by DB King
Reaching inward, Jin drew power into his left hand. His magic sort of responded, but not in the way he’d wanted it to. The energies coalesced over his left forearm and attempted to draw something toward it, like a pulling motion—only, there wasn’t anything to pull, so the magic merely retracted. What was that?
It happened against his will, which meant that—whatever happened—was likely connected to the rules that governed this world’s version of magic. It seemed as though it was trying to pull something toward it—or, into his hand. Is it telekinesis?
Jin leapt down the boulder and landed on the soft grass, near the banks of the serene pond where moonlight shimmered. On the ground was a pebble of unusually large size—perfect for his purposes. Alright, if it’s telekinesis then…
He held out his left hand and willed the energy into it again. Only, this time, he placed his hand much closer to the target; with telekinetic abilities, range played a huge factor into its effectiveness. Considering the fact that his newly awakened abilities were likely poor at best, it was a good idea to stay as close to the target as possible. As before, the magical energies from his core immediately radiated outward and coalesced around his left forearm. There.
The pulling sensation returned and….
Nothing happened—the magical energies seemed to reach out toward the rock, but retracted immediately after. Jin hummed. Okay, that rules out telekinesis.
Obviously, his magic was trying to pull something into his hand—but what? What was his magic trying to pull? How did this magic even function? Ugh, if only Hamada had given me access to the family library, this would’ve all been answered with a simple book.
Well, that was assuming that magic was well-known and widely studied in this new world, instead of just being an object of superstition and myth and wonder. His old world had formal magical academies, where children were trained in the arts of the arcane and where most of the world’s problems were solved—or created.
For now, however, he’d have to proceed with the most antiquated—though certainly the most entertaining—method available to him: good ol’ trial and error.
Alright, maybe it’s akin to that life-binder spell that only works on living creatures? There were a few very strange spells in his previous life that specifically targeted living beings; everything else was excluded from the spells’ effects. One of those was the life-binder, which allowed one to sort of telekinetically grip any living thing, even trees. Rocks, however, were unaffected by the spell.
At this point, I might as well just try everything and anything I can possibly think of.
The bushes rustled. Jin blinked and turned toward the sudden sound. There was something glowing underneath all the green—something small, about as small as his hand. It was… a slithering piece of what appeared to be magma. Jin knelt down and parted the blades of grass. There, slithering on the soil, was a Magical Beast—a Fire Salamander. He’d recognize one at first glance. His father had caught one a week ago when they went out to fish for salmon. It tasted horrible, but it had been the first Magical Beast he’d ever encountered in this new world.
This one did look a little different to the one his father, Hamada, had caught. Tiny bumps spotted the top of its head, and even bigger bumps trailed down its back. Was it injured? The way it moved toward his left foot certainly made it seem like it was.
These things were dangerous. That tiny little thing his father brought home nearly killed one of the servants when it unleashed a gout of fire that swallowed her whole. Thankfully, the servant-girl leapt into the family’s koi pond and saved herself from any serious burns. This tiny creature, which was barely larger than his own hand, could burn him to death if it really wanted to.
And yet something drew him toward it.
“Hey there, little guy.”
Jin reached down and placed a single finger on the top of its head, like petting a hamster. The Fire Salamander cooed at his touch. Purring, almost vibrating, noises emanated from its chest, which pulsated with fiery colors that were brighter than its skin. Like a cat, it pushed its head against his finger, almost brushing its scalp. “Do you like that?”
“You’re a cute one,” Jin muttered softly. “Did your mother leave you all alone?”
The Fire Salamander was small. If he had to guess, it was likely a very recent hatchling that got lost in the woods and was never found by its mother. Do Fire Salamanders lay eggs?
A curious thought suddenly sprang to mind. The pulling obviously didn’t work on the pebble, which meant that it wasn’t a typical form of telekinesis, if it was one. He could test his earlier hypothesis on the Fire Salamander. After all, it walked right up to him and he wouldn’t be hurting it if all the magic did was let him grab it. Closing his eyes, Jin reached for that familiar wellspring of power and allowed the arcane energies from his core to coalesce around his left forearm.
His eyes snapped open—there was some magical feedback. So, living things are the right target?
His energies reached out of his hand and wrapped themselves around the Fire Salamander, like the tendrils of an octopus, pulling in prey. The tiny, lava-like, creature didn’t react. Instead, it purred even more and allowed itself to be pulled by… whatever was going on with his magic.
With a brief, golden flash, its burning skin turned white. In the next moment, the Fire Salamander had turned into golden particles that raced toward Jin’s left forearm as his magic retracted. His eyes widened. A sudden rush of heat raced through both his hands as though he had dipped them in boiling water. He took a single step back and prepared to scream—the tiny body of a three-year-old was not accustomed to pain yet.
However, as quickly as the pain came, it disappeared and, when he looked at his left forearm for a burn, all Jin saw was a tattoo of a Fire Salamander, etched between his wrist and elbow, with its head pointed at his hand, its mouth wide open. But the sudden arrival of a very obviously magical tattoo paled in comparison to his fingers.
They were now aflame.
