Chapter 3: A New Life.
Warm light filled the small room. It flickered gently, weaving through the gaps in the wooden walls, brushing across a pale face glistening with sweat.
A young woman lay on a simple bed, her breathing shallow yet steady. Her long silver-white hair was untied, scattered all over her shoulders. Her delicate fingers gripped the bedsheet tightly, the faint scent of blood mixing with the aroma of herbal oils that burned nearby.
Beside her stood a maid with soft, light brown hair tied neatly into a bun. Her hands trembled slightly, but her eyes carried calm devotion as she cradled a newborn child wrapped in white cloth.
The cry of an infant pierced the silence — Wah wah wah.
"Congratulations, madam," the maid whispered softly, her voice trembling with joy. "It's a healthy boy."
The woman on the bed slowly lifted her head. Her pale lips curled into a trembling smile as tears welled in her eyes. She extended her arms, her voice hoarse but warm.
"Give him to me…" she murmured, her words barely audible.
The maid gently placed the newborn in her embrace. The woman — Sara Scytes — looked at the tiny baby in her arms.
The child's skin was pale white, his small hands clenched as if grabbing something. He had small black hair on his head, and when he blinked open his eyes, they revealed deep and dark black eyes that seemed as though they could absorb all the beauty into them.
Sara's tears began to fall — slowly at first, then freely. Droplets rolled down her cheeks and landed on the baby's face.
"This is my child…" she whispered, her voice shaking between laughter and sobs. "My son."
At that moment, the door creaked open.
A tall man entered — black-haired, sharp-eyed, and built with the lean strength of a laborer. His hands were bruised and rough, the marks of daily toil, yet his expression carried a warmth that softened every scar.
He was Jonathan Scytes, he was a man at the age of 25, he had a good-looking face and a strong build.
"Sara," he called softly, closing the door behind him. "Is it a boy or a girl?"
Sara looked up, smiling through tears. "It's a boy."
For a moment, the man stood still — as if time was frozen itself. Then he moved forward, his steps quick but careful. Kneeling beside the bed, he reached out his trembling hands.
"A boy…" he repeated, his tone caught between joy and pride. Carefully, he lifted the small bundle from Sara's arms and gazed at the tiny, fragile face.
"You are my son," he murmured, his eyes glistening. "You will be a healthy and strong child. You'll make your parents proud."
He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss upon the child's forehead.
Aiden — though he could not understand anything — he felt warmth radiate through his small body that he had forgotten for years. For a brief, fleeting moment, his soul, which had once drifted between worlds, seemed to recognize this touch. It was different from the cruelty and despair he once knew. This touch carried something unfamiliar that he had not experienced for a long period of time— love.
In that instant, Aiden thought that he was dreaming.
But as days passed, he did not wake up.
Days turned to weeks, and weeks into months. Slowly, Aiden realized this was reality — not a fleeting dream, but a new life.
At first, he had been distant. The years of loneliness from his previous life still lingered like shadows in the corners of his mind. He rarely cried, laughed, and gazed at the world with quiet, observing eyes.
Yet his parents never faltered.
His mother, Sara, would hum softly as she held him near the window, her songs light as a beautiful morning. His father, Jonathan, would return from the forest each evening, his clothes stained with dirt and blood, yet his smile always genuine when he lifted Aiden into his arms.
Gradually, Aiden had gotten unfamiliar warmth, and it began to seep into Aiden's heart. He learned to smile again — small at first, shy and uncertain, but real.
By the time he turned four, Aiden could already speak fluently in the language of this world — the Common Tongue of Eldoria. His sharp memory and keen mind surprised his parents and even the villagers. He learned by observing, listening, and feeling.
As time passed, Aiden had learned about powers because he had seen his mother and father use different types of powers to do bizarre things.
To Aiden, it was mesmerizing. Sometimes, he would sit by the window at night, watching faint silver motes drift in the moonlight.
He would see his mother place her glowing hands on Jonathan's wounded arm and watch the skin knit together in moments. He would see his father ignite sparks from his fingertips to light the fire, or summon small streams of water from the air when the bucket ran dry.
It was strange. It was wondrous.
It was real.
The more he saw, the more astonished he felt, and have desire to use these powers began to grow within him — the desire to understand this power, to hold it in his own hands.
As years passed, that curiosity became resolved as he wanted to learn and use this power.
When Aiden turned six, his parents' house had grown quieter. His mother spent more time tending herbs, while his father often ventured deeper into the forests for hunting. And his maid would be doing house chores, so Aiden began to explore the house on his own.
One evening, curiosity led him to a locked door at the far end of the hall — a small wooden door marked with intricate carvings. He had seen his father enter it countless times but never dared to ask. It was his father's library, which he wasn't allowed to enter
That day, the door was left slightly open. Aiden, curious about the library,y planned to explore it.
Aiden pushed it open and stepped inside.
Rows of shelves lined the room. Old tomes and leather-bound scrolls rested upon them, the scent of dust and age filling the air. As he entered the library, he began exploring it. He knew that this library held the secret to using magic, as he searched through the big library with hundreds of books. He read every book, and as days passed, he found a book, and its title was :
"The Foundations of Mana and the Birth of the Mana Heart."
Drawn by instinct, Aiden reached out and opened it.
He read for hours. Then days as he read, he got more immersed in it and had grown more curious.
