Chapter 2: The Arrival of Zia

  The morning sun cast long shadows across the Bloodson estate, its golden light filtering through the meticulously maintained training grounds. I stood perfectly still, my posture a reflection of the countless hours of sword training with my father, Grim—a discipline that had become as natural to me as breathing.

  Eight years old, and about to meet my first magical mentor, I reflected, my mind a turbulent mix of excitement and calculated anticipation.

  My father's words from earlier that morning still echoed in my consciousness. "A rank mage adventurer will be arriving to be your tutor for the next three years," he had declared, his tone a mixture of pride and expectation. Even after years of observing his soul—a deep crimson beacon of martial intensity—I knew that every action, every decision was carefully orchestrated to shape me into something extraordinary.

  The magical world, I had learned, was far more complex than my previous life could have ever imagined. seven magical affinities existed—four primary elements and three advanced, rare manifestations. Fire, water, earth, air. Light, shadow, void. Each a universe unto itself, waiting to be understood, mastered.

  When Zia arrived, the very atmosphere seemed to shift.

  Her soul was a mesmerizing dark blue—a color I had never quite seen before. Complex. Happy, yet undeniably lost. Like an ocean depth hiding countless untold stories. A half-elf, her features were a stunning blend of ethereal elven grace and something more earthly, more grounded.

  "You must be Zen," she said, her smile both warm and professionally measured.

  I bowed slightly, my movements precise. "Welcome, Miss Zia. I'm honored to be under your tutelage."

  The initial formalities were swift. My father's instructions were clear, his expectations implicit. Sword training in the mornings, magical instruction in the afternoons—a carefully structured path to excellence.

  As we walked to the training grounds, I could sense Zia's curiosity. Adventurers, I had learned, were rarely just simple practitioners of magic. They were scholars, warriors, explorers of the unknown.

  "First," she explained, "I'll test your magical affinities. Place your hand on my head."

  A simple request. But nothing in my new life was ever truly simple.

  The moment of contact was... extraordinary. I watched—both physically and through my soul perception—as Zia's expression transformed from professional curiosity to absolute shock.

  "W-what is this? You have ALL seven affinities?!"

  Her reaction was visceral, genuine. The rarity of such a magical condition was apparently so extreme that it momentarily shattered her professional composure.

  "Is that bad?" I asked, genuinely concerned. My previous life had taught me that being different was often a curse, not a blessing.

  "Not at all," Zia recovered quickly, her professional demeanor reasserting itself. "Merely... incredibly rare."

  The practical demonstration of my magical potential began immediately. Earth magic first—a fundamental element, connected to stability, strength, transformation.

  "Manifest your mana," Zia instructed. "Visualize the element. Feel it becoming an extension of your will."

  Rock bullets materialized in my palm. Not just formed, but crafted. Each stone a perfect, aerodynamic projectile humming with controlled magical energy.

  The target—a standard wooden practice marker—never stood a chance.

  My magical launch destroyed not just the target, but the surrounding wall. A demonstration of power that was equal parts impressive and slightly terrifying.

  Zia's dark blue soul flickered with a mixture of excitement, shock, and something else. Anticipation, perhaps. Or the beginning of a profound realization that her student was far from ordinary.

  This is my chance, I thought. To be everything I wasn't in my previous life. Powerful. Purposeful. Extraordinary.

  The first lesson had only just begun.

  The days melted together like wax under a flame, each one bringing new insights into the arcane arts. Under Zia's guidance, my understanding of magical theory expanded exponentially. The basics of mana control became second nature—the channeling of energy, the careful balance between power and precision, the delicate dance between will and manifestation.

  Morning sword training with Father left my muscles aching, but the afternoon sessions with Zia nourished my mind and spirit in ways I couldn't have imagined. Each lesson peeled back another layer of this world's mysteries, revealing complexities that even my previous life's scientific understanding couldn't have prepared me for.

  On this particular afternoon, the sky was painted in watercolor blues, wisps of clouds traveling lazily across the horizon. Birds sang their melodic tunes from the surrounding forest as Zia and I sat cross-legged in the training clearing, the scent of wild jasmine carried on the gentle breeze.

