1 Jack Orwell

"Good morning!" Called Noma, Jack's aunt and the sole caretaker of his parent's estate, "If you don't get up soon, your breakfast will get cold." she added.

Upon hearing Noma's warning, a small boy gently hopped out of bed.

As he walked to the hall bathroom, his head just barely reached the tallest markings on the door jamb reading "4ft 5in." Short for someone his age.

After opening the bathroom door, he jumped onto the almost adorably small step-stool that his father had made him years back.

He looked into the bathroom mirror and saw a small-framed child. He had short, dark brown hair that was boarding on black, he held a round pudgy face clearly still holding onto its baby fat, and sharp eyes. The strong clash between his childish characteristics and sharp mind often made people misjudge his age.

He wore a simple yet high-quality set of pajamas with the Initials J.O. for Jackson Orwell, his name, sewn into them. Something his mother always found amusing but never seemed willing to explain why.

As his deep blue eyes stared into their reflection, he started changing his expression from happy, to sad, followed by disgust, ending with rage. He repeated this cycle a couple of times whilst reciting one of his father's countless mantras in his head.

"I've only lost once you can see my fear."

He didn't fully understand the importance of this exercise, but if it meant making his father happy, he would do anything.

With an exasperated sigh, Noma entered the doorway and said, "You know you could at least pretend to be hurrying."

"Who said I'm not?"

Just as he finished the sentence, he burst off of his little step-stool, slipped past Noma, and started running down the hall, leading to the dining room. With an almost misleading amount of ease, Noma caught up to him and jogged alongside.

"You know your father hates it when you run in the house."

"If he really hated it, he would tell me, and we both know that," he replied with an almost mocking tone. Right before taking his turn too sharp and nearly falling to the ground, only to be caught by Noma.

"Fine then, I'm the one who hates it when you run in the house. After all, I won't always be there to catch you."

"Don't be ridiculous. You've never failed before"

As they talked, they entered the kitchen, or more accurately, Noma entered whilst carrying Jack.

She sat him down at the dining table and watched him wolf down his food in mere seconds, wondering how such a small boy could eat so much so quickly.

"I'll take care of the dishes; you can head to the study. Your mother said she left one of her more comprehensive notebooks and marked out today's lesson plan from the chapter for you. You should be able to handle it on your own, right?"

"I usually do."

Saying his piece, he went down the winding hallways to the household's study. It used to be solely his mother's, but over time he was able to convince her to share it with him. Even putting in a tiny table and chair in the corner for him to work. Though, it did take Jack agreeing to follow in her "pathway" for her to finally agree.

Walking up to a table clearly too big for him, he had to stand on his toes to properly read the covers of the books strewn across its top.

"Sigh, at least she didn't stack them this time."

As he stretched his tiny arm trying to reach a book titled simply as "Flesh Scribes", he regretted his decision to leave the step-stool in the bathroom.

With a little, too much effort required he was finally able to pull down the nearly six-pound book from the table as well as what looked like a worn-out notebook and a medium-sized box a little larger than his head. He quickly made his way to the miniature coffee table, turned workstation, and set down the books and box.

As he flipped through the pages glancing over everything he's learned in the last couple of months, he landed on the same familiar chapter he's been on for a quite a while, "Translating Basic to Functional Magic Languages" as well as the lesson plan his mother prepared "Final steps of translating Basic to Senker."

After reading through the chapter multiple times and mimicking the movements in the air, he finally turned to the medium-sized box and popped open the lid.

With practiced ease, he picked up the book titled "Flesh Scribes" and flipped through its contents, occasionally glancing at the paragraphs.

"The name Flesh Scribe was created as a blanket term for a large variety of trades related to augmenting organic matter. The name was coined as such to be derogatory to the members of such professions as for a long period of time they weren't considered a true pathway. Something they happily took and ran with, making the once shameful title something to respect. The etymology of different names in… "

"Flesh Scribes have been around for centuries in many forms. From the Gashi tribe's warrior markings, Insectoids of the Southern Hive Nation known for carving modified runes into their carapaces, mages of the Tygen race streamlining spells by embedding pre-made templates, the reclusive members of..."

"Though they have only been fully recognized as a proper 'pathway' within the last six decades, they have very quickly become one of the most sought-after professions dew to their..."

