The Turning Point

The morning sun poured through the manor’s grand windows, bathing the central hall in golden light. Dyre sat in a blue armchair, arms crossed tightly. Eleana sat beside him, her silver-blonde hair catching the breeze from the open window.

Across from them, Sir Choi sat upright, hands resting on his knees. His loose brown robes shifted with his calm movements, his long grey beard swaying as he nodded. His sharp eyes regarded his employers with respect.

“How’s Duncan been getting on with his training this past week?” Dyre asked, his voice tinged with worry.

It had been a week since Duncan woke from his coma. His nephew’s drastic change in behaviour still gnawed at Dyre, stirring unease.

Sir Choi gave a faint smile. “Duncan has tremendous potential, Master Dyre. Hardly surprising, given he’s Danzel’s son—”

“Sir,” Eleana cut in sharply, her blue eyes flashing a clear warning. “Don’t mention that name.”

Sir Choi bowed his head deeply, his face apologetic. “Forgive me, Lady Eleana. I only meant that Duncan’s change in demeanour reminds me of…” He paused. “…his father.”

Dyre and Eleana exchanged a glance, their shared concern mirrored in their eyes. The dark shadow of the past seemed to loom once more.

“We’re worried,” Dyre said softly, his hands gripping the armrests. “His amnesia has changed him so much… what if his memories return? We fear it’ll shake him even more.”

“And make things worse,” Eleana added, her voice trembling slightly.

Sir Choi raised his head, his gaze steady and assured. “With respect, Master Dyre, Lady Eleana, I believe this is a turning point for Duncan.” His voice carried calm wisdom. “We must support him and not dwell on what might not happen.”

The room fell quiet, save for the chirping of birds outside. Eleana sighed deeply, while Dyre mulled over Sir Choi’s words.

“To be honest,” Sir Choi continued, “I initially thought Duncan was a different person altogether.”

It was a fair observation. As Duncan’s private tutor, Sir Choi had taught general knowledge, not magic, because Duncan had always been fiercely antisocial and refused to learn spells. During lessons, the boy had been passive, reading books with a vacant stare, as if his soul wasn’t there.

“But now, I’m chuffed with the new Duncan,” Sir Choi said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “He’s far more engaged. His enthusiasm for every lesson is impressive, despite his challenges.”

Eleana leaned forward, curiosity overtaking her worry. “What’s holding him back, then?”

“His body’s still weak from the coma,” Sir Choi replied confidently. “It hasn’t fully recovered.”

Dyre nodded, understanding. “That’s why you’ve had him walking laps around the field and basking in the morning sun?”

The wide lawn between the manor and Duncan’s pavilion had become his training ground over the past week. Dyre had often seen Duncan walking or jogging there, a sight unthinkable before.

“Exactly,” Sir Choi said, nodding with satisfaction. “With proper meals and regular exercise, Duncan’s body should be back to normal in three weeks, like any lad his age.” He raised a finger. “Which is why I suggest enrolling him in SHS.”

SHS—Sorcerer High School—was the premier magical academy in the Kingdom of Rosstania, where young sorcerers shaped their futures.

Eleana’s eyes narrowed as realization hit. “Duncan’s the right age for SHS,” she murmured. But worry creased her face again. “But… will he cope? He’s never dealt with strangers.”

She was right. Duncan’s only regular contacts had been family, Phoebe, and Sir Choi, and even then, he’d barely spoken, always lost in his blank stare.

Sir Choi smiled wisely. “Sending Duncan out into the world will teach him what it means to be human.” He cleared his throat. “Besides, SHS has a far better system than I could offer. I’m just a retired soldier, after all.”

Dyre nodded, conviction growing. “You’re right, Sir. Perhaps it’s time Duncan stepped into the wider world.”

Unbeknownst to the trio, Alice spotted Julia eavesdropping from behind the door, silently absorbing every word.

“Julia!” Alice called sharply, but not too loudly. “What are you doing there?”

Julia flinched, her face flushing at being caught. “Mother, I was just—”

“Back to your room, now,” Alice cut in, her tone firm. “This isn’t your business.”

Julia bowed her head and hurried toward the stairs. Alice shook her head slightly before resuming her tasks.

---

Outside, at the pavilion, Phoebe stood wringing her hands, her orange eyes clouded with worry. She watched her master—Duncan—balancing precariously on one leg atop a fence post. The bizarre, dangerous stance made her heart pound.

Duncan, or rather Urotasu, was meditating, channeling Atomage with a technique he’d devised. His body stood perfectly still, eyes closed, breathing deep and steady. The morning breeze gently stirred his silver hair.

Over the past week, Urotasu had grasped the basics of this world’s magic. Simply put, it hinged on three elements: Core, Atomage, and Mantra. The Core was a purple, spiritual orb within the body—Urotasu pictured it as a flash drive and converter, storing a user’s magical data and transforming Atomage into spells. Atomage was the purple spiritual energy in the body and universe, the raw fuel for magic shaped by Mantras. Mantras ensured spells were precise and efficient.

