The days that followed the bear encounter and my bewildering return were a strange blur of aching muscles, tentative comfort, and a constant undercurrent of surreal disorientation. My arms, miraculously healed by my mother’s astonishing magic, still felt faintly alien, a lingering phantom ache a reminder of the brutal damage they’d sustained and the incredible power that had both caused and healed it. I was living under the same roof as two strangers, people who looked at me with a depth of love and concern that was both heartwarming and deeply unsettling, who called me their son, Nikolai. I ate their food, slept in their small, warm house, and listened to their quiet routines, all while maintaining the careful facade of a child with fragmented memories.

  My initial interactions were cautious. I observed them, listening to their conversations, trying to glean anything about the real Nikolai Nordhil, the child whose life I now inhabited. They were simple, kind people, hardworking and deeply relieved to have me back. They spoke of the village, of neighbors, of daily chores, their world centered around the rhythm of their humble lives and the looming presence of the surrounding Wildlands. They treated my supposed memory loss with patience and a quiet sadness, attributing it to the trauma I must have suffered.

  But beneath the surface of settling into this new, unexpected existence, a burning curiosity consumed me. Magic. My mother’s healing touch, the bear's fiery breath – it wasn't just a legend here. It was real. Tangible. And I, a man who had spent his life mastering the physical and the internal, found himself utterly fascinated by this external force.

  After a few days, once the initial shock had subsided and a semblance of routine settled in, I decided to probe. It was a calculated risk. I didn't want to raise too much suspicion, but my thirst for knowledge about this world's powers was too strong to ignore.

  I found my parents sitting by the hearth one evening, the dim light of an oil lamp casting flickering shadows on their faces. Taking a deep breath, I approached them hesitantly, trying to appear like a curious child rather than a former champion strategizing his next move.

  "Mom? Dad?" My voice, the child's voice, felt strange on my tongue.

  They turned to me, their expressions soft with immediate attention. "Yes, little one?" my mother asked, her smile warm.

  I fumbled for the right words, trying to sound innocent. "That... that thing you did... to my arms?" I pointed vaguely. "The... the glowy light? What was that?"

  A look of surprise flickered across their faces, followed by a shared, knowing glance. My father's eyebrows rose slightly. "Ah, that was magic, son," he said, his voice gentle. "Your mother has a knack for healing."

  My mother chuckled softly. "Seems like he really did forget, Gunnar," she said to my father, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Then she looked back at me, her expression tender. "You used to do magic too, Nikolai. Water and wind spells. You had a knack for it."

  That surprised me. Dead Nikolai had affinities? Water and Wind? That was more than just a simple gift; that suggested a degree of potential, a connection to mana that I, the current inhabitant of this body, seemed utterly devoid of. My own power was internal, Ki. Their son's was external, elemental. The contrast was stark.

  My father, Gunnar, leaned forward, his green eyes filled with encouragement. "Your mother's right. You had a good feel for it. Maybe... maybe you just need a little reminder? A refresher?" He looked at my mother, who nodded with a smile. "We could go out to the edge of the woods tomorrow. I can show you how to feel the wind again."

  The offer was exactly what I wanted. A chance to see how magic worked, to understand the fundamental principles of mana manipulation from someone who clearly possessed the knowledge. It might not be my path, but understanding the dominant power system of this world was crucial for survival.

  The next morning, after a simple breakfast of thick porridge, my father and I left the house. The cool morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. My arms, still strangely perfect after the healing magic, swung freely as I walked beside him. Gunnar carried a small ax, perhaps intending to chop a bit of wood while we were out, but his focus was clearly on the task of jogging his son's forgotten memory.

  We walked a little way into the woods, far enough from the village that we wouldn't disturb anyone, but not so deep as to be immediately in danger. Gunnar stopped in a small clearing, the sunlight filtering down through the canopy in shifting patterns. He turned to me, his expression earnest but patient.

  "Alright, Nikolai," he said, his voice low and calm. He gestured around us, to the rustling leaves, the swaying branches. "Magic... it's about connecting to the world around you. To the mana that flows through everything." He knelt down, bringing himself closer to my level. "Start by closing your eyes."

  I obeyed, the familiar darkness behind my eyelids a stark contrast to the vibrant light of this world.

  "Now," he continued, his voice a soft murmur. "Try to feel it. Feel the energy flowing inside of you... but also feel how it connects to the outside. Imagine tiny rivers, veins of power, flowing throughout your body. These are your mana veins. Can you feel that energy?" He paused, giving me a moment to try. "Once you can feel that energy, the flow inside you, throughout all of those mana veins, try to gather it. Gently. And then... try to manifest it in front of you. Just a small breeze. Like pushing out a breath."

