It had been almost two years since my reincarnation. I was old enough to leave the house on my own — at least, in theory.
Moreover, I could finally write with some fluency.
---
I paused and reread what I had just written.
"I pondered the arcane compendium I had recently studied and came to the conclusion that this world appears to possess a… rather rudimentary technological development.
Means of transportation, it would seem, were limited to horse-drawn carriages — of varying sizes depending on land needs — and rudimentary vessels propelled by sails, intended for river navigation."
…
I stared at what I had written for a few seconds.
What the hell was that?
I sighed, resting my forehead on my hand.
My writing skills were still… well, far from ideal. I thought that using complicated words would make me sound smarter, but it just came across as pretentious beginner writing, someone trying to impress — probably themselves.
I crossed out half of what I had written and tried again.
"This world is pretty backward. There isn't much technology. People use carriages to travel and sailboats on rivers. That's it."
…
Much better. Still simple — but at least honest.
At that moment, I was keeping a diary. The content itself was just a jumble of what I thought about the world and what I saw in daily life. Practically, it was a convenient excuse to practice my writing.
But recently, the paper I'd been using was running out — worn, yellowed, with only a few pages left. I had made it myself from fibers I found around, without really knowing what I was doing.
The result… well, it got the job done. Barely acceptable.
The sheets were rough, absorbed ink too quickly, and sometimes tore just from pressing the pen a bit harder. Still, it was better than having nothing.
In the end, writing was just repeating mistakes until they stopped feeling like mistakes. Repetition, adjustment… and patience.
My parents often read to me, which sped up my learning considerably. At first, it was just annoying — I wanted to understand everything myself — but over time, I realized that observing was more efficient than insisting on error. While they read, I memorized the letters they pointed to, associating sound and shape almost effortlessly.
My new body… learned too quickly.
That made learning… too easy.
Putting writing aside for now, noticing this reinforced one thing: staying still wouldn't get me anywhere.
I had already memorized almost everything from the book I had been secretly reading. Page by page, word by word — it wasn't like it was hard to forget.
So… today I decided to stop just reading and test it in practice.
---
As I left the room, I mentally reviewed the contents of the book.
Magic had clear categories: attack, for fighting; healing, for treating injuries; and summoning, for bringing things forth. Nothing like "do whatever you want and hope for a miracle." It was organized, almost methodical, as if someone had taken chaos and turned it into a manual. I found it fascinating, yet a little silly, as if anyone really needed so much explanation for things that should have been instinct.
To use magic, you needed magical power — either your own, or you depended on an external source. Some people were walking energy generators, others relied on objects. It made sense, of course, but it was already clear that not everyone just tossed fireballs around like it was nothing.
And there was another thing: magic could be cast in two ways — speaking incantations or drawing magic circles. One was fast, improvised; the other required planning and patience.
The worst part? A person's magical power was practically determined at birth. Training harder than others or trying to surpass yourself didn't make a difference; if you had little mana, that was all you had. Genetics was cruel. My mother was good at healing magic, so maybe I had some talent.
Maybe.
---
As I went down the stairs, Lilia was cleaning the house. The way she handled the broom — precise, almost automatic — always caught my attention. Maybe I'd ask her to teach me someday. Zenith was sitting, focused on knitting a garment for Paul.
Speaking of him… where was he?
"Ah, Rudy. Finally decided to come down?"
"Mm." I nodded, approaching her. "…Where's Dad?"
Zenith tilted her head, a curious smirk on her face.
"Oh? What a surprise… since when do you ask about your father first thing in the morning?"
Hm? I stopped mid-step. Did she really find it strange to ask? Kids that age usually stuck to their parents, right?
…Well, I clearly wasn't "a kid that age."
Still… asking wasn't a big deal.
"It's just… I wanted to show him something," I said, scratching my cheek.
"Show what?" She set the knitting aside in her lap and looked at me attentively.
Hey… help me out here, will you?
"Um… Mom… Dad is taking a bit long to arrive, isn't he?"
Zenith paused for a second, then shook her head slowly.
"That's true… normally he'd already be back by now. I wonder if something happened?"
Could it be…? No, no. Laws had come earlier asking for help to hunt a monster. Depending on the type, it could indeed take some time.
Even knowing that, an uneasy thought settled in my chest.
I had never seen Paul actually hunt before. I only heard bits and pieces from Zenith and Lilia. He always came back sweaty, muddy, smiling — as if it was just a stroll.
But… what if this time it was different? What if he got hurt for real? What if he didn't come back?
"Heheh."
"W-why are you laughing like that?" I frowned.