  "Miss Zia?" I ventured, my eight-year-old voice carefully modulated to sound appropriately curious without revealing the depth of intelligence behind it. "What is this world like? I haven't really seen past the forest near my house."

  My question caused a ripple in her dark blue soul—a momentary brightening, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Teaching was clearly her passion, and my curiosity seemed to ignite something profound within her.

  "Well," she began, her melodic half-elven voice carrying a hint of wistfulness, "the world is quite big. There's the main continent which is split into four provinces: the Barren West, the Tropical East, the Rocky North, and the Marshlands of the South."

  I leaned forward slightly, genuinely fascinated. Geography in this world was entirely new to me, a blank map waiting to be filled with knowledge.

  "So, what are the other provinces like?" I pressed, eager to absorb every detail she would share.

  Zia's expression shifted, her soul darkening slightly around the edges. "There is something you should know, Zen," she said, her tone becoming serious. "All of these places are quite dangerous if you're in the wrong parts."

  She leaned closer, her silver-flecked eyes meeting mine. "For example, in the west, you could die from the heat if you're stranded in the desert, or get robbed and killed by outlaws."

  Her hands moved expressively as she continued. "And in the south, if you go too deep into the marshlands, such animals like the Tyrannosaurus rex, Spinosaurus, and other magical monsters could eat you whole without a second thought."

  The information struck me like a physical blow. "I'M SORRY, DID YOU JUST SAY TYRANNOSAURUS REX LIKE THE T-REX?!?!" The words burst from me before I could contain them, my carefully constructed facade momentarily cracking.

  Zia tilted her head, confusion flickering across her features and through her soul. "Yes, why do you ask?"

  I backpedaled quickly, composing myself. "Nothing, it just comes as a shock they're in this wor—" I caught myself just in time. "Uh, nevermind."

  Dinosaurs? my mind raced. Actual living dinosaurs? The implications were staggering. What other creatures from Earth's prehistoric past might exist here?

  If Zia noticed my near slip, she didn't comment on it. Instead, her soul brightened with anticipation. "Anyway, today we're going to be learning something more advanced," she announced, seamlessly changing the subject. "It's called element combination."

  "Element combination?" I echoed, genuinely intrigued by this new concept.

  "Yes," she confirmed with a smile that reached her eyes. "It's when you combine affinities of magic. For example, if you combine Fire and Water, you get Steam magic, and so forth."

  Zia rose to her feet in one fluid motion, her half-elven grace evident in every movement. "Now watch closely," she instructed. "First, activate the affinity you wish to combine in one hand, then in the other use the other affinity. Now channel both of their mana into each other and then—boom!"

  As she demonstrated, a small fire ignited in her right palm while water swirled in her left. When she brought her hands together, a cloud of steam formed between them, dancing and swirling like a living entity.

  "That's SOOO cool!" I exclaimed, my childish enthusiasm genuine despite my mental maturity. "Let me try!"

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  I focused my concentration, activating fire in my right hand—feeling the warmth, the crackling energy, the potential for both creation and destruction. In my left, I summoned water—cool, flowing, adaptive. Then, with careful precision, I channeled the opposing energies together.

  But I didn't stop there.

  Drawing on knowledge from my previous life—principles of thermodynamics, pressure systems, molecular behavior—I concentrated the steam into a dense, compact sphere, compressing it further and further until it was barely the size of a marble.

  Zia's soul flared with alarm and excitement simultaneously. "W-woah, what are you doing?!" she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of concern and fascination.

  "If I'm not mistaken," I explained, maintaining perfect concentration on the compressed steam ball, "when steam is concentrated into a condensed form, when it releases, it produces a tremendous amount of energy, since steam expands rapidly when unconstrained."

  The explanation was deliberately simplified—I couldn't reveal my full understanding of pressure vessels and explosive decompression without raising suspicions about my knowledge base.

  Zia's dark blue soul pulsed with amazement. "A-Amazing!!! I never knew you could do anything like that!"

  I offered a modest shrug, downplaying my innovation. "Y-yeah, I study a lot about pressure and stuff," I mumbled, my eyes fixed on my creation.

  With a careful flick of my wrist, I launched the condensed steam ball toward a lone tree at the edge of the clearing. The moment the magical containment released, the results were spectacular and terrifying.

