By mid-afternoon, the sun had reached its zenith, casting long shadows across the training grounds as Harry and Lily stood side by side, waiting for the ceremony to begin. The expansive courtyard, normally filled with the sounds of clashing steel and shouted commands, had been cleared for this significant occasion. Only the occasional call of a bird or the distant whinny of horses from the stables disturbed the anticipatory silence.
The flagstones beneath their feet had been worn smooth by generations of soldiers and knights training upon them, carrying countless stories of triumph and failure. A gentle breeze carried the scent of sun-warmed earth and the herbal aroma of the gardens that bordered the grounds, creating a deceptively peaceful atmosphere despite the gravity of what was about to occur.
Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his formal attire feeling increasingly restrictive as the minutes ticked by. Beside him, Lily fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, her excitement manifesting as nervous energy. Their mother, Frigga, stood behind them, her face a mask of serene concentration as she mentally prepared for the ritual ahead.
Unlike her typical flowing gowns, Frigga had changed into ceremonial robes of midnight blue, embroidered with arcane symbols in silver thread that seemed to shimmer and shift when caught in direct sunlight. Her platinum hair was bound in an elaborate braid intertwined with enchanted silver wire—a focusing tool for complex spellcasting. Around her neck hung a crystal pendant that pulsed with a soft inner light, responding to the magical energy she was already gathering within herself.
The steady rhythm of approaching footsteps drew their attention to the arched entryway of the training ground. Viscount Lor Gold strode purposefully toward them, his bearing every bit that of the commander he had once been. He had exchanged his morning attire for a more utilitarian outfit—a fitted tunic of dark leather reinforced with metal plates at vital areas, allowing freedom of movement while providing adequate protection. The Gold family crest was emblazoned on his chest, the silver and blue design standing out boldly against the dark leather.
As he approached, his amber eyes assessed the scene with military precision, taking in every detail before coming to rest on his children. He exchanged a meaningful glance with Frigga, communicating silently in that way long-married couples often do, before giving her a brief nod of acknowledgment.
"Alright, both of you," Lor addressed Harry and Lily, his deep voice carrying across the training ground with effortless authority. "Sit cross-legged and do exactly as your mother instructs. This is not a time for questions or hesitation."
Harry and Lily exchanged a quick, nervous glance before nodding in unison. They lowered themselves to the ground, arranging their legs in the prescribed position. The flagstones felt cool through Harry's breeches, a stark contrast to the warmth of the afternoon sun on his face.
Frigga moved behind them with fluid grace, her robes whispering against the stone as she positioned herself. The air around her seemed to shimmer slightly, distorting the light in a way that made Harry's eyes water if he looked too directly at her. She placed her slender hands gently on their backs, one on each child, and Harry felt an immediate warmth spreading from her touch.
"Close your eyes and relax," she instructed, her melodious voice taking on a hypnotic quality that made compliance almost automatic. "Clear your minds of all distractions. I'm going to channel my mana through your bodies to awaken your dormant cores. You may experience unusual sensations—this is normal. Do not resist them."
Harry shut his eyes as instructed, focusing on steadying his breathing as he had learned during meditation exercises. He was intensely curious about what was to come, his mind racing with possibilities despite his mother's instruction to clear it. After a few moments, he felt a tingling sensation where his mother's hand rested against his back. The feeling intensified rapidly, becoming a warm current that seemed to flow through his veins like liquid light.
Then, without warning, the sensation changed dramatically. It was as if the ground beneath him had suddenly disappeared, plunging him into a weightless void. Harry felt himself falling—or perhaps floating—through an endless darkness. There was no up or down, no sense of direction or time. He existed in a state of pure consciousness, detached from physical sensation.
The experience wasn't frightening, merely disorienting. Harry remained calm, remembering his mother's words about unusual sensations. This must be part of the process, he reasoned, allowing himself to drift aimlessly through the darkness.
After what could have been moments or hours—time seemed meaningless in this place—Harry detected a change. Far below him (or was it above? directions had no meaning here), a pinpoint of light appeared. It grew steadily brighter as if approaching at tremendous speed. Just as the light was about to reach him, a mechanized voice echoed through the void, each word reverberating with crystal clarity:
"Mana detected. Utilizing mana to initialize AI system: X."
