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ATWB Rewrite 1

Chapter One : What I Could Have Been

A Symphony of gunfire echoed in the background as I collapsed against the wall in a heap. Propping myself up, I tried to control my ragged breaths, each one sending a sharp pain throughout my chest. "You just had to do it didn't you" I moaned to myself. "It was meant to be a covert mission, not some running and gunning John Wick styled assault on a military base."

Despite these self-directed complaints, my operation had been a success. I had been told to, 'Drop behind enemy lines solo; gather intel and documents alluding to the enemy's next move and then create a wide-scale distraction.' This was meant to allow my comrades to storm the base from the ground, gaining a massive amount of territory in the process.

Unfortunately, however, due to some unforeseen circumstances, I now sat, covered in my own blood, at the front of a body-littered control room. My hand, which had been putting pressure on a bullet wound, was now a deep crimson as blood leaked out of my gut. Accepting my fate, I sighed.

"At least I went out in style."

My next moments passed very slowly; my vision came in and out of focus, and black spots kept appearing in front of me. 

I've heard people say that your life flashes before your eyes in the brief moments before death, a way for your body to come to terms with your passing. Instead, for me, only the fact that my life had been nothing but a hardship remained. Past decisions and regrets filled my head. Conversations I could have changed, comrades I could have saved. People I could have got to know.

My life was a struggle from birth. All of these poor past decisions seem to stem from it. After all, growing up as an orphan has its challenges; life just dragged me along without much thought.

I had nothing to live for but my country, not that it even mattered anymore.

As I grew up, loneliness was my only real friend. It gave me a small amount of comfort in the empty void that was my life. 

I don't remember my parents or any relatives; I was in the orphanage, never to be adopted for my entire childhood, living each day with a small amount of hope someone would come and rescue me. 

No one came. 

As I kept bleeding out, my thoughts continued to slowly spiral, revealing to me things I knew about myself that I refused to admit. 

I remembered that years ago, I started to live life by the idea that 'I can never be hurt by anyone if there is no one at all'. With time, this dissociation I developed turned into something I relied on daily. Because of this lack of attachment to the world, I came to observe it in hyper detail, absorbing information and seeing things with such acute attention, I barely missed anything that went past me. This inevitably led to me joining the secret service later in life.

This unique and twisted perception of the world I had eventually came to light. People came to realise how great an asset I was, rarely making mistakes and working with unparalleled efficiency. I was quickly made the first choice for any insertion. In only six years, I had been on over two hundred operations, accomplishing them to a high degree of success.

I wondered how life could have been different had I not decided to join the army back then, 'Maybe I'd be a writer,' I pondered, 'I did always enjoy reading comics and books.

Suddenly, a more violent pain ripping my thoughts from my mind. In one piercing wave of agony, I realised this would likely be my last breath. I inhaled haggard and deep, closing my eyes, so as to savour the last bit of air my body would ever receive.

As my breath held at its climax, I drifted off into a dream. This dream showed me a vision of the life I could have lived. A life I didn't know I wanted. A life that now, when it's too late, I know I did want.

It was a vision of a quiet life in the mountains. Calm, serene, surrounded by lush green Pine-trees and crisp mountain air. Around me birds chirped and flew freely. Reaching out, I took a step forward, feeling warm tears roll down my cheeks. In that moment, I abandoned reality and pain, allowing myself to be absorbed by the world my brain created, a delusion distracting me from passing.

This image of a perfect summer began to change to winter with each step I consequently took, and before I knew it, I found myself wading through thigh-high snow—the cold bit at my ears and nose, sharpening my senses as I continued to battle through the elements. Taking a second to look over my shoulder, I noticed how frost-tipped snowy trees replaced the forest that stood before, and that in the distance, snow-peaked tips of mountains extended beyond the horizon.

This was where I'd be had I lived differently.

'If you weren't left all alone.' echoed a voice in the back of my head,

'No,' I replied, 'It's the life I could have had if I'd taken a moment to appreciate what I enjoy.'

Ahead, through frosted breath, an old rustic cabin standing sturdily against the elements came into view. I immediately knew this was the house I had built (or should have built). Now on the porch, I brushed my hand along the pinewood. It was smooth to the touch, with grooves that showed It had been assembled by hand. 

I pushed on the front door, causing it to creak open slowly. A tingling sensation of the cold leaving my body filled me with warmth as I entered, matched by the smell of fresh coffee.

The door shut behind me, the latch clicking as it slid into place. Without needing to think, I already knew the house's layout. As if materialising in front of me, the living room is where I went first. In only a few strides, I made it to the comfort of the large leather sofa that faced the fireplace. Taking a seat, I let my ears fill with the soft sound of crackling embers. My body relaxed as I sank into its softness. Here, I let myself fall into a deep slumber.

My eyes snapped open. It was morning. The wooden beams on the ceiling told me I was still in the cabin. Turning in the bed, a faint feminine scent edged its way into my nose. Startled by this, I sat up, looking around for the source of the smell. 

To my left, a woman was lying next to me. Only her head and shoulders poked out from the duvet. Her dark brown hair reached out to me across the covers, scattered in perfect chaos across the pillow. Unable to resist the urge, I reached out and gently ran my fingers through it, letting it softly fall through my palms like silk. 

This dream was so vivid and natural it was difficult not to believe. I sat on the bed wondering why this wasn't in fact reality, and how if I had made better decisions it could have been.

  I had never followed my dreams, I had denied them. 

Slowly, as sadness and a haunting feeling of emptiness gripped my mind, my final dream faded, leaving me back in the control room, still at the apex of my last breath. 

For the final time, the air left my lungs, my eyelids closed, my hand slipped away from my gut, and my shoulders slumped, bringing me into the warm embrace of nothing that clasped its hands around my very being.

-

What followed was what I can only describe as emptiness. Within this expanse, it was warm. It was comforting, but there was nothing. No complex thoughts, light nor dark, nothing was presented to me. The only thing I felt was a calm air of acceptance filling me.

'Nothing matters any longer.' echoed the same voice as earlier.

-

-

After what, now looking back, was an eternity in nothingness, a white spec of dust fluttered towards me in the void; it chaotically spiralled closer and closer, similar to how a feather falls.

As it drew nearer, it came into focus, filling my vision. I realised then that it was not a spec of dust but actually a bright light. Looking down to where my chest should have been, I felt it pass straight through me, sending ripples throughout my projection, blinding and enveloping me in white noise that screamed within my ears.

-

I opened my eyes with no time even to begin comprehending what was happening. The whiteness and ringing in my ears faded as quickly as it started, and I found myself looking up at the tearful face of a young woman.

She wore a green cardigan with a wide shoulder neck, and a white shirt that poked out from underneath, its collar sticking up around her neck. Her gaze was locked onto me, with a beautiful pair of deep green eyes I couldn't help but feel attached to somehow.

Her face was pale, lightly freckled and good-looking, her cheeks were slightly red from what seemed to be the excessive crying, and her light brown hair, roughly shoulder length, flowed disorderly around her head.

Shifting my focus over her shoulder, I saw a man's face looking somewhat concerned. He, from a glance, was clearly in his early thirties, perhaps a little older than the woman. A dark head of hair and piercing cold grey eyes accompanied his expression. One of his hands reached out towards me and gently ruffled the top of my head; they were rough and covered in calluses. Looking up at him, he spoke to me, yet I couldn't understand what he said. Not even a recognition of the language, 'how odd'.

A sharp jerk hoisted me from below, alerting me to my other surroundings. I looked down only to see the floor far below me. 'Why is everything so big? And how on earth are they lifting me? I weigh nearly eighty kilos!'.

In my confusion, I began to struggle and writhe around, only to be greeted by a set of tiny hands that reached and flailed in front of me.

Stunned, it took a moment for me to comprehend.

I'm a baby? Did I reincarnate? Where am I? were the questions that immediately arose. Trying to calm down, I took a few deep, steady breaths. Eventually, I returned to my senses, taking one last stifled baby breath and composed myself.

After some delicate thought, I decided that there wasn't anything I could do about my current situation other than to ride out the wave whilst observing as much as possible. 

Another twenty minutes passed as my new parents cuddled me and chattered. As I listened to their voices, trying to recognise words and sentence structure, I suddenly felt fatigued and shut my eyes.

'Much better', I sighed in my head, slowly feeling my consciousness slip to sleep, 'If I truly have been given a second chance at life, I swear to live to the fullest and enjoy myself with every ounce of my being. I must make the most of this opportunity I've been given and not fall into my old ways.'.

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Chapter Two : Observations

The next day I woke up to the sound of birds chirping. Unable to move, all I could do was look up at the ceiling and think.

One thing that bothered me most about my rebirth was that It didn't make sense for reincarnation to apply to everyone that dies; otherwise, there would be a bunch of people with memories like mine. This gave me a few possible conclusions. The first being that this was a fluke or accident, and for some unknown purpose, I, and I alone, had been reincarnated. The second idea was that I reincarnated for a reason by someone or something; though I would consider this unlikely. 

