I was washing up for dinner when my father noticed the marks on my arm. I had been careful to hide the bruises under my sleeves. I thought I was doing a good job. But Gareth has the eyes of a former adventurer.
He spent years looking for hidden traps and monsters in the shadows. A few purple fingerprints on a his child arm were not going to escape his notice. He grabbed my wrist gently and pulled my sleeve back.
"What is this, Cid?" Gareth asked. His voice was calm. It was the kind of calm that made me nervous.
I looked at the bruises. They were dark where Sam had gripped my arm before he took his muddy tumble. I had a choice. I could tell the truth and deal with the fallout. Or I could lie and maintain my low profile.
To me, there was no choice at all. Truth leads to conversations. Conversations lead to action. Action leads to more people looking at me. I do not want any of that.
"I fell in the woods," I said. I made my eyes wide and tried to look as innocent as possible. "I was chasing a very fast rabbit. I tripped and landed in some branches. I think a stick grabbed me."
It was a smooth lie. It was the kind of lie a normal child would tell. I felt proud of my performance. I even added a little sniffle at the end for extra flavor.
Gareth looked at me for a long time. He did not say anything. He rubbed his beard with his free hand. I could tell his instincts were screaming at him. He knew a branch did not leave a perfect set of finger marks on a child's arm. He knew his son was hiding something.
But he also knew that children have their own secrets. He finally let go of my wrist and nodded.
"That must have been a very strong branch," he said. He did not sound like he believed me, but he did not press the issue.
I thought the matter was settled. I was wrong.
Gareth did not want to argue about the lie. He wanted to fix the problem. After dinner was over and the sun began to set, he called me out to the yard. The air was cooling down. The two moons were already visible in the sky.
"Cid," Gareth said. He was holding two sticks. They were shaped roughly like short swords. "I have been thinking. You are growing up. You like to play in the woods. But the woods can be dangerous. Even if you are not a mage, you need to know how to take care of yourself."
I felt a warm sensation in my chest. It was genuine affection. He was worried about me. He knew I had low mana. He thought I was vulnerable. He wanted to give me the tools to survive. It was a touching gesture.
For a second, I felt bad about lying to him. I almost told him about the bullies. But I pushed the feeling down. I had a reputation as a lazy, unremarkable kid to protect.
"I am going to teach you some practical self defense," Gareth said. He tossed me one of the wooden sticks.
I caught it, or at least I tried to. My hands were still small. The stick was heavier than it looked. It slipped through my fingers and landed on my foot.
"Ow," I said.
"We will start with the basics," Gareth said with a small smile.
Our first training session was a disaster. I am a 32 year old man in my mind. I know how a sword works. I have watched hundreds of movies. I have played dozens of combat games. I know the theory of footwork and timing. I know that you should keep your center of gravity low. I know how to lead an opponent into a trap.
My body did not care what I knew.
My muscles were weak. My arms felt like wet noodles after holding the wooden sword for five minutes.
My coordination was pathetic. Gareth tried to teach me a basic stance. He wanted me to stand with my feet shoulder width apart and my knees slightly bent.
I tried to follow his instructions. I visualized the perfect stance. I moved my feet into position. But as soon as I tried to bend my knees, I lost my balance. My head was too big for my body. I tipped over backward and landed on my backside.
"Focus, Cid," Gareth said. He was being patient. He was a good teacher. He modified his approach. He stopped trying to show me advanced moves and focused on simple balance.
It was immensely frustrating. The disconnect between my mind and my body was like a wall. I knew exactly what I was supposed to do. I could see the mistakes I was making before I even made them.
But I couldn't stop them. It was a comedy of failures. I dropped the sword. I swung at the air and spun myself around until I got dizzy.
At one point, I tried to do a fancy parry and ended up hitting myself in the shin.
"Maybe we should take a break," Gareth said after I fell over for the tenth time. He looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.
