The second life

Arthur’s eyes snap open.

It seems to be a shock to his head, all of the senses have come back to him. There are the smells of herbs and smoke, and a faint golden glow flickers around him. He rolls his eyes, to stop at one shape right behind him - a tall, polished mirror framed with curling golden patterns.

He freezes, tears start dropping as he touches his face - the tears of joy that never fall after his father’s death.

The boy in the mirror looks back at him, also crying. Its long, thin hand touches its pale cheek as Arthur senses a cold skin - it’s him, a boy with arms. Arthur’s heart is pumping, faster than it has ever been, no pain, no exhaustion. His legs are standing straight without any conscious effort.

The body doesn’t actually look completely ‘human’, though. Arthur’s skin is dark gray and his teeth are absurdly sharp.

A rough, calloused hand grabs Arthur from behind - yet it’s warm, almost welcoming. The man’s voice is gentle, mumbling words Arthur doesn’t understand. He can’t make out the clothes, but the face is clear: pale blue eyes, a big nose, white hair framing a map of deep wrinkles.

Arthur blinks slowly as the man eases him into her arms. His embrace is firm like he’s holding something fragile that might vanish if gripped too tightly. A faint hum vibrates through his chest, brushing past his ears in a soothing rhythm. The golden glow in the room flickers once, then softens, and Arthur’s thoughts scatter into a quiet haze.

…

Right the moment he wakes up, a small room appears before him. There is a chalkboard and a cube desk, like ones from the classrooms that Arthur never had the chance to come to. The room is brightened by shining stones embedded into the walls.

“Another hero,... one that is oddly ugly,” an old man steps in. He speaks English fluently, as if it’s his native tongue.

Arthur blinks at the chalkboard, his chest tightening. A classroom - something he’d only seen from alley windows, watching other children file in with books and laughter. For a moment, he forgets the ache in his body.

Then the old man’s voice cuts through his awe. “Welcome to the ‘new world’ course.” The tone drips with sarcasm, and Arthur’s excitement deflates.

“The…what?” Arthur asks.

“You are not the first hero here. In fact, you may not be the last, either. This course is like a friendly introduction of this world for new heroes. You know, the language and stuff,” he replies. “I am your teacher, the former sixty fifth hero, Mike.”

Arthur slams his fists against the desk, the sound cracking through the small room.

“Wait - no, no, no! I didn’t ask for an introduction,” he shouted. “Humanity is on the brink of extinction, there’s no time to waste!”

The floor beneath Arthur’s feet suddenly flares with heat, searing through his baby’s socks. He yelps and hops in place, flailing until he stumbles into the chair at the square desk.

“You can’t fix something without knowing what is going wrong, can you?” Mike leans near Arthur, stares at him for a moment. “Just sit there and listen for now.”

Arthur clenches his fists, jaw tight. Some part of him wants to shout back, to prove he isn’t just some clueless boy to be scolded. But he knows…he actually has no ideas about this world.

Mike chuckles, exaggerating Arthur’s posture with his own crooked fists and scrunched face. “You’re smarter than most, boy. I once met a boy who charged at me screaming ‘I’ll kill the demon lord!’ without knowing that there are no demon lords here.”

He drops his act with a lazy grin, then taps the chalkboard with a knuckle. Tock. “Now, let’s talk about the fun part, our enemy and the toys you’ll get to fight them.”

“We are on the humans’ side, understandably,” Mike says, scribbling uneven lines on the chalkboard that vaguely resemble a stick figure with a sword. “Now, pay attention. There are four other sapient beings in this world. First - the cephel. They are octopus-like things that decided to worship walking disasters instead of becoming sushi. Their ability allows them to communicate with such species and all other animals and plants.”

He switches to another doodle, this one with eight legs. “Second - the arachna. Picture spiders, but the size of a bear and will eat everything in sight. Their magic can create anything they want from thin air.”

Next, he scratches out the silhouette of a bird, its wings stretched across half the board. “And then, the krow. Raven-like beasts, darker than night and faster than sound itself. They can enhance anything, from their own bodies to their weapons.”

He pauses, spinning the chalk, his smile a little too wide. When he finally scratches the last shape onto the board, it’s unsettlingly human.

“Finally, the skall. Scarlet skin, teeth like knives. Stronger than any of us, in both magic and muscle. Cruelty isn’t a habit to them, it’s history. Cannibalism, massacres, torture…and those are just the parts people write down. They can control any elements, excluding their blood-thirst.”

His smirk lingers, but his voice dips for the first time, almost too low to catch. The chalk trembles slightly in his hand.

“They’re the reason…I am here teaching, instead of out there fighting.”

Mike lets the silence hang a second too long after mentioning the Skall. Then, with a clap of his hands, the gloom is gone.

“Anyway! Enough about nasty teeth and ugly faces,” he says, throwing the chalk right to Arthur’s bosehead. “Let’s move on to something far more exciting - your and any other humans’ magic type.”

Arthur flinches, rubbing his forehead where the chalk bounced off.

“Hey!”

Mike just grins, already spinning a fresh piece between his fingers. “See? Fast reflexes. You’ll need those. Now, listen closely. Mana is the energy source behind magic, every living being has mana, both us and our enemies.”

“Except you, apparently. Congratulations, you’re the discount model,” Mike says while clapping his hands together like it’s something worth celebrating.

“Being a hero is about courage and resilience, not magic!” Arthur shouts when slamming the table.

“You can’t kill a living devil just by charging at it,” Mike replies flatly.

“So how can I use this so-called magic? A wand or something?” Arthur says, his voice full of doubt.

“Don’t be impatient, your magic ability will come for you as soon as you become sixteen. It should be aligned with humans’ style, which is changing substances’ properties,” Mike raises an eyebrow, a half-snicker slipping out. “Still…there are ways to get acquainted with it early.”

“And that’s my absolute favourite part!” Mike says with an ominous smirk while rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

Arthur’s chest pounds rapidly as he isn't sure if he should be afraid or thrilled.