Kazuki—Aiden—woke to the sound of crackling fire and hushed conversations.
His shoulder throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, but it was nothing compared to the agony he'd expected. When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on a bedroll inside a large canvas tent. The wound had been cleaned and bandaged with surprising care. Whoever had treated him knew what they were doing.
He sat up slowly, taking stock of his surroundings with the methodical assessment of his former profession. The tent was military-grade, spacious enough for ten people. Oil lanterns hung from the support poles, casting warm light across the space. His fellow slaves—the survivors, at least—were scattered throughout the tent, most still unconscious or sleeping fitfully. He counted twenty-three. Seventeen had died.
The copper-haired girl who'd tried to help him was curled up nearby, her face streaked with dried tears. She was alive. That was something.
"You're awake."
Aiden's head snapped toward the voice. The blonde knight from before sat on a wooden stool near the tent entrance, polishing her sword with methodical strokes. Up close, he could see the faint scars on her hands and forearms—the marks of someone who'd seen real combat. Her armor, while clean, showed signs of repair and maintenance. A working soldier, not a ceremonial guard.
"How long?" Aiden asked, his voice coming out rough and unfamiliar.
"Three hours since the attack. We've made camp for the night." She set down her sword and studied him with those hard, calculating eyes. "I'm Captain Elena Thornwood, commander of the 3rd Knight Squadron. What's your name, boy?"
"Aiden. Aiden Blackwood." The name felt more natural now, settling into place like a well-worn coat.
"Blackwood." Elena's lips twitched in something that might have been amusement. "Common slum surname. No family, I presume?"
"Sold by my father three years ago. Copper mines in Greyhall."
Elena nodded as if this confirmed something she already suspected. "And yet, when faced with a Grade-C demonic beast, you managed to wound it. Do you know how rare that is for an untrained slave child?"
Aiden said nothing. In his previous life, he'd learned that silence often yielded more information than questions.
Elena stood and walked toward him, her boots barely making a sound despite the packed earth floor. She crouched down to his eye level, and Aiden saw something dangerous flicker in her gaze—not hostility, but intense curiosity.
"You touched mana," she said softly. "I saw it. That blue spark around your hand before you struck. It was crude, untrained, barely a flicker—but it was there." She leaned closer. "How long have you been able to sense it?"
Aiden considered lying, but instinct told him this woman would see through it immediately. "Since today. Since the beast attacked."
Elena's eyebrows rose slightly. "A spontaneous awakening? During mortal danger?" She sat back on her heels, reassessing him. "That's... uncommon, but not unheard of. Strong emotions, particularly fear and desperation, can sometimes trigger a latent ability to perceive mana."
"Mana," Aiden repeated, testing the word. "That's what you call the energy?"
"You truly know nothing, do you?" Elena studied him for a long moment, then seemed to reach a decision. She pulled a small crystal from her belt pouch—similar to the black one left by the demonic beast, but this one was clear and faintly luminescent.
"Listen carefully, boy. I'll only explain this once." She held up the crystal. "This is a mana crystal, formed from concentrated magical energy. Everything in this world—every living thing, every rock, every drop of water—contains mana in varying amounts. Humans, elves, dwarves, and other sentient races can learn to sense and manipulate this energy. We call those who can do so 'mana users.'"
Aiden's mind raced, processing this information with the same analytical precision he'd once used to memorize building layouts and guard patterns. Magic. Real, tangible magic. Not folklore or fantasy, but a fundamental force of this world.
"Mana users are divided into categories," Elena continued. "Warriors who enhance their physical abilities—we call them Battle Mages or Mana Knights. Then there are Elemental Mages who can shape mana into fire, water, earth, air, lightning, and other elements. Healers who use mana to mend wounds and cure diseases. Summoners who can bind creatures to their will. And rarer types—Enchanters, Alchemists, Necromancers. The list goes on."
She rotated the crystal, and Aiden's enhanced perception—still partially active, he realized—allowed him to see faint streams of energy flowing through it like currents in water.
