the goddess knew what had happened to ask such a favor to him, which in turn meant that she had witnessed Arthus become a demigod and kill the ones close to him.

Despite that, Irene was casually asking him to stop Arthus. As Henry kept pondering on the situation, anger suddenly overcame him.

Arthus was just a demigod, while Irene was a full-on goddess. Henry couldn’t understand how a deity could put such a burden on a mere human in pain to take care of this chaos. Irene was much more powerful than a demigod, so why couldn’t she…?

As he reached this conclusion, Henry wanted to lash out in frustration, but he knew better than anyone that getting emotional wasn’t going to solve anything.

‘Why?! Why do I have to be so damn rational and objective all the time?!’

He was frustrated at the fact that just like any other wizard, his mentality was rooted in reason and logic, which seemed rather useless in this situation.

After cooling down a little bit, Henry said, “May I ask why? And I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I do not possess any divine power, unlike Herarion, who has just perished. I believe you know more than anyone else what it means to not have this kind of power.”

Henry got straight to the point and explained his issues concisely. However, the goddess replied in a different tone from Henry’s.

- You are mistaken. You have divine power. You just haven't realized it yet.

“Are you sure? Do I really have divine power?”

- Yes

Henry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This was totally unexpected news. But then, he remembered what he had in possession and quickly took out the rings that Herabola had given him and showed them to the goddess.

“Are these the source of the divine power you speak of? These are just divine objects. I have already used these against Arthus. Surely you have seen that these are no match against Arthus, goddess.”

Apart from Herabola’s rings, Henry had no other sources of divine power. At this, the goddess shook her head.

- No. Henry Morris, the divine power I speak of is inherently yours, not borrowed from another deity.

“What do you mean? Isn’t divine power the power of deities? Goddess, I am a wizard, so I have never placed my faith in any god.”

- Yes, I am also aware of that. However, you just never believed in any deity, that is all. Haven’t you always held a steadfast belief in something?

“A steadfast belief? Something I’ve always believed in…?”

Henry pondered the goddess’ words. His lifelong belief wasn’t in a person, a living creature, or a deity. But after a while, the realization dawned upon him, and his face lit up with enlightenment.

“No way...”

As he muttered in disbelief, Irene nodded in confirmation, which sent chills down his spine.

“It can’t be…!”

The thing Henry had unwaveringly believed in his entire life…

Magic.

Henry suddenly remembered what he had told his disciples back at the Magical Spire.

‘There is nothing in this world that can’t be achieved with magic. The limitations we’re currently facing stem from our lack of insight. If we can’t do something, it’s because we have yet to discover a way. Simple as that.’

Henry had pioneered the unknown realm of the 8th-Circle by relying solely on his faith in magic. And now, his hands were trembling at this realization.

- Of course, faith alone cannot make your power divine. But us gods have recognized your ingenuity, and in acknowledgment, we have granted you a small seed.

“A… seed?”

- Yes, the one you received from Hedajaon. You nurtured it like a hen, and it eventually sprouted. Do you not recall?

“Hedajaon… Seed… Ah, are you referring to…?”

The goddess nodded once again at Henry. The thing Herarion had received from Hedajaon… The thing Henry had made Skall look for but couldn’t find it in the end…

That hadn’t been an egg or a pearl… It had been the seed of a god!

- A deity isn’t a special being. Anyone or anything can ascend to divinity. Plants, animals, and even formless things can become gods. They, too, have the qualifications to become such beings. You, Henry Morris, are the pioneer of magic, the first human in history to elevate it to divinity. You are the god of magic.

Despite the goddess’ kind explanation, Henry felt overwhelmed by this sudden influx of information. Just a while ago, he had been on the verge of death at Arthus’ feet, who had risen to the level of a demigod.

However, the goddess had just told him that he was the god of magic… This was not only sudden, but downright absurd.

After Henry recollected himself, he said, “Then... What should I do now? If I really am the god of magic as you say, then why did I have to suffer like that without being able to do anything against Arthus?!”

After calming down, Henry raised his voice again, his anger resurging. He didn’t understand what being the god of magic even meant at this point. After all, almost everyone close to him was dead, and Arthus had already taken control of more than half of humanity.

God of magic or not, Henry knew that it was too late to turn things back to how they had been. He hadn’t been able to make a difference as an 8th-Circle Archmage and as a magic swordsman, and he doubted that being the so-called god of magic would change anything.

However, the goddess countered Henry’s anger and hopelessness with a gentle, reassuring tone.

- Henry Morris, you must believe in yourself first. Now that you have become the god of magic, you are no longer an ordinary human. You must learn to listen to all who believe in you as a god, not as a human. But you must also believe in yourself with unwavering faith, just like you used to believe that magic could solve anything.

Faith, belief, and divine power.

Heraion and the Saint had repeatedly told him about the connection between these three concepts. And now, the goddess was reiterating their importance to him. However, Henry couldn't help but feel that this explanation was just a generic, textbook-answer that people just took for granted.

Henry’s head was still steaming with anger, his emotions overcoming him; he couldn’t think rationally anymore. He even started thinking that the goddess was playing with him, that she might just be a nightmare that Arthus had instilled into him to further torment him.

But at that moment…

- You idiot!

Henry was startled by a thunderous shout from behind him, jumping out of his skin. He slowly turned around after his heart stopped racing.

He saw a tall man with tanned skin, his head being that of a hawk instead of a human.

The goddess also seemed surprised.

- La…? You’re here…

He was none other than La, the protector of the desert.

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