Location: The Greyrat Garden, Buena Village Time: Late Afternoon Age: 5
The sky was bruising.
That was the only way to describe it. One moment, it was a cheerful, innocent blue—the kind of sky that belonged in a children's picture book. The next, dark, heavy clouds began to swirl directly above our house, like ink dropped into clear water.
I stood on the porch, leaning against the wooden railing, chewing on a piece of dried meat I'd stolen from the kitchen.
My instincts were screaming.
The air pressure dropped so fast my ears popped. The smell of ozone—sharp, metallic, electric—flooded my nose. It tasted like licking a battery.
"Rudy is showing off again," I muttered, swallowing the jerky.
I looked out into the garden.
Roxy Migurdia stood near the fence, her robe fluttering in the unnatural wind. And there, standing in the center of the yard like a miniature conductor of chaos, was my twin brother.
Rudeus had his hands raised. He looked constipated again, but the result was terrifying.
Cumulonimbus.
I didn't know the spell name, but I knew what it did. Rain lashed down in a localized column, pounding the grass into mud. Lightning crackled, illuminating Rudeus's face. He looked manic. Excited.
I watched, unblinking.
Power, I analyzed, crossing my arms. Raw, unadulterated destructive power. If that lightning hits a person, they don't just die; they cook.
I looked at my own hands. They were calloused from gripping the wooden sword, but they couldn't call down lightning. They couldn't reshape the weather.
A pang of jealousy hit me. Just a small one. It felt like a stone in my shoe.
Magic is unfair, I admitted to myself. It's a cheat code. He mutters a few words, and the sky obeys him.
But then, I saw it.
Rudeus stumbled. His mana was running low. His knees buckled, and he gasped for air, his chest heaving. The rain stopped instantly, leaving the garden a muddy swamp.
Roxy rushed over to catch him before he face-planted into the mud.
I smirked.
There it is, I thought, the jealousy vanishing. The cooldown. The exhaustion. He's a cannon, but cannons are heavy and slow to reload. I am a knife. Knives don't run out of ammo.
I walked out into the rain-soaked grass. My boots squelched in the mud.
"Nice light show, wizard," I called out.
Rudeus looked up, soaking wet, shivering, but grinning ear to ear. "Did you see it, Sol? Saint-tier magic!"
"I saw it," I said, reaching out to pat his wet head. "You ruined the grass. Mom is going to kill you."
Rudeus's face fell. "Oh. I didn't think of that."
"Thinking isn't your strong suit. leave the strategy to me." I turned to Roxy. She looked exhausted just watching him.
"You taught him well, Blue," I said to her.
Roxy sighed, adjusting her hat. "He is... abnormal. And please, Sol, address me as Sensei."
"Earn it," I quipped, turning back to the house. "You can make it rain, but can you dodge a rock thrown at your head?"
"Sol!" Roxy scolded.
I laughed and walked away. I acted cool, but inside, a fire had been lit. Rudeus was reaching the level of Saints. I was still struggling to beat Paul in a spar.
I needed to get stronger. Fast.
Location: The Village Outskirts, The "Big Tree" Age: 6
The village of Buena was boring.
It was peaceful, pastoral, and filled with farmers who smelled of wheat and manure. For a retired soul like me, it should have been paradise. But paradise doesn't sharpen a blade.
I spent my free time patrolling. I called it "patrolling," but mostly it was me wandering around the village perimeter, climbing trees, and memorizing escape routes. You know, normal six-year-old stuff.
One afternoon, Rudeus dragged me along to meet his "friend."
"You have to meet Sylph, Sol," Rudeus insisted, pulling my arm. "He's really nice."
"I don't like nice," I grumbled, kicking a pinecone. "Nice people get eaten first in survival situations."
"We aren't in a survival situation! We're playing tag!"
We arrived at the clearing near the massive oak tree that marked the edge of the village.
And there "he" was.
Sylphy.
Small. Green hair. Ears that were slightly pointed. Wearing a tunic that looked three sizes too big.
Elf blood, I noted immediately. Or maybe Halfling. Weak posture. Shoulders slumped. Eyes on the ground. Victim mentality.
"Hi, Rudy," Sylphy whispered, hiding behind the tree.
"This is my brother, Sol!" Rudeus announced proudly.
I sized up the kid.
"Yo," I said, raising a hand. "Rudy says you're fast. You don't look fast."
Sylphy flinched. "I... I'm okay."
Pathetic, I thought, losing interest. No fighting spirit. No killer instinct. Just a rabbit waiting for a fox.
"Whatever," I said, leaning against the tree and crossing my arms. "You guys play tag. I'm going to practice my grip strength on this branch."
I watched them play. Rudeus was clumsy, tripping over roots. Sylphy was actually surprisingly agile, moving silently through the brush.
Silent steps, I noted, revising my assessment slightly. Good stealth mechanics. Low noise profile. Maybe not completely useless.
Then, the smell hit me.
It was a sour, aggressive scent. Unwashed bodies and malice.
I dropped from the branch, landing silently behind Rudeus.
"Company," I whispered.
"Huh?" Rudeus blinked.
Three kids stepped out of the bushes. The leader was a boy named Somar. I knew him. He was the son of the village farmer. Big for his age, stupid, and mean.
"Look," Somar sneered, picking up a clod of dirt. "It's the weirdo demon and his dumb friends."
He threw the dirt. It splattered against Sylphy's white hair.
Sylphy gasped and started to cry immediately.
Rudeus stepped forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. "Now, Somar, that wasn't very nice. Let's just talk about—"
Talk? I mentally slapped my forehead. Rudy, you naive genius. You don't talk to dogs that are barking. You kick the fence.