"Most people never develop the ability to sense mana," Elena said. "Of those who do, most awaken during childhood, between ages five and twelve. Awakening at fifteen is late. Very late. And awakening as a slave?" She shook her head. "That's almost unheard of. Slaves don't get proper nutrition, they're worked to exhaustion, their bodies and minds are broken. The conditions destroy any potential for mana development."
"Then why did I?" Aiden asked.
"That's what I'm trying to determine." Elena pocketed the crystal and stood. "Normally, you'd be sold to whoever bid highest in the capital. But the moment you touched mana, you became something else. According to the Laws of Ascension established by King Aldric the Third, any individual who demonstrates mana capacity, regardless of birth or status, must be evaluated by the Mage Council."
Aiden's assassin instincts screamed danger. Being noticed, being special—these were death sentences in his former life. "What happens during this evaluation?"
"They test your potential. Your mana capacity, your affinity for different elements, your ability to learn and control energy." Elena's expression was unreadable. "If you show promise, you'll be trained. If not..." She shrugged. "You'll be returned to slavery. Or executed, if they think you might become a rogue mage."
"Executed?"
"Untrained mages are dangerous," Elena said flatly. "They can lose control, cause disasters, kill dozens or hundreds of people accidentally. Better to eliminate the risk." She tilted her head, studying him. "But I don't think you'll fail. That wound you inflicted on the beast—it was precise. Instinctive, yes, but controlled. You didn't panic, didn't freeze. You acted."
Because I've killed over two hundred people, Aiden thought but didn't say. Because I've spent fifteen years learning to function in life-or-death situations.
A commotion outside the tent drew Elena's attention. She moved to the entrance and pulled back the flap. "What is it?"
"Captain!" A young knight saluted sharply. "The scouts report movement three miles south. Possibly more demonic beasts drawn by the blood."
Elena cursed under her breath. "How many?"
"Unknown. At least four distinct heat signatures."
"Damn. We can't move the slaves in darkness through this terrain—too many injuries, and the chains slow them down." She turned back to Aiden, her decision made. "Get some rest. We break camp at dawn and make for Thornhaven as fast as possible. Once there, you'll be taken to the Mage Council for evaluation."
"And the others?" Aiden gestured to the sleeping slaves.
"They'll be processed and sold as originally planned. Your life has diverged from theirs now, boy. Whether that's a blessing or a curse, only time will tell."
Elena left the tent, barking orders to her knights. Aiden lay back down, his mind churning with this new information. A world of magic, kingdoms, demonic beasts, and social hierarchies enforced by supernatural power. He'd gone from being at the top of his profession to the absolute bottom of a completely different society.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
But if there was one thing Kazuki Yamamoto had excelled at, it was adaptation. He'd survived Tokyo's underworld by learning its rules and mastering its games. He could do the same here.
The copper-haired girl stirred beside him, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw him awake, relief flooded her face.
"Aiden! Thank the gods. I thought—when you collapsed, I thought you'd died like the others."
"What's your name?" Aiden asked.
"Mira. Mira Ashford." She sat up, wincing from bruises. "That thing you did with the beast... how did you do that? I've never seen anyone fight like that."
Aiden met her eyes and saw genuine wonder there, untainted by suspicion or fear. She was perhaps fourteen, too young to have lost all hope despite three years of slavery.
"I don't know," he lied smoothly. "Instinct, I guess."
Mira smiled—a fragile, hesitant thing. "Well, your instinct saved my life. Thank you."
Aiden nodded but said nothing. In his previous life, he'd learned that gratitude was a dangerous currency. People who owed you debts could become liabilities. But looking at Mira's earnest face, at the other slaves huddled together for warmth and comfort, he felt something unfamiliar stir in his chest.
Responsibility. Not to an organization or a handler, but to actual people.
It was deeply uncomfortable.
Outside, the knights prepared defensive positions for the night. Somewhere in the dark forest, demonic beasts prowled, drawn by blood and death. And beyond that, in a city called Thornhaven, the Mage Council waited to determine whether Aiden Blackwood would rise or fall.
Kazuki closed his eyes and began to meditate, reaching for that blue spark within him. If magic was real, if power could be grasped and shaped, then he would master it.
Just as he'd mastered killing.
This was simply a different kind of weapon.