Erith

Our little village was enveloped in the darkness of night. Nobody else was outdoors at this ungodly hour.

As I trailed behind my father, I could vaguely make out the rickety wooden houses we passed. I never had much interaction with our neighbours, but they were honest folk. A humble collection of farmers and cloth weavers, simply trying to make the best of a life outside the capital.

We passed the village entrance, and continued travelling west. Ervin hadn't spoken a word since we left, and yet, his presence alone was enough to emanate pressure. I wasn't able to speak, even if I had wanted to.

In my previous world, my father would have been the toughest of warriors. A nuclear force stampeding across the battlefield, with no morals, and no remorse. That government would have torn apart whole cities for a specimen like him.

By the time we stopped, my legs were crumbling - ready to collapse at any moment. I glanced upwards.

We were in front of a colossal stone-brick gate, with archer towers rising into the sky on either side. Walls surrounded the area for as far as the eye could see, with the royal crest being flaunted wherever you looked. Faraway, a grand castle sat atop a fortified hill. Made out of white marble, and lit up like a christmas tree, was the king's throne. This was the eastern entrance to Erith, the mighty capital of Axos.

A loud clunk sound filled the air, and the gate gradually began to open, revealing the city. It was a sprawling labyrinth of stone buildings and paved roads. The silhouette of buildings filled the skyline; huge houses, taverns and emporiums were a common sight. One building in particular seduced my eyes, a glowing tower of overwhelming scale, dominating the view. The mage tower.

That was where the continents top mages held their yearly assembly; threats to the continent, new spells and potential talent were all discussed. They held massive influence over the kingdom. If they wanted something, then it was difficult for anyone to stop them - including the king himself. Of course, this was all according to old books written decades ago.

And from my parents conversations, I had learned that it was where young children received mana aptitude tests. That is, to test if a child can detect and manipulate mana particles of one of the four elements. At home, I had previously attempted to use the knowledge from my past life to get a head start - but no matter how hard I tried, I wasn't able to gather enough mana to cast any spells.

I suspected that there might have been more to this world's magic system than met the eye.

Continuing in silence, we navigated through the winding streets, and ended up in the town square. The fog had cleared up a little, so I was able to take in my new surroundings. A marble water fountain, quietly trickling in the centre, surrounded by empty stalls. Come morning, this entire area would be filled with merchants. Shops and taverns lined the edge of the square, all with different extravagant designs carved into the building to try and attract customers.

When we finally reached the mage tower, my little legs were in almost unbearable agony. What kind of a father forces their six-year old son to walk for two hours straight? Ah, yes, of course. Ervin Greyworth. He paused at the top of the stairs leading to the entrance.

He turned his neck to glare at me, his eyes boring into the back of my skull. "Be on your best behaviour, Lance."

He looked away and tilted his head, causing a sharp noise to ring out as he cracked his neck. I shuddered and steeled myself for what was yet to come.

Inside, the ceiling rose up to the height of a two-story building. A glass chandelier hung down, with a dazzling orb in the middle - reflecting light in all directions. I could easily sense an immense amount of mana trapped inside.

The receptionist eyed us from her desk, and called my father over. I leaned against the wall, admiring the paintings which had been scattered around the walls. They depicted various prominent mages, some of which I recognised from my books, but many of which who were new faces. 'Merlin'? No... it couldn't be.

I was staring at the old man for quite a while. His stupid grin was infectious. I could tell, even from this painting, exactly what kind of person he was. I clearly envisioned a goofy, archaic mage - but one of incredible power and wisdom.

"Boy."

I flinched, and pushed myself off the wall. I trotted behind my father as he led me up the stairs to the second floor.

'Silverfox' was engrained into the door in bold lettering ahead of us. As we approached, it squeaked open, unveiling an office room filled to the brim with bookcases on all sides - and a messy desk in the centre. An old man wearing black robes was sitting in the chair.

His eyes wandered towards my father, and then back to me. "The child may enter." He spoke in a manner-of-fact tone. A no-nonsense individual who clearly had better things to be doing.

I stepped into the room, and the door slammed shut behind me. Instantly, my shoulders relaxed and my stomach untensed. The pressure that had been crushing my very soul all morning had finally been separated from me.

"Well? Come closer, child." He beckoned me forth.

I waddled over to the seat across from him and sat down. I couldn't help but admire the sheer volume of books in his office. If I could read half of these... no, even a tenth, I amass an unfathomable amount of knowledge about this world.

"My name is Silvain Silverfox, and I will be conducting the aptitude test today." He reached into a large drawer, and pulled out a blue orb. It was faintly glowing, but was nowhere near as dazzling as the one in the main lobby.

"Please place both hands on the orb. If the mana particles react to your touch, we will move onto step two and evaluate your magic affinity."

My hands hovered above the orb. My stomach felt a little funny, and my hands were shaking. It dawned on me that this would be the start, or end of my life in this world. I closed my eyes. Please... if any god is listening...

"I'm sorry, my boy."

What? What did he just say?

"Do not fret, there are other paths the ungifted can pursue. Such as alchemy..." His words were slowly drowned out, replaced by high-pitched ringing.

But... but... I was Thomas, of the first battalion, fast-tracked to becoming an all-powerful archmage. How...?

"There... there must be a mistake..." I stared up at Silvain, wild-eyed. "There has to be something, anything you can do. Please, anything."

I threw back my chair and smacked my hands against the table. He simply shook his head, gazing at my feeble self, surrounded by an air of meek sympathy.

The door slammed open. I knew that look... I'd seen it countless times on the battlefield.

Unrelenting bloodlust. Unhinged rage. A raw, primal desire for destruction.