New world, old pain

Michael stared blankly at the ceiling of his room, his thoughts a chaotic storm he couldn't escape. He felt... nothing—or worse, everything. He felt an emptiness that swallowed him whole, and a weight that pressed on his chest. He was alive, right? But what was this place? A second chance at life, maybe? Or had he just stumbled into another hell, another cage?

The thought should have terrified him, but it didn't. It only filled him with indifference. What did it matter anymore? His old life—if he could even call it that—was gone. A cruel joke. A string of days that had led nowhere but despair. And now, here he was, thrown into some strange world with an allegedly divine purpose he couldn't begin to understand, let alone accept.

And then, the vision.

The altar. The light. That strange woman.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to forget what he saw, but it was no use. It burned itself into his memory and played on loop. The moment he touched that altar he felt something alien, something terrifying and something far greater than he. 

"Should I just take it as another chance at life?" Michael muttered, his voice hoarse. He reached up, as if trying to grasp something—a solution, a sense of purpose, anything—but his fingers closed around nothing. No answers here.

The mission, the purpose Sarah and others spoke of, it all seemed... wrong. A glorified soldier—that's what he was meant to be, wasn't he? It wasn't some typical 'Defeat the Demon Lord' quest and be the hero type of situation either. No, he is supposed to aid in spreading the word of truth, whatever the hell that means. He was involuntarily dragged into this world for a cause he didn't understand nor accept. 

How could he possibly feel okay about this situation?

"I really don't know what to do…" His voice was barely more than a whisper. Should he try to escape? Or follow the path set for him? Become the hero they want him to be?

"Well, there's always Plan B…" His dry laugh echoed in the room. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't a warrior. Hell, he wasn't even sure he even wanted to be alive. He had been done with all of it—done with the suffering, done with the pain. For once, he had thought he was free. Free from the world that offered him nothing but despair. 

And yet, here he was. Staring at a dark ceiling in a world that felt more like a nightmare than anything else.

He turned his head, eyes drifting to the window. The moonlight cast cold shadows over the mountains and the forest below, a picturesque scene of tranquility, of peace his mind could not hope to experience. 

Beautiful but so what? It all felt hollow.

***

The morning came, dragging with it a pale light that crept through the window. Michael sat up slowly, his body stiff, his mind dull. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He dressed in the clothes he had been given yesterday—strangely well-fitted, as if someone had tailored them just for him. He ran a hand over the fabric. Soft. Comfortable. It made him look like he belonged in this world but the truth was far from it.

At least sleep had helped. His mind wasn't spiraling anymore. The fear, the anger, the hopelessness—they were still there, but distant, like echoes of a storm that had passed. He wasn't at peace. He was just... drained.

He looked at his hands, flexing his fingers. Yesterday, they had trembled. Now, they were steady. Not because he had found any resolve, but because he had nothing left to feel. The weight of it all hadn't lifted—it had just settled somewhere deeper, out of reach.

For now, that was enough. There was no other alternative than to push forward.

He made his way to the door and pulled it open. Sarah stood on the other side, her hand raised mid-motion as if she had been about to knock.

Michael didn't react—no surprise, no curiosity. Just calm indifference. Sarah, however, hesitated for a split second. Her sharp eyes flickered over him, taking in the change.

'He feels different'

The man she had met yesterday—the one drowning in confusion and despair—was gone. The person in front of her stood tall, confident. His eyes, once lost, were now eerily still and focused.

She didn't dwell on it for long however. It made sense. A night's rest had likely given him time to gather his thoughts, and now, he seemed more composed. Instead of questioning it, she turned her attention back to why she had come in the first place.

"I see you rested well" Sarah said, her tone neutral "Come with me. The others are waiting in the banquet hall for breakfast. After that, we'll begin the first lesson"

"Oh? I understand" Michael's response was simple, and he followed right behind her.

Their pace was slow, and judging by the seemingly endless stretch of corridors, the walk would take some time. Michael figured it was as good a chance as any to probe for more information.

"I'm sure you've noticed by now, but I'm no warrior" He said suddenly. When Sarah didn't respond right away, he continued "I'm not sure I can match your expectations"

"You worry unnecessarily" Sarah replied, unbothered by his revelation "If you're not a warrior now, who's to say you can't become one? We are not in any hurry, and there has never been a hero who failed to leave his mark on history"

Michael barely paid attention to her reassurance. He was more interested in the mention of other heroes.

"So there were others before us five?"

Sarah glanced at him, her expression as cold as ever. But there was something different—some subtle shift in her demeanor, though Michael couldn't quite place it.

"Yes. Every few hundred years, a group of heroes is summoned to assist the Empire" Her answer was concise, and the way she spoke made it clear she had no intention of elaborating further.

Michael considered pressing the topic, but in the end, he let it drop. The rest of the walk passed in near silence, the sound of their footsteps echoing down the long hallways. 

Soon, a low murmur of voices reached his ears. As they stepped through a set of grand doors, he was met with the sight of a vast hall filled with people, long tables, and—most importantly—food. His stomach twisted slightly, making him realize just how hungry he was.