Elara was watching us from the doorway. She had a cloth in her hands and a look of amusement on her face. She stepped out into the yard and walked toward us.
"I think you are pushing him too hard, Gareth," she said. She reached down and patted my head. "He is only six. He doesn't need to be strong yet."
"A man should know how to fight," Gareth argued. He didn't sound angry. It was an old argument between them.
"And a boy should know how to use his mind," Elara countered. She looked at me and smiled. "How about we try something else, Cid? Not every skill needs to be for fighting. Would you like to see some magic?"
My eyes lit up. This was what I had been waiting for. I dropped the wooden sword immediately. It hit the grass with a dull thud. Gareth sighed and sat down on a nearby log.
"Watch closely," Elara said.
She held out her hand. She did not use a wand or a staff. She just opened her palm. I watched her with my adult analytical mind. I used everything I had learned from my secret training in the woods. I looked past the physical hand and focused on the mana flow.
I noticed something that a normal observer would have missed. Elara did not have formal training. She was a farmer's wife.
But her mana efficiency was actually quite good. She did not waste energy on flashy sparks. She pulled just enough mana from her core to create a small, steady flame.
It was natural talent developed through years of practical use. She used magic like a tool.
She whispered a short word. A small ball of fire appeared above her palm. It was warm and orange. It didn't flicker. It was perfectly controlled.
"Now you try," she said. "Just a tiny bit of heat. Don't push too hard. Just feel the warmth in your chest and let it flow out."
I knew I had to be careful. I couldn't show her my full control. But I also wanted to see if my Lazy Casting worked for her spells. I held out my hand. I visualized the fire. I used my techniques to strip away the unnecessary parts of the spell. I focused on the vibration of the mana.
I pushed a tiny amount of energy. It was much less than what Elara had used. I felt the familiar tingle in my palm.
A small flame appeared. It was smaller than my mother's. It was about the size of a berry. But it was blue and steady. It was incredibly concentrated. I held it there, feeling the tiny drain on my eighty seven units of mana.
My efficiency was at work. I was achieving a similar effect while using roughly forty percent less mana than she had.
Both of my parents went silent. The amusement was gone. Gareth stood up from his log. Elara stared at my hand with her mouth slightly open.
They weren't looking at the size of the flame. They were looking at the stability. A child shouldn't be able to hold a spell that steadily.
"Cid," Elara whispered. "That is very good. That is... unusually good."
I realized I might have done too much. I quickly snapped my fingers, and the flame vanished. I put on my best confused face and rubbed my hand.
"It was hot," I said.
Elara and Gareth exchanged a long, meaningful look over my head. I could see the wheels turning in their minds. They were thinking about the talent.
"Gareth," Elara said quietly. Her voice was serious now. "Maybe we should take him to the Mage Guild in Grandell City. He needs a proper evaluation. If he has this much control with such a small pool, there might be more to him than that traveling priest saw."
I felt a surge of panic. Grandell City? The Mage Guild? That sounded like the opposite of a low profile. It sounded like more tests and more eyes on me. If I went there, I would be surrounded by experts. They might realize I was not a normal child. They might see my adult mind hiding behind my amber eyes.
But at the same time, I felt a spark of excitement. Grandell City was the nearest major city.
The Mage Guild would have books. They would have scrolls and teachers. They would have the real secrets of magic. I had been teaching myself in the woods for years, but I was just guessing.
I was an amateur. Accessing real magical knowledge was the only way to truly master this world.
I stood there in the dark yard, looking back and forth between my parents. I was terrified of the attention. I was scared of the responsibility.
But I was a degenerate who wanted to be a legend. And a legend needs to know the rules of the game.
"Is there food in the city?" I asked. I had to stay in character.
Elara laughed and picked me up. "There is lots of food, Cid. And lots of books."
I buried my face in her shoulder. I had made an enemy and now I was going to a city of mages. My lazy life was getting very complicated.