THE CONTINENT of Dicathen comprises three major kingdoms: the forest kingdom of Elenoir in the north, the underground kingdom of Darv near to the southern border, and the kingdom of Sapin, located on the eastern border of the continent. There also exist the Beast Glades, of which a large percentage remains a mystery. Not much of the Beast Glades has been traversed due to the abundance of beasts, which are hostile to travelers as well as each other. Yet, every year, countless expeditions have been made due to the tempting riches one may reap…

The kingdom of Elenoir, the homeland of the elf race, is located in the Forest of Elshire. The thick mist that forms here—a mysterious effect of the centuries-old trees—deters all travelers; however, the elves, with their acute senses, can navigate freely…

The kingdom of Darv is a network of underground passages and enormous caves that can span up to several kilometers, wherein the Dwarven race resides...

The kingdom of Sapin is easily the largest and most populated region on the continent. While this kingdom is primarily composed of humans, there are also numerous merchants from the Dwarven race, trading commodities of many…

While the Beast Glades house countless monsters and creatures, they also contain wondrous treasures with long-forgotten origins, accessible to those who dare to seek them. Many adventurers and mercenaries have written about the dungeons and lairs of powerful entities and the riches to be found therein, which can turn even the most generous priest into a greedy...

Between the Forest of Elshire and the kingdom of Sapin lies the Grand Mountain range, which spans roughly ninety percent of the continent,

separating the north and east from the west and south...

While the kingdoms of Darv and Sapin hold a symbiotic relationship for resources, the elves seclude themselves, displaying aggression toward every other…

Closing the worn covers of what seemed to be an encyclopedia of this world,

Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose with his pudgy fingers, downcast. An almost tangible gloom emanated from him. He let out an audible half-sigh,

which seemed appropriate from his toothless mouth.

“Ah, fu…”

I NEVER BELIEVED in the whole “light at the end of the tunnel” folly where people, after having a near-death experience, would startle awake in a cold sweat exclaiming, “I saw the light!” But there I was, in this so-called “tunnel” facing a glaring light, when the last thing I remembered was sleeping in my room—the royal bedchamber, as others called it.

Had I died? If so, how? Was I assassinated?

I didn’t remember wronging anyone, but then again, being a powerful public figure meant others had all sorts of reasons to want me dead.

The pressure forcing me toward this mysterious light made me forgo the hope that this was all a dream. Instead, I relaxed—that seemed to make things more comfortable—and went along for the ride.

The journey seemed to take an eternity. I half-expected to hear, at any moment, a choir of children singing an angelic hymn, beckoning me toward what I hoped would be heaven. Instead, as if I were looking through a foggy window, everything around me turned into a bright blur, forcing me to shut my eyes. Indiscernible sounds assaulted my ears, making me dizzy. When I tried to speak, the words came out as a cry.

The cacophony of indistinguishable sounds slowly mellowed, and I heard a muffled voice saying, “Congratulations, sir and madam, he’s a healthy boy.” …Wait.

I suppose I should have been coming to the conclusion that I had just experienced the miracle of birth firsthand, but I was momentarily overcome by the thought of my own demise. I couldn't be dead, though, if I was just being born, could I?

Assessing my situation in the rational manner befitting a king, I made note,

first of all, that wherever this was, I understood the language. That was a good sign.

I slowly and painfully opened my eyes once more, and they were bombarded with different colors and figures. It took a bit of time for my infant eyes to get used to the light. A not-so-appealing face moved into my line of sight—a man with long, greying hair on both his head and chin, wearing a pair of thick glasses. He seemed to be the doctor, but he wasn’t wearing a doctor's gown,

nor were we in anything remotely close to a hospital room. I seemed to have been born from some satanic summoning ritual, because we were on a bed of straw, on the floor of a small room dimly lit by a few candles.

I looked around and saw the woman who had clearly just given birth to me. It seemed reasonable to call her ‘Mother.’ Taking a few more seconds to see what she looked like, I had to admit she was a beauty, though that might have been due to my still-bleary eyes.

Rather than glamorous, I would better describe her as lovely, in a very kind and gentle sense. She had striking auburn hair and brown eyes, long eyelashes, and a perky nose, and I felt an urge to just cling to her. She exuded an irresistible maternal warmth, and I wondered if all babies felt this instinctive bond with their mothers.