"One of the easiest and most simple magic 'languages' that both Rune Scribes and Flesh Scribes learn is a form of non-functional, simplified runic writing, centered on the surface level, that utilizes mana as a template energy source, called 'Basic.' In the following lessons, you will be taught 'Basic' as well as how to translate it into just about any form of simplified, mana-based, 'language'."

Inside it lay a beige-colored object. It was slightly rounded in the front with a fleshy texture but appeared to have a completely flat back. As Jack very carefully picked it up and set it in front of him one could see that on its hardback was an incredibly dense array of lightly glowing runes, symbols, and magic formations all interconnected in an almost incomprehensible way. Forming an extremely advanced code beyond what most could even begin to comprehend, especially so for someone at Jack's level.

After ensuring that his "Practice Partner," as his mother called it, was in a suitable position he reached back inside the box and pulled out a small object resembling a pen. It held a diamond-shaped point on its front and a sleek black surface along its body; as if nothing would be able to blemish it.

It was a Mana Pen. A special writing utensil designed to collect, store, and release a constant stream of mana from its point. They were a must-have item for most aspiring members of the "Rune Pathways," but were more auxiliary for beginner Flesh Scribes.

After taking an impossibly deep breath Jack gently traced the pen across the surface of the Practice Partner creating a beautiful, albeit simple, symbol surrounded by thin lines that when converted to Senker, a symbol-based magic language that supplements weak elemental symbols with spell script, would cause the flesh to continuously increase in temperature before the "code" destabilized.

Then again stuff like that is why he was taught using a non-functional "language" after all. Letting out his held breath Jack waited a couple of seconds before hearing a *beep beep beep.* Three beeps, a critical failure.

"Fuhhh...alright. It would have been a miracle if I got it first try."As he spoke, the surface of the "Practice Partner" squirmed slightly before returning to normal.

"Was the issue with the code? Maybe I set up the spell script wrong and overclocked the Symbol? But how could such a low-level spell script overclock a symbol that easily? Magic Symbols are designed to be flooded with mana for hours on end let alone be overwhelmed in seconds. Unless I created a feedback loop by accident in which case…"

As he continued to work, occasionally skimming through his mother's old notebook for insight and the textbook to make sure he was following the lesson plan properly, he smoothly progressed and by the time he completed the first portion of the lesson plan, It was already lunchtime. So he took a ten-minute break to use the restroom, wash up and then scarf down his food. After eating he went straight back to practicing and moved on to the real-world application portion of the lesson.

Though It may look weird to see someone his age studying so fervently, it was common practice amongst the upper echelon of the Fiedra Kingdom, the kingdom where Jack's family lives. After all, in less than a year the Royal Academy's, an oxymoron if ever there was one, entrance exams would be held. Though Jack has an almost guaranteed entry even if he never studied just because of his talents and potential in the Flesh Scribe pathway.

When his parents took him to the capital on his tenth birthday to get his talents tested; the representative from the Royal Academy told them, "To be a Flesh Scribe you need, at the bare minimum, talents in Mana Manipulation, Vitality Manipulation, Rune Shaping, Spell Writing, Symbol Scribing, Flesh magic, and a naturally resilient body. You have all of that plus a universal talent for Energy Manipulation. It's funny, if you weren't the son of a Flesh Scribe you would have become one of the best warlocks in the world."

After creating a rough outline of his "Talents," making a couple more comments about how wonderful it would have been to get such a prodigy in his Warlock program at the Academy, and sharing a few more pleasantries, they ended by saying it would be harder for Jack to avoid going to the academy than to gain entry.

After several hours and countless attempts, Jack blankly stared at the symbol he just drew thinking about what he might have to fix or improve from it when he heard a *Ding* indicating his success. Taking a couple of seconds to process what he just heard he stared at the practice partner. Waiting for it to squirm and return to normal as it had every time before but instead it just sat there as if it was in its natural state. As his success began sinking in he placed his hand onto the symbol and forcefully destabilized it. Watching as the practice partner completed the cycle he had grown oh-so used to, it finally clicked.

"Fuck yes finally! That took forever!" Jack celebrated as he looked at his first-ever functioning code. Its only purpose was to warm the body when supplied with mana. It couldn't even be placed on most people since it lacked any safety precautions. He made it using nothing but the Senker that he had translated from Basic. It took him a month to learn the methods, weeks to translate, and every free second he had all day to make it, but he did it. He took his first true step on the Pathway of a Flesh Scribe.