Chapter 2: The Awakening of Mana

The first year of my new life passed in what felt like an instant.

In my past existence, I had ruled with absolute authority, my word law and my power unchallenged. Now, I was a helpless infant, incapable of even lifting my own head without a struggle. It was a humbling experience, one that forced me to confront a simple truth—power meant nothing if you could not wield it.

But I had learned patience.

Even as my body remained weak, my mind remained sharp. I absorbed everything I could from my surroundings, observing, listening, and preparing. I would not waste this second chance.

And then, something changed.

It began as a whisper in the back of my mind—a soft hum, distant yet persistent. At first, I thought it was a figment of my imagination, the remnants of a life long past clinging to me. But no… this was something real.

Something alive.

A Child's First Steps into Power

It was late one evening when I first became aware of it.

My mother had fallen asleep beside me, her rhythmic breathing lulling me into a meditative state. My father had left early that morning, venturing into the forest to hunt. The candle on the bedside table flickered, casting soft shadows along the wooden walls.

And then, I felt it.

A force, unseen yet ever-present, woven into the fabric of reality. It was faint, barely noticeable, like the final embers of a dying flame. But once I recognized it, I could not unfeel it.

Mana.

I had heard the villagers speak of it—how mages could bend the elements to their will, how warriors could enhance their bodies beyond human limits. It was the foundation of this world's power, just as authority and strategy had been the foundation of mine in my previous life.

And I had just discovered it.

I closed my eyes, pushing past the haze of exhaustion that clouded my infant body. My mind reached out, brushing against the delicate strands of mana that drifted through the air. It was like touching a thread of silk, impossibly light yet infinitely complex.

It resisted me.

Not yet.

A warning? A barrier? Or simply a limitation of my current form? I didn't know. But if there was one thing I understood about power, it was that it demanded effort.

I would not be denied.

A Father's Wisdom

Days turned into weeks, and though I could sense mana, I could do nothing with it. Frustration gnawed at me, but I buried it beneath careful observation and practice. If I could not wield power yet, I would at least understand it.

And so, I watched.

I watched the village healer use mana-infused herbs to accelerate healing. I watched the blacksmith reinforce weapons with thin traces of elemental energy. I watched passing travelers use mana to strengthen their bodies, their footsteps unnaturally swift.

And then, I watched my father.

Edrin Vael was not a mage, nor was he a warrior in the traditional sense. He was a hunter, a man of instinct and precision. But even he used mana in his own way.

It was subtle—the way his muscles tensed before a strike, the way his breathing slowed when he took aim with his bow. It was not the overwhelming force of a sorcerer's spell or the raw might of a battlefield warrior, but it was control.

That night, as he sat by the fire sharpening his blade, I did something I had not done since being reborn.

I spoke.

"...Mana."

The word was rough, barely more than a whisper, but it stopped my father cold. He turned sharply, his eyes locking onto me with a mix of shock and intrigue.

"Sylas?" he said cautiously.

I met his gaze, determined despite my small frame. "Mana," I repeated.

A slow smile spread across his face—not of amusement, but of understanding. He set his knife down, rubbing a hand over his jaw thoughtfully.

"So, you can feel it already," he murmured.

He was not surprised.

Something told me that he had been waiting for this.

The First Lesson

The next morning, my father took me outside. The crisp morning air carried the scent of damp earth and pine, the sky a brilliant shade of blue. The village was already stirring—blacksmiths working their forges, merchants setting up their stalls, children running through the dirt paths.

But my father led me beyond them, toward the dense woods that bordered our home.

I could barely walk without wobbling, my legs still unused to steady movement. Yet, he made no effort to assist me. Instead, he watched, waiting.

When we finally reached a small clearing, he crouched beside me, picking up a single leaf from the ground.

"Tell me what you feel," he said.

I furrowed my brow, unsure of what he meant. He wanted me to sense mana, obviously, but what was he trying to teach me? Still, I closed my eyes, reaching out once more.

The faint hum of mana was there, just as it had been the first time I felt it. But this time… I focused.

It was in the air.

In the trees.

In the soil beneath my feet.

And… in the leaf he held.

"It's different," I muttered, my voice steadier this time.

My father nodded. "Because everything in this world has mana. But not all mana is the same."

He crushed the leaf between his fingers, letting the small fragments fall to the ground. "The mana in living things is vibrant, active. The mana in the soil is old, waiting to be reborn." He gestured to the air. "And the mana around us is always moving, like a current in the ocean."

He studied me carefully. "If you want to control mana, you must first understand it. You don't command it—you guide it. Like the wind guides the leaves."

I stared at the leaf fragments, my mind racing. In my past life, power had been something I took. I seized it, controlled it, bent it to my will.

But mana… wasn't the same.

I looked up at my father, realization dawning on me. "I have to listen to it."

His smile widened. "Good. Then let's begin."