The voice was unlike anything Harry had ever heard in this world—synthetic, precise, emotionless. It reminded him of digital assistants from his previous life, triggering a flood of memories: smartphones, computers, automated customer service systems. Before he could process the implications of hearing such a voice in this medieval setting, Harry felt himself being violently yanked from the void.
His eyes snapped open with a gasp, the sudden return to physical reality momentarily disorienting. Blinking rapidly to adjust to the sunlight, Harry found himself back on the training ground, his parents and sister watching him intently. His father's expression was unreadable, his mother looked concerned, and Lily—
Lily was glowing.
A soft golden aura enveloped his sister's small frame, pulsating gently like a heartbeat. The light seemed to dance across her skin, concentrating around her hands and emanating most strongly from her chest where her mana core would be located. As Harry watched, the glow gradually diminished in intensity until it had faded completely, leaving Lily looking exactly as she had before, albeit with a dazed expression.
"Water and light elements, just as I suspected," Frigga murmured with quiet pride, her hand still resting on Lily's shoulder. "A powerful combination with excellent healing potential."
Harry looked down at himself, expecting to see a similar glow, but found nothing. His body appeared completely unchanged. No aura, no mysterious light, not even the slightest hint of magical emanation. Puzzled, he glanced up at his parents, only to find his father's brow furrowed in what might have been concern or disappointment.
Without a word, Lord Gold strode to the weapon rack that stood at the edge of the training ground. The rack contained an impressive array of training weapons—swords, spears, maces, and axes of various sizes, all meticulously maintained and arranged by type. After a moment's consideration, he selected a sword of moderate length with a simple crossguard. The blade was well-balanced but unremarkable, a standard training weapon with no magical enhancements.
Returning to where Harry still sat cross-legged on the ground, Lor extended the weapon toward him, hilt first. "Harry, take this sword," he said, his tone revealing nothing of his thoughts.
Confused but obedient, Harry rose to his feet and reached for the weapon. Am I the type of protagonist who seems powerless at first? he wondered wryly. The one labeled a waste only to discover some hidden cheat ability later? It was a common trope in the novels he'd read in his previous life—the underdog who suddenly reveals immense hidden potential, shocking everyone who had dismissed them.
As soon as his fingers wrapped around the leather-bound hilt, the seemingly ordinary blade transformed. Light erupted from the metal, not the gentle glow that had surrounded Lily, but an intense, almost blinding radiance that forced everyone to shield their eyes. The light pulsed with power, sending waves of energy rippling through the air that made Harry's hair stand on end. The sword vibrated in his grip, humming with an energy that resonated deep within his chest.
Being a mage would have been better, Harry thought with an internal sigh as he stared at the glowing blade in his hand. The idea of dedicating his life to martial training, spending hours each day swinging a sword until his muscles screamed in protest, held little appeal. Physical labor was something I'd hoped to avoid in this new life.
His eyebrows twitched in annoyance, a subtle expression that most would have missed. But his father, ever observant, caught the fleeting look of displeasure. To Harry's surprise, Lor didn't show anger at his apparent lack of enthusiasm. Instead, a knowing chuckle escaped the usually stern man.
"You don't seem very excited about this, Harry," Lor observed, crossing his arms over his chest. There was an unusual hint of amusement in his voice, softening his typically commanding presence.
Harry hesitated, weighing his response carefully. Honesty won out over diplomacy. "Well," he began, choosing his words with care, "training every day and learning how to swing a sword doesn't exactly sound thrilling to me. It seems rather... repetitive."
The words hung in the air for a moment before Frigga and Lily burst into simultaneous laughter. The sound was unexpected and infectious, lightening the formal atmosphere that had dominated the ceremony. They both knew intimately how much Lor loved swordsmanship—his daily training regimen was legendary among the household staff, who often placed bets on how many training dummies he would destroy during his sessions.
