Chapter 2: A Child’s Curiosity

The gentle flicker of candlelight danced across the room as Aether sat in silence, his small hands resting on his lap. He was four years old now, his body still small, yet his mind carried the wisdom of a past life. It had been years since he first opened his eyes in this world, and though he had adjusted, the feeling of unfamiliarity had never truly left him.

The warmth of the wooden walls, the soft scent of parchment and ink from his father's study, and the distant laughter of villagers from beyond the estate's walls—all of it felt strangely distant. He had long accepted this new life, yet the memories of his past still lingered at the edges of his consciousness, reminding him that he was not just a child.

From the moment he could speak, Aether had learned to be cautious. He understood that acting beyond his years would raise suspicion, so he played the role of a normal child, observing and listening more than he spoke. However, suppressing his natural curiosity was another challenge altogether.

Sitting on the cushioned floor of his small study room, he stared at the thick book resting on the low wooden table before him. The cover was old and worn, the leather binding cracking at the edges. It was a history book—one of many his father had left within his reach. Though reading at his age was uncommon, his father, Calem Zephyrion, had simply laughed when he caught Aether flipping through pages with interest.

"If you can understand even a little, then go ahead," he had said, his deep voice carrying amusement rather than suspicion.

Aether had taken that as permission to learn at his own pace.

Now, with a candle illuminating the pages, he traced the elegant script with his fingers. The language of this world was different from his past life, yet his young mind had adapted quickly. He had spent months carefully listening to conversations, matching spoken words with the texts in books. By now, he could read almost fluently, though writing was still a work in progress.

The book spoke of ancient empires, powerful rulers, and legendary figures who shaped the world. But what intrigued Aether the most was the mention of mana—the lifeblood of magic itself.

"Mana exists in all living things. It flows like an unseen river, granting strength to those who can wield it."

The words stirred something deep within him.

'So, magic is real in this world…'

It was not surprising. The signs had been there from the start—the strange energy he sometimes felt in the air, the way his father and other adults spoke of knights and mages, and the intricate runes carved into the estate's walls.

Yet, seeing it written so plainly made it feel more real.

Aether closed the book, his young mind racing with thoughts. If mana was something all living beings possessed, did that mean he had it too? He looked down at his small hands, flexing his fingers as if expecting to feel something new.

But there was nothing.

No surge of power, no flickering light—just the steady beat of his heart.

'If mana exists in all beings, then there must be a way to sense it.'

Aether had no mentor, no guide to teach him about magic. If he wanted to understand this world's power system, he would have to figure it out on his own.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips.

This was just like before.

In his past life, he had climbed from nothing through sheer effort and intelligence. If there was one thing he was good at, it was learning.

And so, Aether closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He had no idea if this would work, but

every great discovery had to start somewhere.

The room was silent, save for the soft crackling of the candle's flame. Aether sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, his small hands resting on his knees as he focused inward. If mana existed within all living beings, then there had to be a way to feel it—to grasp its presence and control it.

But where was he supposed to start?

In his past life, all forms of energy—whether physical, mental, or spiritual—had required awareness to cultivate. He recalled martial artists who spent years mastering their breath, monks who could control their heart rate, and scholars who pushed the limits of the mind through sheer discipline.

If mana was anything like those, then the first step would be perception.

Aether slowed his breathing.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

He repeated the cycle, focusing on the rhythm of his breath, the steady rise and fall of his chest. He pushed aside distractions—the dim glow of the candle, the distant rustling of leaves outside, even the faint creaks of the house settling in the night.

He emptied his mind.

At first, there was nothing.

Only darkness behind his closed eyelids.

Seconds passed. Then minutes.

And then—

A faint warmth.

It wasn't coming from the air, nor from the candlelight. It was something inside him, subtle yet undeniably present, like an ember hidden beneath ashes.

His heart quickened.

This was it.

The warmth flickered, delicate and fleeting. It felt like the whisper of a breeze, the softest ripple in a still pond. It wasn't strong, nor was it something he could grasp just yet. But the mere fact that he could feel it meant that it was there.

Mana.

Aether kept his breathing steady, trying to deepen his awareness, but the sensation remained elusive—faint and untamed.

'It's not enough to just sense it… I need to understand how to control it.'

If mana was a part of him, then it had to respond to his will. But how?

Aether had no reference, no prior knowledge of how magic was trained in this world. He would have to experiment, testing different methods until he found what worked.

A grin played on his lips.

This was a challenge he welcomed.

He slowly opened his eyes, the candlelight coming back into focus. Though he hadn't made any groundbreaking progress, he had taken the first step.

And that was more than enough.

He wasn't in a rush.

He had time.

And if there was one thing Aether never lacked, it was patience.