-Andre-

It was weird watching yourself grow up from an outside perspective. The movie-like sequences of a second childhood played out in front of me, burning information into my skull at an alarming rate.

My mother was a former court mage named Alexia, and my father was a former guard named Heron. They were never very liberal about information from their past. I had to virtually pry it from them when I finally learned to speak. It might've had something to do with why they were living in the forest, secluded from any outside contact, but I wasn't sure. There was too much information overloading my brain, making it difficult to form speculations.

As requested, my parents loved and cared for me. That was more than what my human parents ever did. They gave me the name Vandlind Cyprus, and I felt briefly disappointed that I wouldn't stay Andre. I was fond of the name; it was what my best friend knew me as.

The early years were fairly normal: learning to read and write, basic history, math, and science. You would think being transported to another world would come with translation benefits, but that wasn't the case.

I had to learn Elvish and Common from scratch! I nearly died internally when they introduced the Elven alphabet. The damn thing had more than forty letters; it was ridiculous. Good thing my perception of time was sped up, or I might've become illiterate out of frustration.

When I reached the age of seven, I asked both my mother and father to teach me their respective crafts. Alexia protested heavily, but Heron was impressed by my initiative. The next day, my mornings were filled with combat training, and my afternoons were dedicated to magic study.

I might've been a prodigy when it came to hand-to-hand; however, I struggled with weapon training. The spear, the sword, the bow, I sucked with all of them. Heron tried to console me, saying everyone struggled at first, but the statement gave me little reassurance.

Fortunately, I grasped magic a bit easier. I had no doubt it was because of my starting attributes. The only downside was learning another language to use it. Primordial was even more complicated than Elvish, with a total of seventy-three letters to memorize. Apparently, Primordial was particularly potent at controlling mana, but it wasn't necessary. Something to do with it being the language closest to the gods and hardwiring the brain to complete incredibly difficult actions in a short amount of time. The novelty of it did little to ease my frustration.

Almost ten years went by like this, simply learning and growing. True to my father's words, I steadily improved with my training. I was still no match for my father with a weapon, but I didn't fare too badly when we sparred unarmed. I even won a few of those bouts, albeit rarely.

My father also taught me how to practice and use Enhancement. This practice was like a cousin to using a spell to increase your abilities. Enhancement was more intuitive, more responsive, than normal casting. This made the practice a go-to route for warriors who needed every second of extra time in the front lines.

Warriors that practiced Enhancement were known as Enhancers (duh), and while proficient Enhancers were much more common than mages, there were still only about one in twenty-five people who could utilize the practice to a substantial degree. Of course, anyone could learn, but it would be like someone born without eyes forcing themselves to see.

When I asked my father why people could practice Enhancement but not cast spells, he chuckled. He told me only a few were born with enough magical sensitivity to manipulate magic by shaping internal and ambient mana. Even masters of Enhancement were only capable of expelling the tiniest amount of raw energy into ranged attacks. The mana would dissipate quickly because they lost control over it when it traveled further from their body. Even then, the ranged power couldn't be compared to an adept mage that could use atmospheric mana to power and sustain their attacks.

Being born with low magical sensitivity sucked. Although sensitivity could be increased through meditation and artifacts, it was so expensive and time-consuming that most didn't even attempt it. I silently thanked the goddess for urging me to choose a mage build; I would've been at a massive disadvantage otherwise, especially considering my elven heritage.

The possibilities of magic were endless. Even after ten years of dutiful study learning from my mother, I felt like I only grazed the surface of the deep ocean of spells. I could study for the next one-hundred years and still consider myself ignorant compared to my mother's abyss of knowledge.

Magic was divided into nine categories or schools, similar to D&D. These schools were: abjuration, conjuration, divination, enchantment, evocation, illusion, transmutation, death, and life. I got a general education of all the schools, with a focus on abjuration, conjuration, and evocation. You would think that death magic would be a no-no, but my mother never said anything. I hoped that was because there was nothing to say, but I couldn't physically ask because I was only a spectator. (Enhancement didn't classify as its own school as it was more universal.)

Other than the schools, it was completely different from the old tabletop game. Magic worked by drawing on the internal reservoir of power in one's body and expelling it through the mana circuits in said body. This reservoir or "focus", as my mother described it, was different for everyone.

The "depth" of one's focus was determined initially at birth. Some had a naturally deep focus, while others had shallow ones. Through a technique known as mana cultivation, a mage could expand their focus; although, this was also considered difficult and time-consuming unless an artifact was used.

