Chương 13: The Wrong World for a Mage

Sieghart learned how to read in six months. It would have taken less time if he possessed an adult's hands, an adult's attention span, and teachers who didn't insist on treating him like an ordinary three-year-old. Elara began by teaching him two letters a day, followed by simple sounds and short words. Sieghart pretended to struggle at first. He already understood how written language worked. He only needed to connect unfamiliar symbols to words he knew how to speak.

Once he understood the local alphabet and its basic rules, everything else became memorization. Pretending became unnecessary after the first month. His grandparents already knew he wasn't a normal child. Learning too quickly would concern them, but taking years to master basic letters would drive Sieghart insane. He increased his pace gradually. First, he recognized common objects. Then he read short sentences. After three months, he could work through simple children's stories without Elara's assistance.

The vocabulary was limited, and several words used older forms of the language, but Sieghart understood enough to determine their meaning through context. By the end of the sixth month, he could read almost anything placed in front of him. Complicated subjects still slowed him down. Historical texts used unfamiliar titles and references, while books about magic contained specialized terminology he had never heard spoken. That was a problem of knowledge rather than literacy. Writing took another six months.

That process was far more irritating. Sieghart knew how letters were supposed to look. His hands simply refused to reproduce them properly. His fingers were small, his grip was weak, and controlling a quill demanded more precision than he currently possessed. His first attempts looked like an insect had drowned in ink and crawled across the page. Sieghart stared at the uneven marks.

"Masterpiece." The system didn't award him a profession as an artist. Probably for the best. He practiced every day. Elara provided cheap sheets of rough paper for his exercises, though she taught him to reuse the empty spaces because writing materials weren't free. Sieghart covered each page with letters until almost none of the surface remained visible. His handwriting gradually improved. The letters stopped leaning in random directions. Words began occupying the same line.

Ink stains appeared less frequently on his fingers, face, clothes, and everything else within reach. Six months after beginning, Sieghart could write clearly enough for other people to understand. His script remained larger than he wanted, and writing for long periods made his fingers ache. Still, he could record his thoughts, copy sections from books, and organize the results of his magical experiments. He wasn't such a failure that he couldn't relearn how to write.

When he finished his first full page without making a serious mistake, Sieghart leaned back and sighed with relief. He had learned to read and write in less than a year. That was acceptable. Technically, the entire process had been relearning rather than starting from nothing. The language and alphabet were different, but the underlying skills remained familiar. If it had taken him five years, he might have needed to accept that being crushed by books had caused lasting damage.

His fourth birthday passed during that year. By then, his room looked considerably different. The toys remained, but most had been pushed toward one corner. A small desk stood near the window, accompanied by a chair Edric had shortened so that Sieghart's feet could reach the floor. Books occupied the shelves. There were twelve in total. His grandparents had purchased him one every month after their first visit to town.

Elara and Edric seemed strangely determined to encourage his studies, even if that meant spending part of the farm's extra income on books. Perhaps they preferred seeing him read rather than use magic. That would be understandable. A three-year-old experimenting with Fireball was a threat to himself, the farm, and the local insurance industry, assuming this world had discovered insurance. A four-year-old reading quietly in his room was much easier to manage. Still, Sieghart suspected another reason.

His father was a swordsman. Not merely someone who carried a sword, but a powerful Aura Knight from a family of warriors. He probably considered close combat the proper path for anyone bearing the Emberhart name. Having a son who preferred magic might be embarrassing. Sieghart imagined his father discovering the truth. Magic is for cowards. Fight like a man. Stand close enough to smell your enemy's breath and try to split him from head to groin. Very dignified.

Much better than defeating an enemy from a safe distance without allowing them to strike back. Sieghart understood why warriors were respected. Aura allowed them to strengthen their bodies without the slow preparation required by spells. In a direct fight, a competent swordsman could probably kill an ordinary mage before the mage finished deciding which emotion to use. That didn't mean Sieghart intended to join them. If his enemy wanted a fair fight, they should search for someone more accommodating.