Anyway, fluke seemed to be the most reasonable explanation.

After what felt like an aeon, putting together the puzzle of questions that didn't fit in my head, my mother came to collect me. 

She took a deep sniff from the top of my head (clearly addicted to my baby smell), picked me up and wished me a good morning. Following this, she changed my nappy—not a fun experience—and proceeded to show me around the house.

This tour turned out to be very insightful as she took her time pointing and telling me what I assumed were the names of the rooms and other objects scattered around. I picked up these words quickly. Over the next few hours, I managed to ascertain small amounts of information with her aid. Firstly, I was named Kharln, or at least that's what I've deciphered from having repeated it to my face constantly. Secondly, I am in a rural area residing within a country whose language I don't even vaguely recognise, despite having a working knowledge of at least five languages.

An old man with a weird hat also visited briefly. He prodded me with a stick, hummed and scratched his chin quite a bit, seemingly bothered by my lack of response. Maybe he was my standoffish grandfather? A maid also came and helped to clean the house whilst my mother looked after me. Other than this, I didn't really have much conclusive information. Being only a day old, I had limited time to observe things and often felt an immense and uncontrollable need to sleep. 

Our house (more of a cottage) was old and made nearly entirely of wood. The walls in the kitchen were the only exception to this, being made from a granite-like dark grey smooth stone. Out of the windows, I'd had a glimpse of what seemed to be a garden and expanse of fields. This view of the fauna, including an old oak tree and lush green grass, told me that we were likely in a temperate climate. There was also a smell of salt in the air, alluding to the fact we are a short distance from a coastline.

This was a significant bit of information, narrowing down my guesses to roughly six locations on the globe. With the knowledge that temperate climates are in located between latitudes of 23.5 degrees and 66.5, Southern parts of South America and Africa by the coast were possible locations; in addition to this, it could potentially be a rural area in Australasia. I couldn't be sure which hemisphere we were in, though I would have liked to rule out these three guesses based on how my parents looked and spoke; it could have been an extreme dialect of a European country? Locations in the northern hemisphere would have to be small areas of the North American coastline, most of Western Europe and East Asia, especially around Russia, Japan and China. 

The thought crossed me that there is also a slight possibility, be it slim, that this is not Earth, and like in the mangas I'd read or in Lord of the Rings, I was, in fact, living in some other world entirely. Even so, I highly doubted this.

-

The time I had spent sitting and observing the world had paid off; by the time my fourth day came around, I knew the house's entire layout. The ground floor comprised a living area; kitchen; dining area; storage cupboard; and bathing room. The first floor had two bedrooms, a study and a bolted-shut door, which I had yet to see opened. The top floor was the master bedroom. Overall, with the cosy furnishings, I felt a homely warmth I'd never experienced before.

I also made a groundbreaking discovery. Apparently, due to the fact I was in such a young developmental state, the rate at which I learned and absorbed information was astounding, even by my standards. I was already beginning to understand my parents' language and could distinguish the words both written and spoken.

The writing I'd seen in storybooks differed significantly from anything I'd ever seen before, subtracting from the idea that we were in Europe. Instead of using Western-styled writing, it was read like Japanese, from top to bottom and right to left. It seemed to be written as a mix of symbols with particular meanings, like Kanji, in addition to alphabetical characters. If any of these were repeated, the sentence would have a different connotation. In a way, this was similar to how Morse code was written but far more complex. Instead of repeating the two characters, 'Dash' or 'Dot', this writing repeated characters and symbols. It was almost as if the entire language was written in code itself.

  Naturally, the language wasn't spoken as written; otherwise, you'd repeat what you just said. Instead, similar to how you would put an 'S' on the end of a word to make a word plural, different pronunciations were used.

The fact that I could pick up on all of this so quickly made the possibility of learning languages and new skills near infinite. It was an opportunity I needed to make the most of. 

The most crucial question was how would I get my hands on more and better learning material. At this point I couldn't even control my own bowel movements, let alone move myself around. I remembered briefly seeing a large bookcase in the study, this was likely my only viable option to gather information. Slowly, piece by piece, I started visualising the room. The small space I recalled included a desk with an assortment of papers, quills and ink; next to this was a small, well-placed window that gave a good amount of sunlight to everything during the day. I was far too short to reach the handle, which meant my only option would be to wait for a day when the door would be left open. Even so, it would be four to six months until I was strong enough to move on my own before even making an attempt to get at any books. As I tried think of other options, I guess I pushed my limited thinking power too far, causing my body to give out on me. This left me feeling overwhelmingly tired.

  As I fought the losing battle with my fading consciousness, I decided, 'As soon as I can move freely, the first thing I'm going to do is get as much time in that room as possible...I…have to… YAWN… find out more…' A whisper came just as my eyelids gave out, "Awh, look, Arthur, our little boy is trying to stay awake," this was followed by a light kiss to my forehead, "Sleep well, darling." 

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Chapter Three : Another World

"Art, come here! Quickly! Kharl is Walking!" My mother shouted from the sofa, "Come and look!" 

"That's impossible! You can't fool me that easily, honey." came a yell in return, "I'm making some tea, did you want yours with milk?"

"I'm not joking, Arthur! Leave the tea and get in here!"

After a loud huff and the sound of hot water being poured, he came into the living room, "I left it black for you; So where's Kharln then?" 

As he rounded the sofa and saw me, he nearly dropped the teapot in surprise.

"What the Fu—"

"LANGUAGE!" Mum cut across, giving him a stern look.

"It's not normal for babies to walk this young, right?" He questioned, "He's what? Sixteen weeks old?"

"No, no, it's not," she replied with a worried look, "Unless I'm wrong, most kids aren't walking until they are at least a year old." 

Just nodding, my father didn't say another word as his eyes fixated on me taking my first steps.

Down on the floor far below them, I was standing between my parents, slowly and carefully putting one foot in front of the other, my face the embodiment of concentration.  I had to consciously fight my legs and feet which seemed to naturally turn inwards like bananas. This journey across the carpet was a treacherous one, with even the tiniest error in my movements, I'd be face-first on the floor. As I gained momentum and confidence, I began to find the process far more manageable; finally, as my state of flow settled in, I was able to appreciate the new and surreal feeling of standing on two feet. This felt especially odd when moving limbs that were undersized compared to what I used to.

After a few more metres of uncoordinated waddling, I sat back down on the floor with a bump, recovering my breath. Despite barely moving, that brief stint had used most of my physical strength. This wasn't too much of an issue, though; it's not like I'd ever be moving far on my own at this age; at least now I could walk, meaning that my raid of the study was one literal 'step' closer to happening. All I wanted was to get my hands on the books and papers stored there. The sooner I pulled this off, the sooner I could find out where I was and what happened in my past life. Or that's what I hoped. 

I didn't particularly want to know if my past life's mission was a success; I don't have a single person I'd like to reconnect with; I just absolutely hate cliffhangers, and that death of mine certainly was one.

Another thing making me so desperate for the study's books, was the frustration of being forced to listen to "Oh no, where is Mr Froggy?" every night for the last three months. Once the excitement of deciphering the text was over, it became no more than patronising torture to a man in his late twenties.

With my breath fully recovered, I noticed that my parents had stopped talking; Out of curiosity, I looked up at them, catching my mum's eye in the process. After making a few silly faces at me and finishing her tea, she got up and approached me. ''With that much energy, I think we should go out for a walk of our own, Kharl." 

Looking around for some method of escape. I could only muster, 'Oh, Shit…' before being grabbed; Mum was always so rough when she picked me up, not to mention the number of times she'd tripped over and nearly dropped me. 'I have a delicate body, woman! Unhand me, you fiend!' I would have cried as the floor fell away below me. Resigning myself to my fate, I stopped squirming and sighed. 'Not much I can do at this point,' I thought.

"Who's a big boy," beamed my mother before touching her nose to mine. "Why are you looking so grumpy? We're going to town; it's going to be so much fun!" she set me back down, "Wait here for me. Mummy has to go and get ready."

"You know he can't understand you, Aria" My father chuckled, "He may be able to walk, but he definitely doesn't have the faintest idea of what we are talking about." 

"Pft, he's my baby boy; he'll understand what Mummy says, won't you, Kharl." 

'If only they knew', I laughed to myself.

-

Five minutes later, much to my discomfort, we stood at the front door, ready to leave. I was strapped into Aria's chest, supported by a pink baby carrier. 'Off into the world, I guess. Maybe this 'walk' will give some more insight into where I am.'