Rather, most mages would opt to purify their mana circuits with mana cultivation instead. Mana circuits were paths in an individual that allowed magic to travel throughout the body, akin to blood vessels but for magic power. The purer the mana circuits, the more efficient mana could be used. For example, a mage with an extremely high purity of circuits could expend less mana to form a fireball than a mage with poor circuits that formed a fireball of the same size.

(Enhancers also primarily relied on improving mana circuits to practice Enhancement).

Fortunately, my natural focus was deep, deeper than even my mother's, which seemed like BS. Unfortunately, my mana circuits were of below-average purity; something I would need to work on. It looked like not everything would be handed to me in this new world

Mages could augment and increase the strength of their spells with ambient mana in the atmosphere if their own focus wasn't enough. It was cheating, but mages were rare anyway.

One night, when my avatar went to sleep, I felt myself being pulled back into a dark space that felt vaguely familiar. It was back to the foggy room, back to the goddess.

Jesus, those were the longest and shortest seventeen years I've ever experienced.

Time dilation really fucked with my head. It seemed to happen instantly and normally at the same time. I vaguely wondered if this was how a god experienced time.

My monologuing was interrupted when a series of screens appeared in front of me.

Congratulations!

Skills Acquired:

Elven Language (High - High) – speak, read, and write Elvish.

Common Language (High - High) – speak, read, and write Common.

Primordial Language (Intermediate - Low) – speak, read, and write Primordial

Swordsmanship (Low – High) – skill with the use of a sword

Spearmanship (Low – Low) – skill with the use of a spear

Bowmanship (Low – High) – skill with the use of a bow

Unarmed Combat (High – Low) – skill with the use of no weapon

Mana Cultivation (Low – High) – the ability to increase and purify mana in the body

Mana Application (Low – High) – the ability to control and shape mana effectively

Huh? I guess there's rankings on skills. But why are they so low? I trained ten years for God's sake.

From what I could tell, there were three ranks: Low, Intermediate, and High. There also appeared to be the same rankings on the end to denote further accuracy. The jumps between stages seemed to be incredibly drastic as well. My skill with unarmed combat was trained infrequently compared to everything else, yet it was multiple ranks higher than with a sword. If anything, there was plenty of room for improvement. I still wasn't sure what this would mean in reality, though. Was a master swordsman High-high or was High-high a ranking for someone more average? Only time would tell.

Restia appeared, beautiful as ever, and spoke, "Normally, I don't let players go that long without a break in one stretch, but your mind was surprisingly stable. You actually could have kept going, which is pretty impressive for a mortal. However, I thought I should give you a heads up. Your bond will appear once you wake up. For the past seventeen years, she's been living her own life so she'll have no memory of all this. That being said, she will have a strong mental connection with you. This connection is called a bond, hence the name. It's a unique phenomenon that only intelligent magical species, like dragons, are capable of. This bond will unite your souls, creating a relationship that most people are incapable of understanding. What I'm trying to say is don't fuck this up."

I gulped, "That means there's a possibility I might? I thought she was created for me?"

"She was," Restia answered, "But like all living creatures, she has free will."

I nodded, "Okay. I appreciate the warning. I'll do my best."

"I know you will." The goddess smiled as she waved her hand.

The fogginess of the room turned to black, and I found myself waking up in an all too familiar room.

-Vandlind-

Whoa...This is... different.

The previous session had been entirely like watching a movie on autopilot. Now, I was in the driver's seat, completely in control. The goddess said something about adapting to my new body. Maybe this was it?

I rose from my bed, wincing at the sunlight streaming through the window.

Has it always seemed this bright?

My senses must've been dialed back when I was only watching.

It appears I can fully enjoy the benefits of being a Fae now.

I raced out of my room and down the stairs of my parents' house. It was a common practice among elves to enchant their home out of a massive tree. My family might have been loners, but they kept this tradition. And though it was endearing, the number of steps I had to descend was annoying.

Using the memories I'd received, I came to the lowest section of the house, a floor created by manipulating the wood of the tree. My parents were already awake, preparing breakfast. Damn, my memories told me I was supposed to do that.

"Sorry," I mumbled, feeling the slight point of my new ears, "I slept in too late."

My mother looked at me, confusion on her face.

Oh, shit. That was English. I quickly repeated the excuse in Elvish. Old habits died hard.

"That's okay, honey," she smiled. "You've been working hard. A break wouldn't hurt." She motioned for me to sit down at the dinner table, placing a mixture of fruits, nuts, and vegetables on a plate. There was no meat sadly. My parents tried not to kill any animals unless they were old or destroying the ecosystem.