"Nothing." Zenith shook her head slightly, the smile still on her face. "It's just… nice to see you worrying about your father like this."
I tilted my head, not fully understanding.
"Rudy, what did you want to show?"
I took a deep breath, trying to sound as innocent as possible.
"I want to show you something. You'll like it."
---
It was still afternoon when I gathered everyone in the household in the garden. That included Zenith… and Lilia, who almost never stepped outside the house.
"I'm going to show something that will blow your minds. Now, feel free to applaud."
"Yay!"
The applause came — or rather, the applause of a single person.
Zenith clapped enthusiastically, her eyes shining with curiosity. Lilia, on the other hand, remained still, hands crossed in front of her apron, watching silently.
Hey… are you just going to stand there? You don't have to take this so seriously. What, "perfect maid" protocol? Not even a little applause? …Well, whatever.
"With regard to what I intend to carry out…" I continued, trying to sound as dramatic as possible, "I fear I cannot guarantee absolute success. Even so, I believe you may anticipate something… singularly inebriating."
"Rudy…" Zenith tilted her head, with a smile both amused and concerned. "You still haven't told me how you learned to speak like that."
"Mom! Now isn't the time for lectures!"
Does this woman know how to keep quiet?
I ignored the comment and tried to recall the notes I had made mentally. Among the basic elements — water, fire, earth, and wind — I chose wind. There was something about it that drew me more than the others. Water was safe and versatile, but wind… wind felt freer, more unpredictable. With it, I could do things that the other elements wouldn't allow as easily — or at least, that's what I imagined.
I extended my right hand and began to recite the words.
"May the vast and blessed winds converge where I command and become a single, pure current — Wind Bullet!"
The instant I finished speaking, it felt as if all the blood in my body was sucked into my right palm. A hot pressure surged up my arm, pulsating, and suddenly the air before me compressed violently. At the same moment, it exploded with a dry whoosh, releasing a short gust that bent the grass and kicked up some dust.
"Whoa!" The sensation was so strange that I stumbled backward and fell onto the grass.
Still sprawled on the ground, I formed the widest grin I could and looked up, proud.
I expected exclamations, applause, a "Kyah, Rudy is a genius!" or something like that.
Instead, they were… frozen.
Lilia remained her usual self — hands crossed, neutral expression, as if she had just seen someone sweep the floor. Expected.
But Zenith… she stared at me, eyes wide. Then she slowly approached, squatted in front of me — and her expression changed. The smile that appeared was affectionate, but didn't reach her eyes.
Something felt off. A discomfort settled in my chest, as if I had seen this before.
"Rudy… you learned that by reading the book aloud?"
…Damn. I messed up.
Maybe I shouldn't have shown it. Maybe using magic without warning was a terrible idea.
For a moment, I remembered my mother from the other world yelling at me for telling something without permission. The scream was still etched in my memory — even if I no longer remembered the exact reason.
Still, I didn't want to ruin the mood.
"…Maybe I spoke a little," I said quietly, looking away. "Sorry."
The silence that followed wasn't broken by a lecture — but by a sharp shout that almost made me fall backward.
"LILIA! DID YOU SEE THAT?!" Zenith exploded, her voice full of near-hysterical excitement.
Before I could process, she pulled me off the ground and hugged me tightly. My face pressed against her chest, air escaping my lungs while the familiar scent of soap and herbs filled my nose.
"He did it! He cast a real spell! At just two years old! Rudy is a genius!"
…Heh. I worried for nothing.
I knew she wouldn't complain about me meddling with the book without asking. Still, for a brief second — before the shout — an old memory had surfaced.
My mother from the other world.
I no longer remembered the reason for the argument. It was something trivial, about having shared something without permission. All that remained was the shouting, the look of disappointment… and that feeling of having done something wrong without really understanding why.
Even so… now Zenith was radiant, her cheeks flushed, hugging me as if I were the greatest treasure in the world.
The contrast was almost comical.
But it didn't last long.
A panting voice came from behind us, as if someone had run up.
"Hey… what's going on? I heard Zenith screaming from the road!"
Paul appeared in the garden, sweaty, muddy up to his knees, the sword still hanging at his waist. He stopped suddenly, frowning at the scene: Zenith hugging me like a trophy, and Lilia standing like a statue.
"…Can someone explain what's going on here?"
Zenith turned to him without letting go of me, eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Paul! You came at the right time! Rudy just cast a spell! A real spell!"
Paul blinked several times, clearly lost.
"Spell…? But he's only two years old."
