This is a story from the age of sorrows when the gods still walked among mortals 

 a powerful and great giant whose body was like a mountain, towering above all others a head that pierced the clouds, clad in ice and crowned with smoke

It's eyes burned like flames and its gaze was as frost that pierces with deadly cold. 

Joten was the name of this mountain and it was the greatest enemy the world had ever known, it waged war to conquer all living beings beneath its gaze. Only through the combined efforts of the great dragon Eragon, the legendary king Fingol, and the archmage Arya was it finally defeated.

The battle raged for days. Armies of men, elves, and beastkin concentrated their power against the minions Jotun summoned. Both sides fought valiantly for what they believed was the fate of the world.

Eragon, the great dragon, soared through the skies like a living shadow, his massive wings casting darkness over the battlefield, breathing fire upon the enemy forces below. King Fingol, standing tall atop a mighty warhorse, led his troops into the heart of the fray, his sword and shield gleaming in the light of the setting sun. Arya, the archmage, wove spells from runes of power, summoning bolts of lightning and creating walls of ice to protect her allies from Jotun's relentless onslaught.

As the tide of battle began to turn in their favor, they knew victory required striking at the heart of Jotun's power. And so, they made their final charge.

Finally, they faced Jotun himself. The mountain-sized foe towered above them, its eyes burning with a hate that threatened to consume them all.

The world groaned at the battle's intensity.

Separated from his friends by a sea of foes, Fingol stood alone against the great enemy. His sword gleamed in the fading sunlight, his shield carved from the heartwood of an ancient tree shimmered with defensive enchantments that repelled most blows. Yet, despite these defenses, Fingol knew he could not withstand Jotun’s might forever.

Just as hope seemed lost, the great dragon Eragon and Archmage Arya arrived and together, they utterly destroyed Jotun, but at the cost of their own lives.

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When I woke up, the first thing I felt was my eyes opening to a blurry world. Dim candlelight filled my vision as I looked around.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Once my vision cleared, I found a young blonde woman gazing at me.

(Who is it?)

Beside her was a man of a similar young age with light brown hair and a beard, giving me a smile.

He was a strong and big man, his muscles so ripped that he looked like a massive bear, yet his face seemed kindly rather than unpleasant.

The woman cracked a smile as she watched me and said something.

What is she saying? I couldn’t understand it at all.

“——?????—-????,” the man replied with a gentle expression. Really, what did he just say? I couldn’t understand it at all.

“——???—–???”

A third person’s voice came from somewhere.

I couldn’t see who it was.

I tried to sit up and ask them, “Where is this place, and who are you guys?”

But all that came from my lips was a groan or heavy breathing.

My body couldn’t move... no, I didn’t have the strength to move it.

I felt sensations in my fingers and wrists, but I couldn’t move my upper body.

“???–????”

In the end, the man lifted me up.

This is a joke, right? My body is so small that I could feel the man lifting me with one arm.

A month passed by.

It looked like I was reincarnated. I finally realized that fact... It was absurd, almost inconceivable, but here I am.

I had become a baby.

I didn’t know why I had reincarnated or which god had done so. Considering I never prayed to anyone, it must have been a side effect of magic.

During the war, hundreds of spells were unleashed, and the world went mad. At that moment, the effects must have been devastating, so perhaps wild magic is responsible... Maybe that possibility was very high?

I don’t know.

Over the first year, listening to my parents’ conversations, I started to understand things bit by bit.

The language they spoke sounded strangely like a variant of Fartch, heavily influenced by western speech.

By this time, I was able to crawl.

Being able to move was a wonderful thing.

I had never felt such gratefulness for being able to move.

“She’ll run all over the place if you lose sight of her for even a moment.”

“Isn’t it good that she’s active? I was so worried when she didn’t cry at all when she was born.”

“Even now, she doesn’t cry.”

My parents had this discussion when they saw me crawling everywhere.

I was not at an age when I’d cry loudly when hungry. After all, even by elven standards, I was middle-aged; by human standards, probably ancient.

I had my pride as an adult; crying is for children, not me.

Even though I could only crawl, once I did, I understood a lot of things.

First of all, this family was relatively well-off.

The building was a large stone mansion with over thirty rooms and a grand hall. They even had a couple of servants.

The place was an agricultural land.

From the scenery I could see from the windows, it was in a tranquil landscape of farming plots.

The other houses were scattered around, and on one side, I could see three families amidst the wheat fields.

It was quite a rural place, but the architecture of the houses seemed foreign and different.

I had heard that foreign countries had unique styles, but as a wandering mage, not an architect.

With nothing to do, I climbed onto the chair as usual, intending to admire the field’s scenery. When I looked out the window, I was shocked.

Father was waving his hands around in the courtyard.

(Wha... huh? What is he doing?)

A large triangle made of light appeared, and a blast of fire shot out from the center.

(Ah!...)

Due to the shock, I fell from the chair.

There was a throbbing pain at the back of my head, but I was more worried about what I had seen.

(What was that?!)

That was magic, I knew that much, but in my 300 years, I had never seen, heard, or read about whatever that was.

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A/N I really hate those super OP MC going to magic school I doubt that MC can learn something in this school.The "genius" in this school doesn't care about study or graduation but about bullying bullies and crushing meaningless pride...not to mention that everything your teachers are teaching you is waste look at me a hundred years old reincarnated man-

child who knows what real magic is....oh and your teachers or super elite students are actually demons who made magic weak and non progressive so that humans will be weak....so useless I just die for like a hundred years and you all start sucking