I sat down at the table and devoured the food. It had been years since I ate of my own volition. I paused, with a spoon half-way in my mouth, to look at my surprised parents. They were shocked at my horrible table manners. I struggled against my instinct, forcing myself to eat slower.

The youth and beauty of my parents was another surprise. Now that time wasn't flowing so fast, I could finally formulate an opinion. My mother had long raven-black hair, purple eyes, and a face I could only describe as enchanting.

My father had the stereotypical masculine features that all men strived for: strong jaw, broad shoulders, etc. His hair and eyes were a rich brown, and his mouth had a friendly smile always plastered on it.

Heron was easily one of the prettiest males that I'd ever seen, and my mother was the prettiest female I'd ever seen. Well, maybe Restia topped her, but comparing a goddess with my own mother didn't seem fair.

Though the pair looked no older than their mid-twenties, they had a son that was nearly an adult by American standards. I never asked them their age; it was possible the both of them were several hundred years old. In fact, considering the astronomically small chance of conception for a Royal Fae, they probably were. I read that our species could bang for decades and not have a child. This was nature's way of balancing the world so elves didn't overpopulate. (the perks of a long lifespan).

I continued to eat in silence, the warning of the goddess weighing heavy on my mind. Perhaps making my future companion almost die while rescuing me wasn't the smartest idea. I tightened my grip on the metal spoon I was holding, unintentionally snapping it in half.

"Sorry," I muttered, amazed by how easily I just broke metal. "I didn't realize I was holding it so hard."

My father frowned at me, "You broke a metal spoon on accident? I have a hard time believing that."

It's just..." my face became red, "I have a lot on my mind."

My parents looked at each other simultaneously.

"Well..." my mother said. "You are getting to that age. But this is surprising, you've never shown interest in anything like this before."

"Anyway," Heron cleared his throat, "This is a father-son talk that shouldn't be discussed at the dinner table."

Was I a robot or something? I blush a little and this is the reaction I get.

"That's not it, trust me. Actually, I was wondering if I could skip today's training? I need to do something." I said, pushing myself up from the table. I didn't intend to stick around, even if they made me.

Both my parents nodded stiffly, not saying a word. I gave a quick goodbye, grabbing my bow, quiver, and knife before descending to the bottom. When I was far out of earshot, my parents let out a tense breath.

"He's growing up so fast," Alexia said, smiling softly.

*

I rushed past the gigantic trees of my home, a blur in the forest.

How fast am I running? Forty miles per hour? Fifty? (65-80kph)

Despite the speed, my acute senses were able to track everything perfectly. In fact, if I focused hard enough, the world would seem to slow down. My new power caused a wave of giddy contentment to come over me. This was some superhero shit.

I wasn't even using mana to enhance my athleticism, yet I could move this fast? The sheer absurdity of how this could be biologically possible was a mystery. Restia really had a point when she told me to choose wisely.

I slowed to a stop, looking at the trees around me, If I'm this fast, how strong am I?

I walked to the tree unfortunate enough to be closest and raised my fists, getting in an orthodox stance: my left foot forward, and my right foot back (this was abnormal, considering I was a lefty, but I relied on my dominant hand jab to set-up combinations).

With an exhale, I punched the tree with a right cross, the standard, straight power-punch of a boxer, turning my legs, hip, and arm for maximum leverage. A large crack sounded out as the bark gave way under my fist, splintering under the power.

"MOtherFucKER!" I screamed, withdrawing my hand from the four-inch deep hole in the tree, wincing from the pain.

I'd broken my hand once before when I was human: after punching a bag too hard and fracturing the first two knuckles on the metal underneath. The same thing happened here, only it appeared I'd damaged all of my knuckles and parts of my wrist this time.

My fingers were already starting to swell, making me bite off a second curse. I knew from the training memories with my father that fractures would only take a few days to heal. Still, that would involve explaining to my parents what had happened. Letting them know their idiot son punched a tree didn't exactly thrill me.

Deciding the headache wasn't worth it, I chose to test my magic for the first time. I'd been looking for an excuse anyway. Briefly searching my memory of the God-forsaken language that was primordial, I selected the proper spell.

"Malý liečiť," I whispered, directing the spell that loosely translated to 'simple heal' to my injured hand and imaging the cells of the bones to start multiplying and shifting into place.

Eh? Why did nothing happen?

I said the right words with the right intent; I was sure of it. I messed around some more, saying the incantation a second time. Nothing happened again, causing me to scratch my head.

Now what the hell am I supposed to do?

