'Everyone knows the importance of a mana core, for it is the vital center of those who master the magical arts. This sacred organ is the reservoir where mystical energy resides, allowing the magic user to perform various spells and enchantments. However, it is crucial to emphasize that this magical reserve is not infinite. Therefore, the practitioner must learn to control this energy, ensuring that their power endures over time.'
— Alkan, the Sage
A familiar voice echoed in my mind, like a soft whisper of wisdom. I closed my eyes, floating in the air, letting the energy begin to vibrate and pulse within me, like an enchanted whirlwind. A moment of deep peace enveloped me, and all thoughts dissipated, leaving only a profound void, where a bright, pulsating sphere throbbed like a cosmic heart. Its light was as intriguing as it was powerful, drawing me in with grand and irresistible fascination.
This empty sphere at the center of my mind was, in fact, my core. The idea that this crucial organ had remained dormant for so long surprised me. Now, I had the opportunity to fill it with the mana I had long desired since entering this universe. It was as if something had been waiting to be awakened, shaped by my will.
I focused on the pulsating sphere, beating in a steady rhythm, calling me with an almost palpable magnetism — like a great heart. Without hesitation, I let my translucent body float toward it, slowly extending my hand as if about to touch a sacred relic. When I finally reached the sphere, a wave of energy burst from it, establishing a mutual and magical connection between us.
It was as if all the mana in the universe offered itself to me in that moment. I felt the power flowing inside me, like an untamed river, ready to be harnessed and shaped by my will. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the energy dancing within me, allowing it to guide me wherever it desired, like an archetype of freedom and infinite potential. It was the magical symphony I had longed for, and now I was the conductor.
*
*
*
Did I win?
When I opened my eyes, the first thing that surrounded me was a dense darkness, almost comforting, as if I were floating in a lake of warm, lazy waters. The sensation was strange, a mix of embrace and boredom. The kind of scenario where you expect something epic to happen... and nothing happens.
"Ah, so this is it?" I thought. "I'm dead."
A funny thought, considering I had expected a little more spectacle at the end of it all. Maybe a golden light, angels playing harps, but no... just emptiness, nothing. I almost laughed. Perhaps Alkan, the old sage always wrapped in mysteries and incomprehensible lessons, had been right all along.
'Upon leaving this plane, our greatest reflections will be on our regrets, followed by the certainty that this is not the end.' His words echoed in my mind like one of those deep conversations you have in a tavern after a few mugs of beer. Only this time, Alkan sounded much wiser than drunk.
"So, old man, did you leave with your heart full of regrets too?" I asked the nothingness as I adjusted to the quiet. I was already bored.
I started remembering my last battle, wondering, with vague curiosity, if I had won. But thinking about it, the outcome seemed irrelevant now. I mean, dead is dead, whether you won the fight or not.
It felt like days, months, or even years had passed. There was no way to tell. I was adrift in that unchanging void, until something changed. An invisible wave, a strange energy, began pushing me.
"Wait, what is this?"
It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on me, and I started hearing voices. Annoying voices, murmuring in a language I didn't understand. The stronger the energy grew, the louder the voices became. Until everything turned into deafening chaos.
"What the hell is happening?"
I tried to understand, but it made no sense. And then... Alkan's words echoed again.
'This is not the end...'
"Crazy old man... the bastard was right!" I exclaimed, half laughing, half disbelieving. The afterlife was real, and I, of course, was about to find out what came next. Would I be reborn as an elegant elf? A sturdy dwarf? Maybe even a dragon?! Wait... no, a human prince, of course! "That sounds more like me," I thought with a goofy grin on my face.
Suddenly, the energy catapulted me forward, dragging me forcefully into the next phase. The moment of glory, the rebirth! I was ready for anything, except... for the pain.
An overwhelming pain took over me all at once, as if my body were being crushed from the inside out. "This is horrible!" The discomfort was unbearable. Ah, now I understood why babies cried so much! All my excitement evaporated, and all I could think was: "I want my dark lake back, please!"
After all, the cycle of life begins with a desperate scream.
.
.
.
What immediately caught my attention was an elderly woman with a smile that bordered on comical. She looked as satisfied as someone who had just completed a complicated puzzle—except for one missing piece. Her eyes examined me with absurd curiosity, as if she were trying to figure out why I wasn't the cute baby. Not that I could blame her; I was fully aware of my "limited cuteness" in this new form.
I felt my ego take a hit, but I quickly dismissed the thought—I had more important things to worry about than being judged aesthetically right after being reborn! And there I was, newly arrived in the world, ready for my new adventures... until I realized where I had landed.
