By the time I was two years old, I’d grown accustomed to the strange dichotomy of my existence. Outwardly, I was a curious and energetic toddler, toddling around the house on unsteady legs, babbling incomprehensibly to adults, and giggling when my brother made faces at me. Internally, I was Johnathan—aware, calculating, and constantly absorbing every piece of information I could find.

Hexa, my ever-present AI companion, proved invaluable in those early years. While my new body was frustratingly limited in its capabilities, my mind was anything but.

“Hexa,” I thought one morning as I watched the shimmering mana around our home, “what’s the deal with this skill system you mentioned before? You’ve been awfully quiet about it.”

“I am still gathering data,” Hexa replied. “Your profile displays two skills: Soulless and Redacted. Analysis of Soulless indicates it affects your emotional and empathic responses, making them diminished compared to a typical human.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I replied dryly. “And Redacted?”

“Access to that skill is restricted. The system interface prevents further analysis.”

“Convenient,” I muttered.

It was maddening. The Soulless skill already made me feel like an outsider in my own skin, and the mystery of Redacted only added to my growing frustration.

“While The Soulless skill may be discomforting due to the disjunction with your previous body it is what allowed me to initiate the rebirth protocols under the safety and ethics guidelines. So you should consider yourself quite lucky”, said Hexa.

Despite my limited physical mobility, I spent much of my time observing the villagers. From my seat near the window, I could see the comings and goings of Valda-Ashdock’s residents: fishermen hauling in their daily catch, merchants haggling over goods, and guards patrolling the perimeter.

My father, Tharn, was often among them, his towering figure a reassuring presence. His role as captain of the guard made him a respected figure in the village, but it also meant he was constantly busy.

One evening, as he sat sharpening his sword by the hearth, I decided to test the waters.

“Da-da,” I said, pointing at the blade.

He looked up, a smile breaking through his usual stern expression. “That’s right, Wolfhart. Sword.”

“Sword,” I repeated, mimicking his tone.

Halrik, sitting nearby with his own wooden sword, laughed. “He’s gonna be a fighter like you, Father!”

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

Tharn chuckled, ruffling my hair. “Maybe. But he’s got a long way to go before he can hold one of these.”

If only he knew. As I approached my third birthday, Hexa began feeding me more detailed information about the world around me. One day, as I stared out at the Nexus above, Hexa interrupted my thoughts.

“Johnathan, I have completed an analysis of ambient mana levels in this region.”

“Oh? And what have you learned?”

“Mana density fluctuates based on proximity to natural resources and areas of human activity. The village’s location on the lake provides a moderate mana flow, sufficient for basic life and skill development.”

“Great,” I muttered. “And here I was hoping for some kind of cheat code to power me up.”

“Cheat codes do not exist in this reality,” Hexa replied flatly.

It was during one of my routine mana observations something i was doing to not go insane and past the time that I noticed something unusual. The shimmering air near the edge of the lake seemed… denser, almost alive.

“Hexa,” I thought, “what’s going on over there?”

“Analyzing… The phenomenon appears to be a mana disturbance. It is likely caused by a local event or entity.”

“Entity?”

“Possibly a living creature or magical construct. Caution is advised.”

I filed the information away for later. For now, I was content to stay within the relative safety of my home. “Your ability to sense mana may be out of the normal parameters for this world.” Hexa informed me It is currently aided by my ability to distinguish and then highlight the mana within your vision.

As my understanding of mana deepened, so did my awareness of the villagers’ attitudes toward it. They treated it with a mix of reverence and practicality, using it to fuel their daily lives in ways that felt both magical and mundane.

Fishermen used enchanted nets to ensure a bountiful catch. Weavers like my mother infused their threads with mana to create durable fabrics. Even the guards’ weapons were enhanced with minor enchantments to make them more effective against the weekly raids.

But for all their reliance on mana, the villagers rarely spoke about skills. From what I could gather, skills were deeply personal, almost sacred, and it was considered rude to ask about someone else’s abilities.

“Why is that, Hexa?” I asked one evening.

“Cultural norms vary by region,” Hexa replied. “In this society, skills are tied to personal identity and social status. Discussing them openly may invite scrutiny or judgment.”

“Great. So I’m stuck with a big, glowing secret stamped on my profile and no way to explain it.”

“Correct.”

----------------------------------------

My third birthday arrived with little fanfare. My parents celebrated with a modest feast, inviting a few neighbors to share in the occasion. Halrik presented me with a carved wooden toy—a crude approximation of a horse, but I appreciated the gesture.

As the adults chatted and laughed, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. The raiders hadn’t come in weeks, and while the villagers seemed grateful for the reprieve, I suspected it wouldn’t last.

That night, as I lay in my crib staring at the Nexus above, I made a decision.

“Hexa,” I thought, “it’s time we started preparing for the future.”

“Agreed,” Hexa replied. “What is your plan?”

“For now, gather as much data as you can. I want to know everything there is to know about this world—mana, skills, you name it.”

“Understood. Beginning comprehensive analysis.”

As Hexa’s voice faded, I closed my eyes.