For my first time outside, I immediately noticed how clear the morning air was; with every breath, I could feel the cold biting at the back of my throat, making the tips of my ears and nose sting slightly. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light as we stepped out of the front door. As I relaxed my squinting, the view that came into focus was astonishing. What lay before me, off a cliff edge, was an expanse of blue that seemed to stretch out forever. Sea and sky were one and the same, nearly as far as the eye could see. At the edge of my view, mountains sat on the horizon like tiny specs in the distance. 

Something about this view seemed off, not in a bad way, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Maybe it was because I had been stuck inside for so long. 

The azure blue sky was crystal clear. Only a few fluffy white clouds lingered in the heavens far across the water. 'Not bad, not bad,' I said to myself as if pretending not to be blown away by this phenomenal real estate location. I engrained this image of a perfect view into my memories.

We continued by walking along the coastal path. Around twenty metres to our left, the cliff edge plummeted down by what I guessed as a significant drop. This went on for a little while before we began heading further inland. In front of us, over the rolling fields ahead, puffs of grey smoke could be seen drifting upwards, drastically contrasting the colour of the sky. I assumed this was our local town or village.

Looking down at eye level, the grass was relatively short, only around thirty centimetres long, and the odd tree was scattered here and there, giving shade to small patches of land. Time flew by as I took in all there was to see, and before long, the town in question came into view. "This is, Nzar, Kharl", my mother said to me, breaking the silence we had held so far on our walk. From the neutral expression on her face, I could tell she was clearly more used to the sights than I was.

"That up ahead is the southwest gate," she spoke again, still in the almost rhetorical tone, as if expecting me not to understand, "-Isn't the wall big!" she pointed.

The wall in question soon came into my eye line. It was huge. Comprised of various shades of grey, it encompassed the entire town, made from weathered stone. It stretched from the cliff edge, curving inland, round and out of sight, comparable to a giant snake slithering from the ocean.

  On closer inspection, the wall appeared to be a similar height to a typical house's third floor, around six to seven metres. I could see the roofs of some of the buildings beyond it, so this height made sense. Looking up, on top of the battlements, armed guards in matching crimson plated armour stood to attention with longbows in hand. 'Is this some mediaeval settlement? I am certainly not in twenty first century. Was this some weird time travelling thing?'.

As we approached the gated opening in the stone my mum had pointed out earlier, we were stopped by a guard standing in a toll booth, "Just here for some shopping," my mother said casually as she pulled out her identification card, "We shouldn't be in town for long."

"No worries, Mrs Tsorm," came the gruff reply, "Good to see a familiar face. I haven't seen you in a while; I assume this is your… daughter?..."

"Son, actually Ben, haha. His name is Kharln," Joked my mother, "Arthut and I  may have gotten the Wrong Colour accessories."

"Ah... Uh, I see; excuse my mistake," the guard apologised awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, "Have a nice day, haha."

I was puzzled at his fumbled reply; it appeared he was afraid my mum for some reason. I was also a little put off because he thought I was a girl; I thought I had more noticeably masculine features. 'I'll be a stunner when I'm older'.

As we passed through the bustling streets, I saw all kinds of odd people, some with funny hats that stood tall and pointy with wide rims. Other people walked the streets wearing armour and wielding weapons that were too large and exquisite to be deemed practical. It felt like I was on a movie set for a fantasy series. 

A few minutes later we took a sharp left turn, passing under what seemed to be a Tavern or Inn overhanging the street in a rather precarious way. As I looked up at the building that almost warped under its own weight, I caught a glimpse of someone who looked even more peculiar than anyone else I'd previously seen. With their back turned to me, I could only make out some oddly shaped shadows on the top of their head. I looked closer, and as they turned around in their seat to greet someone behind them, I got a full view of their face. 

'Holy shit…' My eyes widened. This person wasn't human at all. Instead of standard features, I was looking at a set of wiry whiskers and gigantic eyes, all surrounded by ginger fur. There was no chance it was makeup; this was far too realistic. As my brain tried to connect my disarray of thoughts, all of the puzzle pieces finally dropped into place.

This wasn't Earth.

Frantically, I looked for more evidence of this as we continued on our way, my eyes darting left and right, analysing everything I could. Our next right turn gave me the confirmation I was looking for. On the side of the street, a tiny bearded woman was washing clothes on the curb, creating water in her palm from what seemed to be thin air. I also watched as street vendors seared kebabs with breaths of flames, shouting about their most recent menu changes and skills as cooks.

  'Awesome', I stared In fascination as one man engulfed his entire shop in flames, revealing a fashionably dressed woman who called people over to watch their show.

I was a little surprised I hadn't picked up any of this earlier on; everything we passed in the street seemed to point towards this being another world. I guess my judgement was clouded by the fact I didn't truly believe it was possible, although it was no less ridiculous than thinking I had travelled back in time. 

I snapped back to reality from my wonders of daydreaming with a sudden halt; we had stopped. Looking up at my mum, her face was a puzzle of confusion. Evidently, with the lack of preparation for this walk, she had forgotten what we were in town for. 

"Where are we going again." her green eyes met my gaze, "Do you remember Kharln?" she lightly patted me on the head, ''Ah, yes, of course! Thank you, sweetie; I remember now''.

'Glad I could be of assistance, Ma'am.' I thought sarcastically.

We doubled back on ourselves, passing across another few busy streets full of equally exciting sights. These roads were less active than the ones we had been on previously, littered with market stalls that sold trinkets, potions and other items I had never seen before. I absorbed as much information as possible before we arrived at our destination. I don't think any amount of time in this town would be enough to satisfy my curiosity.

"Here we are", Mum said to herself as a small and decrepit shop came into view.

Puzzled as to why we would come to such an old rundown shop, I tried to read the sign above the entrance as we entered. It had dusty windows and old wooden beams holding it up. Unlike the rest of the buildings on the street, it was far thinner, only taking up half of the space the other stores did. 

Unfortunately, I couldn't make out any of the symbols, making my entry even more uncertain as I wondered what the shop would contain.

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Chapter Four : Not Your Average Corner Shop

The door creaked open, illuminating the surroundings and making a dull 'thud' after hitting the wall. This caused an eruption of dust to cascade upward from every available surface. "Looks like… cough… this place needs some spring cleaning Kharl," coughed my mother, grabbing her nose to prevent a sneeze. Not amused by the state of the store, she began fanning the particles away from her face whilst muttering something strange under her breath. Just as she finished this weird chant, she stomped her foot firmly on the Oak Floorboards. 

As her foot connected with the wood, the air within the room shook, making the dust jitter in the air briefly before it rushed past us. A cloud of particles whooshed out of the building, whistling with the speed at which it travelled, exiting through the still-open door behind us.

  'Woah, was that magic?' I gasped, mouth agape, at my mother's nonchalant use of such a technique. 'She'd better teach me that one when I'm older.

Now the dust was gone, observing the space around us was much easier. The only real way I could describe it was…unique. Shelving units containing books, bottles and other miscellaneous objects were scattered about, with no regard for organisation; in other words, It was an utter mess. 

At the back of the store, an old man, who I assumed to be the owner, sat asleep in a chair with his feet up on the front counter. Composing herself elegantly and clearing her throat, my mother woke up the shop keeper, "look at how far the great mage Sangris Olsten has fallen," she mocked "Sleeping on the job is forbidden, is it not?" a smirk crept onto her face.

  "I make my own rules thank you, Aria." the man groaned, getting to his feet. Upon pulling the rim of his hat up, a wide and warm smile presented itself. "Glad to see your little boy is healthy; he's grown quite significantly since I visited last." he continued.

"Well time sure does fly," my mum laughed, "He's been growing ridiculously; he took his first steps today as well!"

"Already?" Sangris said surprised, "Well, he is his father's son after all. I heard he developed early as well."

  "Yes that may be true, but sixteen weeks is ridiculous. I don't know how I'll cope if he has the same appetite. In a few years, I doubt the entire kingdom will be able to support them." She sighed, "On a more serious note. When are you planning on cleaning this place?" 

Mum was right; the shop was more akin to a bombsite than anything else, not that they would understand my reference.

"Nevermind that," Sangris changed the subject, "Let's get down to business. What are you here for?"

"I was wondering if you had anything that would be useful in terms of educating Kharln in the future, If he is anything like Arthur and me, he'll be raising hell soon. It's quite evident he's a quick learner; with any luck, he should also have a high affinity for both combat and magic."

"Starting 'em young I see… Let me think," he scratched his chin, "You know... I might have exactly the thing". A mischievous light in his eyes sparkled as the words left his lips. Getting up, he walked over to us, pulling out a wand; After prodding my chest with it, he nodded, saying "Yes, as expected, this will be perfect." 

As the last syllable left his tongue, he winked and vanished into thin air with a puff of smoke.

Slightly startled by his sudden disappearance, I gasped, making Aria laugh slightly at my reaction. 'What has he got in store for me..?' I wondered.  No pun intended.

