Chapter 1

  While I did not fully understand what happened, the basics were clear enough. I died and was reborn. I wish it had been that simple, but the more I tried to understand everything that happened in between, the more I found myself filled with existential dread.

  It had been three years since my birth. I was born to a lovely married couple living in an idyllic village named Redwater with a total population of 150. My poor mother had to give birth again immediately after me.

  “Wex. Pway wif me.”

  A cute little girl’s voice called out.

  My twin sister, Rose. Incidentally, “Wex” is not my new name. She just can’t pronounce her R’s correctly.

  “After dinner Rose, I promise.”

  I responded in an upbeat tone while smiling at her. Children reflect the emotions shown to them, so this was my usual way of talking to her.

  In my past life, I had no siblings and always wanted a daughter. Rose was like a two-in-one solution for my unfulfilled relationships.

  “Rex, honey, no pets at the table.”

  The heavily pregnant woman was referring to the stray cat I brought in. Yes, I know I’m not really three years old mentally, but hey, I’ve always loved animals, and thanks to my physical age, I could get away with doing this.

  “Okay.”

  I scooped up the sleeping calico cat in my arms. Her two tails brushed against my face as she purred.

  “Come on, Shirley. I’ll find you later.”

  As I took her to the front door, it suddenly sprang open.

  “Rex! Is Dad home yet?”

  That would be my elder brother, Jasper. He just turned eight.

  “No. What did you do?”

  I could tell by his expression and tone that he was in trouble.

  “Haha, what do you mean? I was just racing him home.”

  He lied poorly.

  As he entered the house, I saw him running to hang one of his father’s bows on the hanger by the base of our staircase. He then patted his messy hair down and did his best to walk calmly to the dinner table. He was still audibly out of breath, though.

  I looked at the bow one last time. Unlike the other three bows on the same wall, it had been left skewed to one side. I could fix it, but I was a father once myself. It would be best if Jasper experienced discipline now to discourage further bad behaviour later in life.

  I continued out and let Shirley down on the soft grass. She brushed against my leg, making no effort to actually go anywhere.

  “...cute.”

  “Ah, Rex. Jasper didn’t come home yet by chance, did he?”

  The man ruffled my hair playfully, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. I took note of the vein bulging in his head and the broken arrow in his hand. There was a little bit of fresh blood at the end.

  “He’s inside. He had your bow.”

  I sold out my sibling immediately.

  “For God's sake… good boy Rex, bye Minx.”

  “This one’s Shirley. Minx has blue fur and one tail."

  “Ah, my bad. C’mon son.”

  He lifted me easily and walked me inside. I wistfully waved Shirley goodbye.

  ***

  Gathered around the table was my new family. Rose and I were the youngest, and we always sat side by side.

  Then there was Jasper, who was being chewed out for shooting the neighbour’s donkey in the ass. He was kneeling on the floor as punishment. He wouldn’t be allowed to eat until we finished, leaving the seat opposite mine empty.

  Finally, there were the parents of the household, Maria and Roland.

  Maria was eight months pregnant already. I wondered if birth control had not been established in this world yet. Surely three kids were enough? Based on our house and lifestyle, we were probably around the middle class in terms of wealth, but still, having this many children had to be a burden for her.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Anyway, she was a baker and a lovely woman in general. Rose and I resembled her physically, with our dark red hair and green eyes.

  Jasper was more like his father, Roland. They both had a more tanned complexion than we did and thick brown hair with dark eyes.

  Roland was a hunter in the village of Redwater. He retired early from the military, where he served as a scout. I don’t think he was famous or anything, but his military friends came around occasionally, and they all talked highly of his skills.

  It was an odd feeling for me. Originally an only child, I had little trouble accepting my siblings as my brother and sister. But as for my parents…

  Well, my real parents were still alive when I died. And for me, they couldn’t be replaced. I occasionally felt guilty, but I had never referred to Maria or Roland as mother or father. They tried many times when I was 'learning' to speak, but I always found a way to avoid saying the words in our daily lives.

  I accepted they were both nice people, but treating them as my parents was just too hard for me.

  After dinner, Rose tugged at me, eagerly wanting to play with the wooden figures I had carved for her. Roland was a trusting father indeed to let me have my own carving knife at my age.

  “Ah, hold on a moment, you two.”

  Roland reached into the side bag he brought in and pulled out a book.

  “Here. Sorry it took so long, the merchant who sells these doesn’t come by too often.”

  He handed me a book titled The Mana Organ: A Biological Analysis of the Mage.

  “Thank you. Rose, can you please get your toys ready?”

  I smiled at Roland and followed Rose upstairs to our room. Luckily, she entertained herself well enough that I could just read peacefully. But if I’m not in the room while she plays, she will keep pestering me.