The place was simpler than the humblest tavern I had ever known. A plain little room, undecorated, with walls that seemed to be held up by the sheer goodwill of the old wooden beams. Everything was blurry, of course, thanks to my brand-new baby vision. The only thing that was crystal clear was my indignation:
— This... this has to be a divine joke! — I thought, grumbling internally. — Of all the places... and all the chances in the world... I'm just another peasant?!
I tried to express myself, to scream my frustration, but all that came out was an incomprehensible babble. Great. Wonderful. I couldn't even manage a simple "No way!" At least I still had my memories intact. A small consolation, but a consolation nonetheless. If I wanted to change anything here, I would have to form a mana core as quickly as possible—before my own impatience killed me from sheer boredom.
Then came the real surprise: the mana around me. Something was seriously wrong with it. It wasn't as scarce as in magical deserts, but it wasn't abundant either. The worst part? It was... dirty. Contaminated. If I tried to form my mana core without purifying it, I would basically be asking to screw myself over.
In the middle of my reflections, the old woman, without any ceremony, turned me to the side and exposed me like a slab of meat in a butcher shop. What came next was a slap on my soft baby skin that could easily rival the sound of a war club.
~Smack!
And in that moment, whatever remained of my dignity went down the drain along with my tears.
— Damn... — The inevitable tears rolled down my cheeks. The great warrior reborn, defeated by a simple slap.
To top it off, I was picked up by a young girl who, honestly, looked just as exhausted as I felt frustrated. Her dark hair and deep brown eyes carried a melancholy weight, and honestly, who could blame her? There she was, no more than fifteen years old, holding me with the same sorrow as someone who had lost something important. Her tear-filled eyes threatened to spill over, but there was no more room for drama in that tiny room. She trembled, probably from the recent effort of childbirth. And I, the great "gift" of this glorious moment.
The old woman spoke in a language I didn't recognize, probably trying to comfort the girl. She just nodded, never taking her eyes off me. Despite all the drama, it felt like an invisible bond was beginning to form between us—or at least, that was what I hoped.
As my tears subsided, I tried to accept reality. I looked around again, searching for any sign of another significant human, and then the most important question at that moment crossed my mind:
— Where the hell is my father?
I took a deep breath, resigned. Yeah, it seemed like this new life was going to be even more interesting than I had anticipated.
— Oh, heavens... — I whispered, feeling my thin lips move. The old woman, sensing my discomfort, made an absurdly funny face, as if this would somehow improve my situation.
She soon turned to my young mother and said something that, judging by the tone, didn't sound very encouraging. My mother sighed, lowered her gaze, and, apparently, accepted reality just as I had.
And so, my second life began—in a decrepit room, with a melancholic young mother and an old woman who clearly had a peculiar sense of humor. What a glorious adventure!
The room looked like a scene straight out of one of those tales about bored elves hiding in trees to spy on humans—but, of course, without the magic and nowhere near as interesting. My attention shifted to someone else in the opposite corner—a young woman who vaguely resembled my mother. Maybe a younger version of her? Who knew.
She seemed restless, like an owl before a storm, casting furtive glances at me but never quite meeting my gaze for too long. It was as if she wanted to say something important… or maybe she was just hungry, who knew.
The air was thick, and I could feel the tension like a sword hanging over someone's head. Something was about to happen; I was sure of it. But what? And more importantly, did it have anything to do with me? I really hoped it was something noteworthy, but considering my current situation… well, expectations were low.
I sighed, feeling a wave of boredom wash over me. Being a baby was boring. Not only was I small and fragile, but I also had to deal with the fact that I couldn't understand a single word of the conversation around me.
What strange language was this?
It sounded like something from a distant continent… And to think I had crossed so many realms! Ah, the ironies of life…
I needed to figure out a way to understand what they were saying. My pride as a mage wouldn't let me stay clueless for long. The problem? Magic.
Of course, everything involved magic, and I, being a baby, had about as much power as a withered flower in the desert. My mana was practically nonexistent, and my body… well, just look at me: fragile, delicate, a work of art in progress—but far from finished.
"I need an easy solution, something that won't make me collapse like a sack of potatoes right away," I thought, as thousands of ideas rushed through my mind—some brilliant, others… not so much. In the end, I settled on the most obvious one—the old "blood bond" technique. It was dangerous, of course, but sometimes life demands a little drama, doesn't it?
"Ah, the 'blood bond'… The desperate sorcerer's favorite trick!"
It was simple—or almost. Creating a link with my mother using our shared blood so that I could, hopefully, understand what she was saying.
There were just a few tiny drawbacks: the bond could activate out of nowhere, the technique might drain all my energy and plunge me into a deep sleep, or, of course, I could mess up everything and go insane. Just minor details.
