Blinding light greeted me as I opened my eyes, forcing me to squint until the brightness softened. My surroundings slowly came into focus. I was in a crib, the wooden rails smooth and intricately carved with swirling patterns that glowed faintly. Above me, three faces leaned in with curiosity.
The first belonged to a young woman, her face radiant with excitement. She was dressed in a practical outfit that spoke of a love for adventure—leather boots, a sturdy jacket, and a satchel slung over one shoulder. Her vibrant green eyes twinkled as she examined me.
The other two were older, a man and a woman who carried an air of refinement. Both had striking blue eyes and pale, smooth skin that shimmered faintly in the light. Their hair fell in long, silky waves—hers a cascade of platinum, and his a graying gold. The man's posture was rigid, disciplined, and his clothes bore subtle military insignias even within the comforts of their home.
The woman's expression, on the other hand, was soft and brimming with affection. Her hands reached into the crib, and before I could react, I was lifted into her arms. She cradled me close, her warmth enveloping me.
"Lynt," she murmured, her voice tender as she nuzzled me. "You're behaving rather oddly, little one. Not a single tear."
Lynt. That must be my name.
The man's stern expression softened as he looked at me, his lips curving into a satisfied smile. Meanwhile, the younger woman leaned in, pressing gentle kisses to my forehead.
"Father," she said, her voice filled with excitement, "when will Lynt be old enough for me to tutor?"
The man chuckled, a low and steady sound. "Soon enough, Qwuine. Your sister may very well have as much potential as you. Be ready to answer her questions and inspire her curiosity. This task may prove to be the most important one you've ever undertaken."
Wait. Sister? Did he just say sister?
I looked down at my small hands—tiny, delicate, and undeniably feminine. I blinked, processing the revelation. I was a girl in this life. Well, that was unexpected. But it didn't really matter.
As the days turned into weeks, I began piecing together my new identity. I was Lynt, second-born daughter of the Archduke of Nymedia. My parents—kind, disciplined, and oddly doting—ensured that my life was filled with every luxury and opportunity imaginable.
My room, or rather my "toddler sanctuary," was more advanced than any nursery I'd seen in my previous life. Soft cushions lined the floor, glowing runes shimmered on the walls, and shelves were stocked with books, puzzles, and games designed to stimulate my young mind.
Even at this tender age, it was clear my parents believed in fostering my potential. The books weren't just picture books; some contained basic concepts about the world, others hinted at more advanced topics. It was as if they hoped I'd absorb knowledge simply by osmosis.
To their astonishment, I didn't gravitate toward the soft toys or puzzles. Instead, I found myself drawn to the magazines stacked neatly on a low shelf. They were richly illustrated, filled with images of magical constructs, mana circuits, and complex diagrams. My tiny fingers traced the shapes, and, despite my clumsy coordination, I tried to mimic the letters I saw with a stubby piece of chalk.
The first time I successfully scrawled a semblance of a word, my parents practically burst into tears. The household erupted into celebration. My mother clutched me tightly, whispering praises, while Qwuine clapped her hands in delight.
"She's brilliant!" Qwuine declared, beaming with pride. "She's already trying to write!"
My father, ever composed, nodded approvingly. "Our Lynt is destined for great things."
As I grew, I began observing the world around me with fascination. Magic wasn't just a tool here; it was woven into the very fabric of life. The air thrummed with energy, denser and richer than anything I'd experienced before. It seemed to seep into my skin, filling me with a quiet, steady hum.
Magic was everywhere, used for both the mundane and the extraordinary. A flick of a hand could light a fire, mend a torn garment, or even summon a gentle breeze to cool a room. My sister, Qwuine, often demonstrated her own budding skills, crafting trinkets and charms with meticulous care.
One day, as she sat cross-legged on the floor of my room, she held up a small, glowing charm she had just finished. "One day, Lynt, you'll understand mana," she said, her voice both hopeful and instructional. "You'll feel it coursing through you, and then you'll wield it. You'll form spells, create circuits, and construct instructions. And that," she added with a flourish, "will just be the first step."
She leaned closer, her green eyes sparkling. "Mana isn't just about power. It's about liberation. When you understand it, truly understand it, it sets you free."
Her words struck a chord deep within me. Liberation. The concept carried weight, even in my young mind. I looked up at her, my lips struggling to form the word. Finally, I managed to stammer, "Lib… liberate?"
Qwuine froze, her eyes wide with shock and delight. She scooped me up, spinning us around in a giddy circle. "She said her first proper word!" she cried, her voice echoing through the house. "And it's liberate!"
The entire household erupted into a frenzy. Servants rushed to share the news, my parents came running, and Qwuine couldn't stop beaming.
To them, it was a simple, adorable milestone. To me, it was a declaration.
The days that followed were filled with quiet determination. I began experimenting in secret, trying to sense and manipulate the mana around me. The Freedom System, though largely silent, offered subtle guidance. It nudged me toward understanding, its presence a constant reminder of my purpose.
In this world, magic wasn't just a tool. It was a language, a living force that responded to intent and understanding. And I was determined to master it—not just for myself, but for the potential to change lives.
My sister's words stayed with me. "Mana will liberate you."
She didn't know how true those words were for me. In my previous life, I had fought against tyranny with crude tools and fragile hope. Here, I had the chance to wield something far greater.
As I sat in my room one evening, a soft glow began to emanate from my tiny hands. It was faint, barely more than a shimmer, but it was there. A thrill of excitement coursed through me.