The library stretched before Edwin, its towering shelves packed with countless tomes, their spines worn from years of handling. But his attention wasn’t on the books. As he walked deeper into the room, he noticed a distinct change. The usual arrangement of tables and chairs in the far corner had been cleared away, creating an open space dominated by a raised wooden podium. Right in front of it, carved into the floor, was a glowing magic circle, intricate in design and pulsing faintly with energy.

  To the left of the circle stood his mother, Lady Evelyn Hawthorne, her regal presence unwavering. Despite the passage of almost five years, she looked nearly unchanged, her beauty timeless. Her chestnut brown hair, still long and elegantly kept, cascaded over her shoulders, complementing the deep blue of her ceremonial robes. Her striking dark brown eyes, though warm, held a seriousness befitting the occasion. There was an air of quiet strength about her, as if nothing in this world could shake her composure.

  On the right side of the circle stood his father, Lord Aldric Hawthorne, an imposing figure clad in a formal but practical dark tunic with silver embroidery. His physique remained as formidable as ever, a testament to years of rigorous training and combat. The faint scars that lined his hands and forearms spoke of battles won and hardships endured, yet his face had barely changed, save for a slightly sterner edge to his features. His golden-blond hair was still neatly combed back, and his piercing blue eyes held the same unwavering sharpness that had made him a feared warrior. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, exuding authority with every breath he took.

  Behind the podium, the old man stood unusually still, his silver hair as wild as ever, but his pale eyes held a restless impatience. His fingers drummed rapidly against the wood, his foot tapping in an uneven rhythm. He shifted from side to side, muttering under his breath, his expression tense as if he wanted this whole ordeal to be over already.

  As Edwin drew near, the old man’s gaze flickered toward him before snapping back to the magic circle. His voice, when he finally spoke, was brisk, hurried. "Yes, yes, step into the circle, quickly now. Stand in the center so we can begin. No need to delay." There was no usual wide grin, no exaggerated gestures, just an eagerness to move forward, as if dragging out the process any longer would be troublesome.

  Edwin hesitated. The old man was acting crazier than usual. He turned toward his parents for confirmation, but they only nodded encouragingly. His mother’s eyes were soft with reassurance, while his father gave a small, approving nod.

  Taking a steadying breath, Edwin stepped forward. The moment his foot crossed the boundary of the magic circle, something shifted. A subtle tension in the air wrapped around him, almost like unseen threads tightening around his body. He could feel it, not with his hands, not with his skin, but with something deeper, something instinctual. It was energy, alive with intent, woven into the very space he occupied. It was a hum in the air, a vibration beneath his feet, a whisper of power pressing against the edges of his awareness. Even with his powerless body, the presence of magic was unmistakable.

  He reached the center and stopped.

  The old man wasted no time. He spread his arms in an exaggerated motion, his voice filling the library with practiced authority. "Today, we uphold a tradition as old as the kingdom itself! Every child, noble or commoner, must discover whether magic flows within them. Magic is not merely a gift, it is a duty! Those blessed with it bear great responsibility, for power is not something to be taken lightly!" His words came fast, as if he were more interested in getting through the speech than in the gravity of the occasion. "Through this ceremony, we shall uncover the truth! Now, let’s not waste time!"

  "Enough!" Evelyn’s sharp voice cut through his rushed monologue, her glare halting him mid-motion. "Do you intend to ruin this ceremony as you did with Gideon’s? You skipped through the explanations, you barely addressed the significance of this moment, and then you just—just rushed it!"

  The old man scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Bah, I'm sure the boy didn’t mind! Besides, do you want a lecture, or do you want to finish this?" He jabbed a finger toward Edwin. "The sooner we begin, the sooner it’s done. No need for flowery speeches. Everything that needs saying has been said already. You nobles always insist on making things more complicated than they need to be. It’s maddening."

  Evelyn opened her mouth as if to retort, then closed it, her lips pressing into a thin line. She exhaled sharply through her nose, clearly weighing the futility of arguing with a man who was, for all intents and purposes, set in his ways. After a long pause, she let out a resigned sigh and turned to Edwin, her expression softening.

  "We’ll discuss it later, dear," she murmured, giving him a reassuring smile, though it was tinged with reluctant acceptance.

  Edwin thought the madman was being particularly rude and inconsiderate, barely treating this ceremony with the weight it deserved. He couldn't help but think of Gideon and wonder if his friend had felt the same unease when he had undergone the ritual. The rush, the impatience, the way it felt more like an obligation than a momentous event. It all left a sour taste in Edwin’s mouth.