After this sudden disappearance, my mother made herself comfortable in the chair the old mage had been sitting in and let me loose. Being placed on the floor was quite a surprise; I honestly thought I'd be left attached to my mother for our entire day. It was pretty daunting. Everything around me towered towards the wooden beams that spanned the ceiling way beyond my reach. 

'All I can do now is explore, I guess.' Across the floor from me, a large dark green leather-bound book had fallen off its shelf which immediately caught my eye. Shuffling my way over to it took far more effort than I had expected, leaving me a little breathless. I heaved the plain front cover open and found myself staring at some maps that sprawled the double-page spread. A handwritten title was labelled 'The Central Continent'. This is just the sort of information I needed I smiled. Geography.

Back in my past life, when I was in school, geography was my favourite subject; it explained geopolitical situations around the world, ranging from natural resources, territories and wars to the base of everyday life. This included reasons why places are the way they are and what they have to offer. Understanding the very foundation of this new world's 'lore', I'm sure, would pay off in future. These maps, however, were fundamentally different to the ones I was used to, not just because they were handmade. The main map came with name labels over each county and the sea, all coloured in shades of beige. It had a ring that ran around its centre, marking conveniently a '2000km' radius. (To put this into perspective, the UK is around 950km tall. This is spanning from the top of mainland Scotland down to the south coast). The Third map was far more detailed, with an accurate scale and grid. Ascal was the only country labelled, scattered with main trade routes and rivers as well as cities that were displayed in orange and towns in brown. A side note on the page said that 'Nzar can be seen on the northwestern peninsular of Ascal directly northwest of Asriana (the capital). Turning to the next page, smaller maps depicted Ascal and the north peninsulas land in which Nzar is located. Drainage basins and the small rivers of the hills were also shown.

What struck me as odd about the maps was that clearly in the middle, there was a note: 'Center of the World' in faint writing. This could potentially be a mistake, 'How could the world have a centre? It doesn't make sense or obey the laws of physics; what, is there an edge?' 

Hoping the book would answer my questions, I began reading the next page. It was Titled "Ascal - Human State 1,500,000+ population"

and continued...

Ascal is the second (out of 2) largest nations in the central human empire. It resides 210° Edgeward. Putting it Counterclockwise from the south Burgeo sea. Almost all trade by sea into the central continent flows through Ascal. This is mainly through the capital, Asriana, which sits on the River Nere Estuary. This city is the largest on the continent due to the massive flow of people and goods, giving rise to chances at wealth but also great poverty. Large amounts of goods also pass through the port in StCal, which lies on the opposite side of the river Tere to the neighbouring human nation Igris.

Towards the edgeward side of Ascal, there is access to the base of the Crescent Mountains, which can be seen from nearly everywhere in the country. They circle the entire central continent, which has led to much mining and resource collection in the area due to an abundance of rare minerals.

The land in Ascal is predominantly grassland, small woodlands and hills, making it ideal for agriculture and transporting goods efficiently by horse and carriage (due to a lack of extreme height change). With a coastline bordering the great central ice rifts, some land is tundra, and much of the midward coast freezes over during harsh winters making life challenging for the villages residing there. This has led to the wealth predominantly revolving around Asriana, and other cities sitting on central trade routes as well as the mine cities at the base of the Crescents.'

I sighed. 'A few answers, but mainly just more questions. Edgeward? Midward? Directions in degrees? North, east, south and west don't appear to be the only way of giving directions. I've heard of small islands on Earth using similar terms, but not entire continents. These methods exist due to the centre of the world theory.'

'I guess I have no choice but to accept that this world must have edges. Though, I'm not quite sure of the physics behind it.' 

Being able to see mountains hundreds of kilometres across the sea should be impossible due to a planet's curvature. Yet I had seen them this morning. Everything was suddenly fitting together; that's why the view felt off this morning. I recall it clearly now. This world is as flat as a pancake.

Hoping to find out more, I began flicking through the pages in desperate search of answers. Unfortunately, I was unable to delve further into the book as, with a loud crash, the front door burst open dramatically. Turning my head to see what had interrupted me, I saw in the doorway a slightly out of breath silhouette with a wide grin.

'The Great Sangris Olsten' had returned.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter Five : A Gift and A Promise

As he approached us, Sangris slipped out a tightly bound package from his dark blue overcoat about the size of an adult's fist. "Miss me?" He asked, waving the parcel in our faces,

"You wish," My mother replied, getting up from her seat, "So, what have you got there, Old man?" A small laugh escaped my lips as I watched the mage stutter for a second before working out where to start.

"This here is a rare and ancient artefact I've been saving for many years." he shook the package again, "I acquired it in Mortemalis on an expedition looking into some old ruin." He went on, "It holds an enormous amount of pure mana, and it's said that in certain circumstances it will accelerate the growth of magical abilities."

"Mortemalis is completely uninhabitable. How deep inside did the expedition go?" My mother asked, more interested in the trip than the 'ancient artefact' Olsten was on about. "Even as adept as I am in combat and mana manipulation, I think I'd struggle depending on the distance." 

"It was at the centre of the world." He said blankly. 

"The Centre of the World…" my mother said under her breath. "Knowing you, no one on the expedition knows that you took the artefact?" she questioned, almost not expecting an answer. " That is correct," Olsten chuckled to himself lightly. "Naturally, I ask you to keep this a secret."

"Of course."

Sighing in what was either relief or exhaustion, Olsten moved round to the back of his countertop and proceeded to swipe some clutter from it in a loud crash. After doing this, he placed the parcel on the dark wooden surface.

A brief moment of silence followed.

"Are you sure you want to gift us something so rare?" Said Aria hesitantly. "Something like this must cost a fortune,"

"It's no problem at all, Aria. Besides, I seem to have gained a habit of giving away priceless items to your family. I'm sure one more couldn't hurt." He said, making my mum shuffle her feet awkwardly. "So," he said, Slowly pulling away at the string holding the brown paper in place, "I'll be making him Kharl of the best mages in the central continent. With your permission, that is." 

At first, I thought he was joking. However, the look in his eyes showed he was nothing but serious. "You mean as an apprentice, Sangris?" my mum replied, shocked. 

Scratching his chin, "Over the few hundred years I've been alive, I've put a considerable amount of thought into whether or not I'd ever take on an apprentice," he started answering my mother's question, "I concluded that I'd only take on a candidate from a very young age, who showed a tremendous amount of potential. A prodigy, if you like. With parents as skilled as yourself and Arthur, I'm sure I won't have any issues with the Boy."

Osleten turned and looked down at me, meeting my gaze. "There's something about your son, I don't know what, but I get the feeling he'll grow to be more than we can ever imagine."

"Don't scare me with words like that," She said in a concerned tone, "If it truly is as you say, I'd like my boy to live without the weight of being a prodigy on his shoulders."

"I understand that Aria, and will take it into account. But even you know, when someone is destined for something, there is little that can stop it."

"Thank you, Sangris," my mum bowed in gratitude, worry still showing.

"There is nothing to fear, Aria; he has the ex-head of the King's guard as a father, one of the best adventurers on the continent as his mother, and if you accept, also one of the highest ranking mages in Ascal as his mentor. He won't have to shoulder anything alone. I Promise."

The reassuring reply gave my mother a smile. "Thank you, Sangris," she repeated, standing up to meet his eyes.

The Whole scene was quite sentimental. I still didn't know the true extent of the relationship and history between the mage and my mother. However, when such heartfelt words were exchanged, I couldn't help but feel proud and lucky to have these people as family.

"Make sure to keep the artefact close to Kharls' crib while he sleeps. He can Open the wooden box on his first birthday. I'll be there to supervise when the time comes." Said Sangris quickly, grabbing a pile of books. 

He haphazardly stuffed these into a leather satchel, forcing the flap closed as he passed it to us across the counter. "Let Karl read through these in his spare time as well; I think it will be more than beneficial." He gave me a wink.

After buying what we actually came to the store for from the Old man, My mother and I made our way back home. Stepping outside, I realised that nearly the entire day had passed within the shop. As we walked along the paved streets towards the southwest gate, lights in house windows began to illuminate, casting the shadows of window frames onto the cobbles. Looking up into the sky, I took a deep breath that misted in the unusually cold summer air; seagulls flew high above, gliding on the air currents, seeming to enjoy the pale pink colour that the sun made whilst sinking over the roofs of houses to our left, battling against the light blue of day that existed before it.

-

-

A few more months passed, and the heat of summer had finally decided to settle in. While it wasn't too hot, it must have averaged twenty five degrees. I was now around seven months old. Most of my time over the last three months had been spent reading the books I had received from Olsten. Otherwise, not much had changed.

The books were all very interesting, covering topics from history, geography and basic politics to different kinds of beasts, animals and plants that exist in the central continent. These complex subjects made me wonder why Olsten gave the books to me in the first place. After all, it's not everyday you find a five month old being expected to read complex literature.