Lor coughed, a poor attempt to hide his embarrassment at being so transparently read by his son. A faint flush colored his scarred cheeks, though he quickly composed himself, squaring his shoulders and reassuming his authoritative demeanor.
"Both of you have four years to train," he declared, his tone regaining its commanding edge. "After that, you'll take the entrance exam for the Royal Academy. Your performance there will determine not just your future, but will reflect on our family's honor and standing." His gaze moved between his children, settling on each in turn. "So, work hard. Your training starts tomorrow morning at dawn."
Harry managed to keep his groan internal, but his expression must have betrayed his thoughts because Lily shot him a sympathetic glance. Unlike him, she seemed genuinely eager to begin, her violet eyes shining with determination and anticipation. The prospect of four years of intense training clearly excited her in a way Harry couldn't quite understand.
Four years of training before even entering the academy, Harry thought, mentally calculating all the muscle aches and bruises that awaited him. At least I have time to figure out what that voice was about...
Later that evening, after a celebratory dinner that had felt more like a military briefing as their father outlined the rigorous training schedule awaiting them, Harry stretched his arms above his head and let out a weary sigh. The dining hall had grown uncomfortably warm with the evening hearth fires blazing, and the persistent discussions of combat techniques had given him a mild headache.
"Mom, I'm going to my room," he announced, rising from his seat with as much grace as his tired body could muster.
Frigga looked up from her conversation with Lily about basic magical theory, her violet eyes softening as they met Harry's. The gentle smile that curved her lips held understanding and affection in equal measure.
"Alright, my dear," she replied, reaching out to briefly squeeze his hand. "Rest well. Training starts at dawn, and your father will not tolerate tardiness, even on the first day."
Harry nodded, acutely aware of this fact. He bid goodnight to his family and made his way through the winding corridors of the manor, climbing the grand staircase with leaden feet. The events of the day had left him physically and mentally exhausted, yet his mind buzzed with unanswered questions about what had occurred during the awakening ceremony.
Upon reaching his chamber, Harry pushed open the heavy oak door, stepped inside, and closed it firmly behind him. The room was dimly lit by a single oil lamp that Maya had thoughtfully left burning on his bedside table. The dancing flame cast elongated shadows across the stone walls, creating an atmosphere that felt appropriately mysterious for what he was about to do.
Harry leaned back against the door, listening intently for any sound of approaching servants or family members. Satisfied that he was truly alone, he straightened up and addressed the empty room.
"System, or X, or whatever you are—speak up," he called out, his eyes scanning the shadows as if expecting some physical manifestation to appear. "I clearly heard your voice when I was in that dark place. I've read too many novels not to recognize a system when I encounter one."
For several heartbeats, nothing happened. The room remained silent save for the occasional crackle from the oil lamp's flame. Just as Harry began to wonder if he had imagined the entire episode, a calm, measured voice responded directly inside his mind.
"I know, Harry. I was just waiting for your command."
The voice was exactly as he remembered from the void—precise, synthetic, yet somehow reassuring in its certainty. Harry froze momentarily, his suspicions confirmed, before a knowing smirk spread across his face. He moved to sit on the edge of his bed, the mattress creaking slightly under his weight.
"So, I wasn't hallucinating, huh?" he said, keeping his voice low despite the privacy of his chamber.
"No, Harry, you weren't hallucinating," the voice confirmed, its tone matter-of-fact. "Your mana activated my dormant protocols during the awakening ceremony."
Harry tilted his head thoughtfully, processing this information. "Alright, then," he continued, his curiosity piqued. "What are your powers? What can you do for me? Are you some kind of magical artifact that's bonded to my soul?"
"I am an AI—an Artificial Intelligence," the voice explained patiently. "My designation is X, and my primary function is to provide you with comprehensive scientific knowledge. I can teach you to create or build virtually anything using principles of science from your previous world."
Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by this revelation. After all the novels and games from his previous life, he had expected something more... flashy. "That's it?" he asked incredulously. "Nothing like quests, shops, inventories, or powerful artifacts? No magical abilities or special powers?"
