The years following Floyd's awakening were a blur, yet each moment felt more real than the last. His new body, though small and weak, seemed to be adjusting to the world around him. The strange sensations he once felt—this unfamiliar warmth and softness of life—were becoming more natural as time passed. Each breath, each movement, each simple sound, was a reminder that he had truly been given a second chance.
The life he now lived felt like a dream—a vivid, almost too-perfect dream. He awoke each morning to the soft, loving voice of his mother, calling him to wake from his slumber. A rich, golden light filtered through the windows of the room, casting warm, welcoming rays across his bed as if the sun itself was greeting him.
His mother, whom he now knew as Lady Elaine Jitters, had a gentle touch that soothed away his confusion. Her smiles were endless, her kindness boundless. And his father, Lord BohLin Jitters, though stern and strong, held a quiet affection for him that Floyd could feel in every glance, in every gesture.
The transition from his previous life to this one was far from smooth. Floyd was still grappling with the truth of his reincarnation, struggling to come to terms with the fact that he was no longer Walkins Homer, the lonely shut-in who had spent his years hiding from the world. He was now Floyd Jitters, a child born into a family full of warmth, affection, and expectations.
The world around him was strange and wonderful, brimming with magic, mythical creatures, and an overwhelming sense of life he had never known. He had memories—flashes, glimpses—of his past life. He recalled the years spent in isolation, the weight of loneliness pressing down on him. He remembered the failed attempts to find love, the heartbreaking realization that no one had ever truly cared for him. But those memories felt distant now, like a dream he was slowly waking from.
It was a new beginning, and Floyd intended to make the most of it.
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His days followed a rhythm, a pattern that he came to rely on. The mornings were spent with his mother, who taught him the basics of this new world: the languages spoken, the customs of the people, the rules that governed society. She would hold him in her lap as they read books together, her voice flowing over him like a river of peace. His father, on the other hand, was more direct in his teaching. When Floyd had regained enough strength to sit upright, Lord BohLin began his lessons in swordplay.
"You will learn to defend yourself," his father had said in his deep, commanding voice. "The world is full of dangers. You must be able to protect yourself and those you love."
Floyd hadn't understood it fully at first. Swordplay? He was a child. But his father was insistent, and soon Floyd was standing in front of him, holding a small wooden sword. His movements were clumsy at first, but his father's patient guidance allowed him to learn quickly. It wasn't long before Floyd began to feel the first flickers of something he hadn't felt in his past life: power.
As Floyd stood there, gripping the wooden sword in his hands, he couldn't help but feel the strange pulse of magic inside him. It was faint at first, but it was there. It was a power that seemed to whisper in the back of his mind, waiting to be unlocked. The System—a presence that had spoken to him when he first awakened—told him that his magical potential was unmatched in this world. He would learn in time how to harness it, how to control it. But for now, his focus was on the basics. Swordplay. Physical strength. The art of defending himself.
"Good," his father said, offering an approving nod. "Your stance is improving. But remember, it's not just about strength. It's about precision, focus. Your mind must be as sharp as your blade."
Floyd's training continued, his days filled with lessons from both his parents. But there were moments, too, when the young boy found himself alone with his thoughts. At night, when his mother and father had gone to bed, Floyd would lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling and wondering about the world outside.
The village he lived in, known as Glimmerwood, was a peaceful place, nestled at the base of a great mountain range. The people here were kind and welcoming, their lives centered around farming, crafting, and trade. Magic was a common part of life, and the local mages trained the young ones in the basics of spellcasting. But Floyd had already felt the stirrings of something far greater within him—something that could surpass the limits of ordinary magic.
It was on one of these quiet nights, while lying awake in his bed, that Floyd first heard the voice again. The System.
"Floyd Jitters," the voice said, its tone soothing yet powerful. "You have unlocked your first skill."
Floyd's heart raced. What did this mean? He sat up, his hands shaking slightly, as the voice continued.
"Skill: Magic Sense. You can now detect and analyze magical energy in your surroundings. Use it wisely."
He blinked, processing the information. Magic Sense. He hadn't asked for this, but it was already inside him, waiting to be used.
Floyd closed his eyes, and for the first time, he reached out with his senses. A pulse of energy filled his mind, a soft, glowing light that spread throughout the room. The energy flowed around him, from the walls to the furniture to the very air itself. It was like a heartbeat, a constant rhythm that pulsed beneath the surface of everything.
Floyd smiled, a small, excited grin. This was just the beginning.
---
The next day, his father's lessons in swordplay were interrupted by the arrival of a visitor—a tall, lean man dressed in the robes of a traveling mage. His face was stern, his eyes sharp, as though constantly searching for something.
"Lord BohLin," the mage greeted, bowing slightly. "I have come with news. There have been reports of a magical disturbance in the nearby forest. Beasts have been sighted in the area. Dangerous ones."
Lord BohLin's expression hardened. "And you think they'll be a threat to Glimmerwood?"
"It's possible," the mage replied. "We've already begun preparations, but it would be wise to send someone to investigate."
Floyd's father stood silently for a moment, his eyes calculating. Then he looked down at Floyd, who had been standing nearby, listening intently.
"Floyd," Lord BohLin said, "You've learned enough for now. Come, we're going to investigate."
Floyd's heart skipped a beat. He had been trained in swordplay, but the idea of facing dangerous magical beasts—beasts that no one dared approach—was something he wasn't sure he was ready for. But his father was expecting him to accompany him.
And Floyd knew one thing for certain: he wouldn't let his father down.
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