Magical energies lingered in his left arm, though a tiny bit of it seemed to trickle to his right. What the- is… is that how magic works in this world?
With an experimental swing, Jin let loose a cone of flames from the fingertips of his left hand. With his right, he was able to produce tiny sparks that briefly set the air alight—insects would probably be afraid of that one. Absentmindedly, his lips spread into a grin. His hands shook and Jin couldn’t stop the dark laughter that escaped his throat. Finally! Finally!
It was… a very strange system, truly. He’d need to perform several more tests to determine the true nature of this world’s magic. But for now his hypothesis was that offensive magic functioned by acquiring and absorbing Magical Beasts, thereby gaining their innate abilities for oneself. It was strange, but also incredibly interesting—there were so many possibilities open to him, but also about a hundred questions. Chief among them being: how many Magical Beasts could he absorb? Did he have control over what abilities he could receive? Would the magical effects advance on their own or did they need some sort of catalyst to grow stronger?
He had countless other questions.
No matter. Jin raised his flaming left hand, grinning, and pointed toward a nearby tree. By rough estimation, the strongest gout of flame he could produce—at the moment, at least—was only about as powerful as the strongest flame the salamander could produce, which… wasn’t all that powerful. But there were other Magical Beasts out there, ones far more powerful than his tiny salamander. He’d keep this one for experimentation purposes, though, and… sentimental value; it was, after all, the first one he’d ever gotten.
Still grinning, Jin unleashed a ball of flame—roughly half his body size, which wasn’t much—and released it at the tree. The mass of fire crashed against the old oak, but did little more than singe the edges of some old leaves and dried sticks. Regardless of its unimpressive results, Jin was elated. He now had access to offensive magic at three years old—even his prev
ious self couldn’t say the same!
Now, what else could he do with this power?
Chapter 3
One of Jin’s greatest regrets, from his previous life, was the fact that he didn’t really have time to enjoy what was supposed to be an enjoyable activity—learning. When he studied magic, it was because a war loomed over the horizon and he needed to become as strong as possible as quickly as possible. There was no enjoyment, no time for laughter, no time to make new friends, no time to appreciate his teachers. Everything was rushed. It was like constantly running for days on end as killers and predators chased him across a beautiful and scenic countryside.
In this new life, however, there was no great, apocalyptic threat that urged him to seek strength at the cost of living an actual life. Here, in this new world, he could proceed as slow or as fast as he wanted and not suffer any consequences—being the son of a lesser noble certainly helped, of course. Hamada had been nothing but helpful and supportive of his studies.
That was exactly how Jin found himself in the castle courtyard, surrounded by well-trimmed pots of flowering plants and patches of blue-green grasses. A koi pond lay in the center, where fresh, cool, waters flowed in from a nearby spring. The wide walkway that led all the way back to the manor was made of polished marble and granite. It spread out across the courtyard itself, too, allowing guests to view the gardens without ever stepping on soil or grass.
It was seven in the morning. The wind was cold, and the sky had yet to truly awaken from the night. Jin squatted on a small, cushioned mattress, his right hand holding a lithe brush with which he practiced writing the traditional letters of the Moyatani alphabet. In front of him was a low table that—if he was being honest with himself—was something he had yet to grow accustomed to.
Across him, stood his teacher, Monotori Ken, a stern man from the southern provinces, who was hired by his father, Hamada, to teach him the basics of their writing system. Of course, his teacher had briefly protested at the prospect of teaching a three-year-old, but a quick introduction between the two of them was all it took to convince the middle-aged teacher that Jin was of an entirely different league.
And so, there he squatted, his eyebrows slightly furrowed and his eyes narrowed as he finished another character. The letters of the Moyatani alphabet were really more akin to individual words than they were to actual letters. The meaning of each one would also drastically change with the slightest addition or subtraction of a brush stroke. It was truly fascinating and… rather fun.
Fun. Jin decided he liked that feeling. Learning was fun and he never wanted to stop learning.
“Truly fascinating…” his teacher muttered. Jin briefly eyed the man, before resuming his writing. Whatever Ken had to say, Jin didn’t really need to look at him in order to focus on his task. Partitioning his mind, after all, was one of the first things he learned during his magical training in his previous life.
Ken continued. “You are a prodigy, young lord. I have not seen anyone of your age so eager to learn something as banal as language and writing. Most children prefer to play with the sword and yet your father, Lord Hamada, has told me of your natural skills with the blade.”
“And now,” Ken’s eyes constantly drifted to the Fire Salamander tattoo on his right forearm, its maws wide open with its tongue forking toward his palm. “You have developed an aptitude for the magical arts too. Truly, young lord, you are destined for great things.”
The man wasn’t groveling. Jin could spot a lie coming a mile away and everything that came out of this man’s mouth had been true so far. It was, however, rather unfair to compare him to other children when his mind was that of an eighty-year old Mage-Emperor who’d had thousands of cities and billions of people at his palms at one point. Despite that, Jin merely bowed. “Thank you for recognizing my talents, teacher. I will endeavor not to disappoint you and my father.”
