The Undaunted Rabbit

It's taken me three days to get used to my new life. Darius is, of course, a constant presence, though he's learned to keep quiet sometimes.

The first day was spent wandering through town, meeting new people and memorizing the layout. Because of the new player benefits, I don't have to spend any money on food; I have unlimited bread, soup, and water at the tavern, though I cannot place any of it in my inventory.

Now, I understand what my murderers meant when they asked for quests. There are several now in my quest log, including one that simply says [Fulfill Your Destiny (LOCKED)]. Darius doesn't know anything about it, and suggested the quest might be some sort of bug. Apparently, all bugs need to be reported to the creators of the game, who would be able to fix them.

I'm not interested in contacting these mysterious creators. I'm still coming to terms with the idea that I might not be a real person, though everything feels pretty real to me.

Even these supposed "non-player characters" feel real to me; everyone is a person with their own feelings, emotions, and an entire life history. Some of them have grandiose dreams, and others are happy to stay here for the rest of their lives.

It's a rich world, and I can't wrap my mind around the idea that a person can create something like this.

I spent the second day pondering that exact question as I spent time in the Martial Center, where I learned to wield a magician's staff. It's a fancy word for a giant branch with a twisted top. The game windows insist that it gives me +1 INT (which does show up in my status window, so it must be true), but I don't feel any smarter with it equipped.

Casting is different, too. In my previous life, I had to spend a long time memorizing magical circles and incantations, but even when I managed that feat, I didn't have the magical power to produce any results, no matter how long I trained my mana sensitivity. Talent is present from birth, and you can't go far without it. To have such a talent along with the intellectual capacity to store hundreds of magic circles in your head? It's no wonder that my father is so famous among the empire as its only Archmage.

And yet in this thing people are calling a "game", a simple incantation of [Firebolt], and the magical circle is produced for me. No memorization required. I just need a few seconds of concentration and a word, and I'm throwing a ball of fire at a target at the cost of a couple points of a stat called MP.

Granted, I miss every time, which has Darius scratching his head and mumbling about how I'm the strangest newbie he's ever had to help, but it's still leagues farther than I ever managed in my previous life.

The thrill of casting magic, real magic, is probably why I feel so comfortable in my new skin.

Oh. I also acquired a mirror on the second day, after bathing away the sweat and grime from training. My face is the same, but my blue hair is gone—it's long, pure silken gold now. I'm not unhappy about this, but it is odd whenever I look at my reflection and realize I'm no longer the same person.

My body feels much the same as it did before, though I think I'm a little younger now, and in worse shape than I was before I died. Darius suggested running and other calisthenics he modeled for me in order to bring up my strength and stamina. He claims that consistent training will help raise my stats, though he is vague on how much training is required to see any change.

Which brings me to today, the third day of existence here in [Aeon Odyssey]. I learned that players all begin in the Kingdom of Ildonia, which borders my former empire, Antaros. It's a relief to know I am so far from the land of my family. The idea of seeing my father or siblings sends a cold tendril of fear down my spine; I have no interest in being controlled by them again, or serving in the Magic Tower as little more than an unpaid servant.

Darius was confused when I kept asking him questions about our neighboring kingdoms, but he was content to answer. It's what he's here for.

I think he likes it better than watching me fail at killing a single rabbit, which is what I'm doing right now.

The guards are polite enough not to laugh, but I've cast no less than six times, and not a single spell has landed on the furry creature nibbling away at a patch of grass, oblivious to the danger I pose to it.

Or it realizes I'm incapable of killing it with my abysmal aiming skills.

"I still think you should lower your synchronization rate so the game's [Attack Assistance] can take over," Darius says from behind me. He's lying on his back, watching the sky. Another fact that I've learned over the past three days is that, despite being very talkative, Darius is also lazy.

I huff out an irritated breath. "I already told you, I can't. I keep getting an error message." Most likely because I have no physical body, but I don't explain that part. Scowling at the innocent bunny, I hold my pathetic magician's staff in front of me and try again.

The damn thing isn't even moving. There's no reason I can't hit it with a ball of fire. Brand new players to the game without the slightest clue about magical theory can do this.

Beneath my feet, a magic circle appears, glowing red. A rush of mana displaces the air around me, and I can feel tendrils of hair tickling my cheeks. I concentrate on my skill, feeling mana flow into its preconceived form of a volatile ball of flame in front of me.

I look at the clueless rabbit, send it a silent apology in my head, and focus on delivering all the mana in its direction. "[Firebolt]!"

The ball of fire speeds toward its target—and hits the ground a few feet beside it, creating a perfect circle of burnt grass.

Undaunted, the rabbit grazes on.

I throw my staff to the ground with a few particularly vulgar curses, and Darius laughs. "At this rate, you'll never finish those quests. You're going to be eating bread and soup forever, without a single copper to your name."

I scowl, stomping over to his prone form. "Aren't you supposed to be my support? Someone who teaches me how this game works?"

"Of course." He smacks his chest with a fist, grinning up at me. "I'm the best tutorial the world has ever seen. Millions of people adore me. I have a fan club."

There he goes, using those weird words again. I ignore it and point my finger at his nose, narrowing my eyes. "Teach me how to aim. You're a tutorial, right? You should know how."

"I can't. Sorry! [Attack Assist] is on by default for all players. You just seem to be prone to odd glitches. If you don't want to send a report to the developers, just keep practicing."