I peeled my eyes away and looked at the person standing to my right. By the idiotic grin and teary eyes he gazed at me with, I assumed he was my father.

Immediately he said, “Hi, little Art, I’m your daddy. Can you say dada?” I glanced around to see both my mother and the doctor roll their eyes as my mother managed to scoff, “Honey, he was just born.” Taking a closer look at my father, I could see why my lovely mother was attracted to him.

Aside from the few loose screws he seemed to have, expecting a newborn to articulate a two-syllable word—I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe he had been overcome with the joy of becoming a father—he was a very charismatic-looking man with a cleanlyshaven, square jawline that complemented his features. His hair, ashy brown in color, was kept trim, while his eyebrows were strong and fierce, extending sharply like two swords. Yet his eyes held a gentle quality, perhaps imparted by the way they drooped a bit at the outside corners, or the deep blue, almost sapphire, hue of his irises.

I heard my mother’s voice ask, “Doctor, why isn’t he crying? I thought newborns were supposed to cry.”

While I finished studying my presumptive parents, the bespectacled gentleman who called himself a doctor dismissed my mother’s worry, saying,

“There are cases where the infant does not cry. Please continue resting for a couple of days, Mrs. Leywin. Mr. Leywin, I’ll be available in case you need me for anything.” And that marked the first day of a new life.

The weeks following my journey out of the tunnel were a new kind of torture for me. I had little to no motor control, other than being able to wave my limbs around, and even that got tiring quickly. I soon realized that babies don’t really have much control over their fingers. When you place your finger on a baby’s palm, they don’t grab it because they like you; they grab it because it’s like getting hit in the funny bone. It’s a reflex. Forget motor control; I couldn’t even excrete my wastes at my discretion. I was not yet the master of my own bladder.

The satanic demon-summoning place seemed to be my parents’ room. As best I could tell, I seemed to have traveled back in time to be born into my own world, in the days before electricity had been invented. At least, that was what I hoped—but my mother quickly proved me wrong.

My idiotic father had been swinging me around one day and bumped me against a drawer, scratching my leg. And my mother healed it.

No, not like ‘a bandage and a kiss’ healing—this was a full-blown, shining-light-with-a-faint-hum-from-her-freaking-hands type of healing.

Where the hell am I?

My mother and father—Alice and Reynolds Leywin—seemed to be good people. Hell, possibly even the best. I suspected my mother was an angel; I’d never met such a kindhearted, warm person. She frequently took me with her to what she called a town, carrying me on her back in a baby cradle-strap of some sort.

This town, called Ashber, was more like a glorified outpost in my opinion, seeing as there were no real roads or buildings. We walked along the main dirt trail, which featured tents on both sides with various merchants and salesmen selling all sorts of things—from common, everyday necessities to things I couldn’t help but raise a brow at, like weapons, armor, and rocks…

shining rocks!

Probably in an attempt to help me learn the language faster, my mother talked to me while shopping for the day's groceries and exchanging pleasantries with various people passing by or working in the booths. But it was never long before my body turned against me once again and I fell asleep… Damn this useless infantile form of mine.

I woke in my mother’s lap. She was caressing me absently, intently focused on my father. He was reciting a chant, and continued for well over a minute,

something that sounded like a prayer to the earth. I leaned in closer and closer, almost falling off my living seat, expecting some magical phenomenon like an earthquake splitting the ground or a giant stone golem emerging.

After what seemed like an eternity—and for an infant with the attention span of a goldfish, it was—three boulders, each the size of an adult human, emerged from the ground and slammed against a nearby tree.

What in the name of… That was it?

I flailed my arms in anger, but my idiot father interpreted that as excitement.

With a big grin on his face, he said, “Your daddy is awesome, huh?” Whatever magic he had accomplished with the boulders, he was undoubtedly much better at fighting. When he put on his iron gauntlets, even I was impressed, despite my experience fighting top-notch experts in my past.

With quick, firm movements that were surprising for his bulky build, his fists carried enough force to shatter boulders and topple down trees, but were fluid enough to not leave any openings for an opponent. In my former world, he would have been classed as a high-tier fighter, leading a squad of soldiers,

but to me, he was just my father.