One book from the selection in particular reached out to me more than the rest. It was handwritten and Illustrated in pencil. Out of all the books I obtained, it had far more information regarding magic and what's called 'Mana Theory'. This was very intriguing. It explained mages, spells and how they were categorised, It also describes 'mana' or 'particles of magic' and how spell casting is possible through a person's inherent ability to control them.

This book, to my knowledge, was a singular edition, written and illustrated by Sangris himself. 'After all, he is one of the greatest mages in Ascal.' I also had the suspicion he hadn't shown this book to anyone else, 'He seems like the kind of person to keep secrets only to reveal them at the right time.' I thought to myself.

Through the information I had received from the novel, I began training. Every day, I spent time where I closed my eyes and tried to feel the 'magic particles' in the air around me. As I spent time doing this, I was surprised to find It was quite easy. As long as I cleared my head and firmly closed my eyes, I would eventually begin feeling these particles around me, moving like they were in the breeze. When in this meditative state, I would feel most of the particles pass over me or bounce off of me, with only a small amount being absorbed by my body. Slowly over time, this feeling of absorption became stronger and stronger. 

This led to me trying to consciously pull them towards and eventually into my body. The book outlined that this was the process in which someone filled their mana core. 'The mana core is unlike any other organ in the body. Instead of being born with it, humans, elves and dwarves alike, all form this organ after birth. This happens as the mana in the atmosphere is slowly absorbed by the body, congregating in the sternum just below the rib cage. This 'awakening' normally happens at a relatively young age.' 

When the book said young, it meant between the ages of eight to eleven. At the rate I was drawing in mana, I clearly had a significant advantage over nature. Assuming I kept this up, in theory, it wouldn't be long until my core formed.

The final book worth mentioning was called 'Languages Around the Disk'; it contained the basics of learning the central continent's four main languages. Human, Elvish, Beastish and Dwarvish. The different dialects I had read about weren't included within the book; neither were languages of lesser races such as orcs and goblins.

I intended to start learning these as soon as possible; however, mastering the Human language took priority, as the sooner I learned to speak, write and read perfectly, the sooner I'd be able to ask the plethora of questions I had burning inside.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter Six : Olive Blackheart

Olive Blackheart was born to her parents, Julia (Slackston) Blackheart and Gunthor Blackheart, on the same day as Kharln was. Her birth occurred in the city of Edgeton, residing on the southern border of Ascal at the base of the Crescent mountains. It's the second largest mining city in the human empire, lying deep within the forest of 'Mull'.

-POV: Gunthor Blackheart -

-

The sun shone over the edge of the valley, It was a bright February morning. Dew from the night before had frozen over, forming droplets of ice that sparkled in the golden light, creating little rainbows that danced around in front of the eyes. My wife and I had just been blessed with the birth of our baby girl Olive, whom had been born without complication.

Taking in the fresh air with an extended breath, I sighed. In truth, the whole notion of a woman giving birth scared me a little, and I was still a little shaken from witnessing it; seeing the person you love most bear excruciating pain couldn't be a pleasant sight for anyone to behold. But the joy that came afterwards, knowing it was over and that we shared a daughter, seemed to lighten the burden. If anything, I felt an immense amount of relief compared to anything else.

I guess It hadn't sunk in yet.

Taking one last look at what lay sprawled before me, I turned and left the somewhat beautiful view of Edgeton's slums behind me. "I'll make sure to give her the best life I can," I promised under my breath, taking a step forward into the room with my family.

Before I knew it, Olive was nearly a year old. Now she was eating more and needed new clothing, the struggles of my life became more apparent. I had to Provide for the family by any means necessary. For me, this entailed mining. Day after day, I slaved away at what was my only source of income. I never complained, after all, this was to provide a life for my daughter. I wanted to give her what I never had.

At the crack of dawn, I would leave for work, returning at dusk when I made my quota. Days off didn't exist; all I could do was hope Julia, my wife and little Olive would be able to cope without me.

"Don't over exert yourself, Dear." came a soft and sleepy voice from behind me as I got out of bed. I would have replied; however, my heart ached too much, and no words came out. 

It only took five minutes to get ready. Without wanting to waste the food on breakfast, I left the house with an empty stomach and my pickaxe slung over my shoulder.

-

-Julia Blackheart-

-

My husband left for work without saying goodbye again today, "I hope he's alright," whispered to myself, willing my body awake. Of course, I knew he wasn't. Taking extra shifts in the mines in order to support the birth of our daughter was taking a toll on him.

It was the only option we had. We knew this from the start.

On top of this worry, seated deep in my chest, was guilt. Being unable to work like usual wasn't fair. I was solely responsible for looking after Olive and maintaining the house. While this in itself was like a full time job, I still didn't feel right about the situation. I wanted to do more.

I missed the days when we both worked, had days off, and spent time together and regardless of my frail body, we used to shoulder all of the burdens together. Now it just feels like we are supporting that weight but apart.

-

Olive was growing up quickly; one year turned into two, and before we knew it, her third birthday had come around. She was no longer in nappies and was fully capable of holding a conversation, much to our surprise. She also was able to, jump and climb on anything she pleased, leading to a few accidents. Fortunately for us, unlike other kids her age, she spent most of her time reading.

These books she read were not simple children's books, but proper books, the ones with thick leather covers and more words in them than I could possibly fathom. She had such remarkable intelligence for her age. I guess you could call her a genius, I suppose. Not that I'm qualified to say.

Looking at the time, I realised that if we wanted to stay on schedule, we'd have to leave the house in a few minutes.  "Gunthor! Olive!" I shouted, "Hurry up! we want to get to the market before midday!"

"Cominggggg..." came a high-pitched voice from the other room, followed by shrieks of laughter. "I'm not going to wait much longer!" I yelled after the following moment of silence.

In an instant, two sheepish grins burst through the doorway, covered in flour. I crossed my arms, looked at them and sighed. This had happened on her second birthday as well.

"We had a little accident," my husband said guiltily before winking at me.

Most mothers would be angry at both their husband and daughter for acting like hooligans, especially on a day with so much planned. The reason I wasn't angry, however, was because our family tradition involves baking a special loaf of bread instead of baking a cake for special occasions. This is due to the fact that the ingredients for cakes were too expensive, but mainly because we could make a mess and have fun without needing to worry too much about the result. (I had a spare loaf that had been pre-prepared in case of any major disasters anyway).

"Clean yourselves up. NOW" I said sternly. "We leave in five minutes. No later."

"Oh, Don't be so pwernickety, Mother," Olive said, flicking back her hair in a puff of flour and storming off towards the bathroom. I met the eyes of my husband with a look that he mirrored perfectly.

"Pernicker–what?" I asked, 

"I wouldn't sweat it," he replied with a sigh, "It's all those blood books."

"Don't be pernickeryity," I whispered, making sure Olive didn't hear me as I leaned in to give my husband a kiss. "Go and get yourself cleaned up."

Twenty minutes later, we were outside, making a good pace through the crowded streets towards the market. The air was colder than usual for the time of the year, so we were each wearing matching red scarfs I had knitted for the winter. Many people on the street were dressed similarly; none, though, looked quite as good as my husband, who strode along holding my hand with a massive smile on his face. His short blonde hair was clear of soot for once and matched his sharp facial features nicely. Just behind him, tugging on his ears, was our beautiful bright spark, sitting happily on his shoulders, making silly faces and bragging about how cool her dad was to people passing by. No one paid attention to this, of course, Edgeton was a city for workers and nothing else. Everyone had their heads down and focused on their destination alone. Not that Olive minded much.

Arriving at the market, we were greeted by the warm smell of piping hot fresh food and spices that filled the cool spring air.

"Mummy, Mummy!" exclaimed Olive with big eyes, "Can we get some fwood? Pretty Pweaseeeeeeee," 

"We can't afford it, Honeybun" I replied. "maybe next year instead, okay?"

"Hmpf. Fine. I understwand," she huffed, "Next year Olive will buy food for everyone if mummy and daddy can't affword it".

Olive had somehow gotten into the habit of referring to herself in the third person whenever she was confident about something; neither my husband or I are sure where she picked this habit up, but it can be pretty funny at times. "Sure thing Olive" replied Gunthor, straining at the effort it took to hold in his laughter. "Maybe you'll earn enough so we can go and join your Uncle and move to the capital someday"

"Just you wait and see" Olive pouted.

After buying some eggs and vegetables for dinner from a couple of different merchants as well as some flowers, ribbons and candles to decorate the house with, Olive asked, "Can we go to the libwary now?"

"We just have to buy a few more things, but after that, of course we can, Honey. Have you decided on a book you want to get?"

"No, not yet." came a muffled voice; Olive had buried her face in her father's hair. "Mister Swandon, the libwaryan said he would help me decide."

