Lucian's first month on Earth was a whirlwind of discovery. While his mortal body was fragile, his mind remained sharp, his memories of Heaven and the Abyss intact. He quickly realized that this world, this continent, was operated under its own intricate rules, and he would need to understand them to survive, let alone thrive.
The small village where he now lived was called Veloran. Tucked between sprawling hills and dense forests, it was home to a few hundred people. Life here was simple, centered around farming, crafting, and trade. Yet even in this seemingly ordinary place, the faint hum of Arcanum could be felt everywhere.
Lucian's parents, whom he now knew as Alaric and Lila, were kind and attentive. Though they treated him like any newborn, he often caught glimpses of their quiet awe when they looked at him. Perhaps it was his mismatched eyes, one silver and one a deep crimson, or perhaps they sensed something unusual about him.
As they carried him through their daily routines, he observed everything, the way Alaric infused Arcanum into tools to enhance their durability, the way Lila used her faint circles to heal small wounds. The concept of Arcanum, though familiar, seemed far more grounded here.
By the second week, Lucian had pieced together the basics of this world's power system from overheard conversations and his own observations.
Arcanum was the lifeblood of this realm, a mystical energy that all living beings could harness. Humans stored Arcanum in circles, which they cultivated within their bodies through discipline, meditation, and practice.
A human could progress through nine stages of power, each represented by an internal Arcanum circle. The first circle was small and faint, barely more than a flicker of energy. With each stage, the circle grew in size and complexity, allowing the wielder to channel more powerful abilities.
Unlike humans, angels and demons had twelve circles, with the final two, stored in their wings, representing their celestial or abyssal nature. These were known as Light Circles and Dark Circles, and they granted abilities far beyond what mortals could achieve.
Lucian listened intently as villagers spoke of legendary figures, humans who had reached the ninth circle and battled against angels or demons who wielded twelve. These stories fascinated him, and he couldn't help but imagine what it would take to master all three.
Veloran was a small corner of a much larger world, the continent known as Aetheris. From snippets of conversation, Lucian began to map out the basics:
Veloran lay within the borders of Myrdal, a peaceful yet unremarkable kingdom known for its fertile lands and simple folk. Its rulers were said to be kind but lacked the strength to defend against larger threats.
To the north lay the Blighted Lands, a desolate region where demons were said to roam freely. Few who ventured there ever returned, and those who did were marked by madness.
The Celestial Peaks: Far to the east were the Celestial Peaks, towering mountains that were said to touch the heavens. Rumor had it that angels occasionally descended there to interact with mortals.
Scattered across Aetheris were grand academies where gifted humans trained to master their Arcanum circles. Only the most talented were accepted, and those who graduated often became heroes or tyrants.
Though his mind was sharp, Lucian's body frustrated him. He struggled to lift his head, let alone crawl. The dissonance between his memories of soaring through the skies and his current helpless state gnawed at him.
But he refused to be idle. Every night, as Lila sang him to sleep, he focused inward, searching for the dormant power Elira had promised. He found it, a faint ember buried deep within him, flickering like a fragile candle.
Through sheer willpower, he began to connect with it, coaxing the energy to the surface. It was slow, agonizing work, but by the end of the month, he had achieved a tiny breakthrough.
One night, as he lay in his cradle, his hand glowed faintly with Arcanum. The light was weak, barely enough to illuminate the room, but it was proof that he could still wield his power.
Even as he learned about the human way of harnessing Arcanum, Lucian couldn't forget his heritage. He remembered the twelve circles of angels and demons, the divine and infernal powers that once coursed through him.
One question haunted him: Would he ever reclaim them?
For now, he resolved to focus on what was in front of him. If he could master the human system, he would lay the foundation for something greater, a power that could bridge all three realms.
As the month came to an end, Lucian stared at the stars through the window of his small home. The weight of his destiny pressed down on him, but beneath it all was a flicker of hope.
This is only the beginning.
One month later...
The soft glow of the oil lamp cast dancing shadows across the wooden walls of the modest home. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, a soothing melody that matched the calm of the evening.
Lucian lay in his cradle, his tiny hands clutching at the blanket that swaddled him. Though his body was weak, his mind burned with determination. He had observed enough over the past month, how Alaric infused tools with strength, how Lila healed minor injuries with faint circles of energy. He had seen the villagers sparring with small bursts of Arcanum, their concentration visible on their faces as they summoned their inner power.
Tonight, he would try.
Lucian closed his mismatched eyes, shutting out the world around him. The hum of life in the house faded until all he could hear was the rhythmic beating of his heart. His breaths slowed, each inhale drawing him deeper into himself.
He searched for the ember of energy he had felt before, the faint trace of power buried deep within his being. It wasn't like the divine or infernal strength he once wielded, this was raw, unrefined, and distinctly human.
There, he thought, sensing the faint flicker. It was small, like a spark struggling to ignite. He reached for it, willing it to grow.
At first, nothing happened. The ember remained stubbornly still, as if mocking his efforts. Frustration bubbled within him, but he pushed it aside. This wasn't the boundless power he once commanded; it required patience, discipline, and understanding.
He remembered the stories he had overheard from villagers, the cultivation techniques passed down through generations. To form the first Arcanum circle, one had to focus their energy, shaping it into a cohesive loop within their core. The process was painstaking and required absolute concentration.
Lucian visualized the ember expanding, imagining it stretching and bending into a circular shape. He felt resistance, like trying to mold stubborn clay, but he persisted. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the ember began to shift, faint lines of energy reaching outward.
Suddenly, he felt it, a surge of warmth spreading through his tiny body. The ember flickered and grew, its light pulsing faintly in the darkness of his mind. He could see it now, a small, incomplete loop glowing softly in his core.
But it wasn't stable. The energy wavered, threatening to collapse back into itself. Panic flared, but he forced himself to remain calm.
Steady, he thought, guiding the energy with care. He willed the ends of the loop to connect, completing the circle. The moment they touched, a burst of light erupted within him, and he gasped aloud.
The lamp in the room flickered, the flame swaying as if responding to his efforts.
Lucian opened his eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He glanced at his tiny hand, where a faint glow of Arcanum shimmered just beneath the surface. It was weak, barely visible, but it was there, a testament to his success.
He had done it. He had formed his first circle.
The warmth of the energy filled him, a feeling of accomplishment washing over him despite his exhaustion. This was only the beginning, but it was a step forward, a step toward reclaiming the power he had lost and mastering the potential of this new body.
Lucian lay back in his cradle, his body heavy with fatigue. The process had taken more out of him than he expected, but it also left him with a sense of clarity.
The human system of Arcanum was different from anything he had known. It was slower, more deliberate, but it had its own strengths. Each circle was a foundation, a building block that would eventually lead to immense power if cultivated properly.
He also realized that this power wasn't tied to his wings or his heritage, it was his own, something he could shape and control.
As the night deepened, Lucian stared at the ceiling, determination burning in his mismatched eyes. If this is the path I must take, I will walk it. I will master every circle, every power this world has to offer.
And deep down, he knew this was only the first step in a much greater journey.