The days passed quickly, and I drank in as much information as I could, listening intently to my parents and observing everything I could see. Every day I devoted myself to honing my new body, mastering the motor functions residing deep within me.

That comfortable regimen soon changed.

I WAS A KING. In my former life I could have had my country’s army assembled and kneeling at my feet with the snap of a finger. I’d outdueled competitors from other countries as well as my own people to settle disputes and maintain my position. In terms of swordsmanship and controlling ki, I was second to none, for in my previous world, personal strength was essential to being a ruler. Yet I couldn’t think of a moment in my two lives when I’d been prouder than I was now.

I can crawl!

Until now, although I was thirsty for knowledge about this new world, I’d had to make do with the stories Mother would tell me while trying to make me fall asleep, and I often grumbled in complaint when she stopped too early.

My father would sometimes sit me on his lap while idly talking to me about his past exploits, which gave me some hints as to what kind of world this was and what it was filled with.

From what I had learned so far, this world seemed to be a fairly straightforward one filled with magic and warriors, where power and wealth decided one’s rank in society. In that sense, it wasn’t too different from my old world, except for the lack of technology and the slight difference between this world’s magic and the ki, or life force, of my previous world.

My father, Reynolds Leywin, was a former adventurer—which was apparently a viable occupation in this world—and had quite a lot of experience in his field. He had taken part in several expeditions to search for treasure and fulfill missions he and his team acquired from the Adventurers Guild.

He’d eventually settled down when he met my mother at the kingdom’s border in a city called Valden. He proudly told me how my mother, Alice, had fallen head over heels for him at first sight when he had visited the town’s Adventurers Guild Hall, where she had been working, but I suspected it was the exact opposite considering how my mother slapped him across the back of the head and told him to stop telling me lies.

I’d learned my full name by now: Arthur Leywin—Arthur after my greatgrandfather, from the days when the Leywin house was far more powerful.

My parents called me Art for short; as a former king I thought that sounded a little too cute, but after getting a glimpse of myself one day in the metal sheet they used as a mirror, I had to admit my physical features would make anyone think of me as ‘cute.’ I had my mother’s glowing auburn hair, while my eyes were a bright azure color, inherited from my father. I couldn’t know how my facial features would turn out as I grew older, but as long as I kept myself in good fighting shape, it should be okay.

I’d spent weeks attempting to crawl but had achieved only an uncoordinated scuffle in place. When I finally succeeded, I managed to sneak into the family’s library while my mother was hanging the laundry out to dry. Once she noticed I was gone, it took her only a few minutes to find me. It wouldn’t have mattered even if I’d had hours inside the room, though, because once I opened up a book I realized that, while I understood the spoken language, I couldn’t read.

I felt as frustrated as my out-of-breath mother sounded when she scolded me with a sigh, saying, “I swear, you’re going to be as much of a handful as your father.” By the end of the week, I had picked up enough words from my mother’s nightly story-reading to do some studying of my own in the library. Within a few weeks, Mother had grown used to finding me holed up in the corner of the library with books around me.

Whether she was suspicious, I didn’t know, but she did let me stay there as long as she was close by and the door was open.

I’d spent the afternoon finishing up the fifth volume of an encyclopedia of Dicathen, my new world. I closed the encyclopedia and situated myself more comfortably on the ground. Basically I just lay on my belly, because crawling and sitting upright were so damn tiring.

Pondering over what I had just read, I realized this world was rather underdeveloped. From what I could infer, there wasn’t much in the way of technological advancement. The only sources of transportation appeared to be horse-driven carriages, which varied in size for local and overland use, and ships with sails, for navigating rivers.

Weapons were freely allowed, and not regulated unless you were visiting the royal family or some other high-ranking authority. It continued to baffle me to see people carrying weapons while shopping for groceries, like they were luxury designer bags. In town with my mother, I had witnessed a man carrying a gigantic war axe so tall its handle dragged on the ground behind him as he walked.

In my previous life, on Earth, there were soldiers and guards who carried weapons openly; however, they weren’t for the purpose of killing, but rather to deter people from committing crimes. Here, though, I had recently witnessed a thief stealing a few items from the armory store, then being slashed in the back by a large, bald mercenary carrying a polearm. Moreover,

the bystanders even went as far as to applaud the oversized skinhead while the thief lay there dying.