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard the crunching of leaves too close for comfort. My reflexes screamed 'danger' as I tried to jump forward on instinct. The motion was far too slow, and I was struck across the chest, flying backward and upward, crashing through the branches of gigantic trees that were as thick as normal trees from Earth.

I'm a fucking idiot. I knew this was supposed to happen eventually.

The impact knocked the air out of my lungs, but I forced myself to get up after I came crashing to the ground. A few of my ribs were added to the list of broken bones in my body. Gritting my teeth, I looked at the beast that had flung me so far.

Oh, shit.

*

-Veylin-

A silver cat laid gently across the thick branches of the tree, watching the gorgeous, black-haired elf with amusement. The fool had tried to punch a tree in a forest full of mana for no reason. The trees of this forest could be comparable to stone. What did he expect? No repercussions?

If there was one thing she'd learned in her brief existence, it was that everything had consequences. So, when the elf's noisemaking attracted a ground-drake, she was content to just watch.

The elf, unprepared for the ambush, suffered a lash from the beast's tail across the torso. He had nearly avoided a fatal blow, perhaps by accident, when his dodge caused the several spikes along the end of the tail to miss. The strength of the monster still caused him to be flung several meters away, slamming the elf up and into trees.

Why don't you use magic, little elf?

Her acute senses told her that he had a vast store of mana, much more powerful than her spirit magic. With a spell, he could heal himself, kill the beast, or run away. Instead, the elf stood up with great effort, facing the drake without applying any of his stores.

You will die without magic, fool.

She didn't know why she felt concerned for an idiot who would face a beast so carelessly. Perhaps it was the fierce look of determination in his eyes or the calm demeanor with which he fought against insurmountable odds.

Reason told her that this was only natural, a moron dying because of his stupidity. Yet something was screaming within her to move, to protect someone she had never met. She had never felt this before.

What am I doing? she thought, tensing her legs to jump down.

*

-Vandlind-

I cursed under my breath. The beast in front of me was a ground-drake. I'd read about them during my mother's teachings of the various monsters of Iris; they were vicious, strong, and very very territorial. I'd probably crossed into its territory without knowing during my joyride—run.

Well, a bow won't work in this situation, I thought glumly, gingerly flexing my broken right hand. I was left-handed, so I could have pulled the string back, but I didn't think I could even grip the bow properly with my right or hold the bow taut with my newly broken ribs.

I reached for the knife strapped behind my back. It was nothing special, just something my parents had given me to complete various tasks. It probably couldn't penetrate the drake's scales, but it was better than nothing. Grasping the blade with my left hand, I stared the green lizard in the face.

Logic would tell you that a reptile the size of two pickup trucks couldn't move fast. Well, logic was wrong. The thing was damn near as fast as a pickup truck too. It ran forward on all four legs, snapping its jaws.

I narrowly dodged to the left, slamming the blade towards the beasts' long neck. It bounced off its scales harmlessly, jarring my hand.

Can't say I didn't expect it. The eyes it is then.

I jumped back a dozen feet, waiting for the beast to charge again. The drake turned its body, letting out a roar.

Yeah, that's right, you overgrown house-pet, come at me -- huh?

Instead of charging like a bull, the drake reared its head back.

Oh shit.

I'd read about this too. Depending on the environment they'd lived in, some drakes would develop mutations by absorbing the ambient mana around them. I was lucky enough to live in the forest, so the drake in front of me would have-

"Poison Breath!" I shouted, diving away from the jet of green gas that sprayed towards me. If the ground-drake had a fire mutation, I probably would have died right then. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your view, I got away with only inhaling a portion of the toxic gas.

I coughed heavily; the poison felt like it was burning a hole through my respiratory system. I scurried up the side of a tree to give myself a moment of reprieve. The longer this fight went on, the more likely I'd win. My companion was supposed to save me, but I couldn't die before that happened.

Jumping from branch to branch with superhuman agility, I moved right above the drake. I pushed off the branch with an exhale and drove the blade through the drake's eye to the hilt (something I probably couldn't have done without my new, ridiculous senses).

The beast swung its head wildly, causing me to lose my grip on the blade. I was flung away again, this time landing carefully on my feet.

The drake, only slightly perturbed by eight inches of metal in its eye, growled in my direction.

Well, shit. Now I'm weaponless.

I had two options remaining: use my transfiguration ability to grow claws or try and get magic to work. Seeing as my claws would probably do less damage than the knife, I decided on magic.

Before I could contemplate what spell to use, the drake rushed at me. It learned from its early mistake and didn't try to commit everything to a single attack. Instead, it swung its huge tail after feinting the charge, clipping me slightly on the chest and sending me flying yet again. I was really starting to hate this bastard.

