Point Of View: Kaori Tanaka
The morning began with sword training. I spent long hours swinging a metal rod. My arms trembled, sweat dripping from my forehead. Who would have thought such a simple exercise could be so exhausting?
"How much longer do I have to keep swinging this thing?" I asked, my voice heavy with the strain of the effort. Captain Gregor Olindar had a stern look. A scar ran across his left eye, and his white hair betrayed his age. He wore silver armor and exuded a heroic dignity that far surpassed mine.
"You’re weak. We need to build your muscles before teaching you any technique," he said in an almost brutal tone. "You’ll keep swinging that sword day after day until its weight feels like paper to you." His eyes were intense, as if he could see right through me.
Do I really have to go through this? What if I just ran away? It wasn’t like I had any moral obligation to these people. I didn’t ask to be reincarnated. A smile crossed my face as I realized I was thinking like a child. The best thing to do was to make the most of this opportunity and absorb as much knowledge about this world as possible.
In the afternoon, I had lessons with the Supreme Mage. His vast laboratory was filled with various tubes and strange creatures inside them—creatures that didn’t exist in my world. Abimael and his team wore white robes. As I approached, I noticed his thin frame, triangular face, and pearl-like eyes. His long, black hair was tied back in a ponytail.
"Miss Tanaka, you’re here!" He spread his arms as if to embrace me, but I took a step back. "I’m glad to see you’re doing well. How was your sword training?"
"Excruciating, pure torture," I replied, crossing my arms and wincing at the memory of the pain.
"Well, Gregor can be a bit harsh, but it’s for your own good. Your magic training will be basic for now. I’ll teach you the fundamentals and give you an exercise to practice."
He walked to a whiteboard and gestured toward a corridor formed by two long tables. With a wave of his hand, one of the assistants brought me a quill, ink, and a small notebook. I sat down, opening the blank notebook.
"Let’s start with the basics. Mana is the essential component of magic; it’s what mages use to cast spells. This world you now live in is filled with mana, but don’t be mistaken—it’s not a particle. It’s more like a fabric that envelops the world." He paused and sighed, signaling for me to continue taking notes.
"This is because the world itself is alive, and all living things have mana. The fabric of a mage, monster, magical item, or anything else is called a ‘magical signature’ because mana varies in intensity, density, and the space it occupies. Of course, this signature, like the mana covering the world, is mutable, but not instantly—it takes long periods. In monsters, mana changes more slowly due to their lack of rationality. More rational monsters are dangerous because they can grow stronger." He paused again. "Kaori, what do you think a mana signature represents when we analyze and compare it?"
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It was a lot of information at once. My attention was split three ways: writing, listening, and thinking of an answer.
"Power?" I asked, uncertain.
"The ability to manipulate magic—the capacity to interfere with reality itself. Other aspects are also essential to define a mage’s power, such as physical and mental resilience. Magic is taxing, after all, much like contracting a muscle. All these aspects together form a mage’s power." He smiled. "In that sense, you’re still weak. But don’t worry; that will change."
After what felt like nearly an hour of explanations, he picked up a wooden box from one of the tables. Opening it, he took out a quill and a scroll.
"Our lesson is coming to an end. This scroll discusses magic and intention. Read it, and we’ll discuss it in the next class. Use the quill to practice your magical intent. I want you to learn to move the quill from one hand to the other."
Point Of View: Abimael
The girl simply didn’t seem interested in what I was saying, as if she were there out of sheer obligation. This could be a problem in the future if it hindered her true potential. I walked down the white corridor. Today was the day to collect reports from the artificers and inventors. The two most important research objects on my list were the soulless bracelets.
I entered the room where the experiment was being conducted. A gray-haired man in his sixties was standing in front of one of the test subjects. An elf?
“Professor Richter Vans March,” I called out, looking at him. “I’m here to check on the experiment. Have you made any progress?”
“Oh, Supreme Mage! We’re gathering data. These divine artifacts are truly unique. Due to the differences in how we, the lesser beings, cast magic, it may take some time. But as you instructed, I’ve switched the test subjects to girls who are approximately the same age as the final user.”
He walked over to a table covered with scrolls. I glanced at the elf, who had a lifeless look in her eyes and was dressed in a plain white tunic.
He rolled up a scroll that had been open on the table. “Here, take this. It’s a report on the current progress. We’re analyzing the different effects under the perspective of varying amounts of mana. The runes on this magical item certainly seem otherworldly. While replicating them isn’t possible, it’s still feasible to understand enough to control them.”
I accepted the scroll. There was no need to reprimand the researcher or rush him; we had time. “Do you think you can finish this work within two years?”
As I asked this question, a loud crash shook the walls. Beakers rattled and fell to the floor. Richter lost his balance and steadied himself on the table.
“What was that?” I asked, alarmed.
A boy burst through the door, his face pale with urgency. “We’re under attack!”