"A gun?" Magnus blinked in confusion. "We know daggers... but what's a gun?"
Gardiyan froze. Seriously? Guns don't exist here?
His mind raced. Perhaps this world wasn't as advanced. After all, his original world had no magic—but at least it had modern weapons.
"Can you describe it?" Magnus leaned closer, visibly curious.
"It's... handheld. You press a trigger, and it shoots a projectile—fast, deadly, accurate. It's used for protection or attack. We called the projectiles bullets."
Magnus stroked his chin thoughtfully. "So... like a bow?"
"You could say that," Gardiyan replied.
"Hmm... Can you draw it? I might be able to replicate it." Magnus extended a hand, holding out a sheet of paper.
"I'm not exactly confident in my drawing skills, but I'll try."
Gardiyan took the paper, his expression focused. He would do everything in his power to recreate the one thing that defined his former life.
All for my gun... he thought, and began sketching the outline.
Once done, he handed it over and began explaining how it worked—mechanically, strategically, functionally. His voice was calm, detached, but his eyes burned with purpose.
Magnus listened carefully, nodding. "I think I understand the concept." He folded the paper with care.
Just then, an obnoxious slurping sound broke their focus.
They turned. Yiren was sipping tea—where it came from, nobody knew. The noise was infuriatingly loud.
Noticing their stares, Yiren smiled faintly. "Apologies. Didn't mean to interrupt."
He continued drinking, even more obnoxiously than before.
Magnus muttered sarcastically, "Your cup-holding posture is elegant. Your drinking habits... less so."
Yiren ignored him completely, as though the words flew in one ear and out the other. "Are you two done inventing? So... what do you need this bow-like thing and dagger for? Planning to kill us?"
Gardiyan smiled. "To protect myself. You said you're the strongest sorcerer in the world, right? You're bound to have enemies. And being close to you makes me a target."
Yiren's eyes narrowed. For once, he said nothing. He simply nodded. It was a logical answer. In fact, it was the exact kind of reasoning he would give.
Trust wasn't something Yiren gave freely. Even Magnus—his oldest companion—wasn't above suspicion. If he ever betrayed him, Yiren wouldn't be surprised.
Magnus suddenly waved his hand dismissively, "Alright, off you go. I've got work to do."
Déjà vu… Gardiyan thought. A memory from his past life. The tone, the timing—it all felt eerily familiar.
Without another word, Yiren placed a hand on Gardiyan's shoulder. Magic flared subtly, and the world around them shifted.
The teleportation ended with a soft hum of magic. Gardiyan landed on solid ground, his bare feet touching the cool marble of an unfamiliar hall. The atmosphere was quieter, less chaotic. It seemed they were now somewhere in Yiren's personal domain.
Yiren dropped his hand and stretched lazily, glancing sideways. "So... how does it feel? Being five years old again?"
Gardiyan examined his small hands, flexing his fingers. "Strangely normal."
Yiren chuckled. "Only you would call something like that 'normal.' Most people would be panicking or crying for their mommies."
"I've done enough panicking for one lifetime," Gardiyan replied coolly. "I prefer adapting."
"Of course you do," Yiren smirked, clearly entertained.
Gardiyan took a few careful steps across the hall, testing his balance. His body was different—smaller, lighter—but his mind remained sharp, analytical. He moved smoothly, as if he'd always lived in this form.
He suddenly stopped and turned. "This body's functional. Walking feels natural. I don't need diapers anymore, and I can chew food."
"Ah yes," Yiren grinned. "The joys of not needing a changing table."
Gardiyan shot him a side glance. "Speaking of which... that invention of Magnus's was disgusting."
Somewhere far away, Magnus sneezed.
Yiren burst out laughing again, wiping a tear from his eye. "You just keep delivering, kid. I like you."
Gardiyan didn't respond. He was already busy forming his next plan.
"Still thinking about that gun?" Yiren asked, watching him closely.
Gardiyan nodded once. "It's crucial."
"You're really planning to fight, huh?"
"I plan to survive. That means being prepared."
"Even in a world of magic?"
Gardiyan looked him dead in the eye. "Especially in a world of magic."
Yiren's smile faded for a moment. His usual playfulness dulled into a rare sliver of seriousness. "You're right. You'll need more than charm to stay alive here."
Gardiyan didn't reply. He didn't need to.
Yiren stared at him for a long beat. "You're not just some random soul, are you?"
Gardiyan said nothing.