We proceeded to buy the rest of the household items we needed before picking up our pace. Taking a left up the high street just off from the market and heading up the hill, we passed the banks and expensive clothing shops. We kept chatting amongst each other, ignoring the glares we were receiving from the wealthier population. It was a shame the upper classes looked down on us so unfavourably, but there was no way to avoid it. This was the only way to get to Mr Sandon's Library

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter Seven : Core Development

My third birthday had just passed, marking three years of living my new life. Over the past year, I had developed significantly, having grown into a healthy young boy, able to converse well with my parents, who I was forming a close relationship with.

  Rubbing my eyes and yawning, I got out of bed and did a quick stretching routine. After a few minutes of breaking in my body, I wiped the sweat off of my brow and retook a seat on the bed. To my left, the artefact that lay on my bedside table, unmoving in the cool light streaming in through the window. My bedroom, which was now located on the first floor, was sparsely decorated, with nothing on the plain oak walls. The entire space only included a single bed, dresser, and bedside table as furniture. 

Putting on a t-shirt, I made my way through the door, down the stairs, and across the hall to the washroom. The distance wasn't far; my little legs, however, made it quite a task so early in the morning. Putting out a stool from under the sink, I stepped up to get a view of myself in the mirror. I Rinsed my face and looked at myself in the silvery glass; the pale blue light of dawn illuminated my face just well enough for me to observe my features.

My eyes were like my mother's, soft and warm, with hints of light green sprinkled among the darker hazel that made up the base of their colour. I had a few very light freckles around my cheeks, which were a shade brighter than the deeper colour of my brown hair that lay in a messy heap on the top of my head. Overall I resembled my father, which I guess made sense, being male, after all. I also had the beginnings of his sharp jawline and athletic build coming to fruition despite being so young. I didn't know if it was just good genetics, but my baby fat was lessening by the day, perhaps due to my active lifestyle.

While brushing my teeth, a call came from the other room. "Kharl, breakfast is ready!" hearing this, I hurriedly spat out what was in my mouth, rinsed, and bolted through into the kitchen; the floorboards creaked as I made my way along the short corridor. What awaited me was a steaming plate of breakfast and my parents. I felt their warm gaze as I clambered up onto my chair. We were all eating at the stonework surface, jutting out like an island in the centre of the room. "Mornin, thank you for breakfast," I said with a cheeky smile before digging into my plate of sausage, bacon, and eggs. 

Unlike in my previous life, in this world, items like this were luxuries, especially bacon and sausages. Spending time at the markets with my parents gave me a good idea for the economy. Most things were worth only a few copper pieces, such as bread and simple veg, whereas fresh meats could go for up to or over a gold coin in price, depending on the quality. 

Copper, Silver, Gold and Platinum coins made up the currency in this world, with copper and silver being used by the lower classes and gold and platinum by the higher classes. Each coin went into the next a hundred times. Meaning a platinum coin was worth ten thousand copper coins. Every country had slightly different coins. However, each was exactly the same weight, marked with a magical tool, preventing counterfeits.

Luckily for me, money wasn't a problem Mum and Dad were quite well off, having made enough to live on for the rest of their lives at a young age. I was often told stories of great opponents 'General Arthur' had faced in battles during his time governing the king's guard; he always told these tales seriously. I could see the sparks of fire in his eyes as he described his heroic acts in such vivid detail, smiling at me as I listened in fascination. My mother also had a fair few stories of her own. Times as an adventurer, ranging from long quests and missions around the continent to her time teaching magic and swordsmanship to the children of a duke in the country Igris. The way in which she described these events was a little less charismatic than Dad's way of doing so, and she often forgot parts of the tales, leaving me to fill in the gaps with my imagination in place of the information I didn't have.

-

Coming back to reality from my thoughts, I asked my parents, "What are your plans for the day?"

"Not much; your father is planning on going into town to buy some fish before training in the evening. I'll walk him part of the way into town before doing some gardening. I also need to hang out the laundry while it's still sunny."

"I should be back around about four-ish. Would you like to train with me at around five?" My father looked at me sternly. I'm not sure why, but he struggled to convey emotions. They only seemed to expose themselves when either people weren't looking or if he was caught in the moment. "Sure! I'd love to," I smiled back. "Five o'clock it is then," he stated before getting up and taking his plate over to the sink. I saw him smiling to himself as he rinsed and scrubbed the plate, putting it onto the drying rack.

My parents had gotten quite used to the fact that I'm overly mature for my age, taking it in stride. Before I knew it, I started to genuinely love them as a real family. I mean, they were the only parents I had ever had. This feeling of warmth was entirely new for me, filling me with unexpected joy and contentment I never knew existed, slowly erasing the lonely outcast self that resided in my heart before.

After finishing up my breakfast, I hugged my parents tightly before they went about their day. After closing the door behind them, I swiftly returned to my room in order to continue tutoring myself on the arts of mana and core development. Since my discovery of magic in this world, I'd made massive amounts of progress through my training despite it only being two and a half years since. The extent of my abilities included skills to fully control my body's mana content, as well as to draw in and expel this from my core.

Long story short: I could perform magic.

The feeling at first was surreal; the sensation of coolness, like drinking ice water, flowed through my veins beneath my skin, deep into my body, sending shivers down my spine as it was being drawn into my sternum. I closed my eyes, feeling the weight and density of mana particles around me and how they interacted with the atoms that flew around in the air. Reaching out with imaginary hands, I drew this into my palms, arms, legs, and feet, feeling every available pore of my skin tingle with the energy passing through them, eventually filling my core to its maximum capacity. 

When full, I focused on purifying and imbuing this densely packed centre with even more particles, cramming the energy into myself and forcing out anything other than pure mana. This process typically took a while, causing physical strain and stress throughout my body, much like a workout. When this became unbearable, I then released mana from my core, sending a tidal wave of warmth outwards and across my skin. I focused on the feeling of relaxation, using it to force this load of purified particles into every cell, neuron and crevice my body had to offer.

Each set of this workout took at most twenty five minutes. Each day I would do it three times in the morning and three times in the evening.

As the effects of magic filled me on the exhale, I began to hear individual leaves rustling in the trees outside, the crashing water of the sea down far below the cliffs roaring; my heightened senses picked up on every tiny noise and twinge in the atmosphere. Opening my eyes, Individual dust particles danced as if time had slowed down before me.

This was the power of magic.

Finishing the final rep, I released the 'imbued' state, as I called it and sunk into my body, feeling for my core. I was already at the Third stage of development. This was leaps and bounds ahead of anyone my age. Mana cores generally formed at a much later age in childhood, between eight at the earliest and, in some rare cases, fourteen  at the latest. Fortunately for me, through good genetics, training, natural skill, a brilliant master, and lots of books, I had already progressed this far. Not to mention the Artefact I've been using. Listing it all out like that in my head made me feel like some magical steroid abuser.

I read about core stages in Olsten's book. In total, there were Thirteen stages, ranked in order of number and colour. Stage zero was unformed, and stage thirteen, or 'the white stage', was the furthest development of a core. Normally it would take even a skilled mage to increase their mana core by one level a year and a half. This varied from person to person. In addition to this, not everyone in the population could even use magic, with the rough number sitting at around eighty per cent. 

According to a census done ten years ago, within the core levels, just under a quarter of the magic using adult (age 15+) population never make it out of the first two core stages. The next fifty per cent didn't make it out of the third and fourth. 95% of the population ended up fitting within the first six stages. Leaving the last 5% of the population with a chance to make it halfway up the core rankings. The seventh and eighth stages are occupied by 4.5% of this 5%, with the ninth containing the remaining 0.5%. The stages after this have so few people they are only fractions of a per cent, eventually ending up with a 3 in a million probability of making it to the white stage. For a country like Ascal, with a magic using population of around 1,200,000, this leaves only four mages in this generation to have made it to the final stage. (This is comparable to flipping a coin 18 times in a row and only getting heads.) The majority of these powerful mages were also generally in the army, much like my father was, meaning it was even rarer to meet one.

The book went on to outline that Noble families and royalty are far more likely to make it into the upper percentiles, with seventy five per cent of wealthier families making it to the stages following the seventh. This is accomplished with the use of potions and farmed mana cores from beasts enhancing the capabilities they have from a young age, followed by extensive tutoring. 

After finding all of this out, I was ecstatic. Knowing I was already at the core level that most people averaged at as adults. Though it did leave me wondering what level my parents were at.

Picking up the artefact that had caused this development, I stared at it intensely. Feeling its weight, the ball sat heavily in the palm of my hand. It was around the size of a tennis ball and quite dense for its size. I smoothed my fingers across its cool and polished surface, feeling it glide across my tiny fingertips. Closing my eyes, I thought back to when I received the item on my first birthday, how I'd felt it connect with me in the months leading up to it.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter Eight : The Artefact

The day of my first birthday in this world had finally come, and along with it, the gift from Sangris. I  sat on the beige quilted rug on our living room floor, with a square brown box in front of me. Reaching out to it, I felt it beckoning me to open it. The eyes of my parents and mentor bore into the back of my head from behind the sofa, waiting to see what would happen.