Well, he didn’t care about his teacher, but Ken didn’t need to know that. The truth was, any other person could’ve taken the man’s place and Jin wouldn’t have minded. The only thing that mattered was they were knowledgeable in whatever subject they were paid to teach. “A warrior, a scholar, and a mage… have you, young lord, perchance, heard of the Fate of the Kensei?”
Jin paused and now looked toward his teacher. He’d heard of the “Kensei” only once before, mentioned by his father in passing—something about an ancient legend about a great warrior or some such. He wasn’t paying attention to his old man at the time. “I have… not heard of it, teacher. Can you please enlighten this student of yours?”
People really seemed to enjoy it when their egos were stroked. Well, most people enjoyed it—his father did not.
His teacher smiled and nodded. “The Fate of the Kensei is a legend that is as old as our civilization itself. Three thousand years ago, when our ancestors first stepped foot upon this land, there came upon them a great and terrible demon, known only as the Asura.”
“As the story goes,” Ken continued. “The demon laid waste to their fields, killed their animals, and feasted on their children. Until one man – who was known to be a scholar, a warrior, and a mage – stepped forth and challenged the Asura. That man defeated the demon and became known as the Kensei, the Sword Saint.”
“It was spoken of by the Bone Oracles that, one day, the Asura will return and a new Kensei will rise from the people of Moyatani to defeat the demon once and for all,” Ken added. “That is the legend. The Fate of the Kensei is one that can only be achieved by the warrior, the scholar, and the mage.”
Huh, Jin definitely wasn’t listening to Hamada if the story of the Kensei held this much cultural significance. It was a truly fascinating legend. If he had to guess, however, like all legends, this one was probably based on some sort of truth that was slightly altered to be more fantastic each time it was told. The Kensei was likely the standard by which all bushi, all Moyatani warriors, were measured; Hamada did say that all bushi were warriors and scholars, even artists and, rarely, merchants.
The Kensei was probably meant to exemplify the kind of life the warriors of this world were supposed to live and it was supposed to remind them that they were, first and foremost, the defenders of the everyday people. Well, that was his theory anyway. Someone else would probably have their own interpretation of the legend.
Then again, there was something about it that did catch his attention. “Teacher, what do the legends say about the Asura? Are you saying demons are real?”
There were demons in his previous world. Those buggers were always so difficult to deal with. They were immortal, ageless, and infinite; killing them was impossible. The only way to deal with a demon was to banish it back to its home plane and hope it stays there. If those very same beings also had access to this world, it would be far better to know before he encountered one.
Ken, however, merely shook his head. “The Asura is the demon; it is one of a kind. It is the only creature in our myths that could ever properly be classified as a demon—all the rest are simply Magical Beasts with the elemental properties of fire.”
“Well, according to the legends, the Asura was once a man,” His teacher continued. “A man, who was consumed by vengeance and hatred, a man, who was said to have braved the jaws of death a hundred times over… the Asura was his end, when his own power and need for revenge finally consumed his soul. He became the avatar of rage itself, killing indiscriminately.”
It seemed the Asura was the philosophical opposite of the Kensei—everything a bushi should not be. The pattern in these stories was rather creative. Both figures were likely meant to represent the opposing natures of man—dark and light—and their eternal struggle against each other, just as man struggles with himself at all times. It was only through the victory of the light, man’s civilized side, that the Moyatani Shogunate was established, which further implied that only through mastering one’s darkness could peace and order be achieved.
It was truly a tale for every bushi to learn. N
ow the only thing left to do was summarize his thoughts on the matter. Ah, philosophical discussions were so fun.
“What a fascinating tale,” Jin said. “Would I be correct, teacher, in assuming the Kensei and the Asura are but two sides of the same coin? The legends were likely meant to depict man’s struggle against his own darkness, represented by the Asura, and his light, personified by the Kensei. It is only through the victory of discipline, honor, courage, knowledge, and creativity, that mankind’s brutish nature would be expelled.”
Ken raised an eyebrow.
Was Jin’s assumption wrong? Was there a more commonly accepted interpretation of the story? Ah, how he wished the Hollowed Knight was here to discuss philosophy with him.
“You are truly an astute child for having arrived at such a conclusion,” his teacher praised. But Jin disregarded the words entirely, because all they meant was that his conclusion was wrong.
Raising an eyebrow, Jin placed his brush back into its container and placed his hands on his lap. Ah, here it was, the actual explanation for the whole myth. If he was wrong, then surely it was grander.
“Young lord, you would not be wrong in assuming such a thing, of course. When studied intently, the events that transpired could very well be interpreted to be of such meaning. However, everything that happened in those legends—at least, most of them—is true. There was already a functioning form of written language at the time and they recorded everything. The Kensei was an actual figure, whose true name was never written down, as was the Asura.”
“What?”
“Do you know of the Demon Spine Mountains, young master?” Ken suddenly asked. Jin sighed and thought back to his cartography lessons, courtesy of another tutor hired by Hamada, and recalled a massive mountain range in the Western Lands that ran by the name—the Demon Spine Mountains.
Jin nodded. “Yes, I know of them. Why?”