During a mage's youth, before they awaken, raw mana gradually gathers at the solar plexus. Over time, this accumulation stimulates the core. After the core has been properly stimulated the mage will undergo an awakening. When this occurs, the congregated raw mana is rapidly drawn into the core, fueling its final step in development. Once complete, this mana is forcefully expelled back into the environment, causing severe backlash, emptying the core, and endangering those nearby. The intensity of the expulsion is directly correlated to the mage’s strength after awakening. As fatalities have occurred from being too close, it is strongly advised to stay away from a mage during their awakening.

In the courtyard with my family, I found myself face-to-face with an awakening mage. Energy swirled chaotically around Elian, who was doubled over in pain. Realising too late, I sprang backwards as a wave of earth element mana erupted from him. My family shouted behind me as dozens of sharp, grey stone shards burst forth, raining down like a storm of arrows onto me and the yard.

* * * * *

Two hours earlier, I’d gone outside with Elian to watch him train. 

He sat cross-legged on the grass, while Ronan knelt behind him, a hand resting on his back.

After sensing Elian’s internal development for a few minutes, Ronan’s eyes snapped open. “I don’t believe it…” he muttered before jumping to his feet and running inside. Moments later he reappeared, ushering Freya over.

“You need to see this. His core is developing at an unbelievable rate,” he said.

Sitting behind Elian, Freya placed a hand on his back and closed her eyes, just as Ronan had a minute prior. Her expression shifted to one of deep focus and the backyard fell silent. Elian’s core wasn’t expected to form for another year, but that timeline had clearly changed.

We stood in silence, letting Freya concentrate. A grin spread across her face as she withdrew her hand. Elian looked nervous, unsure of what was happening, until Ronan clapped him on the back. 

“That’s some growth spurt! If this keeps up, I’d say you’ll be a mage in just a few weeks.”

“Earlier than that,” Freya said, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “I’d give it until the end of the week—maybe sooner.”

“This is incredible!” Ronan began pacing, his expression a mix of amazement and anxiety. “Oh my gods… to think one of my kids could become a mage at just eight-years-old! You’re only a few months off the national record.”

“This is wonderful! I just hope we don’t miss it,” Freya said, wrapping Elian in a tight hug.

Elian finally caught on, his excitement building. “So, I’ll be a mage soon? Like, really soon?”

If Elian awakened within the week, it meant he had an extraordinary connection to mana. Judging by his accelerated development, he could easily become a platinum core mage within his lifetime.

Soon, we settled down with Freya to watch them train.

“We should push you a bit harder over the next few days,” Ronan said, his eyes shining with pride as he handed Elian a wooden training sword. “Maybe you’ll be a mage before we leave.”

Ronan held his sword with one hand, the other tucked behind his back, and gave a slight nod to start. Elian lunged forwards, swinging at Ronan’s waist. Ronan stepped back to dodge the first swing, then stepped inward to block the second. With an agile sweep of his foot, he sent Elian staggering backwards, arms flailing as he tried to steady himself. Ronan followed with a precise upward strike that hit the hilt of Elian’s sword and sent it flying from his hand, then moved into a sideways slash. Elian, quick on his feet, ducked under the swing and darted back to retrieve his weapon.

I watched their exchange, my eyes following every move that followed until Elian collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. Ronan, unsurprisingly, hadn’t broken a sweat. He offered Elian a hand and helped him up.

“I want a turn!” I called out, standing up.

“Oh, think you can do better?” Ronan teased, tossing me the wooden sword. “If you can land a hit, you can join in.”

I deliberately fumbled the sword, letting it fall to the ground before picking it up. It had been three years since I last held a sword, and I still wasn’t accustomed to this new, underdeveloped body so I needed to find an excuse to practice. Showing interest after watching their exchange would be a good enough reason to start.

Charging forward, I threw myself at Ronan, swinging wildly with an exaggerated lack of coordination. Letting the weight of my clumsy swings pull me off balance I stumbled and tripped over my own feet.

Ronan lifted me up and brushed the dirt off my clothes. “That was a good try, but I don’t think you’re quite ready yet. How about you just practise swinging it around for a bit, okay?”

I suppressed a smile. Even a simple show of interest would be enough to convince Ronan, but I couldn’t dive straight into sparring. There needed to be a believable progression.

Nodding, I toddled to the far side of the yard and began swinging the sword around sloppily. Even at my young age, any kind of movement would be beneficial for my body. Elian’s high fitness level was already paying off—developing his core—and I was determined to follow suit.

“I think you’ve inspired him a bit,” I heard Ronan say to Elian, who grinned happily. I pretended not to notice. After Ronan fetched a spare training sword, the two of them resumed sparring with renewed energy. 

