Reincarnated as The Greatest Scientist in Another World

The sky above Holy Stone sagged beneath a veil of grim mist. On the highest throne, carved with ancient runes of long-buried mages, King Barnabas sat slumped, eyes hollow, mind adrift. His trembling fingers gripped the armrest as if Adnan Januzaj's words still coiled inside his skull — a ghost that refused to leave.

Beyond the gorge lay the Black Forest — the place where the Null, once the kingdom's living shield, had fled. Their absence had ripped open a wound in Holy Stone's defenses. Without the Null, the wild beasts they once repelled would soon crawl freely toward the gates.

Barnabas's fingers dug into the throne's ancient wood. The grand hall flickered under wan lanterns, the Hearthfilia sigil above him cast in fractured light. Silence choked the chamber — until footsteps whispered through the shadows.

A figure emerged — a man cloaked in black, his robe dragging across the marble floor, a skull-shaped mask covering his face. Dark metal rings cinched his waist; a crystal dagger hung at his side. An assassin mage — master of forbidden spells, a blade of shadows for hire.

Barnabas hissed under his breath. "Assassin mage. You've come at last."

The masked figure bowed, eyes lifeless behind the skull's hollow sockets. "Your Majesty."

"I'll pay you more than any noble's blood could fetch…" Barnabas's voice cracked under the weight of his dread. "…Wipe them out. Every last Null hiding in the Black Forest. Erase them. Burn them to ash."

The assassin mage tilted his head, as if tasting the promise of gold in the stale air. "It's always a pleasure to serve a king afraid of his own gates."

The hall fell silent once more — but within that hush, the seeds of slaughter had already taken root.

---

Morning crept through the Black Forest, fog drifting like restless spirits among giant trunks. Pale shafts of sunlight pierced the emerald canopy, sketching frail patterns over the quiet column of Null refugees below.

At the front, Raksa strode ahead, sweat beading down his broad shoulders. He pushed aside tangled branches with heavy hands. Beside him, Tila carried Suha on her back — the girl still unconscious, her breath faint but steady against Tila's shoulder.

Behind them, children trudged with hollow eyes and empty bellies, tiny hands locked in their mothers' grips. Some coughed softly, hunger muffled behind cracked lips. At the rear, Zuko braced Ain with an arm around his ribs. Ain limped on bruised legs, but his eyes darted through the undergrowth — hunting threat and hope in equal measure.

Hours passed beneath the murmuring canopy until Raksa lifted his hand, signaling the line to halt. They gathered in a clearing where ancient roots rose like a natural dais. Sunlight broke through the leaves, spilling halos on the mossy ground.

Raksa turned to Zuko. "We rest here."

Zuko eased Ain onto a thick root, then helped Tila lay Suha among the leaves. One by one, the Null dropped to the forest floor, too weary for words. Quiet murmurs drifted through the clearing — dreams of warm bread, dreams of a place to call home.

Raksa stepped close, four young Null men at his back, shoulders still brimming with restless fight.

"Zuko," Raksa said, nodding toward the deeper woods. "We're heading out. Hunting. Foraging. The children need food tonight. Do we have your leave?"

Zuko studied him for a heartbeat, then gave a single nod. "Be careful."

Raksa grinned, thumped Zuko's chest with a rough palm. "Watch over Ain and Suha. And if anything happens — make us another bridge of ice."

Zuko let out a thin laugh. "If there's any mana left in me."

Raksa bared his teeth in a grin, then vanished into the green shadows with his young hunters. The forest swallowed their steps whole.

---

Zuko sat beside Suha, brushing a stray leaf from her tangled hair. Nearby, Ain stirred, blinking up at the trembling canopy.

"This place…" Ain rasped, pressing his back to the gnarled trunk. "It's not right yet."

Zuko cocked his head. "Why not?"

Ain pulled in a shallow breath. "We need flat land. Wide enough for fields. We need a river — irrigation, maybe even a water mana turbine. If we can build that, we'll have food, power… But we'll have to invent it all from sticks and stones."

Zuko snorted softly — a rare flicker of warmth in his stoic eyes. "Dreaming of turbines in monster country?"

Ain laughed — a sharp bark that broke into a cough. He clutched his ribs, wincing. "Dreams are where it begins. We Null can't wield magic — but we wield thought. If we don't build, we vanish."

Zuko didn't answer, but his palm rested on Ain's shoulder — steady, grounding. In that simple touch, something quiet and fierce sparked back to life.

---

Deeper in the woods, Raksa and the four young Null crept through underbrush, spears carved from broken timber, knives chipped from black stone.

A low grunt froze Raksa in place. Just ahead, a boar rooted through the leaf litter, snout buried in the soil. Its eyes glinted, wild and unblinking.

Raksa raised two fingers. The young men spread out, circling slow.

A twig snapped under a careless heel. The boar's ears flicked — it snorted and bolted. But Raksa lunged from the brush like an unleashed bear, arms wrapping around the beast's bristled neck. It squealed, thrashing madly.

Mud and leaves flew. The young hunters dove in, grappling its legs, binding it tight with frayed rope until the boar collapsed, spent and beaten.

Panting, Raksa threw his head back and laughed. "Tonight, the children feast!"

The laughter died as a cold breeze snaked through the clearing. A ripple of unnatural frost drifted over bark and root. Blue light flickered — thin threads of arcane energy shimmered among the branches, coiling tight around their arms and ankles.