"But what is life without a little risk, right?" I thought, with a hint of satisfaction. And without further delay, I began gathering what little mana I had left—like a drunkard trying to find the last drop of wine in an almost-empty bottle.
The air around me felt like a desert of pure mana. The energy spheres I visualized were few and far between, almost as if they were laughing at me, but with determination (and maybe a touch of stubbornness), I did the impossible—I created the link between me and my mother.
The connection was fragile, like a spider's web in the wind, but it worked. She, in turn, seemed to feel something. Her eyes closed for a moment, and a hand rested on her forehead. She was a little dizzy, poor thing. I knew this would happen, but still, I felt a slight pang of guilt.
"There you go, Mom. Relax… Your genius son is working his magic here."
I closed my eyes, feeling the bond settle. When I opened them, my eyes glowed faintly, like tiny stars. Done. The telepathic link was established. Now all that was left was for them to say something useful!
"Come on, Mom… Please, say anything! Even a 'good morning' would help!"
The elder woman was the first to react, her eyes blinking with a seriousness that could make even an enraged dragon hesitate. She fixed her gaze on my mother as if she were about to draw a treasure map. Then, like a true heroine on a mission, she turned to the young woman on the opposite side.
— I'll fetch a cup of tea for your sister! — she proclaimed. — Please, keep things in order while I'm gone!
The girl nodded, almost saluting with a gesture that could rival the finest nobles, and then the elder woman left the room, leaving me with my young mother and her sister.
I couldn't help but break into a wide grin, the kind that could light up the darkest cave. "It worked!" And before I could start babbling a symphony of baby sounds, making faces that would make a clown look serious, my mother captured my attention. She stroked my face with the gentleness of a spring breeze, looking at me as if she were contemplating the rarest of jewels.
At last, she murmured with a soft, melodic voice that could make birds stop to listen:
— Let's think of a name that suits you, my son.
"What… I don't have a name yet?" I was stunned, as if the gods had decided to play a prank on me. "Was I not planned?" I let out a peculiar laugh—one of those baby noises that sounded more like a cat choking on a ball of yarn—which made the two young women laugh as well. In that moment, I realized I was an unfortunate, poor baby without a father's presence. It felt like an eternity before one of them finally suggested a name…
What a terrible situation! The gods were clearly having fun at my expense! I couldn't hold back my laughter at how absurd it all was. My young mother smiled, her eyes shining like stars, as she watched my expression of discontent. After a long moment, she finally spoke my new name with a radiant glow.
— Your name will be Aiden! — she exclaimed, her voice gentle. — My beloved Aiden.
I frowned, displeased, thinking internally: "How horrible, that name is so common! A name that screams 'I am a peasant!'"
The choice of such a simple name didn't surprise me; I had always appreciated the meaning of my old name, which sounded so strong. Now, I was just a peasant, and maybe a common name was all that was left.
A new voice echoed through the room, like the remnants of an ancient spell, right after the girl beside her decided to speak.
— What a beautiful name, sister!
"What a beautiful name," I laughed internally, holding back a chuckle. "A peasant's name, you mean!" I tried to disagree, but all I managed were funny sounds, as if I were trying to converse with a frog. That only made them laugh at me even more. It was almost a moment of joy for both of us, until my mother interrupted the laughter with a hesitant tone, as if she were about to announce a new adventure.
— Do you think Mom will try to take him from me, Tasha? — my mother asked, her voice mixing genuine concern with a touch of theatrics worthy of a shadow play, as she fixed her gaze on my aunt.
"So, I have a grandmother..." At least one who was still alive! I suddenly noticed her absence in this moment. What kind of woman doesn't show up for her grandchild's birth? Oh, there was definitely something very suspicious about this story! But I decided to set my suspicions aside for now.
Sometimes, silence is the best weapon in situations like this. I just needed to pay attention and absorb the subtleties of what was unfolding. I watched like a little strategist on a chessboard, analyzing their every move, while no one suspected that a baby was listening intently as if this were the latest royal gossip. Who would think that such a small being could be so curious?
My aunt's eyes—Tasha (now finally with a name, though I called her "aunt of intrigues")—revealed more than she intended. With a mix of nervousness and determination, she faced my mother and blurted out:
— Well… it's not exactly our choice.
My young mother's expression was like an unsolved puzzle. She furrowed her brows, trying to understand the logic behind what Tasha was implying.
— What are you talking about?
Tasha took a deep breath, as if she were about to face a dragon, but quickly regained her composure, speaking with a firmness that felt like a spell cast to calm a storm:
— It's not up to us…
— In what way? — my mother asked, her voice full of concern. — What do you mean by "it's not up to us"?
