Learning a Trade, again

Learning a Trade, again...

Nana's dedication to her craft precluded any favoritism. Jet's potential apprenticeship didn't exempt Tista from waiting her turn, like everyone else.

Jet hadn't felt this content standing in line since his college days when he'd maximize every second to review his weakest subjects.

"Too much to absorb, too little time. Focusing on light and dark magic—the only elements that diverge from the physics I'm familiar with. Best-case scenario: it'll take years to access books again, and self-study has its limitations."

When their turn arrived, he watched closely as Nana executed the light magic spell Vinire Rad Tu. Familiar with the life-force detection incantation she'd cast on him three years prior, Jet now possessed a more profound grasp of magic and a better vantage point.

Standing by her side, Jet discerned every gesture and motion Nana employed to enhance the spell's potency. Light enveloped Tista's form, turning gray around her chest, distinctly outlining her lung's contours.

"I bring both good news and bad news. The good: Tista's condition remains stable; there's no sign of further deterioration. The bad: there's no sign of improvement either. I fear she'll remain this way indefinitely. As she grows, the likelihood of her body spontaneously correcting itself diminishes."

An oppressive atmosphere settled over the room. A lifetime of suffering was hardly an improvement over nonexistence.

Shaken, Jet momentarily forgot about the books. The universe held no allure if he couldn't share it with his cherished trio.

Exiting Nana's abode, the somber trio returned home in silence.

Once back, Elina imparted the grim news, seeking solace in Raaz's embrace before succumbing to tears. One by one, the family embraced, tears mingling in their shared grief.

Jet allowed himself the release, railing against the merciless fate that had befallen his sister.

"What good is magic if I'm still powerless? Is this cycle of reincarnation merely an exchange of one nightmare for another? Is this my punishment? Or am I cursed for some past misdeed?"

In the ensuing days, Jet scrutinized every life decision, grappling with the realization that adversity was an intrinsic part of existence. Tista's ailment predates his second reincarnation, eradicating the notion that her condition is his responsibility.

Having secured Nana's tutelage, Jet could now openly practice magic. He swiftly took over the household chores, sparing his mother and sisters from the drudgery.

Harnessing the might of darkness magic, washing dishes and cauldrons transformed into mere moments of effort. Any organic residue—food remnants or grease—succumbed to a spark of dark energy, disintegrating into dust.

Jet also delved into countless experiments with light magic, desperate for a cure. Yet his efforts only managed to mitigate the symptoms. Tista required fewer treatments from Nana, yet she remained confined within her own body.

This fueled Orpal's growing resentment.

"Show-off! How can I enjoy life with him constantly overshadowing me? Leech not only splits household duties with Mom but also devotes time to Tista. Mom and Dad sing his praises for his so-called intellect and talents. They endlessly applaud him for saving us money by tending to Tista's condition himself. Meanwhile, nobody cares about me toiling on the farm! Gods, why did you let him live? Why am I bereft of any talents?"

Unaware of his brother's turmoil, Jet wasn't faring much better. His magical potency and comprehension of mana surged, yet the lingering taste of failure remained inescapable.

The subsequent year failed to restore any enchantment to his magic. Each discovery felt futile, his strength meaningless.

And thus, he reached the age of four. In Lutia, ages four to six marked "the golden age," when children gained some independence but remained too small to aid in daily tasks.

This was their time to play, unburdened by responsibility. An opportunity to form friendships, strengthen neighborly bonds, and deepen family connections.

On Jet's fourth birthday, after chores were done, Eliza introduced him to their neighbors before returning home.

Jet's goal for the day wasn't play or socialize, contrary to the usual expectations for someone his age. The gnawing hunger that had consumed him since he was a mere five months old refused to relent, eclipsing any failure or sorrow.

Raaz's farm nestled on Lutia's western fringes, roughly a kilometer from the extensive woods, Trawn. Despite its grandiose moniker, Trawn posed minimal danger. Nearby villagers relied on its timber for daily life, and its abundant wildlife offered sustenance year-round to those courageous and fortunate enough to hunt.

Monsters didn't inhabit the forest unless one ventured several kilometers inwards, an unnecessary risk considering the forest's primary function. Consequently, the forest's deeper regions remained unexplored.

Jet's absence of martial training in this new world wasn't coincidental, even the basics eluded him. Continuous magical practice exhausted his limited energy, and his family's circumstances hindered his training. Already leaner than his siblings, exertion would reduce him to a skeletal wisp. Nourishment was imperative.

