My Magic Has No Upper Limit

"From farm work," Zelir answered honestly.

"Oh? From a farm family?"

Gray’s interest was piqued. Though his hands didn’t stop moving, he couldn’t resist talking.

"And here I thought you were some young master who ran away from home to get a taste of the real world... Speaking of which, don’t you have to be rich to be a Mage? Buying Scrolls, Magic Wands, Magic Robes... each one costs a fortune."

"I guess there are exceptions..." Zelir muttered, pursing his lips.

According to the memories Zelir had inherited, the original owner’s background was nothing remarkable. He was just a poor farmer from the Kingdom’s border.

From the day he was born, Zelir and his parents spent all day tending the crops, living a life of back-breaking labor in the fields. After taxes, the yearly harvest left them with barely enough to survive.

But a turning point came when Zelir was seven years old.

It was an ordinary summer afternoon.

The work in the fields wasn’t too demanding, and for a rare change, his father wasn’t rushing Zelir, allowing him to rest for a bit under the old locust tree at the edge of the field.

The cicadas buzzed loudly, the distant air shimmered with heat, and sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting a dappled pattern of light on the ground.

Everything was just like any other day, so mundane it made one drowsy.

Zelir lay on his back in the grass, squinting at the leaves gently swaying in the wind, utterly bored.

But in that very instant, the world in his eyes suddenly changed.

It wasn’t a visual change, but more of an indescribable perception.

He saw the wind. It was no longer formless, but wisps of pale blue thread.

He heard the earth, a deep and steady hum that resonated like a heartbeat.

He felt the light. Innumerable golden motes danced in the sunlight overhead, warm and gentle.

Immediately after, a vast and irresistible suction force erupted, dragging Zelir’s consciousness into a boundless, dark cosmos.

In the center of this dark cosmos, a single, faint point of light hovered.

Zelir’s curiosity overcame his fear. As his consciousness tentatively approached the point of light, the seed seemed to sense his gaze and pulsed gently.

A brilliant light flowed out, gushing like a clear spring and bringing with it an extraordinary Power.

The name of this Power was Magic Power.

Zelir had awakened his Spring Seed.

When Zelir’s consciousness returned to reality, his heart was pounding uncontrollably, and his breathing grew ragged.

For a farm boy, turning seven meant you were no longer a toddler who only knew how to play in the mud.

You had to learn to tell good crops from bad, and to heave a hoe half your height onto your small, undeveloped shoulders as your father barked orders.

Zelir’s life should have been filled with dirt and sweat, and he should have grown up to become a swarthy, silent farmer just like his father.

But he sensed that he could walk another, completely different path.

The name of that path was Mage.

For the next nine years, Zelir’s life was split in two.

In one part, he was still the son of a poor farmer, toiling in the fields. In the other, he was an aspirant with a magnificent dream.

Zelir began to use all his free time to diligently teach himself.

He would run into town and go to great lengths to gather any information he could find about Magic. When Minstrels carrying Lutes came to the village, Zelir would pester them to tell stories about Mages.

He even used several years’ worth of savings to buy a tattered Scroll that recorded a Spell Structure. After constant Meditation and practice, he finally mastered the Fireball Skill.

That year, Zelir was sixteen, and the flame that erupted in his palm made him ecstatic beyond words.

But that was also the year the King raised taxes, plunging the people into misery and hardship. Having toiled their entire lives, the burden finally became too much for Zelir’s parents, and they both passed away.

After burying his parents, he sat at the edge of the field, leaning against the old locust tree, and stared into space for a long time.

Zelir could have chosen to inherit the fields his parents had poured their heart and soul into and continue being a farmer.

But in the end, he decided to take what little savings he had left and, free from all ties, embark on the journey of an Adventurer.

’Sometimes, you just have to find a new way to live.’

Seeing Zelir’s downcast, thoughtful expression, Gray thought his words had struck a nerve and nudged him with his elbow.

"Hey, don’t worry about it... I was just talking. If you don’t have money, you can save up slowly. I saw you cast that Magic earlier—you’ve got talent. You’ll make it."

"Thanks."

Zelir gave a friendly smile and said no more, simply continuing to firmly grip the hide to help Gray.

The skinning and cleaning were time-consuming, and the group worked late into the night to get it all done.

As for the wolf carcasses, they were tossed into a nearby deep pit and left to rot.

Fortunately, this wolf pack had been the apex predator of the area, so all other carnivores gave them a wide berth out of fear. Thus, even with the rich, Bloody scent in the camp, no other predators were drawn in.

Since Marcus and Gray had done most of the work during the fight, the night watch duty fell to Valles.

The night passed uneventfully.

When Zelir opened his eyes again, the crisp sound of birdsong could be heard outside the tent, and streaks of sunlight were pouring through the gap in the flap.

Day had broken.

"Ah..."

Zelir sat up, rubbing his eyes.

The bunk beside him was already empty, and he could faintly hear the voices of Gray and Marcus talking outside.

’I didn’t sleep well.’

It was his first day after transmigrating, and a chaotic jumble of dreams had left him feeling unsettled.

’It’s still going to take time to accept all this...’

Zelir scratched his messy hair and subconsciously checked his panel.

Power: 65

agility: 60

Constitution: 68

Spirit: 71

Intelligence: 66

Perception: 30

Charm: 45

Lucky: 41

Other than the four points of Spirit added last night, his other Attributes remained unchanged.

Beneath Technique Celestial Calculation, the analysis progress for the Great Creation Skill was still stuck at 0%.

Seeing this, Zelir couldn’t help but frown.

’The Great Creation Skill... what kind of Magic is it?’

’Whatever... I’ll ask about it at the Mage’s Guild—the official organization for Mages—when I get there.’

’After all, the original owner’s knowledge of Magic wasn’t very deep. There’s a lot left for me to figure out on my own.’

Zelir pushed aside the tent flap, and a cool morning breeze greeted him.

The forest air was crisp and clean, filled with the fragrant scent of plants, and it was instantly invigorating.

After quickly washing up, Zelir caught a piece of toasted dark bread that Gray tossed to him and started dipping it into his hot soup.

The bread was tough; it could only be swallowed after being softened in the soup. Biting into it dry would have been nearly impossible.

Its taste couldn’t compare to the baked goods from the memories of his past life, either. It wasn’t even that sweet.

’It’s just something to fill the stomach, I suppose.’

According to Marcus’s plan, the party was to leave Gray Wood Forest today and return to Black Stone Town to turn in the wolf-hunting quest at the Adventurer’s Association.