The last thing Daniel remembered was the rhythmic beeping of his little sister Emma's heart monitor. Leukemia. Eight years old. Far too young.
Now he opened his eyes to a cracked wooden ceiling, the air thick with the scent of stale medicinal herbs.
[Neural System Activated] [Scanning environment...]
[Anomaly detected: Different body. Approximate age: 14 years]
"Shit," he muttered, in a language unfamiliar yet perfectly understood.
His neural implant—the same one from his biomedical research meant to save Emma—was still functioning. But this wasn't the hospital. It wasn't even Earth.
The door burst open. A haggard woman entered, eyes lighting with relief.
"Torian! Thank the Ancestors, you're awake." She rushed to embrace him, smelling of wood smoke and desperation.
[Scanning host's residual memory...]
[Name: Torian Ashfeld]
[Mother: Mira Ashfeld, widow]
[Sister: Lysa Ashfeld, 6 years old]
[Status: Impoverished farming family]
Memories flooded his mind. This body—his body now—had collapsed from malnutrition after giving his food to his younger sister for three days straight.
Daniel swallowed hard. Another little sister. Another child who needed protection.
"I'm fine, Mom," he said, testing the words. She pulled back, wiping tears with calloused hands.
"Don't ever do that again, you hear? Lysa cries every night. She says you're her hero, but dead heroes are no good."
[Emotional analysis: Guilt detected. Elevated heart rate.]
"Shut up," Daniel whispered to the system. His mother frowned. "What did you say?"
"Nothing. Where's Lysa?"
"Gathering firewood with the neighbors. She'll be back by nightfall." Mira handed him a bowl of watery soup. "Eat. Slowly."
As he sipped, Daniel assessed his new reality. The neural implant granted sharp analytical abilities—but of what use in a medieval world?
Then something outside caught his eye. He nearly spat out the soup.
A man in purple robes floated above the street, scattering scrolls.
[Anomaly detected!]
[Scanning... Etheric radiation: 847 Ether-Units]
[Classification: Paranormal energy user—"Magus"]
"That's the recruiter from Spiral Academy," Mira whispered with awe and fear. "They come every three years for children with magical talent."
Magic. Real, measurable magic.
Hope sparked inside Daniel—a sensation long absent since Emma's illness.
"Can I try?"
Pain flickered in Mira's eyes. "Torian... The test costs two silver coins. We barely have enough to eat."
Two coins—the price of opportunity.
[Evaluating options...]
[Option 1: Steal—Success probability: 34%. High risk]
[Option 2: Work—Time: 6 months. Recruiter leaves in 3 days]
[Option 3: Negotiate services...]
"No," Daniel spoke up, silencing the system's cold calculations. "I won't steal. I won't deceive anyone."
He remembered Emma in her hospital bed, her fragile hand in his. "Danny, promise you'll always be one of the good ones—even when it's hard?"
He'd failed to save her. He wouldn't fail to honor her memory.
"Mom," he said softly, clasping Mira's rough hand. "I'll find an honest way to get that money. When I learn magic, we'll never have to choose who eats and who doesn't."
Mira smiled sadly. "You have your father's heart, son. Too good for this world."
"Maybe," Daniel replied, the weight of two lives on his shoulders. "But it's the only heart I have."
[Warning: Altruism reduces survival probability by 67%]
"So be it," he murmured to the system. "Some things are more important than surviving."
Outside, the sun set over a world of magic and mystery. Daniel—Torian now—had three days to earn two silver coins, without compromising his soul.
The real challenge had just begun.