Morning in the village came slowly.

  Mist lingered between the wooden houses, clinging to rooftops and fences like a reluctant guest that did not want to leave. The dirt road leading out of the village was still damp from the night air, and the quiet was only broken by the occasional cluck of chickens or the distant creak of a cart wheel.

  At the edge of the village, Jackson Alistair Vale sat on a low wooden crate.

  His sword rested across his knees.

  With slow, practiced movements, he dragged a whetstone along the blade.

  Shhk… shhk… shhk…

  Each pass was steady and controlled. After a few strokes, he wiped the blade clean with a cloth before applying a thin layer of oil, polishing the steel until it reflected the pale morning light.

  Beside him stood an older villager, arms folded behind his back as he watched the process with clear approval.

  “Young man, that’s the right way to do it,” the villager said with a firm nod. “Too many travelers neglect their blades.”

  Jackson glanced at the edge of the sword, testing it lightly with his thumb.

  Sharp.

  But not sharp enough yet.

  The whetstone slid across the steel again.

  Shhk… shhk…

  “A dull weapon,” the villager continued, “is more dangerous to the one holding it than the enemy.”

  Jackson gave a small nod.

  “That so.”

  “Of course it is! A blade that won’t cut cleanly will get stuck. And when it gets stuck—”

  “You’re dead,” Jackson finished calmly.

  The villager blinked once.

  “…Exactly.”

  Jackson continued sharpening.

  Shhk… shhk…

  The repetitive sound blended with the quiet of the morning.

  'Honestly… the man’s not wrong.'

  Maintenance mattered. In a world where monsters existed and people carried weapons like everyday tools, a sword wasn’t decoration.

  It was survival.

  Jackson wiped the blade again before giving it one final pass with the stone.

  Shhk.

  Clean.

  Sharp.

  Good enough.

  Just as he was about to sheath the sword, movement caught his attention.

  Someone was walking toward him from the direction of the inn.

  Jackson lifted his head.

  Victoria.

  His eyes immediately went to her hair.

  '…Oh.'

  She had clearly taken a bath.

  Her long blonde hair looked freshly washed, the strands catching the morning light. More importantly—

  The ringlets were back.

  Not perfect.

  Actually… not even close to perfect.

  Several of them were uneven, one curled the wrong way, and another looked like it had simply given up halfway.

  But they were there.

  Jackson quietly observed them for a moment before she reached him.

  Victoria noticed his gaze immediately.

  Her eyes narrowed slightly.

  “…What?”

  Jackson tilted his head a little.

  “The ringlets are back.”

  Victoria instinctively touched her hair.

  Then she frowned.

  “I could have made them look better.”

  Jackson sheathed his sword with a quiet click.

  “The bath at the inn?”

  Victoria’s expression darkened instantly.

  “That pathetic excuse for a bath?” she snapped. “Barely warm water, a cracked mirror, and a comb that looked like it survived a battlefield.”

  She crossed her arms.

  “How is someone supposed to maintain proper grooming under such barbaric conditions?”

  Jackson said nothing.

  'She still managed to do it anyway.'

  Which was… impressive, in a way.

  Even badly done, the ringlets still framed her face in that oddly recognizable way.

  It was part of her image.

  Victoria Celestine Valencrest without her signature hair would probably cause more shock among nobles than a political scandal.

  The villager beside Jackson leaned closer and whispered quietly.

  “…Your wife?”

  Jackson blinked.

  “No.”

  Victoria heard that.

  Her head snapped toward them instantly.

  “Excuse me?”

  The villager looked confused.

  “You two travel together, don’t you?”

  Victoria’s expression turned horrified.

  “I would never—”

  Jackson stood up before the argument could escalate.

  He slid the sword fully into its sheath and adjusted the strap across his shoulder.

  “We’re leaving.”

  The villager scratched his head awkwardly.

  “…Ah.”

  Victoria looked like she still had several insults prepared, but Jackson had already started walking toward the road leading out of the village.

  After a moment, she huffed and followed him.

  The two of them walked side by side past the final houses of the village.

