Supreme Mage System

Brain Storage, welcome to deposit anytime.

(This book is based on the original work with private settings)

November 7, 1986. In a Victorian terraced house on the outskirts of London, the air was filled with a stuffiness that was out of place with the warm autumn sun outside. This stuffiness mainly came from the birthday boy, Silas Cyril, himself.

He buried half his face in a velvet pillow, his light brown curly hair messy and sticking up, as if expressing silent protest against a world trying to appease him with clear weather. The bedroom was beautiful, filled with expensive toys. On the windowsill sat a large, unopened box tied with a ribbon—the latest Lego set he had begged for last week. But now, none of it held any appeal.

"Silas! Darling, time to get up!" His mother, Pella, called out cheerfully, accompanied by a knock on the door. "Birthday boy, you have your favorite chocolate cake today!"

Silas let out a muffled sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, burying his head deeper into the pillow. Favorite? That was yesterday's Silas's favorite. Today's Silas, the moment he woke up, was seized by an indescribable, bone-deep weariness. It wasn't physical exhaustion, but a mental... sloth. It was as if a voice whispered in his mind: all of this, getting up, getting dressed, going downstairs, facing relatives who came to congratulate him, pretending to be excited while opening gifts, forcing a smile during the "Happy Birthday" song... how tedious, how boring.

"Leave me alone, God..." he mumbled into the pillow, his voice muffled. "It's my birthday... but I don't want to celebrate it."

He just wanted to sleep. He needed a place that was absolutely quiet, undisturbed, where he could sleep peacefully until the end of time. This room wouldn't do; his parents could come in at any moment. The closet? Too small. The garden shed? Cold and dirty.

This intense desire—"I want to go somewhere I can sleep peacefully!"—coursed through his muddled mind like an electric current. Almost subconsciously, with a hint of annoyance and carelessness, his right hand emerged from the covers. He made a casual circle in the empty air in front of him.

His fingertips brushed against the cold air.

Then, the unbelievable happened.

A faint golden spark, like a light from a faulty Christmas tree string, erupted from where his fingertip had traced. Immediately after, more sparks crackled and popped, quickly forming a shimmering arc of light. His finger seemed to become an invisible brush, and the air became the canvas. As he completed the circular trajectory, a ring made of countless leaping, shining golden-orange sparks appeared before his bed!

Inside the ring, the familiar bedroom wall was gone. It was a blurry, distorted scene, like looking through rippling hot water. Vaguely, one could discern what seemed to be a corner of a room, a bed that looked exceptionally soft, covered with a dark blue blanket.

Silas remained in the pose of drawing the circle, frozen. He blinked, then rubbed his eyes hard. The spark ring still hovered there stably, emitting a continuous, low hum, like a sleeping beast snoring.

His sleepiness was instantly blown away, replaced by a bone-chilling astonishment.

"What is this?" he whispered, his voice full of disbelief.

Then, as if a forbidden switch had been flipped, a torrent, completely alien yet incredibly familiar, surged into his mind!

Agony!

Not a physical blow, but fragments of memories, like shards of glass, poured in madly. Scenes, feelings, entire lifetimes... He saw a young man in a white coat recording data under a microscope; he smelled disinfectant mixed with instant noodles; he felt the sensation of typing on a keyboard; he heard a familiar Chinese pop song... Finally, blinding headlights, deafening horns, and the brief, weightless sensation of being flung through the air by immense force...

"Uh... wait..." Silas clutched his head, which felt like it was splitting open, and curled up. "Thinking of something not so good..."

The torrent of memories gradually subsided, converging into a clear, flowing river of life belonging to another person. A soul from a distant Eastern country, a twenty-year-old medical student named "Lin Yuan," had his short life ended by a runaway truck on his way home from late-night experiments.

Chaos, contradiction, absurdity... The memories of two lives intertwined and collided in his seven-year-old brain. He was Silas Cyril, a somewhat lazy, Scottish boy who grew up in London. He was also Lin Yuan, a diligent (at least most of the time) and aspiring student from China.