  The old man exhaled sharply, shutting his eyes as he raised his hands. The magic circle responded instantly. The air within the chamber crackled, threads of luminescent energy weaving together in complex patterns, pulsing in rhythm with an unseen force. The symbols etched into the floor glowed brighter, casting shifting patterns of light across the library’s towering bookshelves. It was as though the entire room had been enveloped in an invisible current, humming with raw power.

  Edwin’s breath caught. He could feel it. The energy moved through the circle like a living thing, slithering up his legs, coiling around his arms, and coursing through his chest. It seeped into him, wrapping around his bones, scanning him as though peeling away the layers of his existence. It was an all-encompassing force, neither warm nor cold, just there, pressing against his very being. He swallowed hard, praying that his past failed attempts at cultivation would go unnoticed.

  Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

  The magic dispersed, the glow fading in an instant. The air stilled, the pulsing hum disappearing as if it had never been there at all. The abruptness of it left Edwin momentarily breathless, his body still expecting the sensation to continue. He blinked, trying to process the shift from overwhelming energy to sudden emptiness.

  The old man opened his eyes, and for the first time, he wasn’t hurried. His expression had changed. His pale gaze, once restless, was now laced with something else. Sadness. Pity. He looked at Edwin for a long moment before speaking, his voice quieter than before.

  "You have no magic," he said, almost solemnly. "Not even a trace of it."

  A heavy silence followed, pressing down on the room like a weight.

  The old man sighed, shaking his head. "It isn’t the end of the world, boy. Magic isn’t everything. Some of the greatest men in history were born without it." He glanced at Aldric. "Your father, for example, is a fine warrior, a leader of men, and a noble with great standing. All without a drop of magic to his name. You’ll find your own path."

  He stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Edwin’s shoulder. "You’re still young. You’ll figure it out," he murmured before straightening. Without another word, he turned away and walked toward the library doors, his pace uncharacteristically subdued.

  As Edwin watched the old man’s retreating figure, he couldn’t help but reflect on the countless moments of bizarre behavior he had witnessed over the years. There were times he had seen the old man pacing the halls at odd hours, muttering to himself in languages Edwin couldn’t recognize, only to suddenly burst into laughter as if he had just uncovered the secret to the universe. Other times, he would catch him scrawling incomprehensible symbols onto parchment, staring at them with deep contemplation, before promptly setting them on fire as though disgusted by his own work. And then, of course, there was the infamous incident where he had attempted to teach a cat how to cast spells, insisting that felines held untapped magical potential.

  Whenever Edwin had attempted to ask him about magic, the responses had been just as nonsensical. One time, the old man claimed he couldn’t explain magic because the stars weren’t aligned correctly. Another time, he dramatically insisted that knowledge was a dangerous burden for the unprepared and that Edwin should instead focus on “learning how to properly whistle first.” On other occasions, he simply waved Edwin off, muttering about pressing magical matters before disappearing in a swirl of dust and fabric.

  Yet, beneath the layers of madness, Edwin felt an uneasy suspicion. There was a pattern in how the old man avoided certain topics, a calculated effort hidden behind his erratic nature. There were moments, fleeting as they were, when his gaze sharpened, his posture straightened, and the madness seemed to peel away, if only for a second. It was subtle, but it was there.

  Edwin had learned in his first life as a cultivator to never ignore his instincts. And in his second life, he had read enough stories to know that mysterious old men with magic always had something to hide. The question wasn’t whether the old man knew something, it was what he knew and why he was keeping it to himself.

  "Oh, my sweet boy…" Evelyn’s voice was soft, filled with the kind of sorrow only a mother could feel for her child’s disappointment. "I know how much this meant to you. All those questions you’ve asked about magic, all the books you've buried yourself in over the years... I saw how much you wanted this." Her voice wavered, her arms tightening around him. "I know you must feel lost right now. But you are so much more than magic." Tears shimmered in her eyes as she gently stroked his hair. "No matter what, you will always be enough."

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Aldric stepped forward, his voice steady yet filled with warmth. "Edwin, listen to me. Magic isn’t what makes a man great. Strength, intelligence, and determination matter far more." He placed a firm hand on Edwin’s shoulder, his grip reassuring. "You are still young, but even now, you show promise. You’re sharp, quick to learn, and for your age, you already handle a sword better than most boys years older than you. Those are qualities of a leader, of a true heir to our house."

  He crouched slightly, leveling his gaze with Edwin’s. "A man’s worth is not measured by the power he is born with, but by what he chooses to do with what he has. You are my son, and I have no doubt you will accomplish great things."

  Edwin hadn’t realized that while he was deep in thought about the old man, his face had twisted into a frown. His parents, seeing his expression, must have assumed he was devastated about being magicless.

  Not wanting them to worry, he quickly straightened, puffing out his chest in an almost comically serious manner, making a show of determination. He had to act his age, at least for now.