  Behind them, the quiet settlement slowly disappeared into the morning mist.

  Ahead of them stretched a long dirt road cutting through fields and distant forest.

  Their destination lay somewhere far beyond the horizon.

  Jackson adjusted the strap of the supply pack on his shoulder.

  Rations.

  Clothes.

  Basic supplies.

  Everything they had purchased the previous day.

  Victoria walked beside him, her posture still graceful despite the rural road.

  After several minutes of silence, she spoke.

  “Aurelius Academy should be several days from here.”

  Jackson nodded.

  “Assuming the roads stay clear.”

  Victoria glanced at him.

  “You expect trouble?”

  Jackson looked ahead at the empty road.

  'In a world like this… expecting trouble is safer.'

  “Just being realistic.”

  Victoria huffed quietly.

  “Well, if anything does appear…”

  She brushed a stray ringlet away from her face.

  “I trust you’ll deal with it.”

  Jackson gave a small shrug.

  “Depends on what it is.”

  They continued walking.

  Behind them, the village had fully vanished from sight.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Ahead of them—

  A long journey awaited.

  The road stretched endlessly ahead of them.

  A thin trail of packed dirt cutting through fields of tall grass and scattered trees. The morning mist had long since faded, replaced by the warmth of a rising sun.

  Jackson and Victoria walked side by side.

  Or rather—Jackson walked normally.

  Victoria walked like the road itself had personally offended her.

  Her posture remained elegant as always, chin raised slightly, but the occasional flick of irritation across her face betrayed her thoughts.

  Dust clung to the hem of her travel dress.

  A noble walking through countryside roads for hours was not a common sight.

  Jackson glanced sideways at her.

  “You’re slowing down.”

  Victoria shot him a glare.

  “I am doing no such thing.”

  Jackson looked down at her shoes.

  The soft leather boots were clearly not meant for this much walking.

  “They’re not made for this.”

  Victoria crossed her arms.

  “They are perfectly suitable travel footwear.”

  They walked another thirty steps.

  Victoria exhaled sharply.

  “…This road is uneven.”

  Jackson nodded once.

  “It’s a road.”

  Silence followed.

  The wind rustled the grass beside them as birds circled lazily overhead.

  After another hour, the sun had climbed higher, and the road curved toward a cluster of trees.

  Jackson’s sharp eyes noticed movement ahead.

  A wagon.

  Pulled by a single brown horse.

  A man sat on the driver’s seat, lazily holding the reins as the cart rolled along at a steady pace.

  The wooden wheels creaked softly with each turn.

  Victoria noticed it too.

  Her eyes brightened slightly.

  “…A wagon.”

  Jackson nodded.

  “Merchant, probably.”

  As they approached closer, the man noticed them and slowed the horse slightly.

  He was middle-aged with a thick beard and sunburnt skin. Several crates were stacked neatly in the back of the wagon, covered with rough cloth.

  The merchant looked them over with a curious gaze.

  Two young travelers.

  One carrying a sword.

  The other looking like she had stepped out of a noble portrait.

  “Morning,” the merchant greeted casually.

  Jackson raised a hand in response.

  “Morning.”

  Victoria said nothing, but her eyes carefully inspected the wagon.

  Horse.

  Stable wheels.

  Decent speed.

  Comfortable seat.

  Her interest was obvious.

  The merchant chuckled.

  “Heading somewhere?”

  “Aurelius Academy,” Jackson replied.

  The merchant let out a whistle.

  “That’s a long walk.”

  Victoria immediately spoke.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Jackson glanced at her.

  She ignored him.

  The merchant scratched his beard.

  “Well, lucky for you, I’m heading down the same road for a while. Got a delivery to a town two days from here.”

  Victoria stepped forward slightly.

  “Then allowing us to ride along would benefit everyone.”

  The merchant blinked.

  “…Would it now?”

  Victoria gestured politely toward the wagon.

  “You would gain additional protection on the road.”

  Jackson raised an eyebrow.

  She continued smoothly.

  “My companion is armed.”

  The merchant looked at Jackson.

  Jackson shrugged slightly.

