One blow from the sword and my head is off. Now I can feel the cold ground and grass. I'm starting to forget. Is this my future?

  Hiro opened his eyes.

  Where was he?

  A sharp pain throbbed in his head as he reached up, only to find his palm sticky and wet. Blood. His fingers trembled as he brought them before his eyes. But something else caught his attention—his hand was small. Incredibly small. Like a child’s.

  He scrambled to his feet and looked down. Torn, tattered shorts hung loosely from his thin waist. His shirt was ripped. The body underneath was frail and underfed. The floor beneath him was hard brick, thinly covered with straw. Around him were walls of cold, gray stone. Only one side was different—iron bars sealed off the front of the room, forming a small cell.

  Thick pipes ran down from the ceiling, disappearing into the floor. Beyond the bars stretched a dim corridor lined with torches. The only sound was the crackle of flames dancing in the sconces.

  He took a deep breath and sat back against the wall. This… wasn’t a dream. Looking down at his hair, he noticed strands of black fading into purple at the tips—something he vaguely remembered seeing in the title illustration of some story. His nails were black too. He rubbed them, trying to scrape off the color.

  It didn’t come off.

  Strange.

  No memories came, no names or family. Only the bare bones of grammar, language, and the kind of casual intellect you'd expect from a twenty-year-old.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  So. He’d reincarnated. That much was certain.

  But why was he in a cell?

  The thought lingered as he drifted off, still sitting, still confused.

  ---

  He awoke to a sharp clang. Food had been thrown near the bars. Two pieces of hard, dry bread lay just within reach. Outside, two men walked by, each holding whips. They didn’t even look his way.

  Slavery. Not prison, then.

  Hiro smirked bitterly and picked up the bread. He ate one piece, saving the other.

  ---

  A month passed.

  No one ordered him around. No one beat him. They simply fed him and left him in silence. The stone walls remained as cold as ever, and the foreign language of the guards remained unintelligible.

  Until something changed.

  He began to notice particles in the air. Faint, glowing motes that shimmered in and out of view. Curious, he watched the guards during their patrol. One stopped at a cell and extended his hand. A ball of water shot from his palm into the bars.

  Magic.

  Magic was real here.

  And those particles... Mana. That had to be it.

  Excitement buzzed through Hiro. Magic was something he loved in his old world—at least, from the stories he could recall. But now it was real, and he could feel it.

  He focused inward. Something was there. A pulse. A flicker of energy.

  Hesitantly, he reached out, trying to pull the Mana around him into himself. A strange warmth filled his chest. It worked. He could absorb it. It made him feel alive.

  He stretched out his hand and focused again. He didn’t know any spells, not a single word of magic. So instead, he pictured it. Fire. Heat. Flame.

  A fireball formed in his palm.

  He stared in wonder as it flickered and danced. Then, when he stopped feeding it energy, it vanished. The Mana in the cell slowly returned.

  He repeated the process over the next few days. Each time, he could pull from farther and farther away. Soon, he was drawing from the corridor beyond his cell.

  Then something unexpected happened.

  The guards passed by again during one of his sessions. This time, they entered his range. After a few steps, one of them stumbled and leaned against the wall.

  "You alright?" asked the other.

  "Yeah... just tired, I guess," the man replied, catching his breath.

  They moved on.

  Hiro blinked.

  He understood them.

  He could understand their words, even though just days ago they were meaningless sounds.

  His heart raced.

  Was it because he absorbed Mana from them? Could it copy not just energy—but language, even knowledge?

  Now that… opened a world of possibilities.