  I focused inward, searching for what he described. Mana veins? Energy flowing throughout my body? I could feel energy, yes. Raw, potent, dangerous energy centered deep within my body. Ki. But it didn't feel like flowing rivers, and it certainly didn't feel connected to the rustling leaves or the swaying branches outside. It felt... internal.

  I tried to follow his instructions, tried to sense these "mana veins," this external connection. I pushed, gently, trying to emulate the feeling of manifesting something outwards, like pushing a focused Ki blast.

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened. No breeze stirred, no faint glow appeared. The air remained still.

  I opened my eyes and looked at my father, a faint sense of confusion and frustration building. "I... I don't feel anything," I admitted, the child's voice conveying a genuine bewilderment that wasn't entirely feigned. "Just... just the energy inside me."

  My father's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of concern in his eyes. He hadn't expected me to be completely unable to sense it. "Hmm," he murmured, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Perhaps... perhaps the trauma affected your connection more than we thought." He didn't seem to doubt my identity, only the extent of my memory and ability loss. "Don't worry, son. We'll try again. Sometimes it just takes practice. Like riding a bike, it'll come back to you."

  He smiled reassuringly, but the slight worry in his eyes remained. And I stood there, a former champion with a body that could shatter mountains with its internal energy, utterly incapable of conjuring even the simplest breeze. The disconnect between his understanding and my reality was becoming increasingly apparent. This body had mana veins, it had affinities, but something about me, the consciousness inhabiting it, seemed fundamentally incompatible with drawing on that external power. My path, it seemed, was destined to remain internal.

  I tried. I closed my eyes again, focusing inward, searching for the subtle currents, the flowing rivers of energy my father described. I stretched my awareness outwards, trying to feel the connection to the rustling leaves, the cool air, the earth beneath my feet. Each time, the result was the same. Nothing. An utter blank where the external, flowing energy should be. All I could feel was the familiar, potent, volatile power coiled deep within me – my Ki. The energy that had shattered my arms even as it saved my life. I kept that hidden, a secret for now. No need to complicate things further until I understood this world better.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  My father watched my repeated attempts, his initial patient smile gradually fading. His brow furrowed deeper with each failed try. He scratched his chin, a thoughtful, slightly worried expression on his face. "That's... peculiar, son," he murmured more to himself than to me. "When you were younger... before... you picked this up so easily. You were a natural with Wind, and your mother said your Water affinity was just as strong."

  The contrast between the original Nikolai's aptitude and my current inability was stark, and it was clearly troubling my father. He knelt fully before me, his green eyes searching mine with a look of growing concern. A different kind of test, perhaps, or a genuine attempt to understand the extent of the damage.

  "Wait a second," he said, his voice taking on a more focused tone. He reached out a hand, hovering it gently a few inches from my ches His eyes closed, his face intent with concentration. I remained still, curious what he was doing, what he expected to find. I could feel a faint ripple of his own energy, not Ki like mine, but something different, softer, flowing outwards from his hand as he probed. He was searching for something internal within me, something connected to mana. My mana veins, perhaps.

  Seconds stretched into a long, silent moment, broken only by the distant sounds of the forest and the rapid beat of my own heart. My father's expression was one of quiet concentration, but as the seconds passed, it began to shift. The focus remained, but a subtle tension crept into his jaw. His brow furrowed deeper. The color seemed to drain from his face, leaving it stark and pale against his blond hair. His lips parted slightly, a silent gasp escaping him.

  When he finally opened his eyes, the look in them was not one of simple worry or confusion, but of profound shock, disbelief, and a deep, unsettling sadness. His hand trembled slightly where it hovered near my chest.

  His voice was barely a whisper, strained and disbelieving. "Niko... lai..."

  He swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on me as if seeing me for the first time, the reality of his discovery settling upon him, heavy and crushing.

  "...you don't have a mana core." His voice cracked on the last word. He pulled his hand back slowly, his arm dropping to his side, his eyes still wide with shock. "It's... gone."

  No mana core? The words hit me with a strange, hollow finality. Gone? How? How did this happen? My mind raced, trying to reconcile the concept with the fundamental understanding of energy I possessed from my past life. A core couldn't just... vanish. Yet, the look on my father's face, the utter devastation in his eyes, was undeniable. He wasn't mistaken.

  He butted into my racing thoughts, his voice still shaky with disbelief. "Your mana core... it should be right here," he said, his hand hovering over my chest again. "Right by your heart. But there's nothing. Just... empty space where it should be." He pulled his hand back, his shoulders slumping, a deep sadness settling over him.

  Damnit. A quiet frustration tightened my chest. So, that settled it. No magic. Not mana-based magic, anyway. So much for learning how to conjure fireballs or mend bones with a glowing touch. That path was closed to me in this body.