I growl at him and turn my attention back to the rabbit in question. There's plenty of them around. I'm the only "player" in the area hunting them.

"Darius, how many players are there?"

"[Aeon Odyssey] has over 200 million player accounts worldwide."

I can't even fathom those numbers, but—"If there are so many people, why is no one here? I haven't seen a single player in three days."

"Ah." Darius grins. "That's because the [Village of Wailing Mist] is the least popular starter village. No one chooses to start here because it is hard to progress. You should have a [Starting Village Ticket] in your inventory if you don't like it. You can switch to another starting village, but you can only use it once. Most people use it in order to play together with friends."

I don't bother telling him that no such thing exists in my inventory; I already know he'll tell me it's some sort of bug or glitch, and to message the creators.

At least I'm not embarrassing myself in front of hundreds of strangers. Only Darius and the guards are privy to my spectacular inability to murder a single rabbit.

I take a deep breath, checking my status window. It costs 2 MP every time I cast [Firebolt], but MP regenerates over time as long as I am not in active combat. Despite my multiple attempts, my MP is at 20/25.

I don't quite regenerate as fast as I'm casting, but it isn't far off.

I ignore my staff, still on the ground where I threw it. If I go too far, it will automatically pop back into my inventory. I find it interesting that it is still technically equipped even when it isn't in my physical hand.

I close my hands and rest my hands on my chest, slowing my breathing and focusing on the flow of internal mana. It courses through my body in a languid manner, a bare trickle of power. Of course, to me, that trickle is more like a waterfall. I spent years trying to get the barest glimmer of mana in my veins.

Then I reach out, testing the flow of external mana. Natural mana is wild and impossible to tame, but I learned a long time ago how to brush against it and borrow just a little of its power. Instead of pulling it inside to mix with internal mana, I just sort of… open a door and let it brush over me, leaving a little behind before it goes.

I can feel a familiar tingle in my fingertips as natural mana filters into my body. While it does give a small boost in power, I'm more interested in increasing this body's sensitivity to the mana in this world. Every living thing has energy, and some of that energy manifests as mana. The earth, the trees, the wind—and the rabbit.

That stupid rabbit is like a beacon in my vision, glowing faintly blue with its life force. Holding out a hand, I concentrate again. This time, I don't focus on my skills, but on the flow of mana. If this game is broken because of my synchronization rate, I'm going to try to bring my own power into it.

When I activate my skills with the game mechanics, I can feel mana forcibly pulled into the magic circle at my feet. From there, it turns into the physical form of the skill. My goal is to skip that step and control the mana myself, keeping control of the mana flow at all times.

I force the mana in my body to converge at the tip of my finger as I point it in the rabbit's direction, condensing it into the spell by force.

Fire is, strangely, not hot, but it wriggles and writhes like a panicked snake. If I push too hard I will reach the breaking point, where the spell collapses on itself and escapes in a magical backlash. I did that a lot in my previous life as few of my spells ever succeeded. Thankfully, with only enough magical talent to fill a sliver of my pinky nail, the worst backlash only caused a small burn at the tip of my finger. Other magicians have destroyed entire buildings.

Sensing the point of failure, I release the spell in an instant, trusting this so-called game and its mechanics to create the appropriate magical circle for me.

Instead of a ball, a beam of fire bursts forth, hitting the rabbit in the head with explosive force. No magic circle ever appears at my feet.

[You have acquired a new skill: Free Cast Lv. 1 (Passive)]

[Achievement unlocked: Prodigy of Magic (LEGENDARY)]

I stand there like an idiot, my finger still pointing, as my hand shakes in shock and excitement. I know I'd hoped that the game would fill in what I was doing, mixing my magical knowledge with its mechanics, but this is beyond what I had been hoping for.

"What the hell?" Darius bursts past me to stare at the rabbit's corpse. "What the hell was that? That's not a skill!"

I lower my hand, trying to act nonchalant. I don't know how to explain it, either. "It is now. [Free Cast]."

He shakes his head. "That isn't a skill."

"…It is now." I shrug. "I guess it's just another glitch."

"Glitch? It's broken, is what it is." Darius squints at me. "And I see you got an achievement for it, too."

"Mmm. I saw that. I got some stat points and a title for it."

He shakes his head, muttering about the game being broken, before pointing at another rabbit. "Do it again. Faster, this time."

"Faster?" I collect the items from the bunny's corpse, watching them appear in my inventory.

"You were standing there for a few minutes. Casting [Firebolt] takes two seconds. You'll die if something attacks you while you're casting that way, but you'll die if you can't aim your skills. You're going to have to master something if you want to survive anything stronger than rabbits. Now, do it again."

* * *

Skill: Free Cast Lv. 1 (Passive)

Description: With Free Cast, the caster taps into their innate connection with the arcane realm, allowing them to shape and control magic through sheer force of will and intuition. This passive skill enables the caster to cast spells without reciting specific incantations or using formulaic magic circles.

Achievement: Prodigy of Magic (LEGENDARY)

Description: Congratulations, Player! You have achieved a legendary feat of magic within the tutorial. This is nearly impossible. How did you do it? But be careful; in this world, drawing attention to yourself is rarely a good idea…

Rewards:

Title: Prodigy of Magic

+10 INT

+20 MP

+1% Efficiency

+100 Fame