He looked at me, then Zenith — and back to me. His expression was a strange mix of shock, doubt, and genuine concern.
So he doubted it because of my age, huh?
…Well. If that's the case, then I just needed to do it again.
But this time… correctly.
"Mom, put me down."
Still enthusiastic, Zenith carefully set me on the ground.
As soon as my feet touched the grass, I took a deep breath and extended my right hand, ignoring the looks on me. I focused only on the previous sensation. It wasn't like blood being sucked anymore — it was lighter, as if the air around was being drawn and compressed into my palm.
Strange… but familiar enough.
I closed my eyes for a moment and organized the image in my mind. Wind had no inherent form, so I had to give it one: pressure, flow, a current forced in a single direction. Something simple. Direct.
If this was like anything else I had trained, I just had to repeat it until my body learned on its own. It was like practicing calligraphy — at first, everything was crooked, but after repeating the same stroke many times, the hand simply understood.
I exhaled slowly.
This time the sensation didn't escape. The air accumulated in my hand, more stable, denser, contained, ready to be released.
…Now.
I pushed my hand forward firmly.
For a moment, the air in front of me compressed violently — then shot out. A dry gust cut across the garden, lifting dust and bending the grass as if something invisible had torn the air.
"—Gah!"
The impact pulled me along, and I fell onto the grass. But it worked.
Huh? Wait. I thought—
"KYAH! RUDY!" Zenith shouted sharply and ran to Paul, eyes shining with excitement. "Did you see that, Paul?! He didn't even speak the incantation this time!"
Paul froze a few steps back, frowning, staring at the spot where the wind had passed.
"H-huh?! What was that?" His eyes returned to me. "…You didn't even say the incantation."
"Paul… you saw it, right? He didn't say anything!"
"I saw…" Paul ran his hand through his hair, still staring at me.
"This is amazing!" Zenith shouted proudly. "He's only two and can already use magic without incantation!"
…Ah. It began.
I crossed my arms and sat on the ground, watching them like I'd accidentally lit a fuse.
"You can't just ignore this," Zenith continued. "He needs someone who knows how to teach properly. A tutor, maybe —"
"Let's not rush," Paul replied, crossing his arms. "Let's wait and see if that was luck… or just an accident."
He paused briefly, still staring at her.
"And hadn't we promised that he would become a swordsman when he grew up?!"
Wait… he said "luck"?
I looked at my hand for a moment, opening and closing my fingers slowly. Sure. Let's pretend that's it.
Hmph.
I looked back for Lilia. My fingers still trembled slightly as I tried to disguise it, brushing the dust off my clothes.
She was still there, standing as always, as if none of this concerned her.
But for now…
"Hey, Miss Lilia," I called, walking over and adjusting my posture. I kept my eyes on my parents, who were still arguing about tutors and responsibilities.
"Hello, young master."
"…Young, huh? Well, fair enough." I straightened as much as I could. "But hey, answer me this: can you handle this?"
I pointed my hand forward, keeping my fingers firm, even though my arm trembled slightly.
"…What do you expect me to do?" Lilia asked, her voice calm as always.
"Well, you're the one who runs the house, right? So it's your right to make the two of them stop arguing."
"…"
Come on, woman! This is serious.
Now I regretted hardly ever having talked properly with her. Until now, our interactions had been nothing more than formal greetings and quick remarks about the cleaning.
But she was partly to blame too — always with that impassive expression!
Besides, I didn't think it was my place to interfere in my parents' argument. I had learned the hard way in my previous world that meddling in family matters could lead to serious trouble.
"Come on, please. I've never asked you for anything. Help me out here." I paused, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "If you want, I could even lick your feet afterward."
She just shook her head slightly, lips forming a thin line, without saying a word.
"W-why are you shaking your head like that? Come on, help me! I'm serious. I don't want them calling a stranger here. And if he—"
"Understood."
She turned toward me, adjusted her glasses with a precise gesture, and gave a small smile — firm, discreet, but definitely a smile.
Hmm, a minimal smile… I knew there was something inside her, beyond that calm exterior.
I watched Lilia walking calmly toward my parents, who were still arguing.
I sat down on the ground, my legs suddenly weak. My body felt as heavy as lead, for no apparent reason. My vision blurred for a few seconds, as the voices in the background faded…
---
My consciousness returned slowly, as if my body had been forcibly shut down and then restarted. First came the faint smell of medicinal herbs, then the crushing weight on my eyelids.
Damn… I had passed out.
I tried to move my hand, but my arm felt like lead. Even breathing hurt.
"Rudy!"
"Rudy!"
Familiar voices came quickly, full of concern.
