3.skill building

James had just recovered from long instable consciousness. While it might seem trivial to others, the nature of the human soul is not bound by laws—it is the very essence of one's connection to the material world.

When James reached home, his mother greeted him with concern. "How was your visit? Did you learn anything new from the lecture?" she asked while he walked into the kitchen. Before he could reply, she hugged him lovingly.

James cherished these moments. Despite his struggles and the stigma surrounding his condition, his mother had never treated him as someone who was mentally unwell. Instead, she cared for him with unwavering devotion.

After changing out of his clothes, he sat at his small study desk, tucked in the hall near the back of the kitchen. It was a modest setup—a wooden table with compartments, stacked with books both old and new. His mother, who worked as a maid for a noble household, often brought home books that were discarded by the family. She had even spent some of her hard-earned salary to purchase the academy entrance exam books for him.

James opened one of the literature books and began studying. His mother left for work soon after, and he dedicated the next four hours to immersing himself in his studies. When he finally took a break, he grabbed a quick snack and reflected on his efforts. Success isn't granted—it is achieved, he reminded himself.

Returning to his studies, James shifted his focus to magic scriptures and general knowledge books. He found himself struggling, not because of the content but due to the toll it took on his mind. he later started using his previous lifes memory, Accessing memories from his past lives without a fully developed consciousness was an arduous task. Yet, today he achieved a small victory: he completed all the texts and notes on primary-level mathematics. he would just need to start using and practicing the theory e learned. the hardest was time concept, here it was just some hourglass and looked at the sun, they would use abbreviations like second and minute similar to that worlds time but, it was a little different.

In his world, this level of free education was considered the pinnacle of accessible learning. Beyond that, one needed to study under scholars or enroll in prestigious universities, opportunities far out of reach for most.

With less than two hours remaining before his mother's return, James decided to engage in a simple yet effective workout routine. He jumped 100 times, completed 10 squats, 5 pushups, 3 pullups, jogged five laps around the nearby garden, and practiced some yoga techniques he had glimpsed from others. He also incorporated exercises taught by the church.

An hour and a half later, he was drenched in sweat. James headed to the bathroom, ready to clean up. As he sat and freshened up, he picked up a small mana stone embedded with water magic—an everyday item used to summon water. The cold water poured over his body, sending shivers.

As James's mother returned home that evening, she quickly busied herself in the kitchen, preparing a warm, hearty meal for them both. Despite her tiring day, she cooked with care, her love evident in every detail. James, tired from his studies and exercises, quietly savored the meal. The two shared a few moments of light conversation, their bond as strong as ever, before retiring for the night.

The next morning, James woke up later than usual, groggy from the exhaustion of the previous day's workout. He hurried through his morning routine, throwing on his school uniform—a modest shirt, pants, and a necktie that proudly signified his status as a student of the local school. He grabbed his schoolbag, slung it over his shoulder, and dashed out of the small apartment.

The streets were already alive with the bustle of morning activity. James navigated the familiar paths, weaving through crowds as his heart raced. He reached the school gates just as they were beginning to close, sprinting the final stretch and slipping inside with barely a second to spare. He breathed a sigh of relief, though the strain from the previous day's exercise still lingered in his legs. For a twelve-year-old, it was no small feat, and his body was letting him know it.

As the school bell rang, signaling the start of the day, James hurried to his classroom. But his homeroom teacher, a strict man with a keen eye for discipline, noticed his tardiness. "James, late again?" the teacher barked.

James hesitated, clutching the strap of his bag. "I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again," he said, bowing his head slightly.

"Sorry doesn't cut it. Stand in the hallway until the homeroom session is over. And let this be the last time," the teacher ordered.

James obediently stepped out into the corridor, where he stood in silence, his thoughts racing. He could hear the muffled voices of his classmates as the lesson continued without him. Over the next few minutes, three other students arrived late, each receiving different punishments. One was told to hold their schoolbag above their head without touching it for the entire homeroom period, while another was tasked with cleaning the classroom after school. James couldn't help but feel a small sense of relief that his punishment was less physically demanding.

When the homeroom session ended, James rejoined his classmates and the day's regular lessons began. The lectures moved at a steady pace, but to James, they felt almost sluggish. His mind, enriched by memories and knowledge from a past life, found the content trivial. Mathematics, literature, and even the introductory lessons on basic magic seemed elementary to him. However, he knew better than to show off or reveal the vastness of his knowledge.

James maintained an air of quiet diligence, taking notes and answering questions with just enough accuracy to blend in with his peers. His classmates saw him as a bright but ordinary student, unaware of the depth of his understanding. He preferred it that way. Drawing attention to himself would only invite scrutiny, and James had no desire to stand out, especially when he was still learning to control his newfound abilities.

The day passed without much incident. During breaks, James stayed at his desk, reviewing his notes or pretending to read. He was careful to maintain a low profile, even as his mind raced with plans for the future.

This is just a step toward the bigger goal, he reminded himself. The academy entrance exams were still months away, but James was determined to be ready. For now, he would play the part of the ordinary student, quietly building his strength and knowledge, one day at a time.

James quietly sat at the cafeteria table, trying to enjoy the modest meal he'd managed to purchase for 2 pesos. Though slightly overpriced, it was within his budget, and he couldn't afford to attract unnecessary attention—especially from the school bullies. He ate cautiously, aware of his surroundings, but fate seemed determined to make his day worse.

Roxan, the notorious troublemaker, sauntered over with his gang of friends, their presence casting a shadow over James's table. They surrounded him, their smirks reeking of mischief.

"Well, well, look who's got himself a nice little meal," Roxan sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. He casually slapped the back of James's head with his four fingers, enough to startle but not bruise. "Why don't you share it with us, James? We're feeling a bit...hungry."

James stiffened, his grip on his spoon tightening. He took a gulp of milk and a bite of nuts, trying to calm himself before replying, "Why should I?"

Roxan's smirk widened. "Why shouldn't you? Sharing is caring, after all." His tone was light, but the threat behind his words was clear.

Before James could respond, another slap landed on the back of his head, this time harder. Laughter erupted from Roxan's gang as they egged him on. The hits kept coming, each one pushing James closer to the edge.

"Fine!" James finally shouted, his voice trembling with suppressed anger and humiliation. He shoved his plate toward Roxan, who snickered in triumph.

"Good boy," Roxan said mockingly, grabbing the plate and digging in as his gang continued to laugh.

James sat there, his face flushed with embarrassment and anger. He could have fought back—easily, in fact. With his abilities and training, Roxan and his lackeys would have been no match for him. But James held back. He wasn't ready to expose himself, and more importantly, he didn't want to bring trouble to his mother. She had worked too hard to provide for him, and he couldn't bear the thought of adding to her burdens.

The cafeteria was filled with students, many of whom turned a blind eye to the scene. Some whispered among themselves, while others pretended not to notice. This was the unspoken rule of the school's social hierarchy: the strong preyed on the weak, and everyone else stayed out of it.

James clenched his fists under the table, his nails digging into his palms. This isn't forever, he told himself. One day, I'll be stronger. Strong enough to put people like Roxan in their place.

For now, though, James endured the humiliation, knowing that patience was his greatest ally. As Roxan and his gang finally left, leaving behind only crumbs, James took a deep breath and began planning his next move. He wouldn't let this happen again—not for long.