  “Bandits happen.”

  The merchant thought about it.

  Then he laughed.

  “Well, that’s fair enough.”

  He pointed his thumb toward the back of the wagon.

  “Hop in then. Just don’t crush the crates.”

  Victoria did not hesitate.

  She climbed onto the wagon with far more grace than someone who had just walked for hours.

  Jackson followed shortly after.

  The merchant snapped the reins lightly.

  “Hyah.”

  The horse began moving again.

  Immediately, the difference in speed was noticeable.

  The wagon rolled smoothly down the road, covering distance far faster than walking ever could.

  Victoria sat with visible relief.

  “…Much better.”

  Jackson leaned against one of the crates.

  'Yeah… this helps.'

  The merchant spoke over his shoulder.

  “Name’s Garrick.”

  “Jackson.”

  “Lady Victoria Celestine Valencrest,” Victoria said without hesitation.

  Garrick nearly choked.

  “…That’s a long name.”

  Victoria looked mildly offended.

  “It is a proper name.”

  Jackson said nothing.

  The wagon continued down the road.

  Fields slowly gave way to forested paths as the day passed.

  Occasionally, Garrick pointed out things along the road.

  “See those claw marks on that tree?”

  Jackson looked.

  Large gouges ran down the bark.

  “Dire wolves pass through here sometimes.”

  Victoria stiffened slightly.

  “…Wonderful.”

  Another time Garrick pointed toward a distant hill.

  “Bandits used to camp there last year.”

  Jackson glanced at him.

  “Used to?”

  “Knights cleaned them out.”

  Jackson nodded slowly.

  'Good.'

  Travel with the merchant proved surprisingly calm.

  The horse maintained a steady pace, and the wagon’s gentle rocking almost made the journey relaxing.

  As evening approached, the sky turned orange and gold.

  Eventually, the road split into two directions.

  Garrick slowed the wagon.

  “Well,” he said, scratching his beard, “this is where we part ways.”

  He pointed left.

  “My delivery town’s that way.”

  Then he gestured toward the right road.

  “Aurelius Academy’s down that road.”

  Jackson hopped off the wagon first.

  Victoria followed shortly after.

  The ground felt strangely unfamiliar after hours of riding.

  Jackson adjusted the strap of his pack.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  Garrick waved casually.

  “Safer traveling with armed folks around anyway.”

  Victoria brushed imaginary dust from her dress.

  “You have our gratitude.”

  Garrick grinned.

  “Careful on the road ahead. Forest gets thicker from here.”

  Jackson nodded.

  “We will.”

  The merchant flicked the reins again.

  The wagon rolled away slowly, disappearing down the left road as the sun began to set.

  Jackson turned toward the right path.

  Tall trees loomed ahead.

  Victoria stood beside him, looking toward the forest road.

  “…Well.”

  Jackson started walking.

  “Still faster than walking the whole way.”

  Victoria sighed but followed.

  The road ahead stretched into the deepening shadows of the forest.

  The forest road was quieter than the open plains.

  Tall trees rose on both sides of the path, their branches weaving together high above to form a shifting canopy of leaves. The sunlight filtered through in scattered beams, painting the dirt road in moving patterns of gold and shadow.

  Jackson walked ahead, his pace steady.

  Victoria followed slightly behind, her expression caught somewhere between determination and irritation.

  The ride with the merchant had helped, but hours of walking afterward had brought them right back to reality.

  The forest air was cooler, though.

  Damp.

  Rich with the smell of soil and moss.

  Jackson's eyes moved constantly.

  Left.

  Right.

  Tree line.

  Ground.

  He listened to the small sounds of the forest—the chirping insects, rustling leaves, distant bird calls.

  'Quiet…'

  Which usually meant safe.

  Usually.

  Behind him, Victoria spoke.

  “How much farther do you estimate?”

  Jackson didn't slow down.

  “Aurelius Academy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Still a few days.”

  Victoria exhaled slowly.

  “…Of course it is.”

  They walked for another hour.

  Then another.

  The sunlight slowly began to fade, turning from bright gold to dim amber.