However, his urban upbringing left him ignorant of butchery—an essential skill for his survival. Thus, he sought a teacher, directing himself to Selia Fastarrow's abode, the only hunter among their neighbors.

"The predicament is that I lack any leverage. I'm too young for an apprenticeship, and even if I weren't, it's unlikely she hasn't heard about Nana's offer. There's no gain for her in helping me. I can only hope for her benevolence."

Selia's abode was a small, single-story wooden structure—much smaller than Jet's—covering roughly sixty square meters. Except for the vicinity around the house, the fields remained untended, overgrown with weeds, tall grass, and nature's whims.

"It's clear she's uninterested in farming or raising animals, which works in my favor. That likely means her hunting business thrives. I wonder about the sizable shed adjacent to her house, almost as large as the house itself."

Knocking, Jet's nervousness twisted his insides into knots. The door swung open promptly.

"You again? Lost or something?" Selia, in her early thirties, stood at 1.7 meters, tanned from relentless sun exposure. Sporting a military-standard short haircut, her sharp eyes and rough demeanor gave her a more masculine demeanor, offsetting her potential cuteness.

Adorned in a leather hunting jacket, green shirt, cargo pants, and noise-muffling brown hunting boots, she cut a rugged figure.

Jet cleared his throat. "Hello, Miss Fastarrow, I need a favor. Could you teach me how to skin and gut animals?"

One eyebrow arched. "Why?"

"Because I'm hungry." Lacking any leverage, Jet embraced truthfulness. "I've been starving long enough to forget what it's like to be full. While I can hunt, improper meat handling renders it inedible."

Selia's gaze intensified. "No, you've misunderstood. I mean, why should I assist you? What's in it for me?"

"What do you want?" Jet countered, restraining the urge to retaliate physically. His hunger had darkened his perspective, viewing her as potential prey.

"Frankly, I doubt a runt barely reaching my belt buckle can hunt anything, not even a rat. Teaching is a waste of time and time demands compensation."

She rubbed her chin, seeking an offer sufficient to drive him away. Never desiring her own children, dealing with another's was doubly unattractive. 𝗇𝒪𝒱𝚎𝓛𝑁𝑒𝓍𝓉.𝒸𝑜𝓂

"Here's the deal: before I teach you, you must bring me game. Butchering improperly can ruin my merchandise, wasting my time and goods. So, whatever you bring, I'll instruct you on skinning and gutting it. Half, however, is mine for the hassle. Accept or decline."

"So much for benevolence; this is sheer extortion," Jet thought.

"I'll accept. How long will you be at home?" Jet inquired.

"I'm home all day; I have plenty of tasks to complete. Why?"

"When I return with my catch, I'll need your assistance. Don't forget our agreement."

Turning away, Jet headed toward the woods. Observing the little kid posturing with no bow, traps, or even a game bag, Selia couldn't help but chortle. Yet, the door abruptly slammed shut, leaving her on the ground. Rising, she hurried to the nearest window.

Jet remained in place, his face now directed at her door. His eyes shimmered in the dawn's dim light, an enigmatic brightness.

As he reached the woods' edge, Jet activated his Life Vision spell—a creation from his year of magical practice. By infusing his eyes with light magic, he could perceive living beings in color, while the rest appeared in shades of gray. Greater life-force illuminated objects more intensely. This enabled him to spot animals concealed underground, in shrubs, or within trees.

Hunting something grand wasn't necessary, as long as it provided meat. Most animals fled his approach, but not all. Birds and squirrels perched on branches felt secure, yet Jet's spirit magic extended over twenty meters. They were all within his grasp.

He merely extended his hand toward his quarry, gripping and twisting to snap their necks. Within twenty minutes, he'd secured two peculiar feathered birds and two squirrels.

"I could catch more, but I want to minimize what I pay that vulture."

Returning to the huntress's home, Jet grappled with his avarice and fury.

"Damn it! I wish I could just ask Dad. Our farm boasts a henhouse, and we consume chicken. He must know how to butcher. But if I do, I'll be obligated to share MY prey equally. And I can't stand the idea of Orpal and Trion having as much meat as me, or worse, even more due to their seniority. I hunted this game; it's MINE, only MINE! I'll only let them eat my scraps when and if I deem it!"

By the time Jet reached the door, he'd settled his rage, masking it with a composed façade. He inhaled deeply before knocking again.

Spotting him, Selia teetered on mocking his apparent quick abandonment of the hunt. Yet, Jet displayed his bounty, silencing her intention to belittle the effort required of a hunter.