One day after the terror attack,
Ashen lay still on the bed, the soft morning light spilling through the curtains.
His hand rose above him, fingers spread open.
The skin was small. Too smooth. Too delicate.
But the soul behind it?
Worn. Fractured. Awake.
> "This world… is more messed up than my previous one."
He clenched his fingers slowly, testing the strength in them.
> "So the writer's theory was right, huh?"
In his past life, there was a thread he'd read on a half-forgotten forum. A theory so ridiculous, it circled back to terrifying:
"Every story you write isn't fiction. It's a memory.
You didn't create it. You borrowed it… from another universe."
Ashen chuckled, but there was no humor in it.
> "Then what was I? A failed author who killed himself… just to get inserted into his own tragic draft?"
His gaze softened.
> "Can I even become strong enough to stop what's coming…?"
The ceiling offered no answers.
> "I wonder if Makoto cried at my funeral…"
His voice grew quieter, as if afraid the silence might break if he said too much.
> "I bet he did. He always cried too easily…"
A long pause.
> "I kinda rushed it… didn't I?"
A crack of guilt slid into his chest.
> "I hope he doesn't hate me for that. He was special.
Ashen exhaled and rolled to his side. The weight of a new destiny—and an old life—pressed in on him.
---
Cut to present: The Brevis Family Living Room
Gavric crossed his arms, expression caught between amused and baffled.
> "So… you wanna get stronger, huh?"
Ashen stood confidently, arms folded like a tiny soldier.
> "Yes."
Gavric chuckled. "Don't think any proper training institute takes in three-year-olds as students."
Lira, pouring tea, added softly, "But we can ask the guild"
Gavric nodded. "That was my plan."
He knelt down in front of Ashen, eye-level with his son.
> "So… tell me. What do you wanna learn to get strong?"
Ashen replied without hesitation. His voice was calm, precise:
> "Swordplay. Hand-to-hand. And magic item combat."
Gavric raised a brow. "Magic items? You know what those even are?"
Ashen's face stayed still, but inside, he was thinking:
> "Magic items alter how mana flows in the body. They force your system to adapt faster. Painful, but quick. A shortcut to durability."
He looked up at his father.
> "They're the future of battle. I need to be ready."
Gavric scratched his head, standing again. "Schools these days sure teach more than they used to…"
He smirked. "Alright then. Magic items it is."
Lira crossed her arms. "But no explosive stuff inside the house."
Ashen gave the smallest smile. "I'll try."
Scene: The Guild Hall
The guild hall was nearly empty.
No clashing swords.
No loud banter.
No drunk warriors boasting about last night's hunt.
Just silence.
And yet… a presence lingered. One that blended so perfectly with the walls, the wooden beams, the air itself—it was almost like the guild had grown a soul.
And that soul was Master Madhav.
He sat near the far wall, legs crossed, sipping something that smelled like roots and rust. His cloak melted into the shadows, eyes half-lidded but aware.
Gavric led Ashen to the center of the room.
> "Good morning, sir," Gavric greeted with respect.
Madhav barely shifted his gaze.
> "Why are you here this early?" he asked, voice gravelled. "We don't take quests before sun's properly up."
Gavric smiled. "Not here for quests."
He placed a hand gently on Ashen's shoulder.
> "We're here to find this boy a teacher."
Madhav finally looked at Ashen. A pause.
Then a small laugh.
> "A teacher… for hide and seek?" he said, lips twitching. "I could be one."
Gavric chuckled. "Not exactly. He wants to learn combat. With magic items."
That wiped the smile off Madhav's face. His gaze narrowed.
> "Magic items, huh?"
He leaned forward, setting his cup down with a quiet thunk.
> "You know, boy—magic items aren't toys. They drain you. Warp your body. We only train people who can bring out their full potential."
He turned to Gavric.
> "No one skips the basics. Sword. Fist. Footwork. You hone your body first, then you adapt it to the strain."
Ashen didn't flinch.
> "I'm ready," he said simply. "Anything you say."
There was no hesitation in his voice. Just quiet conviction.
Madhav studied him. A long moment passed.
Then he stood.
> "Come with me."
He gestured toward the training corridor without looking back.
> "You stay," he told Gavric.
As Ashen followed him into the stone hallway, torches flickering softly, Madhav glanced sideways.
> "His eyes…"
> "…sharp. Focused."
> "Not your average student."
The door behind them shut quietly.