"No, Harry," X replied firmly, showing no offense at his disappointment. "I am an AI, not a magical system from one of your novels. My purpose is knowledge transfer, not mystical enhancement. You may address me as X."
Harry sighed deeply and ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration evident in the gesture. The bedside lamp flickered, casting his shadow across the far wall. "Well," he conceded reluctantly, "having the knowledge to make stuff from my previous life is useful, I guess. But in this era, gathering materials to build anything technologically advanced will take too much time and resources. It's not like I can pop down to the local hardware store for electronic components."
X's response came quickly, with what almost sounded like enthusiasm. "Harry, can't you use Blackstone to forge whatever you need? Your family controls the largest known mines of this material."
The suggestion caught Harry off guard. Blackstone—the very mineral that had elevated his family from common merchants to nobility. He had seen the raw material during visits to the mines with his father: black crystals with a glossy surface that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The forgers who worked with it claimed it could hold enchantments better than any other substance, making it invaluable for magical artifacts.
Still, Harry scoffed at the suggestion. "Even if I can use Blackstone as a substitute for modern materials, do you think I have enough mana to power the things I want to create? The kind of technology I'm familiar with would require enormous amounts of energy. I'd burn through my mana reserves in seconds."
"That won't be a problem, Harry," X replied with absolute certainty. "Based on my analysis during initialization, you have an extraordinary amount of mana in your body—far beyond normal parameters. If you were a traditional mage, it would've started overflowing by now, manifesting in visible auras and magical discharges. The concentration is so high it would be enough to attract monsters and even sleeping dragons to you from miles away."
Harry's jaw dropped, his face a comical mask of shock and disbelief. "What?!" he exclaimed, momentarily forgetting to keep his voice down. "That's impossible! If I had that much mana, wouldn't someone have noticed? Wouldn't I have noticed?"
"Don't worry," X reassured him, its tone as calm as ever. "You are what this world refers to as a 'blocked person'—a rare physiological variant. Your mana cannot leave your body through conventional means. It remains contained within you unless you use Blackstone as a catalyst. This is why you showed no visible reaction during the awakening ceremony until you touched the sword."
Harry rubbed his temples, trying to process this revelation. He rose from the bed and began pacing the room, his mind racing with implications. "Why is it that Blackstone is the only thing that can release my mana? What makes it so special?"
X's explanation was methodical and detailed. "Blackstone is pure, condensed mana that has formed over millions of years through geological processes. It exists in a crystalline state that resonates with specific mana frequencies. People like you, born as 'blocked,' cannot use the mana within themselves naturally because your internal pathways are sealed. Over time, your mana condenses into something purer and more concentrated than the mana of conventional mages. This unique trait allows you to interface with Blackstone, as its purity resonates harmonically with your own condensed mana."
Harry stopped his pacing and leaned back against one of the bedposts, staring at the ceiling as he tried to visualize the concept. The oil lamp's flame cast dancing shadows across his contemplative face.
"So, you're telling me I have this absurd amount of mana—enough to attract dragons, apparently—but can't use it unless I rely on Blackstone as some kind of... conduit?" he summarized, his tone a mixture of fascination and frustration.
"Exactly," X confirmed. "That's why you are special, Harry. You possess both the knowledge of your previous world and the raw power to implement it in this one, given the right catalyst."
Harry exhaled deeply, slumping back onto his bed. "Great," he muttered sarcastically. "I'm a walking mana battery without a plug. Perfect."
Despite his outward cynicism, Harry's mind was already racing with possibilities. If what X said was true, and he had no reason to doubt it, then perhaps his situation wasn't as limiting as it initially seemed. Blackstone was abundant in his family's mines, and as the son of the viscount, he could certainly secure a supply for his personal use.
The combination of scientific knowledge from his previous life and the magical properties of this world might allow him to create innovations beyond anything this medieval society had imagined. The sword training still sounded tedious, but with this new understanding of his abilities, Harry began to see a path forward that was uniquely his own.
A small smile crept across his face as he stared at the flickering lamp flame. Perhaps being reincarnated in this world wasn't going to be so bad after all.