This story contains long information about magic systems.... partly because the MC is a magic nerd

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I am nearly two years old now—old enough to not always lie sleeping in a crib but young enough to talk, walk, climb, jump, run, and get carried on my mother’s back in a baby cradle-strap of some sort. I went with her to what she called a town, though it was more of a glorified outpost with agricultural land next to it.

Having agricultural land close to a military outpost did seem like a good idea. Farmers could benefit from the protection of the soldiers stationed at the outpost, reducing the risk of raids and bandit attacks, while soldiers at the outpost had a steady supply of food and other produce.

The outpost was bare, with no roads or permanent buildings. We walked on the main dirt trail where there were tents on both sides, with various soldiers moving around in armor.

My mother kept talking to me, probably to try to get me to learn the language faster, while exchanging pleasantries with various people passing by or working in the tents. Well, this was to be expected of a two-year-old—speaking short sentences with two to four words.

Unfortunately, I have learned about ten languages, and I tend to speak in the old tongues or even mix words.

Thankfully, everyone thought that I was just speaking baby speech, so they found it cute, much to my embarrassment.

Meanwhile, my body turned against me once again, and I fell asleep... Damn this useless baby body.

I woke up to find myself sitting on my mother’s lap, who was caressing me in her bosom. Around us, the soldiers were reluctantly cheering for my father.

I was intently focused on my dad, who was currently creating that shaped magic thing. I leaned in closer and closer, almost falling off my mother, as boulders emerged from the ground and slammed against a nearby tree.

What in the name of... that was it?

I flailed my arms in anger, but my idiot father interpreted that as a “WOW” and had a big grin on his face, saying, “Your daddy is awesome, huh!”

No, my father was a much better fighter.

As seen now, with quick and fluid movements that were surprising for his build, his fists carried enough force to break the sound barrier.

I would have classified him as a high-tier fighter, leading a squad of soldiers, but to me, he was my father.

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Seriously, where was this guy when we were fighting for our lives against Jotun? He definitely could have helped us... if we had maybe an army of him.

It seemed that the other captains and higher-ranking soldiers could do the same with varying degrees of success

For my part, I liked that young soldier boy—he seemed about fourteen, just two years before manhood.

He kept chanting while making the spell.

He drew a circle with his right index finger and chanted some words.

I caught the words air, fire, food

Then he drew another circle and chanted words of which I understood heat and burn.

I still had trouble fully understanding the language, but after nearly a year, I managed to learn a bit about this magic.

The powers that serve the runes are alien. No love for humanity constrains them. Think of an extremely powerful sentient force the size of a mountain and restless as a thunderstorm, forced into a clay pot when you call upon such force. When you call upon such force, its immediate instinct is to twist and misinterpret the wording of the spell that summoned it, in order to royally screw the poor bugger. Rune magic is extremely powerful and dangerous; the caster must be very clear on what they wish to use the force for, unless they want a horrific end.

This magic often requires the creation of elaborate shapes filled with runes before a spell can be cast. These would typically be scratched into the ground or made with special materials. This takes too long to be practical in a fight.

However, the casters here have found a way to overcome this. As soon as the mage calls out the attack, any required circles, designs, and written magical incantations appear glowing in the air. Sometimes the spellcaster actually draws them in midair; at other times, these designs are prepared by the mage beforehand and manifest from some sort of device, or whatever force the mage contracts or serves does it for them, but this mostly depends upon the skill/power of the caster. Skilled mages can instantly generate smaller spell circles, but still need to manually draw larger ones; a more powerful caster like a mage can easily generate complex spell circles with little effort.

Now that I had an understanding of how it works, I had the intense desire to try it.

Without thinking, I drew in the air a circle within which I drew the rune 𐍈 (Sol) and connected it via a line to another circle in which I drew the rune ᚠ (Fey).

I didn’t draw the rune 𐍠 Ger, which acts as a stabilizer, not that it was needed.

A small burst of light flared to life before disappearing.

So, I see this is the purpose of the shapes—to restrict the force of the runes into a more controlled manner and...

“H-how?”

“Haha...” my father’s legs gave out, and he landed on his knees while his jaw hung loose.

“huh, I feel so sleeeepy (yawn)!” I blinked

Hhh

That was to be expected, after all; magic tends to put a mental strain on the caster. I closed my eyes to sleep...

My mother lifted me up and hugged me, almost to the point where my underdeveloped ribs gave out.

“Gakkk, what did I... oh.”

I realized that I was a two-year-old baby and they are not supposed to be able to use magic.

She didn’t answer me and continued sobbing while cradling me. My father arrived next to her, patting her back and patting my head as well, giving me a weak smile.

Behind us, the soldiers politely clapped.

What have I done now...

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