Usually, it's said that children have all the freedom in the world to enjoy life while adults shoulder the harsh realities and burdens of existence.
But my case was completely upside down.
I used to be a 9-to-5 guy, working like a mule every single day. I lost both my parents—they just got old and passed naturally. I could do nothing but watch my only family leave me, helpless and heartbroken. Marriage? Never happened. And somehow, I died at the ripe old age of twenty-four because of... headphones? Yeah, life's a joke sometimes.
And you'd think reincarnation would be a fresh start, but no. As a baby, my life was even more restricted. I couldn't talk, couldn't walk, couldn't stay awake too long, or sleep too long. I had no control over my eating schedule, couldn't even manage my own bathroom situation, and was forced to accept every toy shoved in my face. I had to endure endless rounds of pretend horsey rides with Arthur like it was my divine mission to entertain him.
Life's been hard, man. Reflecting on these ten grueling years in this new world honestly brings tears to my eyes.
"Noah, wake up!" my mom yelled from the other side of the door. Little did she know I'd been up for hours, quietly training my core.
"I'm up! I'll be down for breakfast in a minute!"
The perks of being ten? I can finally talk freely, ditch the mindless toy games, and, best of all, stop pretending to care about Arthur's antics. Ever since he left for the capital five years ago, visiting only on rare holidays, I haven't had to fake a smile while playing with him.
But hey, he was a kid, and he was cute and innocent. So I don't hate him for that, he's like a very much younger brother to me at this point.
Freedom at last—or close enough.
As I tidied my room, I suddenly heard three distinct knocks on my door.
"Now?!" I yelled instinctively. Panic gripped me as I bolted toward the window, leaping out into the backyard. "Shit!"
Three knocks meant only one thing: They're here.
See, kids like me who refuse the ritual get inspected regularly. The nobles aren't stupid—they know that extraordinary talents might try to avoid the ritual to keep their abilities hidden. So they came up with a brilliant law: mandatory random inspections for all "unawakened" kids until they turn fifteen.
And guess what? I'm still five years away from fifteen.
We'd prepared for this, though. Three knocks were our signal, and I knew exactly what to do.
"Ascento!" I whispered, channeling a massive amount of mana into my fingers. I lifted a large boulder from the backyard and hurled it ten meters into the air.
Next, I cast, "Aquarto!" A powerful stream of water shot from my hand, smashing into the falling boulder, shattering it into hundreds of tiny rocks.
To top it off, I finished with, "Ignis!" The scattered fragments ignited mid-air, turning to ash before raining down as harmless dust.
I sprinted back into the house, changed clothes to erase any traces, and strolled out of my room like nothing had happened.
When I reached the living room, there he was—the local priest. A loyal dog to the nobles, of course.
"Oh my, the boy grows up so quickly," he said, his voice oozing fake warmth. "He's unrecognizable every time I see him."
"So, boy!" he continued, turning his attention to me. "When are you planning on getting the ritual done? It's too late already."
Before I could respond, my mother cut in, buying me precious seconds. "Oh, we've pestered him about it so many times, but he simply refuses. We're tired of trying to convince him. Honestly, I don't think our boy will ever use magic—it's such a shame!"
She was buying time so that our father could enter the scene. He was a bit away from the house and should be here any time now.
And there he is!
He walked in briskly, quickly getting to my side. "Apologies for the delay, Father. I was out back breaking some rocks for the vegetable patch. They've been such a hassle lately."
The priest turned to my father with a raised eyebrow. "Ah, so you were the source of that noise earlier?"
"Indeed," my father said smoothly, brushing some imaginary dirt off his hands. "You know how these things are. The bigger stones tend to be stubborn, and I've been meaning to get it done for days."
The priest gave a curt nod, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. "I see. Well, good that you're keeping busy. A farmer's work is never done, after all."
I kept my face neutral, though internally, I was ready to applaud my parents for their quick thinking.
My father leaned toward me and whispered, "You ready?"
I nodded subtly. "Yes, Dad. All done."