  One of the first things I noticed when I arrived in this world was that it was fundamentally different in terms of scientific advancement and what they considered 'magic'.

  One of Roland’s friends showed me some tricks when they visited, like creating multi-coloured glowing lights out of thin air and making small objects hover. This was called magic, but Maria’s odd ability to make even week-old leftovers taste fresh was not. Neither was Roland’s ability to see three times the distance a normal person could, and to ignore lighting conditions at the same time. This got me interested in learning more.

  Roland’s friend told me about a physical organ that only some humans are born with. They didn’t go into any more detail; they probably thought I was too young to comprehend it. This book, which Roland bought me, went into the specific details of the topic.

  I read for a couple of hours while Rose slept on her stomach in the middle of the room, still gripping the wooden toy dog. I covered her with a blanket and pondered what I had learnt so far.

  The Mana Organ is not a separate organ, but rather it is attached to the heart. It produces mana, which is the raw energy used to create magic, and pumps it along with our blood through our whole body. Those without a Mana Organ simply cannot produce mana naturally. What’s more is that it only presents itself in about 1% of humans.

  “...Not promising.”

  I frowned. What’s the point of coming to a fantasy world if I couldn't even use magic?

  “Hey, buddy. You understand that?”

  Roland crept up quietly and whispered to me, taking note of Rose’s snoring.

  “Yeah. Rose is ready for bed.”

  I responded curtly. I saw Roland’s uncomfortable look, and I knew he wanted to try to connect with me better… But I was unsure how to meet his expectations without compromising my personal feelings.

  “Ah… hmm, got it.”

  He took Rose gently in his arms and carried her to the room, but paused before going in.

  “...Hey, Rex?”

  “Hm?”

  “I love you, buddy.”

  “...Yeah. Thank you.”

  Our awkward exchange ended there as I returned to my book.

  ***

  The days flew by faster than expected in my new everyday life. There really was not a lot to do as a three-year-old in a quiet village, so everything tended to blend together.

  I had a hard time bonding with children my own age because, well, they my age. As a result, I spent most of my early childhood alone, reading books beyond what my peers could understand and trying to get a firm grasp on this world.

  Amusingly, it took a while for me to discover what this world was even called: Arden. That was the name. Though, to be fair, how often did anyone ever say the earth was called earth?

  I only ended up discovering the name when reading a biography of the Emperor who ruled over the land I resided in. Emperor Albrecht I. There was a phrase that stated, 'Albrecht is the greatest wizard not just in the Black Crown Empire, but all of Arden.'

  Propaganda was rife in my past life, so I was no stranger to this sort of exaggerated ego fluffing. That being said, the biography detailed numerous accomplishments over his career, which were supported in other tomes I got my tiny hands on over the years. I could only surmise that Emperor Albrecht really may be a living legend.

  Reading about the Empire led to learning about the territories under its control, and through that, I found that the political situation of the village I had been born into was intriguing in itself. Redwater was originally under the control of another kingdom, but was handed over to the Empire 30 years ago. Apparently, a rebellion rose in the kingdom while they dealt with a war on the other side of their borders, and the Empire quelled it for them.

  Since Redwater sat at the border, it was handed over as a show of appreciation, and an alliance was formed soon after.

  As a result, many people living in Redwater were of mixed descent, and despite being Empire-owned, those from the Kingdom weren't discouraged from residing here.

  My own family were pureblooded Kronenvolk, however. 'Kronenvolk' being the term for the Empire's people.

  But as interesting as the politics were here, it was the fantastical aspects that always pulled me back into reading.

  Monsters were my favourite thing to learn about. Their habits, anatomy, and otherworldly abilities were a thing of beauty that I would have loved to research in more detail. Roland didn't like this, saying only madmen who wanted to lose their limbs delved into monster research. As a result, it became difficult to procure any monster manuals. I had to stick to magical theory for the time being.

  Beyond just reading, I also began writing my own theories based on my understanding of magic—which was probably lacking, let's be honest—but it was fun at least. I showed it to some adults, but nobody knew enough to tell me if my thoughts were right or not. It felt like showing a complex mathematical equation to someone who can't count.

  One day, Roland brought home a proper spell scroll, and I got to see what a real spell circle looked like.

  Contrary to what I expected, this was not a happy occasion for me. That's because it shattered my previous confidence in understanding magic.

  Runes, spell circles, the meaning of them when placed together, what effect is conjured and how it is altered based on the type of magical element injected into the formula. All these variables added infinite possibilities to the mix.

  I used to be fluent in three languages, yet the runic alphabet alone that was used in spellcasting was so vast that I gave up on it by the time I was nine.

  This summarises my early childhood. No crazy monster attacks, no raiding bandits, no evil noble coming to steal women away...

  Just a simple, rustic life spent learning and theorising.

  Until my tenth birthday came, and everything changed...