If it wasn’t the past, there was only one answer.
The future.
Gaon’s mind raced, piecing together why he had been hurled forward instead of backward. The answer came swiftly, sharp as a blade.
‘The magi…’
The demonic energy had twisted the Time Reversal Magic Circle, warping its intricate design.
That must have been what sent him careening into the future instead of the past he had aimed for.
‘Damn those demons.’
Gaon gritted his teeth, frustration boiling within him.
His plan had been clear: return to his youth as the crown prince, harness the empire’s vast reserves of elixirs, and forge his body into that of a Swordmaster.
With a physique capable of withstanding the 9th Circle’s immense power, he could have achieved his ultimate goal.
But the future?
His meticulously crafted plan had unraveled like a spell gone awry.
Haa…
With a deep, inward sigh, Gaon shook off the irritation.
Fuming wouldn’t change his reality.
‘At least I’ve gained time.’
He glanced down at his body, now that of his 11-year-old self, the age when he had first formed his 1st Circle.
Without elixirs, the path would be arduous, but if he devoted himself to training from this moment, the 9th Circle was still within reach.
‘How much time has passed, though?’
To forge a new plan, he needed to understand his current situation.
‘The lingering magi suggests the demonic invasion hasn’t been resolved.’
If the Demon Realm had been repelled, no trace of magi would remain in the air.
Its presence meant the conflict persisted, unresolved.
‘Has Master relocated his lair?’
Viard Forest was the domain of Ferbeng, Gaon’s mentor and the leader of the Gold Dragon Clan.
During the Time Reversal Circle’s activation, a rift to the Demon Realm had torn open above the forest.
Though Gaon hadn’t witnessed it, demons and their beasts had likely poured through.
Yet Ferbeng, one of the mightiest dragons, would not have fallen to such foes.
As head of the Gold Dragon Clan and among the top ten dragons, he was a force beyond reckoning.
A mid-tier demon, even dozens or hundreds, would be no match for him.
A demon king might challenge him, but even then, Ferbeng would prevail.
Most likely, he had sealed the rift and moved his lair elsewhere.
‘If only Master were here.’
A twinge of regret struck Gaon.
With Ferbeng’s guidance, he could have quickly grasped the situation and accelerated his path to the 9th Circle.
‘Is my hideout still intact?’
Gaon had built a secret refuge nearby, small and so cleverly hidden that even visiting dragons had never detected it.
Though he didn’t know how much time had passed, its secrecy made it likely to remain untouched.
‘Let’s check the hideout first.’
He hadn’t dismantled it, expecting to return to the past. If it was intact, it would hold a wealth of useful items.
Decision made, Gaon set off toward the hideout, his mind turning to a new question.
‘Which cultivation method should I use?’
He had planned to use the Schtaren Method, optimized for elixirs.
But without access to elixirs, its efficiency was poor.
‘The Varta Method is too slow.’
The Varta Method, exclusive to the Varta Empire’s royal bloodline, was one Gaon had mastered long ago.
But it, too, required elixirs and focused on enhancing magical power rather than physical strength.
‘Wait.’
A sudden spark of inspiration lit his eyes.
‘What about his technique?’
Cheon Muhyeok, a Swordmaster from the Central Plains, a distant world.
Gaon had battled him for seven relentless days and nights, neither able to claim victory.
Their rivalry had forged a deep bond. Gaon had shared magical theory with Cheon Muhyeok, and in return, Cheon had taught him the Heaven-Shattering Method, a mana cultivation technique.
Though they had exchanged knowledge, neither had pursued the other’s path.
Gaon had been too old to start the Heaven-Shattering Method, and Cheon Muhyeok too entrenched in his own discipline to learn magic.
But now, in the body of an 11-year-old?
‘He said it could handle any energy.’
Cheon Muhyeok had claimed the Heaven-Shattering Method could absorb any energy—mana, magi, blood energy—and grow stronger with each.
Gaon’s analysis confirmed it was a versatile technique, excelling in both physical and magical enhancement.
At that moment—
Step!
Gaon froze, not because he had reached his hideout, but because of a rustling in the underbrush ahead.
Rustle.
A crimson-furred wolf emerged, its presence laced with faint magi.
No ordinary beast, it had been transformed into a demonic creature by the forest’s lingering magi.
