Chapter 1: A Second Chance

  Death had been surprisingly anticlimactic.

  One moment, I was hunched over my desk reading a web novel called "Mother of Learning" for the fifth time, and the next—nothing. No light at the end of a tunnel, no life flashing before my eyes. Just a seamless transition from existence to oblivion.

  Until I woke up.

  The ceiling above me was unfamiliar—wooden beams crossing in neat patterns, nothing like the popcorn ceiling of my apartment. My body felt wrong too. Smaller. Weaker. And most strangely, humming with an energy I'd never felt before.

  "Mana," I whispered, the word escaping my lips before I could process the thought. My voice was high-pitched, childlike.

  I shot upright, heart pounding. This room—a child's bedroom with simple furniture, magical texts stacked on a small desk, and a window overlooking a quaint town square—was entirely foreign to me. Yet somehow, I knew exactly where I was.

  Korwin. A small town in northern Eldemar, known for its mining operations and a modest but respectable magical academy.

  Memories that weren't mine began to surface. I was Aldric Taverien, eight years old, son of a battlemage father and alchemist mother. A child showing promising magical aptitude but struggling with focus.

  "Impossible," I muttered, but even as I said it, I knew it was real. Somehow, I had reincarnated into the fictional world of Mother of Learning—twenty years before Zorian Kazinski would unwittingly enter the time loop that formed the novel's central plot.

  "Aldric! Breakfast!" A woman's voice called from downstairs. My mother. My new mother.

  "Coming!" I replied automatically, my body operating on the muscle memory of this child whose life I had hijacked.

  I climbed out of bed and caught my reflection in a small mirror hanging on the wall. A thin boy with sandy brown hair and green eyes stared back at me. I had a spattering of freckles across my nose and a small birthmark near my right ear. This was me now.

  As I dressed in simple clothes—a tunic and pants that felt both alien and natural—I tried to organize my thoughts. If I'd arrived twenty years before the Sovereign Gate opened, that meant I had two decades to prepare for the catastrophe that would engulf Cyoria. Twenty years to master magic and position myself to survive—or even prevent—the coming disaster.

  Twenty years before Zach Noveda would be chosen by the Sovereign Gate, before Zorian would be accidentally dragged into the time loop, before Red Robe would steal the Controller's crown, before Primordial awakening attempts and demon invasions.

  "Aldric! Don't make me call again!" My mother's voice had taken on that universal maternal tone of warning.

  "Sorry!" I called back, hurrying to finish dressing.

  Before leaving the room, I paused and reached inside myself, feeling for that humming energy—my mana. There it was, a modest reservoir at my core. I tried to grasp it mentally, the way Zorian had learned to in the novel, but it slipped away like water through my fingers.

  That would be my first priority: mana shaping. The fundamental skill upon which all magic was built.

  Breakfast was surreal. I sat at a table with two people—Elara and Thaddeus Taverien—who believed I was their son, while memories that weren't mine told me they were indeed my parents. Elara was a slender woman with kind eyes and deft hands that moved with precision, a testament to her alchemical training. Thaddeus was broad-shouldered and stern, his battlemage background evident in the way he carried himself even at the breakfast table.

  "You have your evaluation at the academy today," my father reminded me, spreading jam on a slice of bread. "Master Orran will be testing your progress."

  I nearly choked on my porridge. An evaluation? Already? I had no idea what skills young Aldric possessed or what would be expected of me.

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  "Don't frighten the boy, Thad," my mother said, refilling my cup with a sweet-smelling herbal tea. "Aldric, just remember what we practiced. Visualization and intent."

  I nodded, grateful for the hint. "I'll do my best."

  My father's expression softened slightly. "That's all we ask. But remember—"

  "—magic rewards discipline," I finished automatically, drawing on Aldric's memories.

  He nodded approvingly. "After your session, I need to speak with you about your future studies. I've been corresponding with an old colleague in Cyoria."

  Cyoria. The name sent a jolt through me. The magical capital where everything would eventually unfold.

  "What about Cyoria?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

  "We'll discuss it later," he said firmly. "For now, focus on your evaluation."

  The local academy was nothing like the grand Royal Academy of Magical Arts in Cyoria that I'd read about. Korwin's magical school was a modest three-story building with simple enchantments woven into its architecture. Still, I could feel the magic humming in its walls as I followed my father through its corridors.