Whatever ribs remained unbroken the first time around didn't survive the second hit. My back was smashed against another tree, and I collapsed to the bottom, barely able to sit up. I coughed blood, and the trauma to my brain caused my vision to flicker. I tried to stand; my limbs were unable to obey the order.

I didn't know if drakes could smirk, but if they could, I was sure this fucker was. It sauntered over, stopping at perhaps twenty feet away. With a final huff, the drake reared its head back, preparing to use its breath one final time.

"Come on! Do it!" The words come out as a wheeze, ruining my attempt at bravery. I winced in pain and in preparation for the breath. The beast seemed to be prolonging the moment. It gleamed with hateful eyes before finally bringing its head down.

I had expected certain death, but instead, a blur came out of the treetops. It smashed into the drake's head, spewing the bout of poison away from me.

Oh, yeah, forgot about this part. I'd gotten too caught up in the ass whooping to remember what was supposed to happen. A small part of my pride insisted that this battle was doomed to be lost no matter what I did, and I wouldn't have lost in a normal fight. Those were the terms I gave the goddess.

A large silver cat stood between me and the drake. Although small in comparison, it was still the size of a tiger. Its hackles were raised as it hissed at the lizard. The two then became a blur of teeth and claws as they attacked each other. The battle literally shook the forest.

I knew what was supposed to happen next: the tiger would win but become heavily injured in the process. The origin story seemed good at the time, raise a little trust by saving her life, creating a sense of equal debt. Now, it only made me feel guilty. I'd be damned if I just let the tiger fight alone.

There was only one slight problem: I could barely move my lower body. I silently hoped my spine wasn't permanently fucked. After a few seconds, I realized I'd only get in the way by closing the distance anyway. The second option was my bow, somehow still intact across my back. However, even if I could use my bow sitting down with broken fingers and ribs, I'd lost all my arrows when I was being rag-dolled into trees.

The only option left now was magic. There was no better way to learn than under pressure, right? I knew saying the incantation alone wouldn't work, so what would? I tried to remember what my mother taught me long ago when I was first learning magic. Suddenly, it clicked.

"I can do this," I exhaled slowly.

I closed my eyes, focusing on searching inside myself (as cheesy as that sounded). My mind raced, fumbling in the dark for whatever I was looking for. Right when I was about to give up, I found a small purple thread of energy waiting in the darkness.

"Yes," I grinned. My realization was right.

I used my mind to tug on the thread, then began to follow it. I raced after it, coming to an abyss of purple light within me. I dove into the abyss of light, deeper and deeper; the energy nearly overwhelmed me. I then directed the light upwards, outwards towards my outstretched finger as I mentally pictured the result I was looking for.

I felt the mana in my eyes cause my iris's to glow violet as I spoke a word, "Blesk."

A streak of dark purple lightning, nearly black, erupted from my finger. My aim was a little off, striking the drake on its hind rather than center mass. The damage was catastrophic, however, blasting the back of its body clean off; blood and bone fragments spattered the ground as it moaned in pain, flopping on its remaining front legs.

"I... I did IT! I used magic!" I shouted, shifting from my spot on the tree. I winced in pain a moment later.

My euphoria wore off when I noticed the beast was still alive. The damn monster almost killed me, yet I wasn't keen on torturing the poor thing. Readying another bolt, I paused.

Wait, why hasn't she finished it off?

The silver cat lay some meters away from the drake, breathing shallowly. Its fur was stained dark crimson, and one of its legs was mangled.

Shit. That's what I get for closing my eyes.

"Blesk," I chanted quickly; the bolt blew the drake's head to pieces. Damn, I was only trying to put a little lightning through its brain, not destroy the entire thing.

I then used the same healing spell I tried initially on myself, careful to limit my mana. I'd put too much power into the first lightning bolt, an ungodly amount to be more precise. Burning through all of my mana in ten seconds would not be a good idea.

My body semi-healed, I limped over to the silver cat. The wounds were worse than I thought. Deep gouges from the spikes of the drake's tail were visible in multiple places, a chunk of her shoulder was bitten clean off, and her leg wasn't just broken, it was shattered to pieces.

I cursed under my breath. The healing spell I knew now couldn't treat something this severe. It seemed what I requested of Restia to do for my backstory was followed through perfectly: only my mother could heal these wounds.

Doing my best to patch up what I could with the only minor healing spell I had, I lifted the silver tiger on my shoulders. She must have weighed several hundred pounds, but it didn't hinder me as much as I thought it would. I ran back to the tree that I called home at top speed, praying that the part of the story where she lived remained true.