The priest, oblivious to everything, droned on, "I pity those poor children who couldn't afford the ritual. They're so eager to use magic, but are unfortunately born to the filthy. It's hopeless for them. And yet here's little Noah, blessed with resources but refusing to use them."
Yeah, sure. If you really cared, you'd make the ritual free.
I put on my best innocent face. "I'm too scared, sir. Please forgive me. Could we just get this over with? I really want to play with my friends."
"Oh, certainly!" he said with a patronizing chuckle. "Just give me your hand."
He slipped the inspection ring onto my thumb. As always, it didn't glow. No mana detected. He removed it, satisfied, and smiled.
"Off you go, kid!"
And just like that, the loyal dog left with nothing but an empty bark.
Sir John was a store of knowledge, and he had warned us long before the inspections began. Not only that, but he also devised an effective plan to fool them.
You see, these inspection rings work on a simple principle. They draw a small amount of mana from the body and then glow. The color of the glow corresponds to the color of the core detected.
A simple way to fool the ring is to ensure there's no mana in the body at all.
So, I drain all the mana in me quickly by casting powerful spells in succession and then pretend like nothing happened.
It's gotten progressively harder to drain my core as it expanded, and now that I've developed a core that shines light green, the process is a real pain.
But a giant boulder, a torrent of water, and a fire spell to turn the debris into dust? That's enough to leave my mana reserves dry for the inspection.
Of course, better artifacts exist that can do a far more thorough job at inspecting mana, but there's no chance of seeing those out here in the countryside.
"Mom, I'm going to Sir John's!"
"Hey, have your breakfast first!"
Almost every single day, I finish my morning chores and head to Sir John's place. Over the years, he's been my lifeline for learning since I couldn't attend a proper school.
As a former librarian, Sir John had access to a treasure trove of books. Every day, he'd stop by the library, grab a few books on magic, and bring them back to his study for me to devour.
I'd read through them, learning new things, and the next day he'd return those books and bring me a fresh batch to explore. It was a routine I cherished.
But today was different.
"Sorry, Noah," Sir John said as I arrived, "your reading ends today."
"What?!"
When he told me that, I was utterly flabbergasted.
"But why?" I asked, trying to hide the panic in my voice.
"Well," he said with a sigh, "I've already given you every single book about magic that the library I worked at has to offer."
"But I've just scratched the surface!" I protested. "I've only learned basic theory and the one-word spells. How am I supposed to learn advanced spells now?"
He shrugged. "In the countryside, you'll only find books about the basics and one-word spells, Noah. That's just the way it is."
"Then where do I find advanced spells?"
Sir John gave me a knowing look. "The capital, of course. That's the only place you'll find the kind of knowledge you're looking for."
I sighed heavily. It's always the bloody capital.
Over the past five years, I'd poured my time into developing my core and mastering every one of the roughly five hundred one-word spells that exist.
Spells requiring two or more words, known as advanced spells, were an entirely different beast. From what I'd read, there were far fewer of them compared to the simpler one-word spells, but they were exponentially more powerful.
"I'll say this, though," Sir John added with a smile, "I only know about two hundred one-word spells myself. You're already a better mage than me, kid. Be proud of that."
"Wait—you don't know a single advanced spell?" I asked, my disbelief evident.
"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Not one. But hey, maybe Arthur's learned a few by now. Next time he's in town, ask him to teach you. As for me, I'm afraid I can't help you anymore."
I returned home with a gloomy face. But I wasn't completely disheartened.
I had read the biographies of countless famous mages—those legends capable of conquering small kingdoms single-handedly. Most of them only reached the light green stage around the ages of seventeen to twenty. And mastery over all one-word spells? That usually came by the age of twenty-five or so.
It takes years of practice, dedication, and a finely honed core to wield magic efficiently. Instant casting was a skill most talented mages only began to master by the age of twenty-eight.
But here I was, a ten-year-old, already miles ahead of those so-called "geniuses."
Still, I couldn't shake the frustration. If I truly wanted to reach the pinnacle of magic, if I wanted to stand among the greats, I had to make my way to the capital. It was the only path forward—the only place where knowledge and resources could match my ambitions.
But I can't.
So, **ck!