After several minutes of absolute silence, Silas, or rather, the new individual formed by the fusion of two souls, slowly raised his head. His eyes no longer held the innocence of a seven-year-old child, but were filled with complex shock, bewilderment, and an almost comical realization.

"Uh... so this counts as my second life?" He touched his face, then looked at his hands, which were clearly much smaller. "I was hit by a truck in my last life... does this count as transmigration?"

He carefully "flipped through" his new and old memories, trying to make sense of it all.

"No, I have complete memories from infancy to now... Hmm, it's more like... reincarnation, but the Meng Po soup was watered down, and I accidentally activated my past life memories?" He muttered to himself, his logic surprisingly clear for a child. "This isn't reincarnation, this is transmigration... No, 'awakening' is probably more accurate?"

Subconsciously, a string of fluent Chinese words tumbled out of his mouth: "Actually, it's a bit of a shame, because I was living pretty well in my last life. Although my family might not have been as rich, the food in England is terrible..."

The taste bud memories from his past life resurfaced. The "terrifying" memories of fish and chips, stargazer pie, and various boiled vegetables instantly diluted the shock of his newly awakened memories. His current family, with his father Anthony being a senior analyst in the financial city and his mother Pella a gallery partner, had excellent material conditions. But... "The quality of British cuisine is despair-inducing, even across time and space." He lamented in Chinese.

Just as he was sighing about his past and present lives and the "cuisine" of Britain, looking at the still-stable portal of sparks, a voice sounded directly from the depths of his mind. The voice sounded a bit mechanical, yet lazy and playful, like a customer service representative who had just been woken up.

[Yes, yes, you finally remembered. Otherwise, I would have slept in your brain forever...]

Silas jolted, nearly rolling off the bed. He looked around the room in panic. Besides him, there was only the humming portal.

"Who? Who's talking?"

[Who else could it be? Your dear, hardworking system, who's been waiting for you to awaken until it's almost grown cobwebs.] The voice was tinged with teasing.

"System..." Silas's mouth twitched, his expression becoming extremely strange. "This isn't a novel, where would a system come from... Oh, wait, it actually is."

This portal before him, the extra memories in his head, and this direct mental communication... the classic web novel transmigration/reincarnation cheat, all present and accounted for.

[Bingo! You're not reacting too slowly.] The system's voice became cheerful. [Yes, yes, would you like some beginner benefits? Honey~]

Silas took a deep breath, trying to force himself to accept this surreal reality. He pointed at the portal. "Oh, I think... I might..." He looked at the hand he had used to draw the circle, his fingertips still seeming to retain that strange, energy-guiding sensation. "...be a mage?"

Doctor Strange! Stephen Strange! Kamar-Taj! Those cool magic circles, portals, mirror dimensions! As a young man who loved Marvel movies and devoured comics in his previous life, this was just perfect!

"Awesome!" An irrepressible excitement washed away his previous confusion and complaints. His eyes lit up. "My favorite character is Doctor Strange!"

[Bingo!] The system's tone held a triumphant "You guessed it." [I'm here to help you become the Sorcerer Supreme! Given your feat of 'opening a door with your bare hands' today (although the destination seemed to be the empty bed in your guest room), here are some early beginner benefits!]

Before the voice finished, with a soft poof, two items appeared out of thin air and landed on Silas's blanket.

A bronze ring with an ancient design, inlaid with some kind of metal in the center—the Suspended Ring.

And a neatly folded set of deep blue robes made of a peculiar material. And a dark red cloak that looked heavy but felt incredibly light. The collar of the cloak twitched playfully, like a curious little animal.

Silas picked up the Suspended Ring, then touched the Cloak of Levitation, which seemed to have a life of its own. His heart pounded with excitement. This was like a dream come true! But soon, he keenly noticed a problem.

