Ambitious Fire

Arno WhiteHart, a well-renowned student within the Imperial Academy of Exalta, roamed the halls of the educational institution, known for birthing the brightest and most powerful mages in Ostus.

The Academy earned its reputation as the most prestigious school due to its Magus Alumni, all of whom have statues carved in their honor decorating the luxurious quartz halls.

Hmm…Arno observed one statue in particular. At the base of it, a small brass plate read Jacob Blackwood, a name all too familiar to all who lived in Exalta, but especially to those residing within the capital city.

The young student's eyes were drawn to the bronze plaque that provided a summary of the mage's history. "A powerful mage who briefly joined the King's Royal Guard as an advisor but was knighted as the two-hundred-thirty-first Paladin. He then retired and went on to create a magic research institute, becoming known as the Father of Modern Innovation and revolutionizing the application of magic to everyday life."

"When establishing Blackwood Industries at age twenty, many household and conventional applications utilized magic crystals, making them a more renewable source than oil. The feat alone earned him many awards from several scientific institutions."

"Quite unfortunate he passed away not that long ago. Such a proficient magical prodigy went seemingly so soon despite passing away at fifty-five…" Arno muttered to himself.

He pondered what would become of the company and the family. A fire had only recently taken place a couple of days ago in a Leidhal. It was tragic to hear that a fire took away that prominent family in the blink of an eye…

The mother, Lorna, was an influential politician. She had a deep reach into the pockets of notable figures at all levels of government. Her charm captivated all who spoke to her, and she fell under their spell with her words. If I had the opportunity to meet her, I'm sure I could've used her connections.

As he continued to contemplate, a frown took shape on his face. Lawrence, the son, was unmemorable. Unlike his father, he was magicless, lacking the ability to wield mana, which often led to disappointment among those who looked to him in anticipation of running Blackwood Industries after Jacob passed.

The bell in the hall rang softly, reminding everyone that the school day was nearly over.

His lack of ability gave him the denomination, The Failed Son, often scorned by mages for his accursed birth, for tarnishing his father's reputation with his mere existence. His sister, Lucy, however, was the complete opposite of her older brother. She excelled at the top of her class, rivaling Arno himself. Often seen as more talented, open-minded, and tenacious, qualities that Arno lacked, which were evident in his performance.

But with her gone, I won't be number two in the academy rankings. What a truly awful thought…He sighed, lamenting his selfish image of prosperity and success now that his competitor was gone.

But he couldn't help it. He held the surname of the WhiteHart Family, a lineage of renowned mages who influenced the last Holy War with their abilities. Arno had a reputation to uphold, even if he had to forsake his humility.

Looking down at his silver-plated watch, he noticed it was half past three. He had had enough reminiscing and decided to exit the hall and head home.

----

Lawrence opened his eyes as he breathed in sharply, patting himself down quickly. Realizing he was in the present, he sighed in relief as his nerves began to vibrate from the surreal experience of near-death once again.

"Thank God…" If there were a God or Gods, he was thankful that one pulled him out of that awful memory, and spiteful that one could've made him experience it.

That was no memory…it was the same place as my visions before I transmigrated. I can't believe this world is connected. Kaede quickly dropped the piece of torn cloth onto the ground, not wanting to be pulled back in to relive the mental torment.

It was like that thing was talking to me directly in the present…Soothing his forehead, Kaede tried to calm himself down, but it didn't seem to help the slight sense of paranoia that whatever had killed him could still be around.

There wasn't an inkling of what to expect from this world now if there were inhuman things like that. Lawrence couldn't help but shiver as he tread through the house carefully. Looking around, he discovered what appeared to be a titanium kukri lodged into the wall near the stairs to the second floor. Curious, he cautiously approached it, observing how the sunlight shone against the metal.

It was beautifully curated, with a unique maze-like design along the blade's edge. The handle was made of metal with black, textured grips and featured a sleek, modern design. The person who carved it was a master in their craft; even Lawrence could tell that much.

He instinctively reached out to grab it, but quickly pulled it back when he realized what would happen. A part of him in the back of his mind wanted the intriguing weapon, especially since they weren't common anymore in the old world. He was mentally conflicted about the issue. Although his body urged him toward it, his mind kept his greedy hands at bay.

It's only one awful memory, right…? He sighed, mentally preparing himself. Gripping the handle tightly and ripping the kukri out, several wood splinters flew out and landed on the floor nearby.