  I couldn't help but feel tremendous pressure and weight on my shoulders. Likely a side effect of their staring.

"Are you sure about this, Sangris?" asked my mother worriedly, only her eyes showing over their makeshift shield. "Of course not.", came a whispered reply.

"EHH?! What do you mean by 'Of course not'?" Hissed my mother in return.

  "Shut it, Aria; let the boy get on with it. I've been waiting months for this."

"Mind your manners, old man. Don't speak to my wife like that." my dad snapped, finally getting involved in the conversation.

"Arthur, you're not helping!" she flicked his forehead, making a loud snapping noise. 

"Ow! That hurt, Aria; what was that for?" my father moaned in protest.

"Sangris. Will Kharl be okay?" she waved away my father's attempt to flick her back,

"Yes! Yes, he'll be fine…Just watch." Olsten rolled his eyes.

"Even when I awakened, I hardly caused any damage, honey. I just created a gust of wind that knocked over some items on the shelves and raised me into the air a little." Dad continued to reassure my mother, who was anything but relaxed. 

"Fine!" She gave in, "Tell me when it's over." she ducked her head out of view.

Now the room was finally quiet, I made progress tugging on the lid of the container. As I slowly slid it off, The intoxicating sensation of mana rushing into my body overwhelmed my senses. 

I remember so vividly the first time, the chilled sensation of it draining into me as if it were yesterday, giving me newfound energy. The difference between now and then, however, was my lack of a core. The mana built up within my tiny, fragile body with tremendous speed, causing a great deal of pain and discomfort. "Release It, Boy!" came a cry from Sangris as I felt my body begin to radiate waves of pure pulsating energy, bending the air like a mirage. My body began to lift into the air, my head snapped back, and everything started to go dark at the edges of my vision. 'Think Kharl, Think!' I said to myself as my consciousness wavered. By this time, the sofas, tables and contents of the shelves were all spiralling around me in a cacophony of noise and power screaming from my infant body. 

My parents were doing their best to hold onto the doorframe they had retreated to as they watched in horror as their living room was wrecked.

'I practised absorbing mana, so expelling it shouldn't be too hard, right?'I thought to myself as the wooden support beams began to splinter. I roughly understood how it should feel, despite this being a much larger dose. Thinking desperately about letting go of the building pressure in my chest, I willed all of my strength into ridding the mana from my core. As I did this, I felt the build up release slightly as it began to circulate away. "This is incredible" Screamed Olsten as he stood, encased in a protective spell, just below me. "He's already controlling it!" My parents could do nothing other than drop their jaws as I willed myself to turn and face them, eyes glowing. "Mana is exiting him from every outlet, not just his mana veins." he further explained. "The rate at which his body is absorbing and expelling it is unheard of!"

After this, I blacked out. My parents later told me it looked like I stuttered and fizzled out. This, in my opinion, was like a magical short circuit. My fuse tripped as soon as my core finished forming and took some time to reboot.

Sangris's rambling about mana veins as I was awakening, was the next thing I looked into, hoping it would give me a better understanding of how my body and mana functioned. 

Effectively, every living being has a set of mana veins and arteries; these are what carry mana to and from the core, allowing a person to expel and absorb it. Usually, these 'mana transporting tubes' are blocked and restricted, meaning that only after years of use and mana purification do they expand and clear out for maximum efficiency. 

Due to the violence of my 'Awakening', mine were forcibly cleared of impurities and debris, leading to them expanding massively in the process.

Since that day, I'd been filling my core to the brim and emptying it in the morning and evening in hopes to continue to train my body. This is, in part, one of the reasons my core level has increased so significantly. This training wouldn't work for everyone though. A regular mage tends to need at least an hour or two to refill their core. For me, twenty minutes was enough. 

Recently, I'd been forbidden from using spells. Partly because our nice twenty metre Oak tree in the garden now had a large circular cut in it about two metres in diameter, making a perfect hole in part of the trunk and nearly a quarter of the tree's crown.

This restriction hadn't stopped me from practising in secret. Looking down at my hands, I saw the scars, the slightly more pale patches, where the mana had coursed through most efficiently during my awakening, still remaining on my palms. I conjured a ball of water in my left hand, re-absorbing it. I then formed a swirling ball of wind, then fire, and finally, earth. The four basic elemental Magic types. With these, of course, came the ability to manipulate particles and change their kinetic energy, something I would have to practice at a later date.

Sighing, I got up and waddled over to the window, clambering up to look at the view above our front entrance. I saw the sea crashing onto the rocks that sat below the headland a little way down the coastline. Using mana to imbue my retinas, I watched the tiny specs of salt water roll down their surfaces, leaving dark trails of damp stone behind them. Suddenly something caught my eye. It was Dad. Approaching from town, he walked with purpose towards the house. Looking closer at him, I saw a large fish slung over his shoulder; it looked like a giant tuna, however much much longer and with no mouth. I quickly ran downstairs, opened the front door, and sprinted down the path leading to him as fast as my legs could carry me, hoping to get a closer look at the aquatic creature he carried.

After walking and talking with him on our short distance back to the house, he explained why and how it had no mouth; it apparently fed on the ambient mana in the environment, never needing to rest or eat because of the magic that flowed as its very life force. "Would you like me to teach you how to fillet it later?"

"Yes, please!" I said excitedly, letting my inner child take over. 'Having a look inside the remains of a mana lifeform, I'm sure, will be fascinating; how does it work? what does a mana core look like, I wonder?'

Laying the beast down on the kitchen counter, my dad cast a barrier around it to prevent any flies from getting in. He had a quick bite to eat, and before I knew it, we were back outside for our promised training. "I hope you're prepared to give it all you've got, Kharl," he said to me. " in a serious tone. "Yes, Father. I won't disappoint you." I replied in just as serious a manner before retrieving our wooden training swords and gear from the rack next to the front door; I imbued my muscles and bones with mana to help lug my father's weapon along. "Catch!" I shouted, putting all of my energy into a toss that gracefully took the wooden implement in a graceful arc, ending in my father's outstretched hand. "Pft, good arm, son!" came a surprised reaction. That was quickly erased. "Come on, boy. We haven't got all day."

I picked up my sword from where I had left it and rushed over to him, thus beginning my training.

We started with practice swings, then combined moves. Similar to martial arts, I repeated this process meticulously, engraining it into my muscle memory. Any time I made a mistake, I was hit across the knuckles, spurring me to learn and adapt faster; this wasn't the most humane way of training. But after only a few rounds of swinging, the wasted movement I'd initially had was virtually gone; this was shown in how my blade now cut, making miniature swooshes, pushing the air apart.

"I think it's time for a little spar, Kharl", Dad's voice sounded from my right shoulder. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one to turn down a challenge. But "really? How is this fair?" I thought to myself as I turned to look at my six foot three father looming some three and a half feet above me. 

Naturally, he wouldn't have been expecting much from me as a three year old. Yet something inside me wanted to fight my hardest. Maybe he'd be surprised if I used some techniques I learned in my previous life.

Either way, I wasn't planning on losing

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter Nine : A New Book and a New Dream

Standing in front of the small doorway, my daughter tugged at my hair. "Come on, Papa! I want to go inside!". Rolling my eyes, I sighed and let her down on the floor. Squealing excitedly, Olive ran through the doorway, disappearing from view.

As we followed after her, my wife and I exchanged glances. The two of us were thinking the same thing. 'I hope she doesn't want anything expensive.'

The last six months had been spent saving a majority of our paychecks to buy Olive a present. Initially, the two of us had hoped she would want something cheap, like a doll or a new quill, paper and ink. These hope son diminished when we asked her what she wanted and had the reply, "Olive wants books!". When she said this, I couldn't help but feel my heart sink. Books were expensive. With only half a silver saved each week, and including our limited savings, affording something here would be difficult.

All I'd ever hoped to provide was the best life for my daughter. This was something, especially recently, that my wife and I have felt far from achieving. Julia dropped Olive here, at the library, once a week so she could read and explore her intelligence. Thankfully this seemed to be enough to keep her happy, at least for the moment.

By the time our eyes had adjusted to the insite of the building, Olive had disappeared along the corridor. The short entranceway was only ten metres long, so this was no surprise. It was lit in dim candlelight that was just bright enough to reveal the intricate carvings etched into the walls. At the end of the corridor, glare from the light in the next room prevented us from seeingh ahead. Smiling at my wife, I held her and tightly as we walked, the warmth of her hand seemed to melt away the chill and worry that was fogging my mind, letting me relax a little.

