I am now three years old. My life has improved slightly. I can finally sit up on my own without falling over like a sack of potatoes. My neck muscles are strong enough to support my head. I have also mastered the art of grabbing things.
These might seem like small accomplishments, but when you are trapped in a body that refuses to listen to you, every inch of progress feels like a victory.
However, my physical development is not my main focus. I have become completely obsessed with unlocking my magic. I know it is there. I saw my mother use it. I know it exists in this world. For the past year, I've spent every waking moment trying to sense my mana.
I remember reading about meditation in my old life. I had several apps on my phone that were supposed to help with stress. I never actually used them. I just paid the subscription fee and felt good about myself.
Now, I am trying to remember the visualization techniques from those apps. I close my eyes and try to imagine my breath as a golden thread. I try to clear my mind of all thoughts, which is difficult because I am usually thinking about how much I want a cheeseburger.
One night, everything changed. My parents were fast asleep in the other room. The house was silent except for the occasional hoot of an owl outside. I sat in my crib and focused.
I pushed my awareness deep into my chest. I stopped looking for a solid object. Instead, I looked for a feeling.
Suddenly, I felt it. It was tiny. It was a warm, flowing sensation right behind my solar plexus. It did not feel like a muscle or an organ. It felt like a current of warm water. It was subtle. If I tried to look at it directly with my mind, it seemed to vanish. It was like trying to see a faint star in the night sky.
You have to look at it from the corner of your eye.
I almost let out a shout of joy. I had done it. I had sensed my mana. I was not a dud after all. I was a magical being. I was a wizard in training. My internal celebration was immediate and probably a bit too much. I started imagining myself in silk robes, surrounded by beautiful elven maidens. I saw myself casting massive fireballs and flying through the clouds.
Calm down, I told myself. You have to learn how to move it first.
I started to experiment. I tried to use the techniques I had read about in web novels. First, I tried to circulate the energy through my meridians. I had no idea where my meridians were, so I just guessed. Nothing happened. The warm current stayed right where it was. It felt like trying to push a string.
Next, I tried to push the energy toward my fingertips. I visualized the warm water flowing down my arm. I squeezed my internal muscles. I felt a slight tingle in my index finger. It was like a very weak electric shock. It was progress. I was actually moving the energy. I felt like a god.
I got cocky. I decided I wanted to see if I could expel the energy. I wanted to see a spark. I wanted to see a glow. I pointed my hand toward the far side of the room. I gathered as much of the warm energy as I could. I imagined it coiling like a spring. Then, I released it all at once. I tried to push it out of my palm in a concentrated blast.
This worked. Unfortunately, it worked too well.
A small burst of unfocused mana erupted from my hand. There was no light and no sound from the magic itself. It was just a sudden, invisible wave of pressure. It shot across the room like an invisible fist. It hit a clay water pitcher that was sitting on a wooden shelf.
The pitcher did not just fall. It flew off the shelf and slammed into the stone floor. It shattered into a hundred pieces with a loud, ringing crack. The sound was deafening in the quiet house.
I froze. My heart was pounding in my chest. I realized my mistake instantly. I had just caused a major disturbance.
"What was that?" Gareth's voice boomed from the next room.
I heard the sound of a bed creaking and heavy footsteps. My parents were awake. They were going to come in here and see the broken pitcher. They were going to wonder how a six month old baby managed to knock over an object that was five feet away from his crib.
I did the only thing I could do. I started to cry. I did not have to fake it. I was genuinely terrified. If they realized I was a magical prodigy, what would happen? My imagination ran wild. I saw myself being taken away by men in black robes. I saw myself being locked in a cold tower and dissected by curious mages. I saw my brain being kept in a jar of glowing liquid.
"It's okay, Cid. It's okay," Elara said as she rushed into the room.
She scooped me up and held me tight. She thought I was scared of the noise. I buried my face in her shoulder and sobbed. I tried to look as small and helpless as possible.
Gareth was standing by the shelf. He was holding a candle. The flickering light cast long shadows on the walls. He looked at the shattered clay on the floor. Then he looked at the shelf.