  Jackson noticed it first.

  “Night soon.”

  Victoria glanced up through the trees.

  The sky was already darkening.

  “…We should stop.”

  Jackson nodded.

  “Preferably near water.”

  Victoria blinked.

  “…Why?”

  “Easier to cook. Easier to clean. Easier to refill supplies.”

  He glanced at her briefly.

  “And you mentioned bathing yesterday.”

  Victoria immediately straightened slightly.

  “…That is a very important consideration.”

  Jackson almost smirked.

  Almost.

  They stepped off the main road and began moving through the forest.

  Jackson led the search.

  Water usually meant certain signs.

  Lower ground.

  Softer soil.

  Certain types of plants.

  After several minutes, the faint sound reached his ears.

  Running water.

  'There it is.'

  They pushed through a patch of bushes before the trees opened into a small clearing.

  A narrow stream ran through it, its water gently flowing over smooth stones. The quiet sound of the current blended with the evening forest noises.

  Victoria's shoulders visibly relaxed.

  “…Finally.”

  Jackson scanned the area carefully.

  No tracks.

  No recent disturbances.

  Good visibility around the clearing.

  “Camp here.”

  Victoria nodded.

  They began setting up quickly.

  Jackson gathered fallen branches and dry wood for a fire while Victoria organized their supplies.

  Soon, a small campfire crackled near the edge of the stream.

  Orange flames danced in the growing darkness.

  Victoria sat on a flat rock near the fire, stretching her legs slightly.

  “…Today was exhausting.”

  Jackson sat across from her.

  “Walking usually is.”

  Victoria glared faintly at him.

  “You say that as if it’s normal.”

  “It is.”

  Victoria huffed and looked away.

  After a short while, the two of them finished their simple meal.

  Dried rations.

  Water from the stream.

  Nothing fancy.

  The fire burned steadily between them.

  Victoria eventually stood up.

  “I am going to wash.”

  Jackson nodded.

  “Stay within the clearing.”

  Victoria raised an eyebrow.

  “Do you believe I would wander into the forest at night?”

  Jackson stared at her.

  She paused.

  “…Fair point.”

  She walked toward the stream anyway.

  Jackson listened to the quiet splashing sounds as she cleaned herself.

  Once he confirmed she wasn't leaving the area, he turned his attention inward.

  'Time to start.'

  He sat cross-legged on the ground near the fire.

  The warmth of the flames brushed against his skin as he closed his eyes.

  Magic.

  Up until now, everything had been survival and observation.

  But if he wanted to survive long-term in this world—

  He needed power.

  And that meant learning how this world's magic worked.

  Jackson took a slow breath.

  Inhale.

  The forest air filled his lungs.

  But he wasn't focusing on the air.

  He focused on something deeper.

  Something faint that lingered within the air itself.

  Mana.

  The invisible energy that flowed through this world.

  He had felt it before.

  A faint pressure in the air.

  Like invisible particles brushing against his skin.

  Jackson inhaled again.

  Slowly.

  'Pull it in.'

  The mana moved with the breath.

  At least—

  That was the theory.

  He focused on his body.

  In this world, magic wasn't simply casting spells.

  It required pathways.

  Circuits.

  Invisible channels within the body that allowed mana to flow.

  Right now—

  His were closed.

  Dormant.

  Untrained.

  Jackson focused on the sensation within his chest.

  'Open…'

  Nothing happened.

  He inhaled again.

  Slow.

  Controlled.

  The mana brushed against something inside him.

  A faint resistance.

  Like a locked door.

  Jackson concentrated harder.

  'Come on…'

  He exhaled slowly.

  Then inhaled again.

  Again.

  Again.

  Tiny flickers of sensation began appearing.

  Faint.

  Subtle.

  But there.

  Like numb limbs slowly waking up.

  The circuits.

  They were there.

  Dormant channels running through his body.

  Waiting.

  Jackson focused on one of them.

  Near his chest.

  He pushed the mana toward it.

  The moment the energy touched the pathway—

  Pain shot through his body.

  Jackson's eyes snapped open.

  “—Tch.”