One similarity between this world and my previous world was the system of monarchy. The continent of Dicathen had several kingdoms, each ruled by a king and his royal family. Unlike Earth of my time, though, the kings here were chosen based on lineage; the title passed down from the king to his son and so on.

Crowns had once been inherited on Earth, too, but centuries ago the hierarchical systems had adopted a new approach to leadership. Earth rulers were still kings; however, they weren’t born or elected, but trained.

Wars had become an almost obsolete form of settling disputes between countries. Of course, there were still smaller-scale battles, and armies were still needed for the safety of the citizens, but disputes concerning the wellbeing of a country were based on either a duel between the rulers of the countries—limited to making use of ki and close-combat weapons—or, for smaller disputes, a mock battle between platoons, where limited firearms were allowed.

Therefore, a king on Earth was no longer the stereotypical fat man sitting on the throne ignorantly commanding others; to protect his country’s safety and honor, he had to be an unparalleled fighter.

Scanning through the encyclopedia, there didn’t seem to be much information on continents other than the one we were currently on. I found this a bit odd,

since there were ships that carried goods and passengers across the continent by river, but I assumed that the maritime technology wasn’t yet developed enough to sail across oceans.

One thing that was hard to get used to was the existence of magic in this world. If we were talking about superhuman powers, sure, the countries on Earth relied on such people, but the capabilities of magic in this world seemed to be on another level.

On Earth, practitioners learned how to condense and utilize the ki that existed innately in their bodies. Like building muscle through exercise, repeatedly breaking the ki center down through the depletion of the ki inside, followed by rest, would cause the ki center to grow stronger, allowing access to a bigger pool of ki, which could then be channeled throughout the body via special veins known as meridians, and utilized to strengthen the body.

Instead of ki, this world’s life force was called mana; the more surprising thing was that it existed in the atmosphere. Practitioners, also known as mages, would draw the surrounding mana into their bodies to use, ultimately condensing it in their mana core. In my old world, ki only existed and formed inside the body. Whether ki had never existed in Earth’s atmosphere in the first place, or had ceased to exist for some reason, I would never know.

On Earth, practice was incredibly important, but the innate size of a user’s ki center was even more important, because the limited amount of ki you had in your body was all you could work with. This made me wonder if the size of a person’s mana core wouldn’t matter as much here because of the available mana in the atmosphere. The ‘cup’ might not hold as much, but it could be constantly replenished.

In my old world, even though my ki center wasn’t large, I had been considered a prodigy at channeling and utilizing my ki effectively to make up for my shortcomings. By utilizing every bit of my ki, I had become the strongest of the elite division of duelists, earning the right to become king.

If I could apply a ki practitioner’s techniques to the mana that was present both inside the mana core and in the surrounding atmosphere, couldn’t I essentially double or even triple the strength I’d had before?

I managed to pull another book from the bottom shelf—The Beginner’s Guide for the Privileged Mage—which answered a couple of questions for me:

…While the power to control mana is largely genetic, there are many cases where children of mages are unable to sense the mana around them.

A recent census showed that roughly one in one hundred children is able to sense mana, but the extent of this ability can only be tested after the mana core has completely developed, which occurs in early adolescence to the late teen years. A mage’s first awakening will be apparent by the initial repellence of the surrounding mana when the mana core manifests.

This results in a translucent barrier forming for several minutes around the awakened...

Flipping through the pages, I found something that caught my attention.

…Mana can be used in various ways. The two most common methods of utilizing mana are augmenting (enhancement of the body with mana), and conjuring (emission of mana to the outside world)…

…Augmenting is most commonly seen amongst warriors who utilize mana,

channeling it through their body to strengthen themselves and their attacks...

…Conjuring is practiced by mages, who, after channeling their mana, can cast spells to have a certain effect on the surrounding area or directly at a target...

I flipped a few pages to the chapter titled ‘Weaknesses and Limitations’ and continued reading.

While augmenters can possess incredible strength, defense, and agility, their weakness lies in their limited range…

…Conjurers possess unfathomable powers, being able to bend their surroundings to their will. However, such powers come with limits. Unlike augmenters, who utilize mostly the mana in their own mana cores, conjurers must supplement their own mana core with mana from the outside world in order to influence their surroundings in the form of a spell...