  We stopped before a wooden door marked "Practical Fundamentals."

  "I'll return in two hours," my father said, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. "Remember—"

  "Discipline," I nodded. "I know."

  Once alone with Master Orran—a middle-aged mage with prematurely silver hair and patient eyes—I was led through a series of basic exercises. First, lighting a candle with a matchstick (testing basic motor control), then identifying components in simple alchemical mixtures (testing sensory perception), and finally, attempting to feel my own mana.

  "Close your eyes, Aldric," Master Orran instructed. "Feel the energy within you. Don't try to control it yet—just become aware of it."

  I closed my eyes and reached inward, searching for that familiar hum. There it was—a reservoir of energy at my core, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. In the novel, Zorian had described mana as feeling like "a second circulatory system" overlaid on the physical one. Now I understood what that meant.

  "I can feel it," I said.

  "Good. Now, try to direct a small portion to your fingertips. Visualization is key."

  I imagined my mana as water flowing through channels within my body, directing a small stream toward my right hand. To my surprise, I felt a tingling sensation in my fingertips.

  "Open your eyes," Master Orran said quietly.

  I did, and gasped. A faint blue glow surrounded my fingertips—weak and unstable, but unmistakably there.

  "Excellent," the teacher said, genuine surprise in his voice. "You've improved significantly since last week. Continue this visualization exercise daily."

  I couldn't help but smile. My first deliberate use of magic.

  When the evaluation concluded, Master Orran wrote something in his notebook before addressing me. "You have potential, Aldric. Your mana sensitivity is developing nicely, though your control needs work. I'll recommend you continue with fundamental exercises, but I believe you're ready to begin theoretical instruction in basic spell formulas."

  I nodded eagerly. "Thank you, Master Orran."

  As I left the classroom, my mind was already racing with plans. I needed to master mana shaping as quickly as possible—it was the foundation for everything else. Then basic spellcasting, followed by mind magic if I could find a way to learn it without raising suspicions.

  I had knowledge of future events that no one else possessed. I knew about the Ibasan invasion, the primordial release attempt, the time loop, and most importantly, the various methods of magical advancement that Zorian had discovered throughout his many restarts.

  Twenty years was both an eternity and nothing at all. I needed every advantage I could get.

  "He's showing promise," my father said that evening as he poured over Master Orran's evaluation. "His mana sensitivity is developing ahead of schedule."

  My mother beamed at me from across our small living room. "He gets that from my side of the family."

  "Perhaps," my father conceded with a small smile. "Which brings me to our discussion about Cyoria."

  My ears perked up immediately.

  "My former comrade, Elban Remont, has taken a teaching position at the Royal Academy. He's offered to mentor Aldric once he reaches the appropriate age and skill level."

  "Cyoria is so far away," my mother protested. "And the city is dangerous."

  "It's also home to the finest magical education in the kingdom," my father countered. "If Aldric continues to show aptitude, he deserves that opportunity."

  They both looked at me, as if suddenly remembering I was in the room.

  "What do you think, Aldric?" my mother asked. "Would you want to study in Cyoria someday?"

  I nodded without hesitation. "Yes. I want to learn everything I can."

  My father looked pleased. "It's settled then. We'll continue your foundation here in Korwin, and in a few years, if you maintain your progress, we'll discuss arrangements with Elban."

  Later that night, alone in my room, I sat cross-legged on my bed and closed my eyes. I reached for my mana, trying to guide it through my body with greater precision than before. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant—like trying to direct the flow of a stream with just my thoughts.

  I had been given an impossible second chance. Knowledge of events to come and time to prepare for them. I wouldn't waste it.

  In the original story, Zorian had become formidable within the time loop, learning from countless restarts. I had only one life, but with a twenty-year head start.

  "Twenty years to master magic," I whispered to myself as I felt the mana respond more readily to my commands. "Twenty years to change fate."

  Outside my window, the moons of this strange new world—Ximax and Koth—cast their silvery light across Korwin. Tomorrow, I would begin in earnest. I would learn everything this world had to teach about magic, and when the time came, I would be ready.

  The pieces were already moving on the board. And this time, I intended to be a player, not a pawn.