***

Breakfast was mostly uneventful, though it felt more like a grand feast than a simple meal. Sarah explained that this arrangement was meant to ease tension, a welcoming gesture of sorts. From now on, unless there was a formal gathering to attend, most of his meals would be brought to his room by the servants.

Michael had no objections to that.

"Shall we begin, then?"

Sarah's voice pulled him from his thoughts. They had moved outside the palace, near the edge of the forest. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and leaves. It was an open space, secluded, free from prying eyes.

"Then let's start with the basics" Sarah began. "There are two important things you need to learn: the nature of your blessing and the use of mana. Let's focus on your gift first since it's most likely to shape your growth. Every hero is granted a unique blessing from the Gods, though its function is rarely obvious at first. Aside from understanding the language, did you notice anything unusual after the ceremony? A change in yourself?"

Michael nodded slowly. "I… didn't notice any particular change" That much was true. "As for the vision I experienced..." He hesitated.

Should he tell her?

The people here clearly held the Gods in the highest regard. What would they think if he told them the truth? That the vision had been terrifying, suffocating—revolting? He wasn't ready to find out what their reaction would be.

So, in the end, he chose his words carefully, recounting only the first part of what he saw, deliberately omitting the part that still sent shivers down his spine.

Since meeting Sarah, her expression had been an unshaken mask—cold, unreadable. But as he spoke, something shifted. A flicker of something—excitement? Interest?—barely noticeable, yet unmistakable. Her posture stiffened ever so slightly, and for a fraction of a second, her lips parted, as if she might speak. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. Her composure returned, her gaze once again sharp and indifferent, as though the moment had never happened.

"This is no small matter" She said, her voice calm but carrying an edge of significance. "If your words are correct, you received a blessing from the Goddess of Light herself. Only a handful in history have been granted such an honor, and each of them reshaped the world with their actions"

She frowned slightly, tapping a finger against her arm in thought. "But the vision alone doesn't tell us what your gift actually is. That makes things... complicated. Are you certain there wasn't anything else?"

"No"

The answer left his lips faster than he expected. Even he was surprised by how easily the lie came to him.

Sarah studied him for a moment but didn't press further. "Forget it then" She said. "Time will reveal your gift eventually. For now, let's focus on mana…"

She gestured for him to sit.

Michael glanced at the dirt beneath him, not exactly eager to sit on the cold ground, but he didn't argue. He lowered himself into position, shifting slightly before settling in.

"Good" Sarah said, her tone neutral as usual, neither praising nor criticizing. "Mana is ever-present. It exists in the air, the earth, in every living being. To tap into it, you must first learn to feel it. Calm your mind and focus on your breathing. Let yourself become aware of its flow"

Michael listened closely. He understood the concept well enough—meditation, mindfulness—it was nothing new to him. So, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into the rhythm of his breath.

Slow inhale. Slow exhale.

His body relaxed, his shoulders loosening, his thoughts quieting. The world around him—distant voices, the rustling of leaves, the occasional chirp of a bird—faded into the background.

"You're doing well" Sarah continued, her voice softer now. "Now, push it further. Shift your focus inward—toward your heart. Feel its rhythm. Visualize your blood flowing from it, spreading through your body, reaching every limb before returning"

Michael followed her guidance, sinking deeper. He pictured the steady pulse of his heart, the movement of air in his lungs, the silent journey of his blood traveling through his veins. He didn't just imagine it—he felt it. Each beat, each pulse. The warmth, the circulation, the life within him.

Everything else ceased to exist—until something finally changed.

For a fleeting moment, he sensed it. A strange energy coursing through him. It wasn't just around him—it was within him, an unfamiliar strength that was ready to be harvested.

The moment he realized it however, his concentration broke. A rush of excitement jolted him back to awareness, and he opened his eyes sharply—only to flinch.

Sarah was close. Too close. Her piercing gaze locked onto him.

"Incredible" She murmured, while stepping back. "Some spend months just trying to sense mana. And yet, you achieved it in mere hours"

"Hours?" Michael blinked, confused. He tilted his head back, squinting at the sky. The sun was now high, its golden light spilling over the treetops.

Has it really been hours?

He hadn't even noticed. Lost in the depths of meditation, time had slipped through his fingers like sand. But the truth was undeniable. A flicker of excitement stirred in his chest—his first real emotion since arriving in this world. He wanted to try again. Immediately.

But Sarah was quick to douse his enthusiasm.

"This marks the end of today's lesson" She said coldly. "Don't forget—you're not just training with me. Others are assigned to teach you as well"

"Right…" Michael sighed, pushing himself off the ground.

Sarah had briefly mentioned his schedule before, but now the reality of it set in. Mornings were for training with her. Evenings, however, would be consumed by tutors drilling him on geography, literature, etiquette—countless subjects crammed into him with no regard for pacing. Things that would take a lifetime to master, they expected him to grasp in mere months.

For the foreseeable future, free time seemed like nothing more than a luxury that he was unlikely to experience.