  My father's expression was heartbreaking. He looked utterly distraught, his grief palpable. This wasn't just disappointment; it was profound sorrow. He was mourning the loss of something precious, something vital, that belonged to the son he knew. The son who had loved magic, who had shown such promise with Wind and Water, who would have been heartbroken by this discovery. My heart ached for him, for the pain he was feeling for his child.

  I reached out and gently placed a small hand on his arm. "Dad," I said, my voice soft, trying to convey some measure of comfort, some understanding of his sorrow, even if I couldn't share the specific grief of losing magical ability.

  He looked down at me, his green eyes clouded with sadness, and managed a weak, trembling smile. He placed his hand over mine, squeezing gently. My father's face was stark with shock and grief. I reached out instinctively. "Can I grow one back?"

  He flinched slightly at the question, as if the simple words highlighted the depth of the loss. His voice was barely audible, thick with a sorrow I didn't fully understand. "No, Niko," he murmured, his gaze distant with pain. "A shattered core... that's final. It's gone forever."

  The walk back to the village was quiet. My father was lost in his own thoughts, his stride heavy, the earlier relief of my return now mixed with this profound disappointment. He walked beside me, occasionally casting a worried glance my way, heartbroken for me, for the future he envisioned for his magical son that was now gone.

  But honestly... it didn't bother me that much. A faint, almost guilty, sense of indifference settled over me. Yeah, it would be nice to be able to use mana, to understand and wield the magic of this world. It would certainly make things easier. But the disappointment wasn't mine. It was his.

  My own power... my Ki... it was still there. Uncontrolled, dangerous, but potent. I could still feel it stirring within me, a raw, fierce energy that felt far more intuitive to me than sensing external mana ever could. And from the brief, devastating demonstration against the bear, it seemed that Ki in this world was much, much stronger than it had ever been back home. It might not be magic, but it was power. My power.

  So, no mana core. No magic. Fine. I had Ki. And in this world, that seemed like more than enough to work with. My path was set. It would be different from the one my father envisioned for his son, but it was mine. A path forged in internal energy, physical mastery, and whatever secrets this body's has. The future was still uncertain, still dangerous, but the lack of a mana core didn't feel like an ending. It felt like a confirmation. My journey in this world would be defined by Ki.

  The short walk back to the house felt long, weighed down by my father’s quiet sorrow. He broke the news to my mother as soon as we were inside, his voice soft but heavy with grief. “Freya,” he said, using her name for the first time since I’d returned, “his mana core… it’s gone.”

  My mother’s reaction was immediate and visceral. The fragile joy that had flickered in her eyes since my return was instantly extinguished, replaced by profound shock, then a heart-wrenching despair. A choked sob escaped her lips, and her hands flew to her face as she crumpled onto a nearby chair, her body wracked with silent, trembling sobs that quickly escalated into deep, wrenching cries.

  My father rushed to her side, murmuring comforting words, wrapping his arms around her shaking form. He held her tightly, letting her weep into his shoulder, his own face etched with shared pain. The raw, unrestrained grief pouring from them was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the quiet stoicism they had shown in their daily lives.

  Watching them, a cold, clear realization settled over me. Jeez. Their reaction wasn't just about their son's ability to do magic; it was about something fundamental, something vital being missing. It confirmed what the mana beast's fire breath and my mother's healing touch had only hinted at. Mana. Magic. It didn't just exist here; it must mean a LOT in this world. It was power, yes, but perhaps also status, opportunity, even a fundamental aspect of a person's being or potential. Losing a mana core wasn't just losing an ability; it was like losing a limb, or worse.

  The sheer depth of their sorrow was a wake-up call, a stark reminder that my perspective, shaped by a world without magic, was woefully inadequate here. I understood physical combat, internal energy, strategy, and survival. But this world operated on different principles, governed by forces I barely comprehended.

  Information. The thought hit me with the force of a punch. Back home, in the arena, information was king. Knowing my opponent's style, their weaknesses, their training camp – it was crucial to victory. Here, in this world of mana beasts, human mages, and vanished cores, it was even more vital. I was walking blind, navigating a landscape filled with hidden dangers and power dynamics I didn't understand.

  If I was without it, if I remained ignorant of the rules of this new reality, I was unprepared for what lay ahead. My raw Ki power, my past life skills – they were tools, but without a map, tools were useless. I needed to understand mana, magic, the different types of practitioners, the political landscape, and the powerful entities.

  I need a book. The thought solidified into a silent resolution. A book about magic, about this world, about its history and its powers. Something that could fill the gaping holes in my understanding. That would be my next priority. Information. It was time to get prepared.