Mark’s life had been un-remarkable by every standard, no pun intended. His life could have been considered exceedingly average apart from his fortunate upbringing. Money was never a problem, but his family wasn’t exactly rich either.

  His childhood was marked by exploration as one would expect. From sports to the arts, his parents encouraged him to explore his many interests, but nothing ever seemed to amount to much. It wasn’t that Mark lacked talent or was less able than his peers, rather, he simply lacked motivation and commitment.

  It wasn’t long before he realized that he had nothing to show for it all. A jack of all trades to be sure, but still a master of none. The only value he had actually gained was the ability to speak on most any subject. He couldn’t play any instrument or sport well, but he could hold his own in a conversation on almost any subject.

  Now at the age of 20 he found himself still a student, studying at some no-name university, for a degree he had become disillusioned with. Yet in stark contrast to his dull life which he had become numb to, he suddenly found himself more awake than ever before. Neurons long dormant began lighting up like a christmas tree, as a primal instinct took hold over his mind.

  Time slowed as Mark froze like a deer in headlights, only Mark wasn’t frozen, nor was he a deer. It was a road he had crossed hundreds of times in his life. A road more often frequented by animals than vehicles. Perhaps he was tired, or maybe something was on his mind, he didn’t remember. Either way he had forgotten to check before crossing the road.

  It was a simple mistake, one no more routine than a morning cup of coffee. Yet tragically, it seemed it would be his last. As the truck continued at him in slow motion, Mark tried to move to no avail. He had made it only half a step before the truck had reached him. With the sound of a thunderous horn ringing in his ears, Mark experienced a degree of pain he had never thought possible before.

  Every nerve in his body screamed out in pain for but a second, before everything went black. The pain stopped, and Mark found his consciousness floating in a void. When he had recovered from the shock of it all, he managed to form his first coherent thought, ‘So this is the after-life huh? Disappointing to say the least.’ Mark thought to himself.

  He floated in an empty space devoid of light. With no sense of direction or anything else for that matter, Mark shivered at the thought of spending eternity in such a place. He had wanted a longer life, sure, but an eternal being was bound to go mad, or so he thought.

  To his relief, light began to fill the void he inhabited as stimulation returned to his 5 senses simultaneously. At first the light was blinding, offering no details, but before long he had regained his vision. He found himself in the body of a newborn, kicking and flailing on instinct. Tears clouded his vision, as he cried involuntarily. Despite his effort to struggle, he could not seem to calm himself down. Eventually he grew tired and let his body continue acting on instinct.

  He observed his chubby features and small stature. Upon examining the environment, he found himself surrounded by strange new faces. Mark found himself in the hands of a woman dressed in the attire of a maid. Aside from the maid and mother, there stood a gruff man in the room that Mark could only infer was the father. He couldn’t make out much else given the tears that clouded his vision.

  He was then passed around the room like a blunt as all three figures muttered something in a language that was foreign to his ears. Before long he found himself tired and nodding off to sleep.

  For the next year and a half, Mark found himself in a routine so boring that he believed he was going to go insane. He lost track of time as the days were short and mostly inside. He would wake up, be fed, be cleaned, and struggle to stand on his own two feet in an effort to walk. It took a while before he got used to using a diaper, but he didn’t really have any other choice.

  The routine of a newborn should have been filled with curiosity and wonder, but to an adult like Mark it was simply torture. The only solace he found was in eavesdropping on the conversations of those around him. The language was strange and foreign, but slowly he began to understand.

  He spent most of his time with his new mother and the wet nurse that served her. His mom had long dark hair, brown by nature, yet it appeared black in certain lights. Her face had delicate features and her clothes were always elaborate. The woman appeared to be in her late 30s and was kind as far as Mark could tell, but he couldn’t be sure till he had mastered the language.

  The nurse was shorter in stature and appeared some 5 years younger than the mom. She was an obedient and diligent worker, but also a friend to the mom. Mark very much enjoyed the small talk between the two, as it was the only stimulating activity in his day to day life.

  His father seldom visited, a busy man in his own right. Although occasionally he would rear his aged face in to check on his wife and newborn son. The man’s face was stern and scarred, his hairs greyed by age. Mark never saw him smile, but he never appeared angry either. Even without other men for reference, Mark could tell the man was tall and strong beyond belief. His outfits were not as flashy as his wife’s, but they still bore a medieval sense of noble fashion.

  At first, Mark was cautious to reveal his intelligence, carefully hiding it beneath the innocent facade of a child. But as days turned to weeks, he stopped caring. The sooner he could walk and talk, the sooner he could escape the monotony of his new life. With his first steps and words he garnered praise, “I didn’t do anything, he just started walking on his own.” His mother explained.

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  “Did you hear that? Lucius just called my name!” Again she praised the child’s apparent precocity. ‘It never seems to occur to them that I have the intelligence of an adult, but then again, why would it? Who would be crazy enough to grow suspicious of their own newborn child?’ Lucius thought to himself. It took him a while to get used to his new name, but eventually he began to recognize it by habit.

