Michael had walked home with his head hung.

  He had to maintain his facade of failure, which meant hiding his grin.

  He was finally a mage...

  It was almost impossible for him to hold back from casting any magic immediately.

  Fifteen years of disappointment and running, and now he was free.

  What did he even want to do with his life?

  He had no allies or trusted companions in his memories. Not even an animal or rogue to follow him.

  He had been all alone...

  Maybe it was better that way.

  Inside his small house, it was quiet. He could hear the village outside going on as normal.

  It made him feel small and exhausted.

  There was not a single ally in this world for him. He's against the world just like it has always been.

  But could he defeat the world?

  Well...

  He had already died once, so why would he be afraid of death?

  Screw the world, and screw everyone living on it.

  He was going to live for himself and only him.

  If there was a treasure, he would take it. If there was power, he would use it.

  Nothing was going to stop him, not even death.

  He looked inside his mind, and inside was the sea pearl, looking just as beautiful as when he first saw it.

  He had only heard of the training for mages, but he couldn't wait to use magic.

  Thoughts, urges, and instinct pushed through his mind.

  It felt so easy, as if it were a long-lost friend.

  A small stream of water shot out from his hand.

  It crawled up his arms and swooshed around like a snake.

  He thought about sending it towards the fire, and it shot out.

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  Immediately, his room was clouded with smoke.

  "FIRE!" He heard someone yell outside of his house.

  "Ah shit..."

  ...

  After explaining that there was no fire, Michael went to bed outside.

  His house was too dirty to sleep in, and he was more used to sleeping on top of trees.

  The night sky was cloudless. The stars shone bright and twinkled throughout the night.

  "Wow, it has been over 15 years since I was allowed to sleep without keeping an eye open. Though I doubt that will last long."

  And sleep he did. A calm and cool night, just what the doctor ordered.

  His dreams were empty; there were no dreams or nightmares, just darkness.

  After all, it was always calm before the storm.

  ...

  He awoke in the early morning to the smell of ash and charred wood.

  His home, the building in which he grew up, was engulfed in flames.

  It seemed like there was someone out for his life after all. Now was the perfect time to leave the village.

  Faking his death was one of the ways he could have escaped, but it seems like someone beat him to the punch. Without looking as well.

  There was no way they checked to see if he was in there or not. Amateurs.

  Whoever it was wouldn't have burned down a house so close to the village for no reason.

  So, he gathered some food supplies from the stocks quietly, and walked away from the village.

  The early morning fog protected him as well.

  As he was walking away, he could hear commotion from the village again.

  "FIRE! Wake up! Get the buckets! FIRE!"

  "Whose house is it!?"

  "Michael's! Get that flame out NOW!"

  It felt good to see some people still cared for the little orphan boy of the village.

  But they wouldn't find a body. He would be long gone.

  He followed the road for miles and miles until the morning fog had disappeared.

  It was strange, the fog was heavier than usual.

  His feet ached, and the next larger city was still close to 20 miles away.

  It seems he would either have to camp outside in the wilderness or stop in a village again.

  The only reason he was apprehensive about staying in a tree again was because of the wild spirits and beasts.

  Wild beasts could develop magic as well, bonding with spirits and becoming powerful.

  They didn't need any spirit ceremonies or unique runes; all they needed was to subdue a wild spirit and bond with it.

  Then they would become magical beasts and grow to become spirit beasts.

  So, staying in the trees wasn't a safe option. But with the small amount of coins in his pocket, he wasn't sure if he could afford an inn.

  No matter, he had the rest of the day to find some suitable sleeping quarters.

  ...

  He walked on and on down the rough stone path.

  It was made long ago and hasn't been fixed for a while.

  Many holes had formed from long use of the path.

  That probably explained the mess just ahead of him.

  A carriage had fallen off the side of the road, several men were gathered around it.

  Four of them were trying to lift it, two of them were trying to calm the horses, and one was just screaming orders at the rest.

  "Nobles, great. I should just walk past without getting noticed."

  His previous experiences with nobles, or rather his past life's experiences, were few and far.

  However, the clearest memory that he has of a noble was her beating a servant for dropping a wine glass.

  The young boy couldn't have been past 13, and yet he was given scars that would last the rest of his life.

  He walked on the other side of the road, away from the group.

  Yet it seems his luck continues to run out.

  Out of the forest comes a group of ten men. They had their swords unsheathed and looked somewhat nervous.

  The seven from the carriage immediately drew their weapons and faced the bandits.

  "Halt! Get away from my carriage, or I'll have my men run you through."

  "N... No. Drop your weapons, and we will not harm you. We just need some coin for food."

  Michael finally paid attention after he heard the word coin.