"That's strange," Gareth muttered. "The pitcher was all the way at the back of the shelf. It shouldn't have fallen on its own."
"Maybe a mouse knocked it over?" Elara suggested. She was busy rubbing my back.
Gareth knelt down and looked at the pieces. He picked one up and turned it over. He looked suspicious. He was a former adventurer. He had seen combat. He had instincts. He looked at the shelf again and then looked at my crib.
"A mouse would have had to be the size of a dog to move that pitcher," Gareth said. "And it didn't just fall. It looks like it was thrown."
My blood ran cold. He was onto something. I doubled down on the crying. I let out a high pitched wail that would have made a banshee proud.
"Forget the pitcher, Gareth," Elara said firmly. "You are scaring the baby. It was probably just the house settling. Or maybe a draft. Clean it up and come back to bed."
Gareth sighed. He did not look convinced, but he did not argue with his wife. He began to pick up the larger shards of clay. I watched him from the safety of my mother's arms. I made a solemn pledge to be much more careful with my future experiments. I needed to learn how to control the output. I could not afford to be discovered.
The next morning, the village was buzzing with excitement. A traveling priest had arrived. He belonged to the Church of the Eternal Flame. He was an older man with a long white robe and a very serious expression. Apparently, it was custom for traveling priests to perform blessing ceremonies for babies.
This was not just a religious event. The ceremony included a basic magical aptitude test. Every parent in the village wanted to know if their child had the potential to become a mage. In this world, magic was the key to social status. A powerful mage could become a noble. They could live in a palace. Even a mediocre mage could earn a good living in a city.
Elara was very excited. She dressed me in my cleanest cloth and stood in line with the other mothers. I was curious but also nervous. I wanted to know my stats. Every gamer wants to see their character sheet.
When it was our turn, the priest looked down at me. He did not smile. He reached into a leather bag and pulled out a crystal orb. It was about the size of an orange. It was clear and smooth.
"Hold him steady," the priest said.
He placed the orb on my chest. I felt a strange, cold sensation. It was like a probe was reaching into my soul. I tried to stay calm. I hoped the orb would explode with light. I hoped I would be the chosen one with infinite power.
The orb began to glow. It was a very dim, flickering light. It looked like a dying candle. It was barely visible in the morning sun.
The priest narrowed his eyes. He tapped the orb with his finger. He looked disappointed. He pulled a small copper scale out of his pocket and checked a reading on the side of the orb.
"Eighty seven mana units," the priest announced. His voice was flat. "This child has one of the smallest mana pools I have ever measured. It is below even the initiate standard."
The women in line behind us started to whisper. I saw some of them looking at me with pity. Others looked relieved that their own children were better than mine.
"Will he be able to use magic?" Elara asked. Her voice was small. She looked worried.
The priest shook his head. "With a pool that small, he might be able to light a candle or keep a cup of tea warm. But he will never amount to much as a mage. He simply does not have the capacity. He is essentially magically impotent."
Elara's face fell. She thanked the priest and walked away. I could feel the sadness radiating off her. She had hoped for more for her son. She wanted me to have a better life than a farmer.
I was not sad. I was furious. I was internally screaming at the top of my lungs.
Eighty seven? I thought. Only eighty seven units?
In every story I had ever read, the protagonist starts with a massive amount of power. Or at least a hidden power that grows. But eighty seven was pathetic. It was a joke. I had the mind of a genius and the spirit of a legend, but I had been reincarnated with the worst possible starting stats.
I looked at my tiny hands. I felt the warm current in my chest. It felt exactly the same as it had last night. It did not feel small to me. It felt like enough.
Fine, I thought. If the world thinks I am weak, I will let them believe it. I will use my eighty seven units better than anyone else uses their thousands. I don't need a massive pool if I don't waste a single drop.
I looked back at the priest. He was already testing the next baby. I made another vow. I was going to find a way to make eighty seven look like eighty seven thousand. I was going to game the system until the system broke.