  The compressed steam exploded outward with devastating force. The target tree didn't merely break—it disintegrated, splinters and bark flying in all directions. The shockwave continued outward, toppling three neighboring trees as if they were nothing more than paper cutouts.

  The silence that followed was profound.

  Perhaps I overdid it a bit, I thought, surveying the destruction with a mixture of pride and concern.

  Zia stood motionless, her jaw slightly slack, her dark blue soul flickering with complex emotions—wonder, fear, excitement, and something deeper. Recognition, perhaps, that her student was something far beyond ordinary.

  "Zen," she whispered finally, her voice barely audible over the settling debris. "What you just did... that's not basic elemental combination. That's... that's something entirely different."

  I smiled innocently up at her, the perfect picture of childish accomplishment, while my mind calculated the implications of my display. This new life, this second chance—it was offering possibilities I could never have imagined in my previous existence.

  I won't waste it, I promised myself silently. Not this time. Not ever again.

  The rhythm of daily training became the heartbeat of my new existence. Each dawn brought the metallic symphony of swordplay with Father—the clash of steel against steel, the precise footwork across dew-moistened grass, the controlled breathing techniques that made even the most complex forms appear effortless. My muscles developed memory for movements that would have been impossible in my previous life as Hajime, my reflexes sharpening with every session.

  Afternoons with Zia were journeys into the arcane—colorful, explosive, and intellectually stimulating. Her teaching style balanced theory with practical application, something I found immensely satisfying. While my father's training focused on discipline and precision, Zia encouraged creativity and experimentation, allowing my understanding of magic to evolve in unexpected ways.

  "The key to elemental combination," she explained during one particularly enlightening session, "isn't just forcing two elements together. It's understanding the fundamental nature of each element and finding the harmonious point where they can coexist."

  These lessons expanded far beyond simple spellcasting. Between practical demonstrations, Zia painted vivid verbal portraits of the world beyond our forest. The technological and magical landscape she described was fascinating—a blend of medieval fantasy and something more advanced, yet distinctly different from Earth's development.

  "Not everyone relies on swords or magic," she explained one afternoon, her dark blue soul rippling with nostalgic energy as she recalled her adventures. "The western provinces have whole settlements of gunslingers—warriors who rely on mechanical weapons rather than magical abilities."

  My ears perked up at this. "Guns? Like firearms?" I asked, carefully moderating my tone to sound like a curious child rather than someone with prior knowledge.

  "Yes," Zia confirmed, her silver-flecked eyes twinkling with amusement at my evident interest. "Though they're quite primitive compared to what mages can do. Mostly revolvers, rifles, shotguns—weapons that require manual reloading between shots."

  Nineteenth century level technology, I noted mentally. Fascinating evolutionary parallel.

  "Are they effective against mages?" I inquired, genuinely curious about the power balance.

  Zia's laughter tinkled like wind chimes. "Rarely. Most gunslingers wouldn't stand a chance against even a moderately skilled mage. That's why they're mostly concentrated in the western provinces where magic users are scarcer." Her expression grew thoughtful. "Though there are exceptions—those who combine marksmanship with magical enhancement. Those individuals are truly formidable."

  The mental image of magically enhanced bullets—perhaps imbued with elemental properties—was intriguing. I filed away the concept for future exploration.

  Days flowed into weeks, and weeks into months. My capabilities grew exponentially under the dual tutelage of my father and Zia. My physical form, though still that of a child, moved with increasing precision and power. My magical repertoire expanded to include not just basic elemental manipulation but increasingly complex combinations and applications.

  It was during one of these training sessions, nearly six months into our arrangement, that Zia finally asked the question I had been anticipating since our first meeting.

  The afternoon was unusually warm, golden sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves above our training ground. Birds called to one another in melodic conversations while insects hummed their eternal songs in the underbrush. A gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and pine, nature's perfume enveloping us as we finished a particularly intense training session on air and earth combination magic.

  Zia sat cross-legged on the grass opposite me, her breathing steady despite the exertion of our practice. I could sense her soul's colors shifting—darkening in some areas, brightening in others—a telltale sign of someone preparing to broach a sensitive subject.

  "So, Zen," she began, her tone deliberately casual.