~

Lawrence and his father approached a blacksmith in the small village of Leidhal, overseen by the Blackwood Family.

A stone foundation with a wooden frame surrounded the exterior. Smoke billowed out of the chimney as they approached the front door. A soft, metallic clanging sound emanated from within the workshop.

Jacob wrapped his hand around the brass doorknob, which squeaked slightly as he swung the door inward, ringing a bell as he opened it and let himself inside.

The young Lawrence sniffed twice, processing the slightly putrid smell of sulfur, iron, and burning wood. An unfamiliar environment, certainly not something familiar compared to his high school life as Kaede Shiraki, but there was something about the warm, tranquil feeling in the workshop that was very appealing.

It was almost hard to describe what he was feeling. He felt like he could be here forever if the universe permitted him. However, deep inside, he knew that wasn't possible.

He hadn't even left the burnt-down house, but he could only assume the outside didn't fare any better than what I'd already witnessed. There was an inner turmoil within him as he thought about how the fire reduced the exquisite architecture to nothing but ash.

Was that shadowy creature responsible? Surely right? He wished he knew more. All he could do right now was piece together Lawrence Blackwood's life.

Based on everything Kaede knows now, he could only assume that Lawrence was the same age as him. So, it's puzzling how someone like him could end up in such a perplexing situation.

Stepping onto the hardwood floor of the blacksmith's shop, the clanging from the back stopped. Jacob smiled warmly as the blacksmith turned around to greet the pair.

He was around the same height as Lawrence's father, about 180 centimeters, but he had a scruffy gray beard and very little hair on his head. Based on the wrinkles on his face, Lawrence could only assume he was in his mid-fifties. However, his arms were noticeably buff, like those of a bodybuilder.

"Jacob! A pleasant surprise as usual!" The blacksmith spoke in a bellowing voice. It was as if his tone vibrated the interior with the way he spoke.

"Likewise, Randal. I'm here to pick up my package." Jacob said calmly, his smile persisting as he began checking out all of the weapons on display.

"Of course! Of course!" Randal replied, looking at Lawrence briefly before returning to the back of his shop. "I see you've finally brought that son of yours!"

"Why wouldn't I? The package is for him, after all."

"Ah, yes, you make a valid point." The blacksmith laughed, returning to the front, holding a sheathed kukri in both hands. "Here it is."

He held it out to Lawrence, who carefully took it. The boy gripped the handle and slowly pulled the blade out of the leather sheath with a dozen stitches. The candlelight reflected off the metal as he looked closer at the blade inlaid with the maze-like design he had seen earlier. It was mesmerizing, like he could stare at it forever. After another second of focusing on the design, he realized the lines were glowing a dark aqua blue.

"Ah, so you've noticed it as well."

"Hm? What do you mean?" Lawrence's head perked up after making the observation.

Randal stepped forward a bit, sliding his index finger parallel to the blue lines. "The blue hue is mana coursing through the blade. I had magic sigils engraved on the blade. That thing won't change shape or break even if you throw it into the sun." He began to laugh boastfully, shaking the air around even more.

At that moment, a massive stream of knowledge rushed into Lawrence's head. Everything the real Lawrence had taught himself about the occult. Years' worth of magic formulas, sigil formations, grimoire texts, and spell incantations entered Kaede's mind in a single second. It was disorienting at first, but he gradually grew accustomed to it as he began to understand just a little more about the world.

He's such a knowledgeable person. It seems he's a lot like me. Kaede couldn't help but reminisce about the hours he spent reading in the library after school.

I never made many friends because I would often decline classmates' invitations to go out. Back then, I'd rather read than waste my time with frivolous things like high school friendships. Most people go their separate ways after graduation anyway. Besides, the stories I read were far more fascinating than anything in reality. Nothing exciting was happening in my life. Looking back on it now that I've died, my life was pretty lackluster…

The thought made several relevant questions form as his head began to spiral out of control.

Did all of that time spent reading amount to anything? Would it have if I hadn't died? In the end, aside from Kana, he never made any friends and didn't participate in any activities that an average high schooler would do.

Was it my fault?

Perhaps.

But it's too late now.

All I can do is soak in my eternal regrets. Maybe…with any luck, this new life will be better.

~

As the memory ends, Lawrence's vision returns to the ashen house. It was the most extended memory he'd experienced yet. But the first to truly make him contemplate his life decisions.