Dawn came slowly to the forest, pale light filtering through the thick canopy like water through cloth. Aiden woke
to the sound of the camp being dismantled—knights shouting orders, horses snorting, the clink of armor and
weapons being secured.
His shoulder still ached, but the pain was manageable. He'd survived worse in his previous life, though admittedly
with a body better equipped to handle trauma. He sat up carefully, testing his range of motion. The bandage was
clean, professionally applied. Whatever healing methods existed in this world, they were effective.
Around him, the other slaves were stirring. Most looked gaunt and hollow-eyed, the terror of yesterday's attack
still fresh in their minds. Mira was already awake, braiding her copper hair with practiced fingers despite the iron
collar around her neck.
"Good morning," she whispered, offering him a weak smile. "I thought you might sleep longer. That wound looked
bad."
"I've always been a light sleeper," Aiden replied, which was true for both his lives. Assassins who slept deeply
didn't live long.
A knight entered the tent—young, perhaps twenty, with a nervous energy about him. "All slaves, up and ready. We
move in ten minutes. Anyone who can't walk will be left behind."
The threat was clear. Several of the wounded slaves struggled to their feet, fear overriding pain. Aiden noticed
two children who could barely stand, supported by others. He calculated coldly: those two wouldn't survive the journey. In his old world, he would have felt nothing. In this body, with these borrowed memories, he felt...
something. Not quite compassion, but an uncomfortable awareness of their suffering.
"You there." The knight pointed at Aiden. "Captain wants to see you. Now."
Aiden stood, ignoring the protests from his shoulder, and followed the knight outside. The camp was a hive of
activity. Twenty knights moved with military precision, breaking down tents, securing supplies, preparing horses.
The efficiency reminded him of Tokyo's yakuza operations—professionals who knew their jobs and executed them
flawlessly.
Captain Elena Thornwood stood near a large warhorse, studying a map with two other officers. She looked up as
Aiden approached, dismissing the others with a curt nod.
"How's the shoulder?" she asked without preamble.
"Functional."
Elena's lips quirked. "Functional. Most boys your age would be crying about the pain, begging for more healing
salve. But you just assess and report." She studied him with those sharp eyes. "You're not like the other slaves, are
you?"
Aiden said nothing. He'd learned that silence was often the safest response when someone was fishing for
information.
"We'll reach Thornhaven by nightfall if we maintain good pace," Elena continued. "The other slaves will be
processed and sold at the market. You, however, will be escorted directly to the Mage Council's testing facility in
the inner city. Do you understand what that means?"
"I'll be evaluated. If I pass, I'll be trained. If I fail..." He left the sentence hanging.
"If you fail, you'll likely be executed," Elena said bluntly. "The Council doesn't take chances with potential rogue
mages. But I don't think you'll fail." She leaned closer, her voice dropping. "That strike yesterday—the way you
moved, the precision—that wasn't luck. That was training. Combat training. Where did a slave child learn to fight
like that?"
Aiden's mind raced. This woman was too observant, too intelligent. He needed a lie that contained enough truth to
be believable. "Survival," he said finally. "Three years in the copper mines. You learn to fight or you die. Older
slaves, guards who get bored, other children fighting for scraps. I learned."
Elena held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Perhaps. The mines are brutal places." She
straightened. "Regardless, you're an anomaly. A late-blooming mage with combat instincts and unusual
composure. The Council will be very interested in you."
"Is that good or bad?" "That depends entirely on how you handle yourself. The Council members are powerful, ancient, and not
particularly patient with fools. Answer their questions honestly but briefly. Don't volunteer information. Don't try to
impress them with bravado. And whatever you do, don't attempt to use magic during the testing unless explicitly
instructed. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Good. Get back to the others. We leave in five minutes."
The journey through the forest was tense and exhausting. The slaves were chained together in a long line, forced
to march at a pace that pushed their malnourished bodies to the limit. Knights rode on both sides, weapons ready,
constantly scanning the trees for threats. Twice, Aiden felt that strange heat in his chest—his emerging mana
sense warning him of something watching from the shadows. Each time, the knights seemed to feel it too, hands
moving to sword hilts, but no attacks came.
By midday, they emerged from the forest onto a wide road paved with smooth stones. Aiden had never seen
anything like it in his fragmented memories of Aiden Blackwood's life. The road was a marvel of engineering,
perfectly level, with drainage channels on either side and mile markers carved with elegant script.
"The Imperial Highway," Mira whispered beside him. "I've heard stories about it. Built by earth mages two hundred
years ago. They say it connects all the major cities in the Valdris Kingdom."