  When he had turned 5, he finally gained the confidence to ask his mother to teach him to read. Although he kept his speech patterns childish, Lucius was acquiring the language staggeringly fast in reality. Having gained the ability to speak, he was now able to ask questions. It was a powerful opportunity to learn, but he had to be careful not to arouse suspicion.

  “Mom, can you teach me to read stories like you do?” Lucius asked with the best puppy eyes he could muster. She had planned to teach him eventually, only she was shocked the time had come so soon. “Of course, honey!” The woman responded enthusiastically, unable to resist his cuteness.

  With the help of the maid, the 2 women began teaching Lucius everything he needed to read. He found the alphabet familiar in structure to the languages he knew back on earth, and punctuation and grammar retained some similar degree of functionality as well. Despite being a precocious learner, learning to read took more time than Lucius had expected. Though within the year’s end, neither of the 2 women could believe the progress he had made. He was able to read and write as if he was 3 times older than he actually was.

  Even his father was impressed, offering Lucius the first bit of praise he had ever uttered to the boy. Lucius didn’t care much for the words of praise, finding his accomplishment unimpressive, but his father granted him something far more precious than just words of praise. When he had proven his proficiency to his father, he had been allowed access to the family library.

  His father brought him to the library and dropped a stack of books in front of the child. “Listen here son, these 3 books right here are my life's work. In these books is everything I know about swordsmanship. If you read these 3 books, I’ll let you read whatever else you want to. You may be too young to understand these, but one day I hope you can grasp their true meaning.” His father explained to him.

  ‘Say less.’ Lucius thought to himself as he nodded to his father and opened the first book. The first page began with a quote, “A sword master is not one with the sword, the sword is one with the sword master.” Lucius rolled his eyes upon reading the words. ‘Oh great, my father thinks he’s a philosopher.’ Lucius thought to himself.

  He considered simply scanning the text to save time, but if his father quizzed him and he failed, he would probably find himself on the losing end of an ass beating. As he continued to read the text, he found something that caught his eye: “Most sword schools teach solid basics, and then incorporate mana later. This makes sense, since learning to detect, channel, and shape mana are difficult tasks for beginners. However, if mana is the source of a swordsman’s strength, it should be engrained in the fundamental basics of any sword school.” Lucius wondered to himself, ‘Was he high when he wrote this thing? Only a child would believe in magic.’

  His mother had read various fairy tales of heroes of sword and magic to him, but he never once considered them more than children’s tales. Lucius laughed at himself for even considering the idea, but he had to try anyway. He followed the book's instructions, trying to detect any trace of mana.

  He adopted a meditative posture, closing his eyes to enhance his focus on his other senses. With a breath, he drew in air from around him. As the book described, He tried harnessing mana from the new-found air in his lungs, to no avail. Again and again, he failed time after time. Despite countless attempts, he felt nothing. ‘I must be crazy for even considering the possibility.’ Lucius felt stupid.

  He attempted to return to the book, but it was meaningless. Without being able to detect mana, the rest of the book was simply worthless. Frustrated, he returned to the breathing exercise in desperation. Once again, Lucius took a deep breath, the air filled his lungs like a balloon and he tried again to grab at the ethereal energy described in the book with muscles he didn’t have. But this time, he felt it. It was small and almost insignificant, but something felt different. A warmth radiated from inside himself which had no right to be there.

  He took another breath, and another, and another, each time gaining more control and increasing the size of the small ball of warmth inside his chest. ‘Holy shit, I must be losing my mind.’ Lucius thought to himself in disbelief. He returned to the book following the instructions with haste.

  Before long, he could no longer deny the existence of mana. For the first time in his new life, Lucius felt excitement. He had considered himself unlucky for having been born into a medieval world, but with the existence of magic, he felt a little less hopeless. Like in the fairy tales his mother had read to him, magic was real. If he could only harness its power, he could be like a demi-god among humans.

  With eagerness, Lucius continued to follow the book’s instructions. After detecting ambient mana, he learned how to find his mana core, an organ ethereal in nature, but no less real than the others. By compressing the ambient mana he harnessed from the air into his mana core, he could feel power flowing into himself as the core grew in size.

  When ambient mana which bore no signature was forced into a core, the core would be forced to adopt it as its own. In order to do so, the core would have to expand in size. Through the process of compression and expansion, a mana core would grow in size, increasing both the strength and volume of mana available for its host.

  Lucius spent the rest of the day glued to the book, learning as much as he could about mana and mana cores. When the sun had set, his mother had to peel him off of the book as he kicked and screamed all the way to bed. Instead of falling asleep however, he secretly continued gathering mana and compressing it into his core.

  The mana core underwent the process of expansion naturally, but through intervention and deliberate effort, a person could hasten the growth of their core. ‘In order to achieve a large mana pool, I need to begin growing my core as fast as I can. I’m 6 years old, and I’ve already wasted 5 years doing jack shit.’ Lucius thought to himself, undeterred by the growing fatigue in his toddler body.

  He continued compressing his core until he collapsed from the fatigue, slowly slipping into a deep sleep. But he didn’t care anymore. The sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he could return to the book. Having learned to control mana, Lucius was eager to learn how to use it.