  "I get it! So what if I don’t have magic? That just means I’ll have to find another way to be amazing! There’s gotta be plenty of ways to be strong, and I’ll figure them out! I’ll work really, really hard, and one day, I’ll do something so cool that you’ll be telling everyone, ‘That’s my son!’" His voice, though filled with childish enthusiasm, carried a spark of true determination, the kind that only a stubborn six year old trying his best to play his role could muster.

  Seeing his resolve, both of his parents looked at him with pride.

  Evelyn wiped at her eyes, smiling warmly. "Oh, Edwin, you already make us proud just by being you. Magic or not, you are still our wonderful son."

  Aldric let out a small chuckle, ruffling Edwin’s hair. "That’s the spirit. Power isn’t given, it’s earned. And I know you’ll carve your own path, no matter what."

  After exchanging a few more words of encouragement, Evelyn finally sighed, smoothing down Edwin’s clothes. "Come, let’s head to the dining room. You must be starving, and we can’t have you skipping breakfast on such an important day."

  Aldric nodded in agreement. "Yes, let’s eat. Today is still your birthday, after all."

  Edwin, knowing exactly what was coming next, followed his parents toward the dining hall. As they walked, his thoughts drifted to something else entirely. He was six years old now. That meant one thing. He could finally attempt cultivation.

  The thought sent a thrill through him, but also a hint of uncertainty. For years, he had been held back by the limitations of his young body, forced to wait and do nothing as time slowly passed. Now, he had a chance, though he wasn’t entirely sure if it would work. His past attempts had all failed, but perhaps that had only been because his body was too young. If he had been right about needing to wait until he was six, then this could be the moment everything changed.

  The moment he had time to himself, he would find out. No more waiting. No more wasted days. Whether or not he truly could cultivate, he would finally get his answer.

  As they entered the dining hall, a chorus of voices erupted through the room.

  "Happy Birthday, Young Master Edwin!"

  "Wishing you many blessings, my lord!"

  "May the day bring you joy and good fortune!"

  The gathered castle guards and servants, standing in a loose formation around the dining hall, beamed at him as they offered their well-wishes. Some clapped, others bowed, and a few of the younger servants grinned excitedly, clearly enjoying the small celebration.

  Knowing what was coming, Edwin wasn’t truly surprised, but he still acted as if he was. Every year on his birthday, they held this small gathering in his honor. It wasn’t as grand as his first birthday, but in his opinion, these more intimate celebrations were far better. Unlike his first birthday, where he had been surrounded by unfamiliar nobles, these were people he actually knew, people who were part of his daily life. The atmosphere was warm, far more casual, and despite the difference in status between himself and the gathered servants and guards, there was an air of familiarity rather than rigid formality.

  As far as he understood, birthdays weren’t extravagant affairs for most people. Grand celebrations were rare, typically reserved for the nobility or wealthy merchants who had the means to indulge in such festivities regularly. For the common folk, birthdays were usually marked with a shared meal, a moment of joy amid their usual routine. His parents also weren’t the type to enjoy lavish festivities, preferring simpler celebrations. The grand event of his first birthday had been an exception, done more out of tradition than personal desire. Since then, they had opted for these smaller, more intimate gatherings. As the son of the lord, instead of a simple family meal, they held this modest celebration, one that Edwin had come to appreciate more with each passing year.

  Edwin stepped forward, taking a deep breath, willing himself to stay composed. He knew how a noble was supposed to act, graceful, confident, poised, but his heart was racing, and his small hands clenched slightly at his sides. He had spent two lifetimes mastering control over his emotions, yet right now, in the body of a six year old, with so many eyes on him, it was harder than expected. Still, he had to play the part. He straightened his back, lifted his chin just a little higher, and put on a dignified expression.

  "Thank you all for your kind words and for being here today," he began, keeping his voice steady. "I really appreciate everything you do for this household. This castle wouldn’t be the same without all of you. Your hard work and loyalty mean a lot."

  He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then, remembering that he was still a child and it would seem strange to be too formal, he quickly added, "So... um, let's all have fun today!" The last part came out a little more energetic than he intended, his childlike enthusiasm slipping through.

  Trying to cover for it, he gave a small, polite bow, but the movement was just a bit too stiff, his eagerness to do it 'right' making it look slightly awkward. But when he straightened up, he caught the warm expressions of the gathered servants and guards, some smiling, others chuckling softly. They weren’t expecting a perfectly rehearsed speech from him; they saw a young boy doing his best, and that was enough. Even though he was trying to act older, in their eyes, he was still just a child, and perhaps, for now, that was alright.

  The servants and guards cheered in response, their smiles growing wider. The warmth in the room was genuine, and even though Edwin had anticipated this event, he still felt touched by their sincerity.

