Pranks and Powerup

Let's get one thing straight: I'm not a hero. I'm not a villain, either. I'm just… Ren. The guy who got reincarnated by accident. Yeah, you heard that right. *Accident.* Some god out there screwed up, and now I'm stuck in this medieval fantasy world with a class that's about as useful as a screen door on a submarine. Magician. Can you believe it? Not a sorcerer, not a wizard, not even an illusionist. Just a plain old magician. You know, the kind who pulls rabbits out of hats and makes coins disappear. Except I don't even have a hat. Or a rabbit.

But hey, I'm not complaining. Well, not anymore. At first, I was pissed. I mean, who wouldn't be? You die, get reincarnated into a new world, and instead of being handed some overpowered ability or a legendary sword, you get… party tricks. The god who brought me here even had the nerve to apologize. "Sorry," he said, "I already have too many heroes in this world. You're just… extra." *Extra.* Can you believe that? Then he gave me a pouch of coins, told me to survive for a month, and poof—he was gone. No instructions, no guidance, no "here's how to not die in a world full of monsters and magic." Just… good luck, kid.

So, what did I do? I survived. Barely. I spent that first month scraping by, doing odd jobs, and trying not to get killed by bandits or wild animals. But then, something clicked. If the gods didn't want me here, fine. I'd make them regret it. I'd be a nuisance. A thorn in their side. And what better way to annoy the gods than by messing with their favorite people? That's right—the royal family.

Let me explain my magic. It's not exactly impressive, but it's versatile. I've got four basic spells, and I've learned to combine them in ways that make people think I'm some kind of magical genius.

First, there's **Minor Illusion**. It lets me create small, visual illusions—like making an object look like it's floating, changing its color, or creating a simple hologram. The illusions are small-scale and short-lived, though. They can't interact with the physical world, and if someone touches them, they disappear. Still, it's great for distractions.

Then there's **Sound Manipulation**. This spell lets me produce simple sounds—like a bell ringing, a whistle, or, yes, a fart noise. The sounds are short-range and can't be too loud or complex, but it's perfect for messing with people. 

Next up is **Minor Levitation**. This one lets me lift small objects and move them slowly through the air. I'm talking really small—like a coin, a cup, or a crown. The heavier the object, the more mana it drains, and the movement is slow and clumsy. But it's great for making things "disappear" or creating the illusion of haunted objects.

Finally, there's **Minor Enchantment**. This spell lets me temporarily imbue an object with a simple magical effect. I can make a sword glow faintly, cause a chair to wobble, or make a ledger's numbers rearrange themselves. The effects are weak and short-lived, though. The enchantment breaks if the object is used too much or if someone dispels it. But it's perfect for pranks.

My first major prank was the **Dancing Armor Incident**. The royal castle is full of suits of armor—big, shiny, and completely useless unless you're trying to intimidate someone. I enchanted one of them to "come to life," using Minor Levitation to make it move and Minor Illusion to make it look like it was dancing. Then I added Sound Manipulation to give it a jaunty tune. The guards freaked out, the nobles screamed, and the king ordered the armor destroyed. It took three knights and a priest to "exorcise" it. Meanwhile, I was hiding in the rafters, laughing so hard I almost fell.

Then there was the **Endless Bread Prank**. The royal kitchen is always baking bread for the nobles, so I enchanted a loaf to regenerate every time someone took a bite. No matter how much they ate, the loaf stayed the same size. At first, the kitchen staff thought it was a miracle. Then the nobles started complaining about being too full to eat their lavish dinners. The king declared it a curse and had the loaf thrown into the moat. I later heard the fish were enjoying it.

And who could forget the **Talking Portrait**? The royal family has a massive portrait of King Aldemar hanging in the grand hall. I enchanted it to "speak," using Sound Manipulation to make it spout ridiculous compliments about the king. "Oh, what a handsome chin!" it would say. "Such regal posture! Truly, the gods' finest creation!" The king was flattered at first, but then the portrait started criticizing his decisions. "Are you sure about that tax hike, Your Majesty? The peasants are already starving." The king had the portrait taken down, but not before the entire court had a good laugh.

The kingdom I've found myself in is called **Eryndor**, and it's a mess. The streets are filled with beggars, the fields are worked by starving farmers, and the nobles spend their days lounging in their mansions, sipping wine and pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist. The gods, meanwhile, seem to love this arrangement. They bless the rich, ignore the poor, and occasionally send down a "hero" to deal with any problems that might threaten the status quo. It's a system that's rigged from top to bottom, and the royal family is the smug face of it all.

Speaking of the royal family, let me tell you about them. The king, **Aldemar the Third**, is about as pleasant as a toothache. He's a tall, broad-shouldered man with a face that looks like it was carved out of granite—hard, cold, and completely devoid of humor. He's got a crown that's way too big for his head (probably to compensate for something) and a temper that's even bigger. His idea of diplomacy is shouting until people agree with him, and his idea of justice is throwing anyone who disagrees with him into the dungeon.

Then there's **Queen Seraphine**, a cold, calculating woman who wields significant influence behind the scenes. She's rumored to dabble in dark magic, though I've yet to see any proof of that. Their son, **Prince Cedric**, is a spoiled, arrogant young man who dreams of glory but lacks the skill to achieve it. He's often the target of my pranks. And finally, there's **Princess Elara**, the youngest and most compassionate member of the family. She secretly sympathizes with the poor and occasionally helps me, though I don't know it yet.

The king isn't the only one who's noticed me. The gods are starting to pay attention, too. I can feel it—a faint, almost imperceptible shift in the air whenever I pull off a particularly audacious prank. It's like they're watching, waiting to see what I'll do next. And that's exactly what I want. If they didn't want me here, fine. I'll make them regret it. I'll be the biggest nuisance this world has ever seen.

Because in a world full of heroes and villains, sometimes it's the guy in the middle who has the most fun. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a prank to plan. The king's birthday is coming up, and I hear he's got a thing for magic.