His grandparents never said that his studies had anything to do with his father. Sieghart's theory might have been completely wrong. Perhaps they simply wanted him to have options that didn't depend on physical strength. Either way, he appreciated the books. They gave him his first reliable source of information about the world. His requests troubled his grandparents slightly. Whenever Elara offered to purchase a new book, Sieghart chose the thickest useful volume he could find.

He ignored short children's stories and asked for books that resembled encyclopedias. The first was a general history of the kingdom. The second described common plants and animals. The third covered geography. Then came introductory volumes about mana, aura, magical tools, trades, monsters, and the military history of the region. Each book was large enough to injure someone if thrown properly. Sieghart considered that an additional benefit.

He had no intention of dying beneath bookshelves again, but using a book as a weapon might help settle the relationship. Elara occasionally tried to purchase lighter reading material. Sieghart accepted those books too. Reading about legendary knights, clever farmers, traveling merchants, and talking animals helped him understand the culture of this world. Still, factual texts remained his priority. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

He had spent years experimenting without proper instructions. Every answer he discovered produced three new questions, and his grandparents' knowledge focused primarily on agricultural applications. The books finally filled some of the gaps. Aura was far more common than Sieghart expected. Almost everyone possessed the potential to awaken one. The books described aura as the expression of a person's body, talents, habits, and place in the world.

It developed gradually during childhood and usually became identifiable between the ages of five and seven. Powerful families used specialized examinations to detect it earlier. That explained Master Oswin's visit after Sieghart's birth. House Emberhart hadn't waited for his aura to develop naturally. They tested him immediately, hoping to find signs that he had inherited a powerful combat aura. He hadn't. At least, not according to their methods. Sieghart originally assumed aura belonged exclusively to warriors.

The books proved him wrong. Combat auras were only one category. A farmer might possess Aura of Fertile Hands, which improved soil and encouraged healthy crop growth. A smith could awaken Aura of the Forge, granting resistance to heat and a better understanding of metal. Some merchants possessed auras that sharpened their judgment of value. Healers could sense illness. Hunters might conceal their presence or follow tracks more easily. Even servants had useful auras. A skilled cook could preserve food longer.

A maid's aura might make cleaning faster or help maintain valuable fabrics. A driver could calm animals and travel for longer periods without exhaustion. Most auras weren't designed for fighting. They were designed for living. Sieghart placed the book on his desk and opened his status screen.

Name: Sieghart Race: Human Age: 4 Level: 1 Health: 50/50 Mana: ∞/∞ Stamina: 50/50 Strength: 5 Endurance: 5 Vitality: 5 Dexterity: 5 Magic: 11 Mentality: 17 Resistance: 5 Perception: 1 Class: None Skills: Black Magic — Level 1 White Magic — Level 1"Aura" didn't appear anywhere. The closest equivalent was the empty Class section. Perhaps the system used a different word for the same concept. If aura represented a person's talents, habits, and role, then it functioned much like a class.

A farmer's aura improved farming. A smith's aura improved smithing. A combat aura granted abilities useful in battle. Sieghart might receive a class when his aura normally awakened. The books also explained how auras advanced. Constant use refined them. A farmer strengthened their aura through planting, harvesting, and managing the land. A smith improved by shaping metal and producing better equipment. A swordsman advanced through training, sparring, and genuine combat.

The process sounded suspiciously similar to leveling. An aura became stronger as its owner performed relevant actions and overcame greater challenges. Repeating easy tasks eventually produced diminishing results, while difficult accomplishments accelerated growth. Sieghart's system made the invisible process visible. His spells improved when he extended their limits or deepened his understanding. Fireball gained levels when he increased its range. The Fire Magic Path advanced when he created a completely new spell.