Time passed quickly as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. Freya stayed to watch us the entire time. I swung the dull wooden blade over and over, growing accustomed to the movements.

Keeping up this act of innocence had been exhausting at first, but with every day, it grew easier. I’d made mistakes along the way, but none that endangered me. These three years had been some of the most restrictive and suffocating I’d ever endured—yet strangely, there was a kind of comfort to them.

“Grandma and grandpa are here!” Chione said, interrupting my drifting thoughts as she emerged from the house followed by two familiar figures who looked to be between fifty and sixty years old. Laela was a thin lady, with wavy auburn hair, light blue eyes and a small mouth framed by smile lines. Beside her, Julius had a strong build now starting to weather with age, his piercing dark blue eyes sweeping across the courtyard.

Laela greeted Freya with a warm hug, while Julius chuckled. “What are you doing, playing in the dirt with sticks or something?” he joked, then wrapped his daughter in a firm embrace.

After they had exchanged greetings and hugs, Julius gestured to Elian and Ronan. “Don’t let us interrupt. Let’s see what you’ve got.” When they returned to their sparring he walked over to me, who was still swinging the sword around pathetically.

“I see you’ve taken after my good looks,” he said, looking me up and down. Nodding to Ronan and Elian he continued, “Are they any fun to watch?”

I shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“So, you want to be a warrior?” he said, flicking my sword.

“Yeah. Like Elian will be,” I answered, using my preplanned cover story. Pretending to be inspired by my older brother would explain away a lot of my actions in the future.

“Well, it seems you’re in luck. Your old man doesn’t know squat about the sword, no matter how much he claims otherwise. How about I give you some real pointers?”

Without waiting for an answer, he began giving me instructions, correcting my deliberately poor posture and walking me through some basics. I followed every other direction properly, making sure to botch the rest.

The instructions were surprisingly useful, and introduced some ideas I hadn’t even learnt in my past life. Everything I had known about ether and the sword I’d learnt on my own, usually in the midst of combat, so receiving such professional and structured advice was a first for me.

People often said we were social creatures, but my interactions with others in my past life had only ever amounted to negativity or violence. The sole exception was during my time in the military, when I stole another warrior’s promotion. Oddly, he took it well and through it we eventually became what I considered at the time to be friends. When I turned seventeen, he asked about my abnormal strength and I chose to confide in him. I explained my ether overflow and how I’d learnt to utilise it for my growth. Later that same week, at a royal banquet, I was poisoned. It wasn’t meant to kill me, but to instead help overflow my barely contained ether in front of every royal and noble there, injuring several in the process. It became clear who had poisoned me when my so-called friend leaped at the opportunity to take charge of the situation. While commanding the other warriors present, he tried to execute me on the spot for having overflow.

That day, I killed every warrior, noble, and royal in attendance, sparing only the eldest prince, who later became the King. In exchange for his life, he agreed to a contract granting me immunity from all law, including the kill order on those with overflow, and privileges equal to a royal, provided I fought in his wars and suppressed rebellions. This cemented me as the second most influential person in the kingdom until my untimely death.

Since then, I’d sworn never to trust anyone again—a vow I planned to keep, even in this life. However, this didn’t stop my new environment from having an effect on me. Over time, the bonds between these people had become clearer. While there was still a lot I didn’t understand, my experiences with these people—my family—was shedding light on ideals I’d never been able to fully consider until now. That didn’t mean I held those ideals, or that my outlook on others had been entirely incorrect, only that I had grown to better understand what drove some of their actions.

Pausing my training, I watched Laela drag a pouting Freya back inside.

“Just take it easy from now on,” Laela said. “The boys can stay out a bit longer.”

“I’m telling you I’m fine. I’ve rested enough,” Freya protested as they disappeared into the house, Chione following blankly.

I had already decided that in a few years I would leave home. It would likely mean never seeing my family again, but it would be necessary if I wanted to grow stronger. I enjoyed the temporary comfort, even allowing myself to indulge in the false utopia these people had built—a brief respite from reality. But I could see the society this town had built dissolving at the slightest of changes, with the countless citizens that currently lived in peace turning on one another in malice and greed. 

My family would break under their first real hardship; Freya wouldn’t be strong, Ronan wouldn’t be kind, Elian would abandon another to save himself, and Chione’s cold exterior would shatter. I envisioned it all as though it had already happened. Yet, as I stood in the courtyard watching them, a small part of me hoped I was wrong.

Until then, we could continue to play pretend. I could swing my fake sword as though it was the first time, Elian could get back up after being struck down, and my family could smile at me with warmth.

Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to worry about leaving for a long time. 

The corners of my mouth curved slightly upward as I imagined this small world of mine lasting, even for just a little while longer.