He learned of breathing techniques — ways to absorb the world's energy into one's body and guide it toward the heart, forming what the book called a Mana Heart.
The method was clear:
Five short breaths. Three long breaths. Five normal breaths.
Repeat the rhythm. Guide the flow inward. Circulate it through every vein and vessel. When the heart begins to pulse with mana, the seed of the Mana Heart will form — a bright, light-green Heart symbolizing purity and balance.
Aiden's eyes glimmered as he read. His heart pounded with excitement.
So this is how it's done... he thought.
One day, as soon as Aiden had finished reading the whole book. The sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts. The door swung open.
Jonathan Scytes stood at the entrance, his expression unreadable. Behind him, Sara peeked in with concern.
For a long moment, silence filled the room. Then Jonathan spoke, his voice calm but firm.
"Aiden," he said, "what are you doing here… and with that book?"
The boy froze. He could sense the weight in his father's tone.
After a pause, Aiden lowered his head thought ... have I done something I should not have done ... after a moment of thought, he spoke truthfully. "Father, I wanted to know how you and Mother use your powers. No one else in the village can. I thought… maybe the secret was here. I didn't mean to disobey you."
Jonathan's gaze softened slightly, though his voice remained steady. "And what did you learn?"
"I learned about the Mana Heart," Aiden replied earnestly. "About how one can breathe mana into their body and form it in the heart. I was going to try it soon."
Sara gasped quietly. Jonathan's brows furrowed.
"Aiden," he said after a moment of silence, "you shouldn't have read that book without my permission. But… I suppose the fault lies with us, for showing you our powers so freely."
He sighed deeply, sitting beside his son. "Listen to me carefully, Aiden. You cannot form a Mana Heart yet. No one can before the age of twelve. Even the most gifted cultivator in history did it at twelve. Some at thirteen, the talented at fourteen, and the average around seventeen. Anyone who tried before that age... died."
Aiden looked up, eyes wide. "But Father, I—"
"No buts," Jonathan said sharply. "It's too dangerous. Mana can destroy you from within. You must not try to attempt it."
The firmness in his tone left no room for argument. He took the book gently from Aiden's hands and locked it in a small chamber. Then, his expression softened again as he saw his son's disappointed expression. He placed a hand on his son's head and said warmly.
"I know you're eager," he said. "And I'm proud of that. When the time comes — when you turn twelve — I will teach you myself. Until then, live your life, learn, and enjoy being a child. You have time."
After saying that stood up and said to Aiden and Sara, " I am going to the forest for hunting." As he said that, he walked towards the entrance and left.
As he left, Sara walked over, her gentle hands pulling Aiden into a warm embrace as she said. "Your father is only worried for your safety, ok, my love. Now come — I've made your favorite meat pies."
As they walked, the scent of baked meat and herbs filled the small house that evening.
As Aiden sat at the table, his small hands clutching the fork, he looked up at his smiling mother. For the first time in both his lives, he felt truly safe.
"Mom," he said suddenly, his eyes gleaming, "next month is my birthday. Can you make beef stew, meat pies, and a cake?"
Sara chuckled softly. "Of course, sweetheart. I'll make them all, and this time, even better."
The boy grinned, his dark eyes shining with excitement.
After a few hour, his father returned with a boar on his shoulders. He put it to the side and got a knife from the kitchen and began skinning as he was skinning it masterfully. Aiden sat beside him and learned from observing his father.
After that, they had dinner. Aiden stood up and said to his parents, " Good Night, I am going to sleep ".
As his parents heard this, they replied with a smile in unison, " Good night, have good dreams".
That night, when his parents had gone to bed, Aiden lay awake staring at the ceiling. His father's warning echoed in his mind — but he had not given up on creating a mana heart as his thought drifted, he said to himself.
"I'll be careful. If it hurts, I'll stop. It should be safe… right?"
He sat cross-legged on the bed and began the breathing pattern:
Five short breaths. Three long breaths. Five normal breaths.
At first, nothing happened as he found it difficult to maintain the same breathing pattern for a long time, so he repeated it several times as he got used to it and an hour had passed as he had mastered the breathing technique. Then started to use the complete breathing technique. After a few moments, he felt a faint tingle across his skin, like small insects were moving on his skin. Slowly, the sensation increased, growing sharper, and after a few moments, he felt like all the insects on his body had started drilling into his skin through his pores. As this continued, he felt pain all over his body as he endured, as he had read from the book that when the mana enters through the pores, it will cause this pain. As time passed, the subsided, and he felt crawling beneath his flesh like invisible threads weaving through him.
Minutes stretched into hours. The tingling became warmth, then exhaustion. His limbs trembled, sweat soaked his nightshirt, and finally — a faint pulse. As he continued, the mana started flowing through his veins, vessels, and arteries like waving a path in his body, but after a few minutes, his body felt extremely exhausted as though he had been working for a whole day. He knew he had reached his limits and had just made a small path of mana through his body and created only a few mana veins. He knew it would take at least a month or two to create a mana heart.
And he had learned one more thing that the process of storing mana had gone exactly as described in the book and had no latent danger.
Aiden smiled weakly to himself.
"There's no problem… I can do it. I can make a mana heart in a month or two. I'll be the first at the age of seven to create a mana heart and be the youngest mana cultivator in history ."
With that thought, his body relaxed. He drifted into sleep, the first whisper of mana curling quietly within him like a newborn flame.