Grr…
The wolf growled, stalking forward.
Gaon activated his sole 1st Circle, a wry thought crossing his mind.
Good thing it’s still here.
Had the 1st Circle vanished before he arrived in this future, this wolf might have been his doom.
Without a circle, his magic would be feeble.
But with the 1st Circle, he was unshaken.
“Magic Missile,” he chanted, extending his hand.
A bolt of mana shot forth, streaking toward the wolf with deadly precision.
Boom!
The missile struck the wolf’s forehead, exploding on impact.
This was no novice’s spell.
Though limited to a 1st Circle, Gaon’s mastery—honed at the cusp of the 9th Circle—made his Magic Missile devastating. No demonic wolf could withstand it.
Thud!
The beast collapsed, dead instantly.
Gaon continued on, but as he passed the corpse, he paused again.
Step!
Not because of more wolves, but because of a peculiar sensation.
He gazed at the fallen beast.
Though dead, a faint pulse of magi lingered within—a tiny core, no larger than a fingernail.
A core?
Gaon’s eyes widened. Forming a core was no small feat.
Even powerful demonic beasts often lacked one.
For a creature so weak it succumbed to a single Magic Missile to possess a core was astonishing.
‘This is fortunate.’
A grin spread across his face.
The magi-filled core was as valuable as any elixir.
The Heaven-Shattering Method cared not for the type of energy—magi would serve just as well as mana.
“Magic Blade.”
Chanting, Gaon summoned a sharp mana blade and deftly carved out the core, revealing a crimson orb pulsing with magi.
He cleansed it with a burst of mana, then crafted a small pouch from the wolf’s hide to store it.
As he resumed his journey, a new concern arose.
‘Are there clothes in the hideout?’
He had only just realized the time jump had left him naked.
‘Please, let there be no one around…’
He fervently hoped to avoid encounters before reaching his refuge.
Rustle.
Rustle.
Two more wolves emerged, but these bore no magi—ordinary beasts.
“Magic Missile. Magic Missile.”
Gaon fired off two spells in quick succession, his mind elsewhere.
I need to advance my circles soon.
At the 2nd Circle, he could cast Magic Missile with a thought, no incantation required.
He could do so now, but it would cost double the mana—a wasteful expense.
Boom! Boom!
The missiles struck, and the wolves fell as easily as their demonic kin.
With no further interruptions, Gaon reached a cave—his hideout.
‘No people. Thank goodness.’
Relief flooded him.
The presence of a demonic beast, even a weak one, meant humans were unlikely to roam here.
Viard Forest, once Ferbeng’s domain, was no place for ordinary folk.
Entering the cave, Gaon noted its familiar state.
It’s barely changed.
Though he didn’t know how much time had passed, the cave matched his memories, suggesting his hideout remained intact.
Step!
He stopped midway through the cave, at the spot where his refuge lay hidden.
Placing his hand on the wall, he channeled mana.
Swish!
A magic circle flared, and the wall parted, revealing a short passage.
Gaon followed it for ten meters to a small chamber.
A broad smile lit his face.
Exactly as I left it.
The hideout was pristine.
A well, crafted for fresh water, sparkled clearly.
The wardrobe, desk, and bed—all artifacts—stood unchanged.
‘Not much time has passed, then?’
He had feared decades might have elapsed, but the hideout’s condition suggested only a few years.
Still, certainty eluded him.
Everything here was an artifact, forged by Kerhen, the continent’s greatest alchemist, designed to endure a century.
If Kerhen’s claims held, they could remain pristine for decades.
‘Let’s find out.’
Gaon approached a chest in the corner and opened it, sifting through its contents.
He retrieved a pocket watch—not ordinary, but a Kerhen-crafted artifact, built to run indefinitely.
It displayed not only time but also the Varta Imperial Calendar, a feature Gaon had requested to track time precisely.
With a hint of trepidation, he opened the watch.
427th Year, 9th Month, 17th Day
14:57:24
“Hmm?”
A low groan escaped him, laced with disbelief.
He stared at the calendar, his mind reeling.
427?
The Time Reversal Magic Circle had been activated on the 17th day of the 9th month, 377th year of the Varta Imperial Calendar.
“Fifty years have passed?”
I was expecting hundreds and thousands of years…