  After a while of eating, chatting, and mingling, Edwin was approached by Gideon and a man who bore a striking resemblance to him, though older and far more imposing. The man had the same auburn hair, only darker and cut shorter, and the same sharp, mischievous eyes, though his held the weight of experience. His posture was straight, his broad shoulders and firm stance exuding the confidence of a seasoned warrior. Unlike the other knights who regularly patrolled the castle, this man was rarely seen within its walls.

  This was Roland, Gideon’s father, Aldric’s right-hand man, and one of the most respected warriors in the domain. He spent most of his time commanding the troops stationed throughout the territory, ensuring the security of the barony’s borders. Occasionally, he would return to the castle, either to deliver reports or personally train Aldric’s heir and his own son in the ways of the sword.

  Upon seeing Edwin, Roland’s stern features softened, and he let out a small chuckle. "Look at you, lad. It feels like only yesterday you were barely reaching your father’s knee, and now here you are, standing tall and sharp-eyed."

  Edwin smiled, feeling a small warmth at the praise. "I still have a long way to go."

  Roland grinned. "Aye, but you’re on the right path. You remind me of your father when he was younger, always determined, always eager to improve. And let’s not forget, you have the mind of your mother, quick-witted and sharp as a blade."

  Gideon snickered, nudging Edwin playfully. "You hear that, Edwin? You’re basically the ultimate combination of your parents! Super strong like your dad and super smart like your mom. No pressure or anything!"

  Edwin rolled his eyes, but there was an undeniable sense of pride blooming in his chest. Roland nodded approvingly before shifting the weight of something wrapped in cloth under his arm. "Well, enough of that. I didn’t just come here to talk about the past."

  He presented the bundle to Edwin. "This is actually from your parents. I picked it up from the local smith earlier."

  Edwin took it with careful hands, glancing at his parents for permission. Both of them gave him a small nod.

  Unwrapping the cloth, Edwin revealed a sword that was perfectly sized for his six year old frame. It wasn’t overly long or cumbersome, making it clear that it had been custom forged with his growing stature in mind. The craftsmanship was simple but precise, the blade sleek and well-balanced, free of any unnecessary embellishments. As his fingers traced along the smooth metal, he immediately noticed something odd, it was much lighter than he had expected.

  His brows furrowed slightly. He had handled iron tools before, and they had never felt this light. This wasn’t pure iron. It had to be some sort of alloy, possibly blended with another metal to reduce its weight while maintaining durability. The blacksmiths here likely had knowledge of metallurgy that went beyond simple iron forging, even if they lacked the industrial advancements of his previous life.

  A realization struck him. When Gideon had first received his sword, Edwin had asked to hold it, but he hadn’t been allowed to borrow it. At the time, he had assumed it was simply because it was too dangerous, but now suspects that it's some sort of tradition in this world. If it had been made of pure iron, it would have been far too heavy for Gideon to wield effectively during training. Edwin had suspected it back then, but now that he was holding his own sword, he was certain, these weapons were made of an alloy, specifically designed to be both durable and manageable for someone their age. The knowledge made him respect the smiths of this world a little more. Even if they lacked the conveniences of modern metallurgy, they clearly knew how to adapt materials to their needs.

  Gideon grinned mischievously. "Finally! You’ve got an iron sword too. Now we’ll see if you can keep up."

  Edwin chuckled, remembering how envious he had been when Gideon had received his first iron sword a few months ago. Now, he had one of his own. He curled his fingers around the hilt, testing the grip. It felt right in his hands, almost as if it had been waiting for him all this time. This was no mere toy, it was his first real weapon.

  Aldric walked up to him, his gaze firm yet proud. "A sword is more than just a weapon. It is a symbol of responsibility. The strength to wield it is not just in your arms, but in your heart and mind. A man who draws his blade must do so with purpose, not recklessness."

  Edwin gripped the sword’s hilt tighter, absorbing his father’s words.

  Aldric continued, "Now that you both have your swords, your training will change. No more simple drills with wooden sticks. You will begin sparring with real weapons soon, once you get used to the weight of your blade. And now that you are both six, it is time for you to see more of the domain. You will begin traveling beyond the castle, accompanied by guards, of course."

  Both Edwin and Gideon exchanged glances, their eyes lighting up with excitement.

  As Edwin followed his parents to continue the morning festivities, his thoughts raced. Finally, he would be able to explore more of the world beyond the castle walls. The possibilities stretched before him. If he wanted to bring technology into this medieval world, he would need to see more of what he had to work with.

  But before any of that, there was something even more important to confirm. The moment he had time to himself, he would find out once and for all. Could he cultivate?