The cherry blossoms bloomed quietly in our backyard.

Soft petals drifted through the air, carried by a gentle breeze, settling on the grass like pale promises. It felt symbolic—like the world itself had decided this was the right moment for something new to begin.

It also marked the start of a new step in my life.  

One that would bring me closer to whatever awaited me at the end of this road.

“It’s time for me to train you, Aren.”

Those were the words my father said to me when I was almost five and a half years old.  

I had been expecting them.

By that age, I had already learned how to read. It wasn’t particularly difficult for someone who had once juggled three languages back on Earth—though I doubted that mattered much in this world.

I had also been studying everything I could find about ki, magic, and enhancement techniques. Also I wanted to learn about the voice and reincarnation. Concepts of Gods were mentioned everywhere and the only topic about reincarnation I could find was the reincarnation of the demon lord.

And I knew I wasn't him. Right?

I also read about using ki and spells.  

And I had tried.  

Many times.  

Quietly. Secretly.

I had attempted to manifest my ki on my own.

Every attempt ended the same way.

Failure.  

Nothing.

It was… frustrating.

In this world, ki—or mana, depending on who you asked—was everything.

A person’s standing in society was directly, or at least indirectly, tied to their ability to use it. Mages, royal guards, professors of ki and mana, adventurers, even kings—all were paths open for mana users.

My father often said he used to be an adventurer before he met my mother.

I didn’t believe him but I didn't know why.

All this explained why he wanted to start my training so early.  

Though I couldn’t help but wonder—

Was the kingdom planning to deploy an army of babies in armor?

I was excited.  

Truly excited.

But I was also nervous.

That was normal for anyone about to train under their father for the first time would feel that way.  

…Right?

We were going to practice in the backyard. My mother wasn’t allowed to be present—my father claimed she would interrupt too much.

I suspected she simply didn’t trust him not to blow something up.

I stood in the middle of the yard, hands clenched behind my back.

It was time to see my old man in action.

My father arrived with his usual wide grin, sunlight catching in his blue eyes.

“Alright, Aren,” he said loudly, rubbing his hands together. “From today onward, I’m going to teach you how to use magic and awaken your inner ki.”

He stood tall in front of me, excitement barely contained.

“It’s a father’s job,” he continued proudly, “to teach his child practical things. How to survive in this world.”

Then his expression shifted—still warm, but more serious.

“The reason I’ll be training you is simple,” he said. “You haven’t awakened your ki yet.”

I blinked.

“…What?”

“Ki is a person’s life force,” he explained. “It exists in everyone. Even newborn babies have it.”

I listened carefully.

“The difference between ordinary people and mages,” he continued, “is that mages can manifest their ki. They can use it for more than just staying alive.”

I thought about it for a moment, then translated it into terms I understood.

Back on Earth, it was like the difference between an old mobile phone and a modern smartphone.  

Both had batteries.  

Both had power.  

But the old phone could only make calls.  

The smartphone used the same energy to do countless things—take photos, watch videos, navigate the world, shine light in the dark.

Ki was the same.  

Everyone had it.  

Only some people learned how to use it.

“So how do I do that, Dad?” I asked.

He nodded, pleased.

“There are two ways to awaken ki,” he said calmly. “The first—and most common—is when an element of nature naturally taps into your ki.”

An element of nature.

“This usually happens when someone is very young,” he explained. “They show a natural affinity—fire, water, wind, earth.”

I frowned.

Nothing like that had happened to me.

I had even tried to force it.

“That process is… natural selection, in a way,” he continued. “Certain clans and noble families have long-standing bonds with specific elements or spirits. Over generations, they refine their techniques, spells, and status.”

I had heard about that.

The Dragon Reins, whose bloodline currently sat on Sayra’s throne, were said to be bound to ancient dragon spirits.  

Before them, the Blowing Leaf Rein ruled—masters of aerial sorcery.

“People outside these lineages can still form bonds,” my father said, “but they lack the refinement that comes with centuries of practice.”

I understood now.

“So that’s why Misa—”

He nodded.

“Your sister showed an affinity for wind early on. Her ki awakened naturally.”

Images flashed in my mind—Misa floating slightly off the ground, my mother scrambling to grab her.

“…But you,” he continued gently, “have shown no such signs.”

My chest tightened.

“So that brings us to the second method,” he said. “A rarer one.”

He knelt down to my height, placing a firm hand on my shoulder.

“You must actively seek a bond through meditation. You must allow an element to tap into your ki and awaken it.”

Silence followed.

“You must request an element around you,” he said, smiling softly, “and ask it to choose you.”

He looked at me carefully.

“I won’t pressure you,” he added. “But as your father, I don’t want you to be left behind.”

I met his gaze.

I understood his concern.

And I wouldn’t let him down.

“First,” he said, standing back up, “I’ll show you.”

He walked toward a tree at the edge of the yard and planted his feet firmly.

“Watch carefully.”

He took a deep breath.

The air around him shifted.

A faint red glow spread across his body, veins pulsing with light. His eyes shone like embers.

He clenched his fist.

“By will and breath—answer me.”

The ki surged.

A blast of fire erupted from his hand, roaring forward and obliterating the tree in an instant.

I gasped.

The trunk shattered. Splinters scattered. Heat washed over my face.

He turned back toward me, pride clear in his expression.

“So,” he asked confidently, “how did you like that, Aren?”

I couldn’t speak.

That was incredible.

But our moment was cut short.

“Naooo—!”

My mother stormed into the yard, eyes wide.

“What have you done?” she demanded, staring at the destruction.

“Oh… oops,” my father said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I might’ve gotten carried away.”

“If you wanted to show off,” she snapped, “you could’ve blasted it into the air.”

“…I didn’t think of that,” he laughed weakly.

“Of course you didn’t.”

Misa came running out, Lise right behind her.

“Wow!” Misa shouted. “Daddy, that was so cool! Do it again!”

“No,” my mother said firmly. “No more blasting.”

“Another day, kiddo,” my father said quickly.

“I wanna see it too, Uncle Naoki!” Lise added.

My mother sighed. “You’re spoiling the children.”

But my father looked happy—truly happy. He was proud to show off to the kids.

“Any more mishaps,” my mother warned, “and you’re in serious trouble.”

“Yes, dear,” he replied.

They left.

And then—

It was my turn.

I took a deep breath.

This time, I wouldn’t fail.

I had to prove that I could do this.