I have a few weeks left before I have to return to the city. My training at the Mage Guild will begin soon. I am determined to use every second of this time to develop my abilities. I do not want to walk into that guild as a complete amateur. I want to be ready for whatever those researchers throw at me. If I am going to be an experiment, I am going to try my damn hardest to get the most out of that deal.
My public persona is very important. I make sure to act like a bright but not-so-talented child. I talk about things a six-year-old should talk about. I ask my mother about the names of flowers. I ask my father how to fix a fence. When the other village children are around, I play tag or hide-and-seek. I am very good at hiding because I actually want to be left alone.
But in private, my life is a different story. My secret training spot in the forest has become my true home. I have expanded it over time, clearing away the brush and reinforcing the perimeter with subtle traps that would trip up a careless wanderer. I found a hollow tree near my favorite flat rock where I hide my most precious possession.
It is my journal.
I've been working on it feverishly for the past few days, ever since I got back from the city. I managed to snag some decent scraps of parchment during our trip to Grandell, real paper is a luxury in this backwater, and I've spent my nights by candlelight turning a charcoal stick into a makeshift pen. My crafting skills aren't exactly "Master Artisan" level, but the pen works well enough to transcribe the mountain of mental notes I've kept since I was a toddler.
See, I didn't have paper for the first few years of this life. I had to record my early experiments on flat pieces of bark or smooth stones, most of which rotted or got lost in the dirt. This new journal is my "Great Work." I am painstakingly transferring every success and every spectacular, bone-breaking failure from my memory onto these pages. I use modern organization methods, bullet points, numbered lists, and even basic flowcharts.
I write everything in English. In this world, it looks like the scribblings of a madman or a complex, undecipherable code. It keeps it mysterious. Hopefully, there is no one else who knows English in this world, the chances of another person from Earth ending up in this specific corner of the multiverse have to be astronomically low. But then again, it happened to me. If it can happen once, it can happen twice. If some other "reincarnator" ever finds this, they'll either think I'm a genius or a complete dork. I'm okay with either.
I have focused my current training on three foundational techniques. I call them my "Lazy Mage Starter Pack."
The first is the Mana Thread. I have refined this a lot since the days I was just struggling to twitch a leaf. I can now create threads that are so thin they are practically invisible, even to someone looking for them. I can use them to move small, lightweight objects from a distance. It is my version of telekinesis, but it's more "fishing line" than "Jedi Force." It uses almost zero mana because the thread is so fine. The secret isn't strength; it's the precision of the vibration. If I get the frequency right, the air itself almost seems to help me lift the object.
The second is the Efficiency Burst. This is my solution to having a mana pool the size of a teacup. Instead of trying to cast a large, sweeping spell that would leave me fainting in the dirt, I've learned how to compress a tiny amount of mana into a very small, dense point, roughly the size of a needle head. When I release it, it creates a sharp, powerful impact. It isn't a fireball, it's a magical bullet. It's short, fast, and uses a fraction of the energy. It's the perfect "get away from me" tool. However, the density required still takes a toll on my "pool," leaving me with a dull ache in my chest if I use it too often.
The third is Aether Sense. This is the evolution of my basic detection pulse. Instead of pushing a cloud of mana outward and waiting for it to hit something, I have learned how to go passive. I listen to the ambient magical energy that already exists in the air. Everything in this world has a tiny bit of mana, the trees, the rocks, the squirrels, even the annoying gnats. I have trained my mind to pick up on the ripples in that natural energy. I can "see" the movement of living things around me without even opening my eyes. It is the ultimate tool for a lazy person who doesn't want to be surprised by extra work or dangerous monsters.
The downside is the mental strain. Keeping Aether Sense active feels like trying to listen to twenty different radio stations at once while doing long division. It's an amazing skill, but the constant headache makes it something I'll only use when absolutely necessary.
My training was going perfectly until yesterday. I was in my clearing, working on my Mana Thread multitasking. I was trying to lift three acorns at the same time and move them in different, opposing orbits. It was like trying to pat your head, rub your stomach, and juggle with your feet all at once. I was so deep in the "zone" that I didn't notice the perimeter until I heard a branch snap.
I froze. My Aether Sense, which I had dialed down to save energy, flared to life. I felt a presence behind a large oak tree ten feet to my left.
I snapped my fingers, instantly dissolving the threads and letting the acorns fall into the grass. I turned around, my heart hammering against my ribs. My first thought was Sam. I figured he and his goons had followed me to get revenge for the "accident" with the mud puddle last time.
Instead, a small, smudge-faced girl peeked out from behind the trunk.
It was the kid I had inadvertently saved from Sam and his gang of bullies. At the time, I thought it was a boy because of the oversized tunic and the short hair, but I'd later learned her name was Emma. She was about seven, a year older than me, with messy brown hair full of dried leaves and a wide, gap-toothed smile.
My heart sank. My secret training spot was officially compromised.
"I saw you," Emma whispered. She stepped out from behind the tree, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and terror. "I saw the acorns dancing. You were doing magic."
I tried to put on my best "confused child" face. "I was just playing with sticks, Emma. You must have seen a bird or the wind. Or maybe you need a nap? Naps are great."
Emma shook her head stubbornly. She walked toward me, her hands clasped behind her back. "You're a mage. A secret, amazing mage like in the stories."