Aiden absorbed this information hungrily. Valdris Kingdom. Another piece of the puzzle. He was no longer on
Earth, that much was certain. This was a world where magic had shaped civilization, where power was measured
not in money or political influence, but in one's ability to manipulate the fundamental forces of reality.
It was both terrifying and exhilarating.
As they traveled, Aiden observed everything with an assassin's attention to detail. The way the knights maintained
formation. The types of weapons they carried—steel swords that gleamed with a faint inner light, suggesting
enchantment. The way they occasionally spoke words that made small flames appear above their palms for
lighting pipes, or created spheres of water from nothing for drinking.
Casual magic. As natural to them as breathing.
Around mid-afternoon, they crested a hill, and Aiden saw Thornhaven for the first time.
The city sprawled across the valley below like a living thing, easily ten times larger than any settlement in Aiden
Blackwood's memories. Massive stone walls, at least sixty feet high, encircled the entire city. Towers rose at
regular intervals, topped with what looked like crystalline structures that pulsed with soft light. Beyond the walls,
Aiden could see buildings of varying heights—some wooden, some stone, and in the distance, several structures
that seemed to float above the ground, defying gravity itself. "The Floating Academies," Mira breathed, following his gaze. "Where the noble children learn magic. I've always
dreamed of seeing them."
At the city's center, dominating the skyline, stood a castle that made Tokyo's skyscrapers look modest. It was a
fortress of white stone and silver spires, with banners bearing a silver sword and rose—the same insignia worn by
the knights. The castle seemed to shimmer in the afternoon light, as if the walls themselves were enchanted.
"Castle Thornhaven," Elena said, riding up beside them. "Home to Duke Aldric Thornhaven, ruler of the Southern
Territories and cousin to the King. The city is named for his family—they've held this region for four hundred
years." She glanced at Aiden. "The Mage Council chambers are in the castle's eastern tower. That's where your
fate will be decided."
As they descended toward the city, Aiden noticed something else—the traffic. Hundreds of people crowded the
highway, traveling in both directions. Merchants with wagons loaded with goods. Adventurers in mismatched
armor carrying weapons and mysterious equipment. Farmers driving livestock. And everywhere, casual displays of
magic: floating platforms carrying heavy loads, fire-less lanterns illuminating carts, enchanted signs that changed
their text as he watched.
This was a world fully integrated with magic. Not hidden or rare, but woven into the fabric of daily life.
The gates of Thornhaven loomed before them—massive wooden doors reinforced with metal and covered in
glowing runes. Guards in heavier armor than Elena's knights stood watch, checking papers and occasionally
stopping travelers for inspection.
But when they saw Elena's squadron, they immediately saluted and opened a smaller side gate. "Captain
Thornwood! Successful patrol?"
"Grade-C demonic beast eliminated. Seventeen civilian casualties." Elena's voice was clipped, professional. "I have
one potential mage for Council evaluation. Alert Tower Master Aldwin that I'll be bringing the candidate directly."
The guard's eyes widened slightly. "Understood, Captain. Safe travels."
As they passed through the gate, Aiden felt a peculiar sensation—like walking through a membrane of energy. His
mana sense flickered, and for a brief moment, he saw the entire gate structure lit up with intricate patterns of
blue light. Wards. Magical barriers designed to detect... what? Threats? Illicit magic? He filed the information away
for future reference.
Inside the city, the noise and chaos were overwhelming. Thousands of people filled narrow streets lined with
shops, taverns, and buildings that seemed to lean against each other for support. The smell hit him next—sweat,
cooking food, horse manure, and underlying it all, a peculiar metallic scent he was beginning to associate with
concentrated mana.
The slaves were led toward a large building near the market district—the processing center, where they would be
catalogued, cleaned, and prepared for sale. But before the main group reached it, Elena pulled Aiden aside. "This is where we part ways," she said. "Two of my knights will escort you to the Council chambers. Answer their
questions truthfully. Show them what you can do. And remember—you have potential, boy. Don't waste it trying to
be something you're not."
Aiden met her gaze and nodded. "Thank you, Captain."
Elena seemed surprised by the gratitude. For a moment, something almost like warmth crossed her face. "Try not
to die, Aiden Blackwood. I'd like to see what you become."
Then she was gone, riding toward the castle with the rest of her squadron.
Aiden turned to face his new escorts—two stern-faced knights who looked at him with barely concealed suspicion.
One of them gestured toward a side street.
"Follow. Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't touch anything. And don't even think about running."
Aiden followed silently, his mind already working. The Mage Council. The testing. His fate balanced on a knife's
edge, just like in his old life.
But unlike his old life, he had a chance to be more than just a weapon.
He just had to survive long enough to seize it.