Stepping through the light, the two of us were greeted by a view that I found difficult to put into words. Having never been inside the library before, my eyes darted around in wonder at the surroundings. We entered at the bottom of a massive oval room that extended before us. Golden beams of light shone down from above through a domed skylight, picking up dust particles that hovered in the air. Encompassing this magnificent room stood oak wood bookshelves that stretched forty feet from floor to ceiling; these were lined with more books than I thought could possibly have ever been written, each one a different colour and size. The sheer amount of them gave off a unique must, saturating the air with a heaviness that seemed to smell like knowledge.

The sound of my daughters voice drew my attention; she was sat across the white marbled floor, resting on a pile of cushions. Noticing our presence, the librarian, Mr Sandon, who had been cross legged turned his head to greet us. 

When I first met the man, I was startled my his appearance. He had pair of bright light red eyes, that when met my gaze, gave off a presence of immense wisdom and strength. Everytime I saw him, a shiver would run down my spine. It wasn't fear that did this, but more of a subconscious knowledge that he was, in every way, stronger than me. Despite this, he was one of the few members of the upper classes that treated Julia, Olive and myself with resect. He always smiled kindly and stopped us in the street to say hello. 

  In the golden light that radiated around the room his skin glinted a shade of dark umber, absorbing much of the light, yet reflecting its warmth. He beckoned us over, gesturing for us to take a seat as he kept his attention on Olive. He did this in such a calm and smooth manner, it was as if he were a perfectly sculpted statue, moving only where necessary. 

"Five days," demanded Olive,

"Four days and two books a week", Sandon replied in a deep, strong voice.

It seemed we had interrupted a negotiation.

"How about four days, three books every ten days and a meal included for each shift?"

Scratching his chin, the librarian took a moment to think, "You strike a tough bargain, Olive, but you have yourself a Deal.".

Smiling, my daughter shook his outstretched hand, (which was significantly smaller than his) confirming whatever they had been haggling about.

"Mr and Mrs Blackheart. Lovely to see you again," Sandon smiled, turning his attention to face us. "I apologise for not telling you sooner, but an opportunity hasn't presented itself until now. I offered your daughter a job."

"Wait, that was about a job?" Exclaimed Julia from next to me. "Don't you think Olive is a little too young for that? She's Three today for crying out loud, why on gods green disk would—"

Before she could continue, Sandon interrupted, his voice cutting the air like a knife. "There is no need to worry, Mrs Blackheart. This is a job for when she is old enough. Whenever you, as her parents, see fit." 

With no reply from my wife, he continued, "We just negotiated the terms of the deal, as I'm sure your heard; it will be four days a week. Thursday through Sunday; she will get a meal for each shift and be able to take three books home with her every ten days. Base pay will be one Silver a shift. I believe that sounds more than fair to me."

"... one silver per shift", I muttered in awe, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, If you feel it's appropriate. Mr Blackheart."

Had I been drinking a glass of water, I may have choked. "That sounds perfect", I mustered. "So Olive", I coughed and regained my composure. "When would you like to start working?"

"I think Mama is right, Papa. I still need to be bigger to work. Maybe I can start when I don't need naptime in the afternoon anymore?"

"A wise decision", Sandon chuckled lightly before giving us a more serious expression. "Now that's settled. I have something to talk to the two of you about."

"Yes, of course. Olive honey, can you give me and Papa a few minutes to talk to Mr Sandon?"

"Papa and me, you mean." Olive corrected her.

"How about you go and find the book you want?" she replied, ignoring the comment on her grammar. Grinning, Olive nodded excitedly and ran off to search the shelves on the far side of the room.

When she was a fair distance away, Mr Sandon started to talk, "So, Mr and Mrs Blackheart. Truthfully I find it hard to find where to begin; despite how good with words I am, I have been trying to formulate a way to tell you this for quite a while."

"Go on," I said, a little nervous about what would come.

Nodding, he continued, "In the time I've spent with Olive over that last year, I have noticed a few things I thought I should bring to your attention."

Julia reached over and squeezed my hand as we waited for him to continue.

"Ever since I met her, I've noticed Olive's intelligence and memory are unique. Close to every detail and fact in every book she has read stays in the forefront of her mind, ready to be plucked out for use; this means the rate a which she understands and absorbs this information is like nothing I've ever seen before. This has the potential to be an incredible asset to her, as you can imagine, but it could also end up being a curse. Throughout my lifetime, I've watched as many influential Nobels searched for individuals that shared characteristics with your daughter. I turned a blind eye to the high prices they sold with at auction and ignored as they kidnapped them from their families—" 

"That's enough," I scowled, feeling Julia's grip on my hand starting to hurt as I became more and more emotional. "I understand the risks associated with standing out. At nine, my brother was taken from my family when he began showing promise as a mage, so I am familiar with how the Nobles operate. I do not intend for my daughter to suffer the same fate he did." Taking a deep, shaky breath to calm my nerves, I continued talking. "I appreciate the help you have given us. Regardless of whether you did it out of guilt or good faith. So thank you, Sandon; both Julia and I are in your debt."

"Thank you, Gunthor. I will continue to do my best to shelter Olive, I can only ask you, and Julia will do the same."

"Of course, she's our daughter," Julia said bluntly, speaking for the first time.

An exited shout from our left cut the tension in the air; Olive had finally found her book. "Mama, Papa! Look!" Olive was hauling a book about the size of her head across the floor towards us. It had a black cover with golden writing scrawled across the front. The previous conversation we had been having disappeared from my mind as I gazed down and gulped. The book looked pricey.

After Olive had finally made it over to us, I picked up the rectangular work and spun it so the title was facing me. "What does it say?" I asked, unable to read the writing. 

"It's about ancient and modern languages." Sandon said matter of factly, "It's one of the best books in the library for learning all aspects of languages; it even has a section at the back about the Mana Ruins, entirely written in code. I've tried my hand at deciphering it with no luck, so it's just been sitting gathering dust."

"De–syphering?" I muttered, "It means: making a code into normal language, Papa."

"Is that so?" I laughed. Giving her a pat on the head. "How much is the damage then, Sandon?"

"With your staff discount, that will be fourteen silvers."

With our budget of twenty silvers, this was perfect! Winking at Julia, I reached into my coat pocket and drew out my money pouch. I heard the sound of coins jingling as I closed my hand around it, yet for some reason, the noise didn't seem to be coming from my jacket. 

Looking toward the clinking, my wife and I watched, stunned, as our daughter pulled a pile of silver coins from her inner pocket, setting them down on the floor.

"Where on the gods' green disc did you get tha—"

"Olive earned it herself!" Came a prideful reply from our daughter, "I've been saving up for a book for ages, so Mama and Papa didn't have to spend their money. You work very hard, Papa," she said, looking at me. "You too, Mama".

Mixed emotions welled up inside of me. I was confused and worried about where Olive had got the large sum of money, yet I also felt relief from the pressure of working so hard. It felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders listening to my daughter's words. All of the guilt we had pent up, pretending work was easy, evaporated as we realised Olive had known our struggle all along.

Julia had started weeping, her stifled sobs echoing around the library. Seeing that we were crying, Olive also began wailing, letting snot run freely from her nose. Getting out my handkerchief, I wiped the tears and gunk off her face, dragging the two of them into a tight family hug. 

After a few seconds, a sharp cough broke us from the warm embrace we were sharing. "This is a library, regardless of whether or not anyone else is inside it. You'll upset the books if you're too loud." came a harsh voice.

"Upset the books?"

"Yes, you'll upset the books," Sandon replied. The tone of which he was using indicated that he wasn't fibbing.

After apologising, the three of us started work on quietening Olive down. As soon as she stopped sobbing, we launched a battery of questions, asking her how she got her hands on all that money. It took a few minutes to convince her she wasn't in trouble until we got a sheepish reply.

"I've been doing shopkeepers' paperwork because they can't read." Olive admitted in a small voice, "When Mama goes out and leaves me at home, They come and give me the papers, so I fill them out and return them in exchange for money…."

"I see…" Sandon was the first to break the short silence, 

"So much for being discrete with her intelligence." Julia stifled a laugh. "This is a matter we can discuss another time."

After chatting a little longer and letting Olive read, I figured we had overstayed our welcome. "It's getting late," I said, "We should probably head home. Would you like to Join us, Sandon? We still have to bake our bread, and maybe we can get some food at the market on the way," 

"I'll have to pass. Unfortunately, I must close up the library."

"Maybe next year," I smiled, picking up Olive, who was now fast asleep on top of the book.

The Contents of Olive's Book

Chapters 1 - 8 The Four Modern Languages of the Central Continent and How to learn them

Chapters 9 - 11 Lesser Languages and Dialects

Chapters 12 - 17 - The Four Ancient Languages

Chapters 18 - 26 - Writing and reading ancient symbols

Chapters 27 - 40 - Ancient Mana Ruins (this is all written in code)