…While both types of mages—mana manipulators, to use the more scientifically accurate term—are ranked by the strength of their mana cores,

augmenters and conjurers have different ways of measuring their aptitude...

*flip*

…An augmenter’s prowess or talent is measured by the strength of the mana channels in their body, which measures the speed and efficiency of relocation of mana from their mana core into various parts of their bodies…

…A conjurer’s power and talent, by contrast, is measured by the power of their mana veins, which indicates their speed and effectiveness in absorbing mana from the outside world to cast a spell...

*flip*

…Mages (mana manipulators) are typically divided into one of these two categories, since attempting to be proficient in both from an early stage is time-consuming and often unsuccessful.

Categorization is based on the relative strength of the individual’s mana channels and mana veins, and the differences are generally present at birth…

… Augmenters do not need very strong mana veins, as they predominantly utilize mana from their cores, while conjurers do not need powerful mana channels, because they do not release their mana into their own bodies.

As proficiency rises to an advanced level, the distinctions between augmenters’ and conjurers’ abilities lessen naturally…

I took a minute to digest this new information. It seemed my idiot father was a decently competent augmenter and a less-than-average conjurer.

That healing light, though… What was my mother?

*flip, flip, flip*

Aha!

…There are rare deviants, the two best-known types of which are elemental deviants and emitters. The most highly sought-after are emitters, more commonly known as healers. Healers possess the rare ability to cast their unique restorative mana onto others directly, expediting recovery from injuries and impairments...

While I knew her powers were different, I’d had no idea they were so rare.

After resting my weary eyes for a few minutes, I skipped a few pages to go to the next chapter, titled ‘Fundamentals of Conjuring.’ The proper steps of utilizing mana for conjurers are: gathering mana;

drawing it into one’s body; circulating it into one’s mana core to stabilize and purify the diluted mana from the atmosphere; then channeling it into an appropriate conductor (a staff, wand, ring, etc.) using incantations as a mental control for shaping the mana into the desired spell…

*flip*

…The more powerful the spell, the longer it will take to draw in surrounding mana, condense and purify it in the mana core, and finally channel and release…

*flip*

…Because conjuring involves exerting focused mana into a particular spell,

conjurers will notice that they have a special aptitude for certain elements (air, water, fire, earth), but with proper training, can become adequate in the basics of all elements...

*flip, flip*

Fundamentals of Augmenting Compared to conjuring, much less time can be spent gathering the surrounding mana for augmenting. Efficiency in augmenting requires speed and precision in the use of core mana, and less use of mana from the atmosphere...

This was where it clicked: Augmenting was very similar to using ki, except you could also draw mana in from your surroundings. The reason there weren’t any conjurers on my old world, Earth, was because there was no mana in the atmosphere to draw from to create a phenomenon.

My gaze sharpened as I read on.

…augmenting requires precise distribution of mana into different parts of the body, as the user requires. Although it may seem simple at a glance,

augmenting requires significant insight into one’s own body. Being able to utilize the mana channels efficiently requires years of both mental and physical practice...

*flip*

…Because augmenting involves extracting mana in its purest form from the user’s mana core, there are no significant distinctions in an elemental sense at an early stage. However, augmenters are able to use their mana in more diverse ways, resulting in vastly different forms of fighting through augmentation...

*flip*

…The phenomenon called ‘backlash’ is known to both types of practitioners.

For augmenters, it occurs from depletion of the mana core and can cause extreme bodily pain, depending on how severe the damage to the mana core is.

For conjurers, backlash occurs from overfilling of the mana core. This is caused by overuse of spells beyond the practitioner’s capacity, or by using a spell too powerful for his or her mana core to handle.

Closing the book, I propped myself up on my butt, processing the overload of information I had just read.

Because of the uncanny similarities between the ki center in my old world and the mana core in this world, I found it hard to believe that mana manipulation could not begin until adolescence.

On Earth, children could meditate and sense the ki scattered inside their bodies. Once the ki migrated to a single place, the ki center would form.

Testing my hypothesis, I began meditating, trying to sense the mana in my seven-month-old body. Then— “There you are! Art, honey, are you having trouble taking a poopy?” Mother! I’m about to begin my journey to become the greatest mage in the world! Do not make me out to be a constipated infant!

Lifting me gently into her arms, she took me away to change my diaper— which, surprisingly, was full by the time I noticed.