The days bled into weeks as Aric threw himself into his training with a determination that even his father could not ignore. He woke up at dawn, ready to begin his rigorous schedule of physical training, magic studies, and swordsmanship. The days were long, and the demands on his young body were immense, but there was no room for weakness.
At first, his efforts were met with skepticism. He was only eight years old, after all. His father had initially thought it a passing fancy—an innocent desire to be more like the knights who roamed the estate—but Aric's resolve was unwavering. He was no longer the orphan who had watched from the sidelines. He had a family now, a purpose, and he would see it through at any cost.
---
It was early in the morning, and Aric stood before his father in the estate's training grounds. Count Damien Luthier, a tall, imposing figure, had already begun his daily routine, instructing the knights who served in his household. His movements were swift and practiced, his form nearly flawless as he parried and struck with precision.
Aric was still small compared to the seasoned knights, but he had been practicing his swordplay for the past few weeks under his father's watchful eye. The wooden sword felt heavy in his hands, and his arms were sore from countless repetitions.
"Focus, Aric," Damien said, his voice sharp but not unkind. "Your body is your weapon. You cannot rely on strength alone. You must move with purpose and grace."
Aric nodded, sweat dripping down his brow. The practice was grueling, but every swing of the sword brought him closer to mastering it.
"Again," his father commanded, and Aric stepped back into position.
The sound of the wooden swords clashing echoed across the field, a rhythm that Aric quickly fell into. With each strike, he felt the gap between himself and his father grow smaller. The effort was exhausting, but his determination never wavered.
By midday, Aric collapsed on the grass, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His father watched him silently for a moment before walking over.
"You've done well today," Damien said, his tone approving. "You're getting stronger."
Aric wiped his brow and sat up, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. "I won't stop until I'm as strong as you, Father."
Damien looked at him with a mixture of pride and concern. "Strength is more than just muscle. It's knowing when to strike and when to retreat. When to fight and when to protect."
Aric nodded solemnly. His father's words resonated with him deeply. He had a family now—a family he would protect with his life.
---
As important as physical training was, Aric knew he couldn't rely on it alone. The world of Crimson Petals was rich with magic, and he would need to master it if he was to have any chance of protecting his family.
Eleanor, his mother, was a gifted mage, though she had never flaunted her powers. She had always kept her magic a closely guarded secret, preferring to use her abilities quietly and with grace. Aric had overheard her once, talking to his father about the importance of studying both magic and strategy.
"Magic isn't just about power," Eleanor had said. "It's about control, understanding, and adapting to the situation."
Aric took her words to heart and began his studies in earnest. He spent hours in the library, pouring over ancient tomes and scrolls that detailed the fundamental principles of magic. The books were written in an old, complicated script, but Aric's sharp mind absorbed it quickly.
His personal tutor, a wizened old mage named Master Aurelius, often drilled him in the basics. Aric learned how to manipulate the elemental forces—fire, water, air, and earth—through small, controlled gestures.
"Magic is a tool," Master Aurelius would say. "The mind is the true source of power. Learn to control your thoughts, and you will control your magic."
At first, Aric struggled with the complexity of the magic. His focus was easily broken, and the mana would slip through his fingers like water. But as the days passed, he became more attuned to his own inner strength. The feeling of magic coursing through him became familiar, like an extension of his own will.
"Good," Master Aurelius praised him one evening. "You're progressing faster than most. But remember, magic should always be used with caution. It is not a weapon to be wielded carelessly."
Aric took that lesson to heart. He practiced daily, refining his control over magic as he did with his swordplay. Soon, he was able to cast small spells with ease, summoning sparks of fire to light the darkness or bending the wind to send small objects flying.
---
In the quiet moments of his training, Aric couldn't help but think back to his life before the reincarnation. His world had been so different—devoid of magic, yet filled with technology. He had been a regular person, scraping by and barely getting by in the crowded cities. He remembered how even something as mundane as soap or shampoo had been luxuries that many could hardly afford.
With that in mind, Aric began experimenting with ways to improve the mundane aspects of life in this world. He had access to his memories, and even though he was just a child, his knowledge of the modern world's technology gave him an advantage.
Aric had a small workshop built in one of the secluded corners of the estate, a hidden place where he could conduct his experiments without interference. He started by creating soap—an everyday item, but one that could change the lives of many.
Using ingredients he had found around the manor, Aric developed a formula that produced a luxurious, fragrant soap. It was far superior to anything available in the world he had found himself in. He then turned his attention to shampoo, creating a version that was far better than anything the market had to offer.
The products were simple, but effective. His goal was never to revolutionize the world overnight but to create something that could change people's daily lives, beginning with those closest to him.
Eleanor had been the first to try it. She was amazed by how smooth her skin felt after using the soap and how silky her hair became after using the shampoo.
"This is incredible, Aric," she had said, inspecting the items in wonder. "Where did you learn to make this?"
"I don't know," Aric had replied with a small grin. "Just something I thought would help."
Soon, the products began to spread beyond the estate. Aric didn't advertise them openly—after all, his family's wealth depended on their land, not a small side business. But word of mouth spread quickly, and before long, people from neighboring estates began buying Aric's creations.
---
Despite his growing success in both swordplay and magic, Aric never lost sight of the danger looming on the horizon. He knew what the future held for his family. The rising power of the Asterian Empire would soon lead to war, and even the smallest noble families would be caught in the chaos.
"I need to be ready," he whispered to himself late one night, sitting by his window and gazing out at the darkened countryside.
His body would be ready. His magic would be ready. And now, his mind had a new purpose—protect his family, his home, and everything he held dear.
But the real question remained: Was it enough?