— I think she'll want you to hand over the… — her finger pointed in my direction, and I wondered if I had somehow become the center of a real conspiracy.
Tasha's words hit my mother like a lightning bolt on a sunny day. She fell silent, stunned, until her face turned as pale as a ghost in a fairy tale, and a look of utter disbelief took over her expression.
After a brief moment of reflection, where even time itself seemed to pause to listen, she finally asked, almost pleading for an answer:
— Why would she want me to hand over the baby?
Tasha remained silent, struggling to find the right words, as if trying to decipher a complex spell. She avoided my mother's gaze because, let's be honest, a decent explanation seemed as rare as a dragon at a cat convention. The silence stretched on until she finally murmured:
— You know how she is…
— And what if I refuse? — my mother asked, her voice wavering between courage and hesitation.
Tasha answered with a trembling voice, as if she were recounting a chilling legend:
— It's hard to accept, but it's the reality. She believes that a fatherless child will only bring misfortune to our family. The situation in the farmlands isn't favorable, and she'll push us harder than ever before.
My mother looked so shocked that her expression could have been used as an illustration in a fairy tale horror story. After a moment of silence, trying to process the bombshell revelation, she asked again, her voice heavy like distant thunder:
— And you? What do you think about this?
— I really don't want to do it; he is your child, Cassia… — Tasha said, her sincerity shining through. It was clear she was torn between respecting my mother and fearing the authority of her own.
"Was I blessed with a 'wonderful' grandmother by some crazy god?!" I thought, silently mocking the absurdity as I watched the drama unfold before me.
Without taking her eyes off Tasha, my mother insisted, determined to unravel the mystery surrounding us:
— And if I decide not to hand over my son? What will be the consequences?
Tasha's expression changed, and a slight tremor ran through her body, as if merely mentioning the idea of disobeying the matriarch had summoned an army of dancing gnomes inside her. She bit her lip, avoiding her sister's gaze.
— U-hum... I'm not sure... — she said, hesitant. — None of us have ever had the courage to go against our mother's wishes. You know her temperament well...
Tasha's words were like a pile of firewood fueling the flames of Cassia's anger and frustration. She rose like an enraged dragon, surprising both her sister and me. I was astonished by her determination to protect me from the figure she referred to as "mother."
— I don't care who she is or what she thinks is appropriate! — Cassia declared with the conviction of a queen in a tournament, her voice as firm as steel. — My son is not a disposable, worthless object. He is MY son!!! I carried him in my belly, and I will raise him with all the love in the world. I will not hand him over, Tasha, and I will not give up on him in any way!
As the tension in the cramped room grew, the door creaked., drawing our attention toward it. Our eyes were fixed on the wood as it slowly opened, revealing the figure of the woman who had assisted my mother during childbirth: the kind, almost magical lady who had the ability to turn even the most tense situations into a feast.
With a serenity worthy of a nun, she entered, holding a cup of tea, and the three of us — myself included, as I analyzed her every move — remained silent, as if we were waiting for something.
As she approached, the woman gently handed the cup of tea to Cassia, who grasped it with one hand while the other held me tightly, as if shielding me from an army of invisible monsters.
In the silence that hung like a storm cloud, Cassia was the first to break the spell of the moment:
— Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Darla... — she said, gratitude and worry dancing across her face.
I repeated the lady's peculiar name in my mind.
— You're welcome, my dear — Darla replied serenely, her voice sounding gentle. — It seems like you two are discussing something very... interesting here.
Wow, she really had a special talent for noticing details, just like me! It was almost magical.
Before my timid aunt could open her mouth to say anything protective, my young mother took the lead in the conversation, demonstrating a determination and strength that would impress anyone.
Raising her gaze, she locked eyes with the woman with the strength of a thousand warriors, holding her stare as if she were challenging someone.
— I'm making it clear to Tasha that my son will not be handed over to any priestess... — she proclaimed, her voice booming like thunder. —This is not a matter up for debate; it is a final decision. I will not allow it!
Darla looked as if she had been struck by lightning, her expression revealing exactly what I expected: her eyes widened, and surprise was etched onto her wrinkled face.
— What do you mean? — she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty. — What are you talking about?
The exchange of words became even more intense, but unfortunately—and tragically—the damn weakness knocked on my door.
My vision began to blur, my consciousness slipping away like sand through my fingers, and my eyelids felt heavier than a pair of iron boots. The last words I managed to hear before being swallowed by darkness were my aunt's gentle voice and my mother's murmurs, though their meanings eluded me. Soon, I plunged into the sweet, inviting abyss of sleep... also known as "my new best friend."