I was lying in bed, with Isolde by my side. As soon as we saw the outrageous number of words in the healing magic section, we slammed the book shut without hesitation. Don't judge us; we're still too young to digest that kind of information overload.
It was ridiculous. That section easily doubled the length of the other magic branches, as if its author had decided to make up for a lack of restraint with sheer volume. I only read a portion, enough to get the gist: molecular healing magic. An approach that worked at the level of molecules and proteins, manipulating the body's chemical processes to repair cellular damage and prevent diseases at their root.
In theory, it allowed for the restoration of damaged DNA, preventing mutations or genetic disorders. It also enabled the regeneration of essential proteins to slow premature aging and the elimination of toxins and free radicals through magical transmutation. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. It wasn't hard to conclude that mastering such a discipline would be a nightmare.
I decided to put it off. Better to tackle it when my age and patience are better suited for the task.
---
Six years have passed since my… peculiar birth.
For the past two months, I've started training in magic and swordsmanship. There were no teachers to guide me, just the manuals, Isolde, and my own determination. Hiring a tutor would've been sensible, but I doubt anyone in this kingdom knows the martial arts described in The Paradox Scriptures.
I also considered the academy. I asked Mother about it, but it turns out admission starts at twelve, and training lasts until eighteen. That hit me harder than it should have. But there's not much I can do about it.
For now, I'm content with the books and Isolde's company.
"I don't get this jiujitsu stuff at all," she grumbled, trying to pull off a Tsuri Goshi on a sack of corn.
"It's gonna be trickier than it looks…" I said, testing a hook kick.
Our flexibility, agility, and patience left a lot to be desired. We'd been training for two months and had only mastered ten techniques from different martial styles. Sounds impressive until you remember that The Paradox Scriptures catalog around eight thousand.
Eight thousand.
An absurd number, though each technique is documented with almost obsessive precision. At least the text offers shortcuts to ease the learning process.
Take the Wave Evasion & Counter from Systema, for example. Its core principle: use relaxation and wave-like motion to dodge a strike, redirect it with your torso or forearm, unbalance the opponent, and counter with an explosive, fluid strike.
Thanks to that guidance, Isolde and I mastered the technique in a reasonable amount of time. But as we progress, it's clear that each new skill is harder than the last.
"Lucius, Isolde, time for lunch!" Mother called from our bedroom door.
Yes, from the door. I'm not keen on going out. We could walk the kingdom's streets or train on some hill, but honestly, the idea of being outside doesn't particularly appeal to me.
I prefer the quiet of my room, a book in hand, and Isolde's company. Still, if she decides she wants to go out and mingle with the other kids, I wouldn't mind tagging along. Either way…
We left the room and hurried downstairs. Lunch was waiting to be devoured.
Father wasn't with us during lunch. He… well, he was rarely home, and when he was, it was usually at night. We were only allowed to see him on weekends, when his schedule aligned with ours and we hadn't yet succumbed to sleep.
His job was… interesting, to put it mildly. Not everyone can boast about being the personal guard of the monarch of the entire Milford kingdom.
And since I brought it up, I suppose it's time to talk about the Milford kingdom.
It's where I was born. Compared to other kingdoms on the continent, it's massive, almost excessive. Its architecture matches the Victorian era we live in, with markets and parks—the only places I've visited so far—sporting a gothic style that gives the city an air of solemnity some might mistake for majesty.
But there's something about this world I need to point out.
The sun and the moon are one and the same.
Yes, I know. It sounds absurd. The moon regulates tides and stabilizes the Earth's axis, so its absence should wreak havoc. However, according to The Paradox Scriptures, that role falls to the Kraken King, the absolute monarch of the seas.
A colossal creature with endless tentacles.
Fortunately, it's peaceful… most of the time. If anyone threatens its waters, it won't hesitate to sink ships, cities, or any civilization bold enough to challenge it. It's the guardian of balance, the reason this world keeps functioning despite its alarming lack of a moon.
And that brings us to the obvious question: what does the night look like?
Simple. The sun turns red and dims its light until it behaves like the moon. An efficient, if unsettling, concept.
"Issy, Lucy, why don't you go explore for a bit?" Mother said while washing some plates and glasses.
I took a sip of my soup to avoid answering.
But…
"Yes! That's a great idea!" Isolde shouted with enthusiasm, raising her spoon and splattering me with drops of soup.
…
Come on… I just bathed.
