ONLINE IN ANOTHER WORLD

“Reincarnation Online: The Second Life of Fantasy, Excitement, and Wonder.”

Seeing the title of the “VR” product–a “Virtual Reality” game–he felt it resonate with something within him as he stared at his monitor.

However, virtual reality had evolved from just an ocular augmentation to something that was able to completely augment all senses of a person’s mind, allowing them to fully immerse into new settings.

But, even above that, “Re...

Over the past few months, he adamantly tried to conquer his status as an “infant”, though it was more difficult than he gave it credit for.

He was mostly left to the whims of his parents, only able to cry out when needing something as his small tongue and vocal chords weren’t developed much yet.

Walking was a difficult task with his uncoordinated baby body, but he didn’t mind it–this ended up with him being carried by Treyna a lot, w...

There wasn’t much to do at his young age; his parents were still overly protective of every little action he took, though he didn’t blame them nor did he really mind it.

While sitting and reading a book, Julius watched in surprise, witnessing his young son studying away at the text.

“…You can read already, Emilio?” Julius asked, kneeling down beside him.

He nodded with a smile, “Yeah.”

At first, this language seemed foreign to me, but ...

It was easy to tell why magic was so difficult for people to grasp: there were hardly any real, tangible instructions given.

The very first entry in the grimoire was the pre-information needed to understand magecraft itself.

‘Mana is no different than one’s own life essence. It’s drained when we’re exhausted, it’s filled when we eat. Just as we burn through energy by tending to a field or swinging a sword, we burn through mana to man...

With the complete embodiment of the spell interlaced with his thoughts, he kept his hand forward with his intentions clear: to part the fallen leaves.

Come…Wind Sphere, he thought.

His eyes were still closed as he invoked the magecraft through his mind with a hope unlike that of an ignorant child’s; he didn’t know whether it had worked or not yet, but against his palm, he felt a brisk wind.

So deeply believing in the flow of wind in a...

“Your mother and I discussed it, and if you want to take your training in the art of magic to the next level, you’re going to have to also become a half-decent swordsman!”

“I don’t understand…why?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

He could tell the discussion that Julius had with his mother was likely more of the eccentric, brawn-for-brains man convincing her to have him undergo this training.

“Balance is key! Sometimes, a sword is going...

“Pick up your sword. Let’s try this again,” Veldalla instructed.

Though the last thing he wanted to do was go for another round with the woman who certainly didn’t treat him as though he were a child, he begrudgingly lifted the training weapon, knowing it was his one line of defense.

Again and again, he felt it impossible to keep up with Veldalla, who had the speed of a bullet and the aggression of a bull.

Even defending against her s...

I did it! He thought.

It was much more anticlimactic than he had imagined; Veldalla didn’t even budge from the strike, but she did come to a full-stop.

Well, can’t expect much from the body of an eleven-year-old, he thought with a sigh.

The scarred, but beautiful, rowdy woman looked at him for a moment.

In place of surprise, Veldalla’s expression instead turned to a fierce smile as she slapped the spot where she was hit, laughing out t...

Going on his way, he carried the heavy, blood-stained sack with him across the dirt road that sat in the luscious fields.

Still, he didn’t mind the opportunity to finally walk the trail alone; the lively, verdant trees swayed in the gentle breeze along with the colorful flowers that occupied the sides of the dirt path.

While marching down the road, he saw a few village kids playing by the trail, kicking rocks and playing with sticks....

For some reason, it was almost more breathtaking than the sight of magic itself; the atmosphere that was boisterous, loud, and filled with laughter; stinking of booze and the smell of sweat and steel–he felt truly inside of a fantasy world at that moment.

“Gh-“

He fell back after being bumped into by a passing person, not noticing them while he was awestruck.

“Sorry ’bout that. Didn’t see you there.”

The words came from the man who had...

As he walked around the town that smelled of freshly baked dough and manure at the same time, he stopped as something caught the corner of his way.

In the alleyway to his left, he saw what looked to be a young girl, wrapped in a tattered cloth, hiding within it as she held out a rusty cup.

A beggar.

I guess some things are the same between worlds, huh? He thought.

Hosted on Acast. See acast...

It was a situation like this that he thanked the gods for the elbow grease he put into studying magic as he was placed with a perfect environment: the rocky walls that made up the grimy prison were perfect for him to forge his own path out.

As he placed his palm against the damp, rugged surface of the wall, the stone carved itself out into a path for the young boy as he held a surprised smile, looking at his hand as if in shock of w...

“…Stop…please…”

The timid, trembling words came from the pale girl who was in the chamber with him. This caught the attention of the cruel man, but it hardly felt like a respite to him.

Left drooling blood onto himself, he was bruised and battered by the time the lowly criminal walked away.

The bald man set his sights on the girl, stomping towards her as she hid behind her arms out of instinctual fear.

“Huh?! Got somethin’ to say?!

“Hey…what’s your name?” He asked quietly.

The girl was hugging her knees, leaning against the right wall, while he was chained up to the back.

“…Irene…”

He felt terrible. The fact was, she stood up for him despite herself being covered in bruises. Such a sight made him clench his fists, but he hardly felt like he could even justify being angry after such a cowardly act.

Hosted on Acast. See...

He looked at the steel sword that was now half-dyed in fresh blood, only looking up once one of the doors in the hall was kicked open.

“Marlo! What happ–”

It was the man with the scarred, bald head. The words coming from his lips halted as he saw what had transpired in the corridor; the man’s complexion shifted into an angered red as he drew his blade from its sheath.

Hosted on Acast. See ...