Somar laughed and shoved Rudeus. Rudeus stumbled back, falling on his butt.
"Magic freak!" Somar shouted. "What are you gonna do? Cry to your mommy?"
That was the trigger.
I didn't get angry. I didn't yell. A cold, calm curtain dropped over my mind. The world slowed down.
I analyzed Somar. Right handed. leaning forward. Chin exposed. Weight on his toes.
I stepped in front of Rudeus.
"Hey, Somar," I said. My voice was light, cheerful.
Somar looked at me. "What do you want, Runt Number Two?"
"I just wanted to ask," I smiled, showing all my teeth. "Do you know how gravity works?"
"Huh?"
I didn't wait for an answer.
I closed the distance. I grabbed his outstretched arm with my left hand, pulling him toward me while simultaneously kicking his right ankle out from under him.
It was a basic reap throw.
Physics is cruel.
Somar's legs vanished. He hit the ground horizontally. The impact knocked the wind out of him with a loud OOF.
The other two bullies froze.
I didn't stop. I stepped on Somar's chest—just hard enough to keep him pinned—and looked at the other two.
"Somar is taking a nap," I informed them casually. "Unless you guys want to join him for story time, I suggest you run."
They looked at their leader wheezing on the ground. They looked at my eyes.
I don't know what they saw in my eyes. Maybe they saw a six-year-old. Maybe they saw the soul of a man who had choked people out for money in a past life.
They screamed and ran.
I stepped off Somar. He scrambled backward, terrified, and bolted after his friends.
I dusted off my hands. "Problem solved."
I turned around. Rudeus was staring at me with awe. Sylphy was staring at me with terror.
"Sol..." Rudeus whispered. "You're scary."
"I'm efficient," I corrected. I looked at Sylphy. The kid was still shaking, dirt in their hair.
I walked over. Sylphy flinched.
I reached out and brushed the dirt out of the green hair. I wasn't gentle, but I wasn't rough.
"Stop crying," I said firmly. "Tears don't stop mud. If they throw dirt, you throw a rock. If they throw a rock, you throw a brick. Understand?"
Sylphy sniffled, nodding slowly. "Y-yes."
"Good." I patted Sylphy's head. "Now, are we playing tag or what? I'm 'It'."
Location: The Study, Greyrat Manor Age: 7
The atmosphere in the house shifted again a year later.
Rudeus had graduated. Roxy was leaving.
I watched the farewell from the window. Rudeus was crying. Roxy looked sad. It was a whole emotional scene.
I stayed inside. Goodbyes were messy.
Instead, I was in the study, holding one of Paul's old training manuals. I couldn't read the words perfectly yet, but the diagrams were clear.
The Sword God Style. The Water God Style. The North God Style.
I traced the drawings with my finger.
Sword God was pure offense. Speed. Aggression. "Cut him before he cuts you." Water God was defense. parrying. Counter-attacks. "Let him cut, then kill him." North God was... whatever works. Tricks. Items. Environment.
"Sol?"
I looked up. Paul was standing in the doorway. He looked surprisingly serious.
"Reading?" he asked.
"Looking at the pictures," I replied. "Paul, I have a question."
He walked in and sat on the desk. "Shoot."
"I hit a wall," I said. It was difficult to admit. My pride hated it. "My eyes... they see the opening. I know exactly where to hit you when we spar. I can see your muscle twitch before you move."
Paul nodded. "I know. Your instincts are terrifying for a kid."
"But I can't reach you," I said, frustration bleeding into my voice. "My body is too slow. Even if I train every day, I'm just... human. When you get serious, you move faster than physics should allow. The air cracks. The ground breaks."
I looked him in the eye.
"What is that?" I asked. "It's not just muscle. It's not magic like Rudy uses. What are you doing?"
Paul smiled. It wasn't his usual goofy grin. It was the smile of a master seeing his student finally ask the right question.
"It's called Touki," Paul said. "Battle Aura."
"Touki," I tested the word. It tasted like power.
"Everyone has mana," Paul explained, tapping his chest. "Mages like Rudy push it out to make fire or water. Swordsmen? We keep it in."
He clenched his fist. I watched closely.
Suddenly, I felt it. The air around his fist distorted. It wasn't visible like fire, but it was there—a dense, heat-like coating over his skin.
"We coat our bodies in mana," Paul said. "It hardens the skin like steel. It makes the muscles explode with power. It creates a shell that lets us move faster than the wind without tearing our bodies apart."
My eyes widened.
That's it, I realized. That's the missing piece. That's why I felt weak.
"Can you teach me?" I asked.
Paul scratched his head. "Well, that's the thing. Most people don't learn it until they're teenagers. It takes years of training to coat the body unconsciously. Rudy can't do it at all—he has too much mana, he can't control it tightly enough."
He looked at me.
"But you... you're a weird kid, Sol."
I stood up. I walked over to him and held out my hand.
"Teach me," I commanded. "I don't care if it takes years. I want to move like that. I want to break the sound barrier."
Paul grabbed my hand and shook it.
"Alright," he said. "But be warned. Touki isn't learned by reading books. It's learned by pushing your body until it thinks it's going to die, so it forces the mana to protect you."
I grinned. A savage, predatory grin that felt right at home on my face.
"I died once already, old man," I whispered (too low for him to hear). "I'm not afraid of a workout."
"What was that?"
"I said," I shouted, running toward the door, "Let's go! If I don't master this by the time I'm ten, I'm firing you as my dad!"
"Hey! Get back here you little brat!"
I ran into the sunlight, my heart pounding.
Touki.
I had a name for it now. And if it had a name, I could kill it. Or master it.
The Ferrari engine finally had a roadmap to get its wheels.