The Null gasped as the threads pulled taut, glowing like liquid sapphire. One by one, they slammed to the forest floor, bound by magic, breath turning white in the sudden chill.

Figures emerged — silhouettes carved from shadow and leaf. Long ears, green cloaks woven from living vines, eyes gleaming like dew at dawn.

Elves.

---

The five Null lay helpless, pinned by shimmering bindings. Dozens of Elves formed a silent ring around them — most were women, dusk-beautiful, but their gazes sharp as drawn blades. They moved like mist over water; even the earth seemed to hush beneath their bare feet.

One stepped forward — taller than the rest, hair a cascade of emerald silk, armor of leaves hugging her like living silk. Her eyes glowed green, calm and cold as a frozen pond.

"Humans?" Her voice was honey over frost.

Raksa lowered his eyes, throat dry.

"This is the first time humans have dared to tread the sacred woods," she said, crouching before Raksa. Her scent was rain on moss. He didn't dare look up — but her chest hovered inches from his face, and heat flared up his neck.

A soft giggle danced from behind her. "He's blushing, Commander."

The emerald-haired Elf arched a brow, lips curling into a cruel, amused smile. "Humans. Slaves to your own lust. Do you like what you see?"

Raksa's mouth flapped, words stuck to his tongue. "I… I… uh…"

SLAP! The crack of her palm echoed through the clearing. Raksa's cheek burned, dust drifting from the blow. The other Null winced, half-horrified, half-bemused.

She rose, eyes flashing like cut emerald. "Consider yourselves fortunate. Monsters would have devoured you — but the beasts have fled west these past nights. Something calls to them."

Raksa swallowed, voice raw but steady. "Commander… please… our people are starving. Children, elders — fifty of us. Help us. Please." He pressed his forehead into the dirt.

The forest seemed to hold its breath. Then the Elf's smile softened — a blade sheathed for a heartbeat. "Call me Syarla. High Commander of the Blackwood Elves."

A flick of her finger — the bindings unraveled, drifting into blue sparks. Raksa stumbled forward, bowing low once more. "Thank you, Commander Syarla."

Syarla's eyes narrowed. "Show me to your people."

---

Back at the camp, Zuko shifted uneasily, eyes locked on the shadows. Ain sat up, brow furrowed.

"They should've been back by now…" Ain muttered.

A rustle — then silence broke as dozens of Elves dropped from the canopy, some perched in the trees, others stepping from the shadows between roots.

Syarla strode forward, hair gleaming like wet leaves in sunlight. Zuko's breath caught. He lifted a hand — frost spiraled around his wrist. But before he could cast, a breeze flicked the magic away like snuffing a candle.

"Such rudeness," Syarla chided, her tone smooth, edged with iron.

Raksa and the hunters stumbled from the brush behind her. "Zuko! They're friends!"

Zuko hesitated, lowering his arm. Ain scowled at Syarla, mouth curled. "She's trouble. I can feel it."

A sharp crack — Ain recoiled, a red mark blooming on his cheek. "Mind your tongue," Syarla said, bored and cold.

Raksa stifled a laugh. "Zuko, Ain — she's here to help."

Zuko dipped his head in apology. Ain sneered but got a flick on the forehead from Zuko. "Bow, fool."

Syarla's laughter rippled through the clearing. "I do like your spirit."

Ain rubbed his sore face, then spoke — of Holy Stone, betrayal, dreams built from dust and iron scraps. Syarla listened, shadows and secrets flickering behind her eyes.

"You call yourselves Null?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Ain said. "We are Null."

Her gaze narrowed. "Do you know of a boy named Asik Null?"

Ain squinted. "Who's that? Your lover?"

WHACK! Zuko cuffed the back of his head. "Forgive him, Commander. He's hopeless."

A frail elder stepped forward, staff crooked in his trembling grip. "Asik Null was our ancestor."

Syarla's eyes widened — just for a heartbeat, a memory flickered behind her lashes: a young man's grin, careless and warm. She exhaled softly. "Very well. You'll come with us."

A hush fell — then hope flickered through the Null like dawn breaking behind storm clouds. A child clutched her mother's skirt, whispering, "Mama… will we have bread again?"

Raksa faced Syarla, voice hushed. "Commander… your connection to Asik Null?"

Syarla's smile was a ghost in the dusk. "He was kind. Nothing more."

---

Beneath the endless green, the Null followed Syarla's patrol. Branches creaked under cautious feet. Ahead, Ain edged closer to an Elf with hair the color of autumn flame.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Mathilda," she said, eyes glancing at him like moonlight through mist.

"Why so tense?" Ain pressed. "Isn't the forest safe?"

Mathilda's breath fogged the air. "Full of monsters. But for days now, they've all fled west. Something powerful calls to them — something even the beasts obey."

Ain's throat went dry. This forest was beautiful — but every shadow could hold jaws waiting to snap.

They reached a barrier of colossal roots, twisted together like sleeping dragons. Syarla stepped forward, lifted her hand, and whispered, "Release."

Light bloomed — emerald and gold. The darkness parted. Beyond it: towering trees cradled glowing homes high in their branches. Bridges of woven vines arched between trunks. Elf children raced across rope paths, laughter mingling with the hush of the forest. Lantern-flowers dripped silver dew onto mossy bark.

For the first time, the Null looked up — and saw the secret the forest had hidden for centuries: a kingdom in the treetops, breathing with the hush of living wood and ancient magic.