The night passed.
Morning came after the successful creation of his second core. The previous day, Myrn had collapsed from exhaustion without even realizing it. Yet the sensation was far from unpleasant. On the contrary. For the first time in a long while, he felt alive.
It was the fourth day of work, but there was nothing to do. With no tasks to occupy him, Myrn was forced to turn inward. He decided to learn more about this body—who he truly was, and how he had ended up here. The place where he had awakened seemed like the perfect spot for that. As for the old man, he now spent most of his time shut away in a small room, rarely coming out.
Myrn wondered briefly.
What could he possibly be doing in there?
He brushed the thought aside. It didn't matter… in fact, it was a good thing.
He headed back toward the place he had come from. After a few steps, he arrived. At a glance, Myrn noticed at least three boys around his age. He approached without haste. Suddenly, a familiar face almost lunged at him.
"You… you little piece of trash. Where the hell have you been?" spat the boy who had beaten him on the day he woke up.
The boy stepped forward immediately, clearly ready to strike. But before he could act, a voice rang out:
"Wait."
Myrn slowly turned his head toward the entrance of the tent. It was the same man as before. He stepped forward, his expression curious, as if examining an interesting beast.
"It looks like you found some food and decided not to share it with your family," he said with a sly smile. "That's cruel."
Only then did the others seem to understand the situation. Myrn observed them one by one, studying their faces, searching for fear, excitement, or anticipation.
"Show me where you found that food," the man continued, "and in exchange, you'll only lose one finger instead of three."
He moved even closer, clearly trying to intimidate him. Myrn didn't move. He stared at the man without the slightest emotion. The unexpected reaction made the man's smile falter, slowly turning into curiosity.
Inside, Myrn scoffed.
Pathetic.
The man's sly expression vanished instantly, replaced by raw anger.
"You little bas—"
"I'd like to ask you some questions," Myrn said calmly as he stepped forward to face him, "and you don't have the option to refuse."
A brief silence fell over the area. Then the man burst out laughing.
"Haha… I don't know what you ate, kid, but you're still going to tell me where you got that food—with one less hand."
He roughly grabbed Myrn's arm and turned to the others.
"Watch what happens to those who don't listen to me."
Whispers spread through the group of children.
"Why did he come back?"
"He's going to get killed…"
Hearing them, Myrn smiled. Then, in a single instant, he grabbed the man's arm and drove a brutal punch straight into his stomach.
The impact was violent. A heavy silence followed. The whispers stopped immediately. The man doubled over in pain, his breath stolen, unable to breathe properly.
Without giving him time to react, Myrn seized his arm again and smashed it against his knee.
"Aaaargh!"
"May I ask my questions now?"
The man no longer resisted. He was ready to talk.
Hmph… even mentally, he's weak. This isn't even entertaining, Myrn thought as he released his arm.
From his words, Myrn learned that he came from a second-rank noble family: the Avlords. The family had gone bankrupt. His father had died soon after, worn down by overwork. His mother had fled, abandoning him to escape the debts. Eventually, he too had run away… and that was how he had ended up here.
Myrn remained silent for a moment.
It seems this child lived an even more miserable life than I did as Marcus Groundhutt.
After hearing the entire story, he turned away, ready to leave. That was when the children cried out:
"Please, don't hurt us!"
Their voices unsettled him. He had no intention of doing so, but he understood their fear.
"Hah… I don't hit kids. Even if I am one myself… tch, whatever."
Without another word, Myrn left.
The old man was sitting there, motionless, as if he had been waiting for him for a long time.
"You can go. Your work here is finished," he said in a hollow voice, without even looking up.
Myrn remained silent for a few seconds, staying on guard.
"Why all of a sudden?" he finally asked, keeping his distance.
The old man slowly turned his head toward him.
"You wanted to know why I helped you. It's simple. Unlike the other children here, your eyes had a purpose. You were thinking about leaving this place. Few even dare to consider it. And more importantly… you had knowledge of mana."
Those words froze Myrn.
How could he have sensed his mana?
Was he a user as well?
"No need to make that face. Stop being so suspicious and come here. I'll tell you a story."
The old man lifted his gaze toward the sky. A sad smile stretched across his weathered face, carved by the years.
In his previous life, Myrn had never trusted anyone. Anything he did not understand was a potential threat. Yet this time, his body moved almost on its own. He stepped closer. It was neither curiosity nor compassion. His instincts simply told him to listen.
The old man had once been a count. He ruled a small territory in the north of the Empire and lived peacefully with his family. One day, his wife told him she was pregnant. The joy was immense. He already dreamed of an heir.
But when the child was born, it was a girl.
After the birth, he entered his wife's room. She was crying, apologizing, convinced she had disappointed him. He reassured her, telling her she had nothing to blame herself for.
The years passed. Their daughter grew quickly. By the age of two, she was already speaking. The count often played with her. They loved her sincerely. They lived happily… unaware of what awaited them.
Two years later, the family doctor delivered devastating news: his wife would never be able to have another child.
The shock was immense.
A year passed, and the count gradually became distant. The council suggested he take a second wife. He agreed, never imagining the consequences.
Four years after this second marriage, a son was born. The count was satisfied. His advisor recommended that he not appear weak. He distanced himself even further from his first family. Without his knowledge, his first wife began to suffer mistreatment.
As for his daughter, she desperately sought her father's attention. In vain.
Two more years passed. She earned admission to the best academy in the Empire. Her heart filled with hope, she went to tell her father. He rejected her.
Soon after, she fell gravely ill… and died.
His wife, shattered by grief, took her own life.
And to complete his downfall, the count lost his domain, the victim of a plot orchestrated by his second wife and several members of the council.
"And to punish myself… I took refuge here," the old man concluded.
Myrn remained silent for a moment.
"Why are you telling me all this?" he finally asked.
The old man sighed.
"Because I feel that my life is nearing its end. I don't know what your goal is, but I wish to accomplish one last thing before I disappear."
He entered his tent and returned with a chest. Inside was a considerable sum of money. He had intended to give it to the children here… but he changed his mind.
He handed it to Myrn.
Myrn did not understand his own emotions, nor the reason for this gesture. But he did not have the luxury of refusing.
Six hundred and fifty gold coins.
"Go to the academy," the old man added, a sad smile on his face.
Myrn turned and began to leave. After a few steps, he stopped without looking back.
"I hope your family forgave you."
Behind him, the old man burst into tears.
Myrn left without turning around.
He had never been good at understanding emotions.
He set off toward the imperial capital. The journey would be long, but with the money he carried, he should be able to make it without difficulty.
The Imperial Academy GHASTT…
He had heard of it in his previous life. Back then, he had neither the talent nor the means to enter it.
But this life would be different.
To complete his rise, he needed to graduate from a prestigious academy and join the Twelve Magriache of the Empire. In Marve, the imperial language, mag meant shield, and riache meant sword—the shields and swords of the Empire.
According to the map the old man had given him, he would have to pass through two cities: Tarze and Kurt. He was currently in a small beggar settlement hidden behind the mountains of Tarze. To reach the city, he would have to cross them.
This would clearly not be an easy task.
Myrn left the settlement and stepped onto the road leading into the mountains. And thus began his journey toward the capital, where great trials awaited him.