"Wait," he frowned, scrutinizing the system in his mind like a little detective. "I found a loophole."

[What loophole?] The system played dumb.

"Where's my Eye of Agamotto?" Silas stated directly. "Where's the Time Stone? You're not giving me such an important item? Without it, how can I use the 'Dormammu, I've come to bargain' trick?"

Time loop, that was a life-saving divine skill!

The system was silent for two seconds, then replied in an almost rogue-like tone: [Not giving it~ And why aren't you asking for the Book of the Vishanti, the Darkhold, and the Staff of the Watoom, honey~ Those are even more advanced items, don't even think about them for now.]

Silas: "..." Fine, he knew it. This system didn't seem very reliable.

"You have to eat one bite at a time, and a mage has to practice step by step," the system said in an old, serious tone. "You can't even control the most basic teleportation portal properly (look where you opened it). If I gave you the Eye of Agamotto, would you trap yourself in a time paradox until the universe's heat death? Current mission: Master the correct use of the Suspended Ring, and stably open and close portals to designated locations. Reward: None (you can consider it pocketed by me). Penalty: None (after all, if you blew yourself up, I'd lose my host)."

Just as Silas was about to argue, the bedroom door was knocked on even louder.

"Silas! If you don't get up soon, the chocolate on the cake will melt!" It was his father, Anthony's, deep voice, with a hint of feigned impatience.

Silas jolted awake. He looked at the mage robes, the Suspended Ring, the cloak on the bed, and the portal to the guest room that was still open. What if his parents saw this...

"Oh no!"

He frantically tried to hide these "contraband" items while simultaneously focusing on the portal, attempting to make it disappear with his mind. But the portal remained motionless. In his desperation, he subconsciously waved his hand again, smearing the fiery ring like erasing a blackboard.

With a "crackling" sound, the fiery ring flickered a few times and suddenly vanished as if it had never existed. The bedroom returned to its original state.

Silas let out a long sigh of relief, quickly shoving the Suspended Ring under his pillow and balling up the mage robes and cloak before stuffing them into the deepest part of the closet. The cloak seemed reluctant, its collar snagging his finger before being grudgingly shoved in.

He had just jumped back into bed and wrapped himself in the covers, pretending to have just woken up, when the bedroom door was pushed open.

His father, Anthony, entered with a breakfast tray, followed by his mother, Pella, holding a small video camera. Their faces were beaming with warm smiles.

"Happy birthday, my little man!" Anthony placed the tray on the nightstand and ruffled Silas's messy hair.

Pella aimed the camera at him. "Look who's seven! Tell us, birthday boy, what did you wish for this year?"

Silas looked at his parents' concerned faces, feeling the vast and strange memories and knowledge in his mind, as well as the unreliable system in his head that seemed to be chuckling. He opened his mouth and finally, in a tone mixed with the innocence of a seven-year-old and the complexity of a transmigator's soul, slowly said:

"I wished... for world peace, and... for today's cake not to be too sweet."

Anthony and Pella blinked in surprise, then burst into laughter, finding their son particularly amusing today.

Only Silas knew that his ordinary (perhaps except for a bit of laziness) childhood had completely ended on the morning of his seventh birthday, starting with that casual circle. A path of a "mage," filled with sparks, magic, complaints, and unknown adventures, was slowly unfolding before him.

And his first challenge might be how to explain his sudden aversion to traditional English cuisine without his parents sending him to a child psychologist.

"Oh, and," he added mentally to the system, "if you could include a copy of the Compendium of Chinese Cuisine as a beginner's bonus, I think our cooperation would be much more pleasant."

System: "[...] Request logged, priority: low. Please complete your portal practice first, future Sorcerer Supreme."

PS: A quick note here, Silas isn't truly reborn. He just watched his past life's memories like a movie... he didn't fully experience it, so he doesn't completely inherit his past life's soul and acts a bit childish... My apologies, everyone! I will listen to all your suggestions! I read every comment carefully!