Three years have passed since I was born, and I can now walk and speak with my parents. These early years have been full of discovery. As I've grown more aware of my surroundings, I've come to understand that this world is one of swords and magic—something I never could have imagined in my previous life. I've learned much from my father's books, as he seems to have an extensive collection. Despite the expense of books in this world, my father possesses many. This hints that we are not as poor as I once thought.
One book, in particular, has captured my attention. It details the history of this kingdom, Crescent, and its ongoing war against demons—a conflict that has raged for over twenty years. The kingdom actively recruits those with magical affinity or talent in swordsmanship to enroll in the academy in the capital. There, they hone their skills to fight on the front lines. What's even more surprising is that both my mother and father have served on the battlefield. They aren't just ordinary parents; they are soldiers.
I've learned that soldiers are given a year of rest for every year they spend on the battlefield. Pregnant soldiers receive a ten-year exemption, allowing them to raise their children, though the father must still fulfill his duty. This explains why my father was absent for a year when I was two. He had been fulfilling his obligations to the kingdom while my mother stayed with me.
Now, as I sit in my father's study room, a place that has become my sanctuary, I immerse myself in a book on the basics of water magic. I've been reading this book for a month, trying to make sense of its teachings, but one concept eludes me—sensing mana. The book states that before one can learn magic, they must first be able to sense the mana within them. Despite my best efforts, this ability remains out of reach.
"I wonder how I can sense my mana," I mumble to myself, staring up at the ceiling in frustration. Just then, the door creaks open, and my father steps into the room.
"Will, you're here again?" My father's voice is exasperated but gentle. "How many times have I told you this isn't a place to play?"
He doesn't seem angry, just weary from repeating himself. I've been hesitant to ask my father about mana, fearing he might find it strange that a three-year-old is so interested in such matters. But I've reached a point where I can't afford to wait any longer. I need his guidance, even if it means revealing my unusual curiosity.
"Father!" I call out, a note of determination in my voice.
"Hm?" He responds, a questioning look in his eyes.
"What is mana?" I ask, closing my eyes, bracing myself for his reaction. Will he think I'm odd? Or worse, will he dismiss my question entirely?
But instead of the response I feared, I hear something entirely unexpected.
"My son," he begins, and I tense, waiting for what comes next. "Are you interested in magic? Is that why you're always here?" His tone is enthusiastic, his smile stretching from ear to ear. "You should have said so from the start! I could have helped you much earlier."
His excitement catches me off guard. I never knew my father was so passionate about magic. His eyes sparkle with an energy that I've never seen before. It's as if he's been waiting for this moment, for the chance to share his knowledge with me.
"Father, what is mana?" I ask again, my voice small as I try to sound like a curious child.
"Mana is the energy within your body, stored in what we call your OD," he explains, his voice full of eagerness. "It's what allows us to use magic. But before you can cast spells, you need to learn to sense your mana."
He seems almost giddy, which is a stark contrast to his usual calm and somewhat aloof demeanor. It's as if discussing magic has awakened something within him—a side of him I've never seen before. He looks almost childlike in his excitement, which is both endearing and slightly unnerving.
"Sense the mana?" I echo, tilting my head in feigned innocence.
"Normally, you can only sense your mana when you're around seven years old, after visiting the cathedral to check if you have an affinity for magic," he says, his tone taking on a more instructive edge. "But don't worry, my son. Your father here knows a way to help you sense your mana even at the age of three."
So, he does remember that I'm just a child. For a moment, I thought his enthusiasm had made him forget.
"I came across a method in my younger days," he continues, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "a way to help a child sense their mana without needing to wait until they're older."
"The cathedral you mentioned—what is it?" I ask, curious about this place he speaks of.
"It's where children go when they turn seven," he explains, his tone growing more serious. "There, they are assessed to determine if they have an affinity for magic or a talent for swordsmanship. It's a crucial moment in a child's life."
He pauses, then extends his hand to me. "Come here, my son. Place your hand in mine."
I do as he asks, placing my small hand in his much larger one. The warmth of his palm is comforting, but before I can dwell on it, a strange sensation shoots through my body. It's as if something has awakened within me—a force I've never felt before.
"What… what is that?" I almost blurt out, but I manage to hold my tongue.
"Did you feel it?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with pride. "That surge in your body—that was mana. That was the switch, so to speak, to unlock your ability to sense it. Now, concentrate. Feel it within you. I'm sure you can sense it now."
I focus inward, searching for this new presence within me. And just as he said, I can feel it—a faint, pulsing energy coursing through my veins, as if something has been unsealed. It's an exhilarating sensation, one that fills me with both excitement and a sense of responsibility.
"Now, follow my words," my father instructs, his tone becoming more authoritative.
"I call a pleasant burbling stream here and now," he chants, and I repeat the words after him, feeling the mana within me stir in response.
"Let the tremendous protection of water be on the location thou seekest," he continues, and again, I echo his words, my voice trembling slightly with anticipation.
"Water ball," he finishes, and I repeat the final words of the incantation.
To my amazement, a small ball of water forms in the air before me. It hovers for a moment, suspended by the mana I've summoned. But then, before I can control it, the water ball shoots forward, splashing directly into my father's face.
I freeze, expecting him to be angry. But instead of scolding me, my father bursts into laughter.
"Hahahahahahaha! What a genius son I have! At the age of three, he can cast a water ball!" He laughs, wiping the water from his face, his eyes sparkling with joy. "Hahahahahaha! I will teach you everything I know, my son. Even if I'm not here, you will be able to protect yourself."
His laughter is infectious, and I can't help but smile, relief flooding through me. This is the second time I've seen him so happy. The first time was when I was born. To think that something as simple as a water ball could bring him so much joy…
As my father continues to laugh, I realize that this is just the beginning. The world of magic is vast and full of possibilities, and I've only just scratched the surface. But with my father by my side, guiding me, I feel confident that I can master it.
In this life, I won't be the helpless child I once was. I will grow stronger, learn more, and maybe—just maybe—I'll be able to change my fate in this world.