I let out a long, weary sigh and slumped my shoulders. There was no point. She had the persistence of a hunting dog and apparently more free time than I did. Lying was only going to make her more curious.
"Listen, Emma," I said, dropping the high-pitched baby voice for my natural, cynical tone. "You can't tell anyone about this. Seriously. If you do, things will get very messy."
"Is it illegal?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
I hesitated. Technically, as a registered student of the Guild, I was allowed to possess magic. But Gerald, the Guild representative, had been very clear, No magic until you reach the city. If word got back to him that I was practicing advanced mana manipulation, he would probably find some way to hold me as a permanent experimental subject. That doesn't sound good at all.
"It's not just illegal," I lied, leaning into the drama to scare her. "I have a specific contract with the Great Mage Guild. If they find out I'm using magic before my training starts, they could seize our farm and throw my family into the street. And since you saw it, they might think you're an accomplice. We'd both be in big trouble."
Emma didn't look scared even for a second. She looked like she had just been invited on a quest. "Then you have to teach me! If I know magic, I can help you hide it. I can be your... your apprentice!"
I looked at her. I didn't want a student. Students were work. Students were the opposite of lazy.
"Emma, magic isn't a game. It's exhausting and dangerous."
"I want to be able to protect myself," Emma said, her voice cracking. She gripped the hem of her dirty tunic. "I don't want to be the girl who gets her toy sword stolen. I don't want to be the girl who hides in the bushes when Sam comes around."
I looked at her, and for a second, I saw a reflection of my old self, someone tired of being pushed around by the world. I didn't want the responsibility, but I also didn't want her blabbing to the neighbors. If I kept her close, I could control the narrative.
"Fine," I said. "I will show you some basic mana sensing. But we're not doing fireballs or flying. We're going to sit, we're going to breathe, and you're going to be quiet. Understood?"
Emma nodded so hard I thought her head might fall off.
Over the next few days, I discovered two things.
First, Emma had almost zero magical talent. Her mana pool wasn't just small, it was like a tiny puddle on a scorching summer day. She struggled to even perceive the energy in her own body. It took her hours of meditation just to get a tiny tingle in her fingertips. By all traditional standards, she was an actual "dud."
The second thing I discovered was that she was incredibly, terrifyingly determined. She practiced with a level of intensity that actually made me feel guilty. In my previous life, I was the king of procrastination. I did the bare minimum to get by and spent my spare time playing games while the world moved on. Seeing this seven-year-old girl sit in the dirt for four hours straight just to feel a single spark of mana was a wake-up call. She wanted it more than I ever had.
Our training sessions became a regular occurrence. Every afternoon, Emma would meet me at the rock. I found that explaining the concepts to her actually helped me. It was the Feynman Technique, to teach something simply, you have to understand it perfectly. She was my unwitting test subject. I used her to refine my theories on efficiency, trying to find ways for someone with almost no power to still achieve results.
Her absolute trust in me was both touching and terrifying. She looked at me like I was a Master-ranked Sage. I felt like a total fraud. I didn't actually know if my "Efficiency Burst" theories were safe for a kid, I was just making things up based on physics and gut feeling. If I accidentally caused her to blow her hand off, my life would end in a very messy, very permanent way.
One afternoon, Emma was sitting cross-legged, trying to make a tiny spark of light appear between her palms. She was sweating, her brow furrowed in a mask of pure concentration. I was leaning against a tree, about to give her a lecture on mana-flow resistance.
Suddenly, the hair on my neck stood up. After using Aether Sense so many times, I have accrued a sort of "Spider-Sense," but like a very watered-down version of it. It doesn't work most of the time unless I'm already familiar with the threat, or it's something I have marked as a threat, and it needs to be very, very close to me to even work.
Not exactly a great skill.
I lunged forward and pulled Emma behind the hollow tree.
Three boys stepped into the clearing. It was Sam and his two loyal shadows. Sam's face usually wore a look of childish arrogance, but that was gone. It was replaced by something much darker. Nope, I don't like that look at all. He didn't have a stick or a weapon, so it was safe to assume they weren't here for a fight. He just stood there, his eyes scanning the clearing.
He found me. Not something that I was really hoping for.
He looked at me. Then he looked at Emma, who was trembling behind my arm. Finally, his eyes drifted to the ground where Emma had been sitting. There was a small patch of scorched grass where a tiny, accidental spark had landed moments before.
Sam didn't laugh. He didn't call me a "dud" or threaten to shove me into the creek. He just stared at us with a cold, genuine malice that felt far too weird for a boy his age. Now my Spidey-senses were telling me this wasn't good at all.
Sam's father was the wealthiest landowner in the village and a close friend of the local magistrate. If Sam told his father that I was "practicing magic without supervision of an adult" or "teaching magic" to a village child, it would not end well, not well at all.
Sam didn't say a single word. He simply turned around and walked back into the trees, his two silent friends following like obedient dogs.
The silence that followed was more threatening than any shout.
I stood in the quiet forest, my hand resting on Emma's shaking shoulder. I realized that my secret was out, and my "lazy" exit from this village had just become incredibly complicated.
"Are we in trouble, Cid?" Emma whispered.
I looked at the spot where Sam had disappeared. "Yeah, we're–or I'm–in a world of trouble."