  I turned my face toward her, maintaining the illusion of normal interaction despite not needing visual cues to track her position. "Yes? What is it?"

  The pause that followed was pregnant with unspoken questions. I could almost feel her formulating and reformulating her words.

  "Why are your eyes always closed?" she finally asked. "And when you do open them, your pupils are white."

  The question hung in the air between us, both expected and somehow still surprising. I had prepared for this moment, of course, but the actual experience of being confronted about my most obvious peculiarity sent a ripple of anxiety through me.

  Truth or deception? I deliberated internally. Partial truth might be best.

  "O-oh, it's cause, uhh..." I stammered convincingly, playing the role of a child caught off guard. "Can you keep a secret between me and you?"

  Zia's soul brightened with interest and concern in equal measure. Her expression softened, professional distance momentarily giving way to genuine care. "Yes, of course. I'm your teacher, after all."

  I fidgeted with the hem of my training tunic, the perfect picture of a nervous child about to share something important. "You promise?"

  "I promise," she affirmed, her voice gentle but firm.

  Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes fully, revealing the milky white irises that had caused such concern. "I'm blind," I confessed, the words falling from my lips like stones into still water. "Yeah, physically blind."

  Before she could respond with pity or concern, I continued, "But that doesn't really stop me. I can see everything mentally, almost better than I could if I had actual eyesight."

  Zia's soul flared with shock—bright pulses of surprise rippling through the dark blue expanse. Her breath caught audibly in her throat.

  "I can see the color of someone's soul," I elaborated, warming to my explanation now. "Plus everything regular eyesight can see. I can also perceive a person's skills and magic affinities mentally."

  The stunned silence that followed was expected. I waited patiently, counting her accelerated heartbeats through my enhanced perception.

  "Wait, really?" she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "How is that possible?!"

  The genuine awe in her tone was satisfying. While I had shared only a fraction of my true capabilities, even this partial revelation was enough to shift the dynamic between us.

  "I don't know," I replied with practiced innocence. "I was born with it. You're the only person I've ever told about this, so please keep this a secret."

  It wasn't entirely a lie. I truly didn't know the full extent of how Zag's gift worked, only that it was far more than simple compensation for physical blindness. And Zia was indeed the first person in this world I had trusted with even this partial truth.

  Zia remained silent for several long moments, her soul churning with complex emotions—wonder, confusion, concern, and something akin to reverence.

  "That explains so much," she whispered finally. "Your incredible precision with magic, your awareness of surroundings, how you never stumble or hesitate..."

  I nodded solemnly. "It's why I keep my eyes closed most of the time. People get uncomfortable when they see them."

  Zia moved closer, kneeling before me, her soul radiating compassion. "Zen, what you've described isn't a disability—it's an extraordinary gift. Soul perception is mentioned in ancient texts as a legendary ability possessed by only a handful of individuals throughout history."

  Her words sent a thrill through me. So there was precedent for abilities like mine, rare though they might be.

  "Have you told your parents?" she asked gently.

  I shook my head. "No. I... I don't want them to treat me differently. Especially my father. He expects so much from me already."

  Understanding flickered across Zia's features. "Your secret is safe with me," she assured me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "But I hope you'll consider trusting them someday. Parents have a way of surprising us with their acceptance."

  If only that had been true in my previous life, I thought darkly, memories of Hajime's parents' disappointment flashing unbidden through my mind.

  But this was a new life. New possibilities. New relationships.

  "Maybe someday," I conceded softly. "But for now, can we keep training as normal? I don't want anything to change."

  Zia's soul brightened with resolve. "Of course. Though perhaps now I can tailor some exercises specifically to help you develop this extraordinary perception even further."

  As the afternoon light began to fade, casting long shadows across our training ground, I realized that this small revelation had fundamentally altered my relationship with my teacher. No longer was I simply an exceptional student—I was something rare, something special even by this world's magical standards.

  One small step toward revealing my true nature, I thought as we packed up our training materials. One step closer to becoming who I'm truly meant to be in this world.

  The journey ahead would be complex, but for the first time since my rebirth, I had an ally who knew at least part of my secret. It was both terrifying and exhilarating—like standing at the edge of a precipice, knowing that the next step would begin an entirely new adventure.