The days passed, and Lucius could feel his body slowly awakening. He was no longer the helpless infant of his earliest memories. His mind, sharp and alert, absorbed everything he could about magic—but a new thought had begun to settle in: magic alone wouldn't be enough.
"An exhausted mage is a dead mage."
That sentence, once spoken by Léonard over dinner, had stuck with him. He understood now that his body needed to be strong enough to endure the demands of powerful magical flow. Magical energy—known as "mana" in this world—also drew from the user's physical vitality.
Since then, he had started taking care of himself. He ate balanced meals, sometimes even refusing Elise's sweets in favor of dishes rich in meat and vegetables. Every morning, he did light exercises: stretching, long walks in the garden, and basic evasive movements inspired by martial arts techniques he vaguely remembered from his previous life.
One morning, he asked his father:
— "Father… do you think I can become strong even if I'm still a child?"
Léonard gave him a surprised look, then smiled.
— "Strength comes from willpower, Lucius. And I can see plenty of that in your eyes. Keep at it."
**
A few days later, Élise sent him to pick berries near the edge of the forest—a place still considered safe. Lucius, excited, took a small basket and wandered off toward the trees.
He loved that place. The air was fresh, charged with an energy he still couldn't quite explain. It felt like the forest was alive—breathing.
As he moved along, spotting a patch of blueberries, he suddenly felt it—someone, or something, was watching him.
He froze.
Then a voice, soft as wind through leaves, echoed behind him:
— "You're not from around here, are you?"
He turned around quickly.
She stood there, almost blending in with the foliage: a young woman with silver hair cascading down her shoulders, piercing green eyes, and lightly golden skin. She wore a finely embroidered linen tunic and had a bow slung across her back. An elf.
Lucius didn't know what to say. It was the first time he'd seen one up close.
— "What's your name?" she asked, tilting her head curiously.
— "Lucius," he replied, a little defensively.
She raised an eyebrow, then smiled.
— "Nice to meet you, Lucius. I'm Elenya. Aren't you afraid?"
— "No…" he lied slightly. "I live nearby. I'm just picking berries."
She stepped closer, her eyes studying his face carefully, as if trying to read past his words.
— "You have a strange aura. You're not an ordinary child."
Lucius felt a bead of sweat form at the back of his neck. He forced himself to stay calm.
— "I just learn a bit faster than others, that's all."
Elenya chuckled softly.
— "Fair enough. That's not really my concern. But be careful. Not all spirits of the forest are as welcoming as I am."
She turned away, took a few steps, then stopped.
— "We'll meet again, Lucius. The forest has noticed you."
And just like that, she vanished into the trees—like mist in the wind.
Lucius stood there, motionless, his heart pounding.
The forest has noticed me?
He looked down at his hands. He was just a child. But perhaps his path had just crossed into something far greater than himself.
This encounter—he didn't know it yet—would be the first of many trials to come.