"Father? Mother? W-what happened… argh!"
"Rudy, don't push yourself!" Zenith touched my forehead with her warm hand. She murmured something under her breath, and immediately a soft greenish glow radiated from her palm, enveloping my head.
"You've suffered mana exhaustion. Now, please, stay still and don't move!"
"O-oh… okay."
I closed my eyes, letting the comforting warmth of her magic ease the throbbing pain in my temple. Slowly, the heavy sensation began to fade, and the world started making sense around me again.
"So, little stud…" Paul's voice sounded right next to me, playful. "Since when have you been learning to read with Lilia?"
"H-huh!?"
What was he talking about?
I had learned to read practically on my own!
Ah… so Lilia must have mentioned something while I was out cold. But I had no idea what exactly she had said.
"Heheh… that was our little secret." I opened my eyes slowly and swallowed hard, trying to think fast about how to extract information from them without looking suspicious. "I…"
"Don't worry about it, Rudy." Zenith smiled warmly, running her hand through my hair. "Lilia told us you wanted to impress us. And you did, you know? We were impressed."
"Mom…"
"Yeah, Rudy. Even if you don't have much mana—"
"Be quiet, dear!" Zenith cut Paul off sharply, turning to him with a piercing look.
I gave a weak smile at the scene. It was nice seeing them worry about me so much. I didn't want that harmony to fall apart just because I'd learned something new so early.
"Mom… Dad…" I called softly. "You don't need to worry about tutors or anything. I think… maybe Dad is right. It might have been… just luck."
Both of them turned toward me at the same time, frowning.
"You don't need to worry about tutors, my love. You're still just a baby. Babies don't need to push themselves so hard."
Her hand stayed on my head for a moment longer, gently patting my hair before pulling away.
Shortly after, they said good night and left the room, leaving silence behind.
Low mana, huh…?
That thought kept hammering in my head.
According to the book, mana wasn't something you could train. You were born with what you had—end of story. And I had only managed to cast two spells before passing out. That said it all: my "fuel" was ridiculously low.
It was frustrating.
Two Wind Bullets, and that was it? That was all I was worth? Or maybe, since it was my first time, I had spent more than necessary? No… that didn't make sense. The problem was me. My reservoir was small.
Still… what mattered wasn't the amount, but how I used the little I had. Maybe I should focus on casting faster, or making each spell more efficient. If I could master silent incantation, maybe I could stretch that miserable mana a little further…
Wait...silent incantation?
Come to think of it, I hadn't said a single word the second time. Not a single one. All I did was recall the sensation, organize the image in my mind, and push it out—and it worked.
So… the incantation wasn't actually necessary?
I frowned, staring at the ceiling. It didn't make sense. If it were that simple, anyone could do it.
Maybe it wasn't that simple after all. Maybe the words didn't create the spell, but served as a guide—a shortcut to organize the mana flow without thinking about every detail. In that case… I had just skipped that step without realizing it, going straight to the raw process.
…Which wasn't exactly something a beginner should be able to do.
If that was the case… then maybe it was possible to make up for it.
I might not have much mana, but I still had control. If I could refine it—casting without waste, without relying on words, shaping each spell just right—then maybe that limitation wouldn't matter as much as it seemed.
…No, not "maybe."
If this was the only path I had, then I just had to make it enough.
---
Well, that's what I thought the night before.
The next day, motivated not to be mediocre, I woke up early to test my mana—and got a surprise.
I managed to cast the second Wind Bullet almost effortlessly. By the third, I was still fine. Only on the fourth did a light fatigue begin to set in.
"Did I get blessed overnight?"
Based on what had happened yesterday, I expected one more spell would knock me out. But something told me I didn't need to be that worried, so I decided to try again.
What happened next wasn't exactly what I expected: I kept going without immediate problems, but the exhaustion hit all at once—heavy enough to throw me to the ground.
I lay there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, trying to process it. Yesterday, I'd barely managed two casts before passing out… and now I had gone well beyond that. It didn't seem like luck, and it wasn't some sudden blessing either.
I frowned, recalling every detail. I hadn't used a chant, hadn't prepared anything differently—I'd simply repeated the same process: image, flow, execution. Still, this time it felt cleaner, more stable, as if there was less waste along the way.
If it wasn't the amount… then it was how I used it.
Maybe I didn't actually have as little mana as it seemed. In that case, the answer was simple: I needed to understand how it worked—and learn to use every drop properly.
That was it.
I just needed to train enough… until the idea of "low mana" made no sense to anyone who dared to open their mouth about it.
Especially Paul.