The foundational Black Magic and White Magic trees remained at Level 1. Now he had a possible explanation. Spells represented techniques. Black Magic and White Magic represented something closer to aura, or perhaps a magical class. To advance them, Sieghart might need to place the entire discipline under meaningful pressure. Black Magic converted emotions into external magical effects. Combat would force him to control those emotions while responding to danger. White Magic reinforced, preserved, and supported.

Protecting himself against genuine attacks would test it far more effectively than punching a boulder. The books confirmed that sparring could refine combat auras. Real killing wasn't always necessary, it was very effective, though. Sieghart could fight another person without trying to murder them. Unfortunately, no sensible adult would spar seriously with a four-year-old.

If he asked Edric to attack him so that Protection could gain experience, his grandfather would probably assume something had gone wrong with his head. That left monsters. Or criminals. Sieghart preferred monsters. They required fewer explanations. Even weak creatures would provide practical experience he couldn't obtain from targets. They moved, resisted, and attempted to survive. Sieghart would need to aim, manage distance, defend himself, and cast while under pressure.

His suspicion from years earlier had been correct. If he wanted Black Magic and White Magic to level, he needed to fight. The discovery should have been exciting. Instead, the next section of the book made Sieghart pause. There was no such thing as Mage Aura. Archmage Aura didn't exist either. People occasionally possessed auras that benefited magical work. Aura of Fine Control improved precision. Aura of the Mana Scholar helped study magical phenomena. Aura of the Enchanter aided the creation of magical tools.

None turned the owner into a traditional mage. The strongest combat auras belonged to melee fighters. Sword auras were the most celebrated, followed by those connected to spears, axes, shields, bows, and unarmed combat. Powerful combat auras strengthened the body, enhanced weapons, and provided techniques that activated almost instantly. That was what Master Oswin had searched for at Sieghart's birth. He failed to detect a useful combat aura, so his parents assumed their firstborn son had no future as a warrior.

Mages existed, but society viewed them very differently from what Sieghart expected. Most worked as servants. They watered gardens, heated baths, cleaned buildings, maintained fires, carried messages with wind, or helped artisans. Wealthy families employed several mages for household tasks, while farms and workshops hired them when magical tools were too expensive. Few became adventurers or soldiers. The reason was casting speed.

According to the book, even trained mages usually required at least five seconds to prepare a decent and deadly spell. Complicated magic could take much longer. The caster needed to gather mana, form the correct intention, stabilize the element, and release the effect. Five seconds was an eternity in combat. A warrior could cross ten meters and cut down a mage before the first spell became ready. Even if the mage succeeded, their limited mana prevented them from casting repeatedly.

A combat mage might launch three or four strong attacks. Then they would become an exhausted person standing near several armed enemies. Magical tools were more reliable. Soldiers could activate an enchanted weapon or consume a blue stone without dedicating years to spellcasting. Those tools remained expensive, but armies considered them more practical than training mages. Sieghart leaned back in his chair. He finally understood why everyone admired physical strength.

This wasn't a world where mages stood at the top of towers and erased armies with a gesture. Magic was slow, mentally demanding, and limited by small mana reserves. It was a profession for servants and laborers. Aura ruled the battlefield. Sieghart looked at his status screen again. Mana: ∞/∞ He possessed a broken magical power in the wrong world. Infinite mana would have made him a legendary archmage somewhere else. Here, it made him the most efficient farm worker in the province. He could water fields forever.

Heat an unlimited number of baths. Light every candle in the kingdom. Truly, legends would be written about him. Sieghart rested his forehead against the book and sighed. Then he remembered Fireball. Ordinary mages needed at least five seconds to cast because they lacked practice, control, and mana. Sieghart had already reduced his preparation time considerably. He could cast without worrying about conserving power, and the system rewarded him for overcoming the limits of his spells.

Perhaps he hadn't received infinite mana in the wrong world. Perhaps the world had simply never encountered someone capable of turning magic into a real combat path. Sieghart lifted his head. If Aura Knights believed mages were useful only as servants, that was their problem. He would correct the misunderstanding. Probably from fifty meters away.