  A sharp ache spread across his chest.

  Not unbearable.

  But unpleasant.

  Like forcing a stiff muscle to move after years of inactivity.

  Across the clearing, Victoria noticed.

  “…What are you doing?”

  Jackson rubbed his chest slightly.

  “Practicing.”

  Victoria tilted her head.

  “Practicing what?”

  Jackson inhaled again slowly.

  “Magic.”

  Victoria blinked.

  “…Already?”

  Jackson closed his eyes again.

  'Yeah.'

  Because if this world ran on mana—

  He needed to learn how to use it as soon as possible.

  Even if it meant forcing open pathways his body had never used before.

  He inhaled again.

  Mana brushed against his senses once more.

  The faint pressure returned.

  Jackson focused.

  'One circuit at a time.'

  The forest night deepened around them.

  And beside the quiet stream—

  Jackson began the slow, painful process of awakening his magic.

  Jackson inhaled again.

  Slowly.

  The cool night air filled his lungs, but his focus remained elsewhere.

  Mana.

  It was faint, like mist drifting through the forest. Invisible to the eye, but present if one paid attention to it long enough.

  He guided it inward with his breath.

  The moment it brushed against the dormant circuit again—

  Pain.

  A sharp, hot sting ran through his chest.

  Jackson’s brow twitched slightly, but he didn’t stop.

  'Again.'

  He exhaled.

  Then inhaled.

  The mana pressed against the closed pathway like water against a sealed gate.

  It didn’t open.

  Not yet.

  Across the fire, Victoria watched him.

  At first, it was simple curiosity.

  She had heard of people training their mana circuits before. It was not unusual among aspiring mages or academy students.

  But the way Jackson did it…

  It looked stubborn.

  Brute force.

  Inhale.

  Pause.

  Tension in his shoulders.

  Then that faint tightening of his expression when the pain hit.

  Again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Victoria rested her chin against her hand, blue eyes reflecting the flicker of the firelight.

  'He’s forcing it.'

  That wasn’t elegant.

  It wasn’t refined.

  And it certainly wasn’t how noble tutors would teach it.

  Yet he continued.

  Unwavering.

  Another breath.

  Another wince.

  Victoria watched for a few more minutes.

  Then ten.

  Then perhaps fifteen.

  Finally she sighed.

  “I’m tired of watching you do that.”

  Jackson didn’t open his eyes.

  “Then don’t watch.”

  Victoria rolled her eyes.

  “As if I would waste my evening doing that.”

  She stood up, brushing dirt from her dress.

  Jackson continued breathing slowly, drawing in mana with each inhale.

  Victoria walked to the side of the clearing where their supplies were stacked.

  She pulled out her bedroll.

  With practiced movements, she unfurled it across a relatively flat patch of ground.

  The thick fabric spread out with a soft rustling sound.

  Victoria lowered herself onto it with a controlled motion, smoothing her hair slightly as she lay down.

  The forest around them had grown darker now.

  The fire crackled softly.

  The stream flowed quietly nearby.

  Insects hummed in the distance.

  For a moment—

  Silence settled over the camp.

  Jackson inhaled again.

  Mana brushed against the same stubborn circuit.

  He pushed.

  Pain flared again.

  He endured it.

  Then, just as the quiet fully settled—

  Victoria spoke.

  Her voice was softer than usual.

  “Why do you try so hard?”

  Jackson’s breathing paused for a moment.

  His eyes remained closed.

  For a few seconds, he didn’t answer.

  Then he spoke.

  “Because I want to protect you.”

  The words left him simply.

  No hesitation.

  No dramatic tone.

  Just a statement.

  Across the fire, Victoria lay still.

  Her blue eyes stared upward at the dark canopy of trees above.

  The firelight flickered across her face.

  She didn’t respond.

  Not with a joke.

  Not with a complaint.

  Not even with one of her usual sharp remarks.

  She simply remained silent.

  The forest night continued around them.

  Jackson inhaled again.

  Mana gathered faintly in his breath.

  And somewhere inside his body—

  A stubborn circuit trembled slightly under the pressure.