I sighed and wiped myself with a cloth. Isolde gave a nervous smile, but I returned a happy one. I found her antics amusing.
I didn't want to go out.
But, thinking about it, going out now could be an interesting opportunity. When Mother took us shopping, I saw something that caught my eye: an imposing structure, almost like a cathedral. I wanted to examine it more closely but put the idea off until I felt the urge to act on it.
Seems that moment has arrived, courtesy of Isolde.
"Thanks for the food," I said, setting down my spoon. I slid off the chair and walked over to my sister.
"Thanks for the food, Mom!" Isolde echoed with enthusiasm.
I helped her down, and we stood in front of Mother. She knelt, took our hands, and closed her eyes as she recited an incantation. A glow traced over the backs of our hands before fading.
Watcher magic.
A spell described in The Paradox Scriptures. Mid-level guards use it to track prisoners and ensure they don't escape. In our case, Mother used it as a precaution in case someone tried to kidnap us. If we were in danger, the spell would activate.
If that ever happened, she'd come for us.
Alone.
She didn't need Father's help. She was a high-level guardian.
"Be careful." She smiled and kissed our foreheads.
We left the house.
Out there, maybe an adventure awaited us. Or maybe, just boredom.
Once outside, Isolde grabbed my arm and dragged me through the streets, running with an energy that seemed inexhaustible.
Let me describe the journey.
The soles of my shoes clacked against the worn cobblestones. The houses, some lined up in perfect symmetry and others separated by alleys branching into other streets, rose with a monotonous elegance. People were everywhere. Kids playing, adults chatting, merchants shouting their offers with an eloquence bordering on desperation.
We passed the intersection where carriages flowed in a steady stream. There, the Kingdom's Sentinels kept order, ensuring the traffic didn't descend into chaos. Their presence was a reminder that even daily routines were regulated with precision.
Our destination turned out to be a park. A social hub where, unlike other places, the child population far outnumbered the adults. And before anyone questions it, no, it's not dangerous. In fact, it's absurdly safe. Veil Masters patrol constantly, and even the Sentinels are present, though their only job seems to be ensuring trash ends up in the right place.
Now, I think it's time to clarify something. I've mentioned different levels of knighthood but haven't stopped to explain them. It'd be understandable if someone got confused by the terms. Let's fix that.
The first and highest level belongs to the General Sergeants. They're the elite of the knighthood, the war strategists, the architects of grand military campaigns. Their role isn't limited to battle; they also advise the monarch and nobility on matters of defense and military policy. Their loyalty is unshakable. Perhaps even stronger than their own intelligence, if you catch my drift.
The second level is the Ether Guardians, like my parents. My father, in fact, could've been a General Sergeant, but the king decided his place was by his side as a personal guard. Ether Guardians lead divisions, assist General Sergeants, and oversee the kingdom's magical protection rituals. They're key cogs in the military machine.
Then there are the Veil Masters. Their role is subtler but no less vital. They're the guardians of order, the invisible overseers watching every corner of the kingdom. They use stealth and mind-manipulating magic to monitor nobles and commoners alike. Basically, if someone tries to destabilize the kingdom, they're the first to know. And the first to act.
Lastly, there are the Kingdom's Sentinels. They're the most visible force, patrolling the streets and ensuring everything runs smoothly. They're not the strongest or most strategic, but that doesn't mean they're weak. Their hand-to-hand combat skills easily outmatch any untrained civilian, and their knowledge of healing magic is something I, honestly, envy.
I've tried to understand it, but so far, my progress has been… limited.
"Lucy! Look, look! It's a dark goose!" Isolde exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the central lake.
There it was. A dark goose, gliding across the water with that aura of calm indifference that made them so irritating.
The first time I saw one, I was two. I remember one tried to bite my foot. I cried. Isolde, in response, chucked her bottle at it like she was defending her honor in a duel.
I guess aggression is her way of showing affection.
"You're not gonna hit it with a bottle again, right, Issy?"
"What? Of course not! That time I was protecting you." She grinned with pride, as if it had been a grand feat. "Wait! Lucy, what are you doing!?"
I pulled her toward the lake and used a bit of mana to manipulate the water, splashing it at her.
"Agh!"
But Isolde reacted faster than I expected, redirecting the water toward my face. I ducked to dodge it, but a few drops hit my hair.
"Issy!"
The goose stared at us with what I swear was disdain.