"Fine. Keep your secrets, little philosopher." He waved dismissively. "But don't forget—if I find out you're lying again, I will shove you back into a diaper just for fun."
Gardiyan gave a small nod, unthreatened. "Noted."
Yiren stretched again. "Anyway... I'll handle your appearance. You'll need clothes that fit. And maybe... a name?"
"I already have one."
Yiren raised a brow. "Gardiyan, right? Doesn't sound like a baby name."
"It's my name," he replied firmly, He didn't want to use his old name.
"Alright, alright." Yiren raised both hands. "Keep your edge, Mini Terminator."
Gardiyan narrowed his eyes. "What's a Terminator?"
Yiren smirked. "No idea. It just sounded cool."
********
The sun was just beginning to rise when Gardiyan was jolted awake by a sudden splash of cold water.
He shot upright, coughing, his tiny body shivering.
"Good morning, sunshine," came Yiren's voice, far too cheerful for the situation.
Gardiyan blinked. He was lying on the big bed that Yiren had made for him. Although it was supposed to be a children's bed, Yiren had made it too big to accommodate adults. Yiren stood over him, holding an empty bucket.
"I thought this world had magical ways to wake people," Gardiyan muttered.
"We do," Yiren said. "But I prefer this one. Builds character."
Gardiyan didn't respond. He stood slowly, regaining his composure. "What do you want?"
"Training," Yiren said, stepping back. "You said you want to survive. Let's see what instincts you've brought from your world."
Gardiyan stared at him. "You want to spar. With a child?"
Yiren shrugged. "You're not really a child, are you?"
Gardiyan looked down at his five-year-old frame. "Physically, yes."
"Emotionally? Mentally? Strategically? Absolutely not." Yiren cracked his knuckles. "Come at me."
Gardiyan hesitated. "I don't fight without reason."
"You need a reason? Fine." Yiren flicked a small bolt of energy, which zipped past Gardiyan's face and scorched the ground behind him.
"I'm your reason."
Gardiyan exhaled slowly, then raised his fists—not like a brawler, but like someone who had once taken lives with terrifying efficiency.
Yiren smiled. "There we go."
They moved.
Yiren didn't attack directly. He circled, testing. Gardiyan waited, calculating. Each movement was precise—no wasted energy, no unnecessary motion.
Yiren feinted left, then vanished, reappearing behind Gardiyan with a playful flick to the back of his head. "Too slow."
Gardiyan didn't flinch. "Just observing."
"You're not trying to win," Yiren said.
"I'm trying to learn."
Yiren's grin widened. "Good."
Then, faster than a blink, Yiren appeared in front of him and brought a palm toward Gardiyan's chest. Gardiyan dropped and rolled away, coming up in a defensive stance. His breathing was controlled. He didn't speak.
Yiren lowered his hand and stepped back. "Interesting. You don't get angry."
Gardiyan didn't reply.
"Your training is over," Yiren said with a radiant smile, brushing a speck of dust off his shoulder.
"You mean your test is over," Gardiyan replied with irritation, his tone clipped.
Yiren laughed lightly "Oh? Did I hurt your pride, little Gardy?"
Gardiyan's eyes narrowed. "Your so-called test was childish."
With a theatrical gasp, Yiren clasped his chest. "Childish? That 'childish' test exposed every gap in your stance, your timing, and your instinct. If I'd wanted to kill you, you'd be fertilizer by now."
Gardiyan said nothing. His breath was steady, his posture perfect. But beneath that calm exterior, thoughts raced.
He knew Yiren was right. His body was that of a weak, fragile child.
Yiren stepped closer, his presence always just a bit too much—too bold, too fast, too alive. "You think in straight lines. That's your strength... and your weakness." He circled Gardiyan like a wolf studying a quiet, strange prey. "You calculate. You plan. You dissect. But in real combat?" He snapped his fingers. "No time for chess."
Gardiyan finally looked up. "And yet, you didn't land a single strike."
Yiren grinned wider. "Because I wasn't trying. I wouldn't hurt you"
There was a silence between them, tense but not hostile.
Gardiyan crossed his arms, voice cool. "So what did you see?"
Yiren's smile faded just a touch. "A dangerous mind trapped in a soft body. You'll be terrifying one day… if you survive long enough."
That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of Gardiyan's mouth—half amusement, half challenge.
"Now," Yiren said, stretching his arms above his head, "let's go eat something. All this not-killing-you has made me hungry."
"Do you ever take anything seriously?" Gardiyan muttered.
Yiren shot him a look over his shoulder. "Only things worth surviving for."