The sun was warm that morning.
Eiden stood alone in the backyard, holding a wooden stick like a sword.
His small hands shook, but his eyes were calm.
He moved slowly. Step, swing, pause. Again.
To others, it looked like a child playing.
But inside, Eiden was building a path.
A path of silent strength.
---
His mother called out, "Eiden, breakfast!"
"Yes, Mother."
He smiled softly and walked inside.
Porridge, fruit, and eggs sat on the table. His parents were already eating.
"You're always up early," his father said, patting his head.
"I like the morning," Eiden replied.
He liked the silence. The peace.
In his past life, mornings were filled with war, fire, and screams.
Now… they were filled with love.
---
Later that day, his mother walked him to town.
They passed a hunter's guild building. People in armor talked and laughed, carrying glowing weapons.
Eiden watched with quiet eyes.
"So this world has hunters," he whispered.
His mother noticed. "They protect us from monsters, Eiden. Brave people, aren't they?"
"Yes," he said. "Very brave."
But he saw the truth.
Their gear was flashy. Their steps were lazy.
They had power—but not understanding.
"They don't sense the mana shift in the air," Eiden muttered under his breath.
---
At home, he sat in his room again.
Meditation time.
He crossed his legs and closed his eyes.
Deep breath in.
Slow breath out.
He reached for the threads of mana around him.
Soft, like dust in the wind.
He pulled gently.
The mana touched his skin… then vanished.
Still too weak.
Still too soon.
But he didn't stop.
He smiled.
---
That evening, his father handed him a book.
"Eiden, since you're curious about magic, this is for you."
It was a children's book on basic spells.
Fireball. Heal. Wind push.
Eiden flipped through it, face calm.
Inside, he was screaming.
"These are so wrong! The runes are bent. The flow is blocked. Who teaches this?"
He nearly laughed.
"They use spells like toys," he muttered.
Still, he thanked his father and kept the book.
He would learn their system.
Then break it.
---
By now, he was almost five.
His sword practice had improved. His body moved smoother.
His mana sense was sharper.
And then—one night—it happened.
He sat outside again.
A thread of mana floated near his hand.
This time, it didn't disappear.
It stayed.
Tiny. Bright. Alive.
His eyes widened.
"A spark," he whispered.
It danced on his palm for a second.
Then it was gone.
But it was enough.
A real connection.
The first step back to greatness.
---
Eiden stood, looking at the moon.
His voice was soft, proud.
"I was once Arkanos, the Mad Archmage."
"But now… I am Eiden Valtz."
"This time, I won't burn out early."
"This time, I will rise slowly."
He clenched his small fist.
"And when I shine again… no one will see it coming."