“Thinking about it, magic here’s like mana in an RPG,” Urotasu had muttered days ago while studying magic books. “Core’s your character’s level and gear, Atomage is mana points, and Mantra’s the skill command.”

Now, he realized that despite differences between Kanjo and magic, their power depended on one thing: the user’s physical condition. Both Kanjo and Atomage grew stronger with a fit body.

“Bloody hell,” he thought, frustrated. “Of all the bodies I could’ve landed in, I got Duncan’s scrawny, coma-weakened one. It’s like starting a game with a character at minus stats.”

Because of his frail body, Sir Choi had banned Urotasu from casting magic, limiting him to theory. It drove him up the wall.

So, for the past week, he’d focused on strengthening his body, following Sir Choi’s advice. But drawing on his experience as Japan’s strongest Kanjo-gun, Urotasu found a shortcut: meditation.

“Good thing martial arts cultivation principles still apply,” he thought, chuffed. “Meditating to strengthen body and mind is universal, it seems.”

Phoebe, spotting Sir Choi approaching the pavilion with steady steps, rushed to him, her pink hair bouncing.

“Sir Choi!” she called, voice laced with worry. “Please tell Master Duncan to get down. I’m scared he’ll fall.”

Sir Choi chuckled warmly, his laugh like a kind grandfather’s. His wrinkled but strong hand gently patted Phoebe’s pink hair.

“You’re a loyal maid, Phoebe,” he said with a genuine smile. “But don’t fret. Master Duncan knows what he’s doing.”

Urotasu stopped meditating at the sound of Sir Choi’s voice. His eyes opened slowly, a newfound confidence gleaming in Duncan’s blue gaze. With a graceful, controlled leap, he jumped from the fence post, landing perfectly on the grassy field.

“I’m ready, Sir,” he said, brimming with assurance, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “This body feels loads lighter when I channel Atomage.”

“Meditating to absorb natural Atomage and strengthen your body—clever move, Master,” Sir Choi said, impressed, though curiosity flickered in his eyes. “But how did you know to meditate like that?”

Urotasu scratched the back of his head, scrambling for a plausible answer. “Er… read it in those magic books Julia brought last week.”

“I see,” Sir Choi nodded, satisfied.

“Still, I know it’s only a temporary fix,” Urotasu said, staring at his palms before clenching them.

“Correct, as your body isn’t fully recovered,” Sir Choi said, stroking his beard. “And at your age, you’re not ready to handle natural Atomage.”

“Age matters too, eh?” Urotasu muttered, a bit deflated. “Bugger. I thought reincarnation would be like Isekai anime, where the main character gets infinite power straight away. Should’ve been reborn as a slime!” he grumbled inwardly.

“But your understanding of magic surpasses most lads your age,” Sir Choi added. “I’m certain you could become a great sorcerer, Master.”

“Hah, obviously,” Urotasu laughed, running a hand through his hair with a cocky smirk.

His arrogance wasn’t baseless. As Japan’s strongest Kanjo-gun, it wasn’t a stretch to think he’d become this world’s greatest sorcerer. At least, that’s what he believed.

“Meditation isn’t something beginners can pull off,” Sir Choi continued. “It shows you’ve got natural talent.”

“Talent? Mate, I’ve always been a bloody genius,” Urotasu thought, crossing his arms, chin high, eyes closed, savoring Sir Choi’s praise with an unshakable grin.

“But that’s common for sorcerers from my homeland, the Akihito Empire,” Sir Choi said.

Thump.

Urotasu froze, eyes wide with disbelief. He’d been Japanese in his past life, and Akihito was the name of a Japanese emperor. His hunch was right—there was a land like Japan in this world.

“Finally!” he thought, buzzing with excitement. “There’s a Japan-like place here! Maybe they’ve got takoyaki, or even manga? Blimey, I hope there’s an rock band or a cosplay café!”

From the moment he saw Sir Choi, Urotasu had pegged him as East Asian. Sadly, Duncan’s memories offered little about the tutor due to the boy’s antisocial nature, leaving Urotasu with minimal info.

But Sir Choi’s expression turned serious. “So, don’t get cocky, Master,” he said, his tone shifting. “There are far greater sorcerers out there, with powers beyond yours.”

The words silenced Urotasu and Phoebe. “What’s with this old codger’s aura? Things just got proper tense,” Urotasu thought, sensing Atomage radiating from Sir Choi.

“Which is why,” Sir Choi continued, taking a combat stance, “I challenge you to a magic duel, as the final test of your training.” He raised his right hand forward, his left tucked behind his back.

“That stance… straight out of kung-fu,” Urotasu thought.

“And to prove if you’re worthy of the Thorington name.”

Thump.

A confident grin spread across Urotasu’s face. This was the moment he’d been waiting for—a chance to show his skills after a week stuck with theory.

“Don’t hold back, Sir Choi,” he said, mirroring the stance. “You’re up against the future greatest sorcerer of the Thorington family.”