A soft wind rustled the leaves.
Birds chirped unfamiliar songs.
Kael's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the glow of sunlight streaming through a wooden window. The ceiling above him was made of carved oak, unfamiliar and rustic. His body felt… small. Weaker. New.
"This… isn't a dream."
He tried to speak, but only a baby's cry escaped his lips. Panic surged in his chest — until it hit him.
I've been reincarnated… as a child.
So this is what she meant.
He could barely move, but his mind was already spinning — analyzing sounds, materials, language. His brain still operated at peak capacity. He could feel it. He hadn't lost his intellect.
The door creaked open.
A woman in her twenties entered, her auburn hair tied back in a braid. Her eyes widened the moment they met his.
"Oh! You're awake, little Kael!"
Kael… so they kept my name in this world too?
The woman scooped him up gently, smiling with warmth in her eyes. Her arms were strong, used to hard work. Her voice was soothing — not Aria's, but kind.
"You'll be a great man someday. I can feel it."
Kael stared up at her, storing every detail.
So this is my new mother. I need to adapt… fast.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed a wooden table with strange symbols etched into it — magical glyphs. Books floated in the air. A young boy walked past the door, practicing fire magic with ease.
This truly is a world of magic.
But I have none. The goddess said I must survive without it.
He looked down at his tiny hands, clenched them tight.
No magic? Fine. I'll build my own power — from the ground up.
Mind over magic.
Just wait, Aria… I will come back for you.
The years passed—slowly for most, but not for Kael.
By the time he turned five, he already spoke like a scholar. His parents, unaware of his past life, simply called him a prodigy. His mother wept with pride when he read spellbooks meant for nobles twice his age. His father, a retired blacksmith, taught him how to grip a blade — even if it was too heavy for his small hands.
"You've got sharp eyes, boy. But don't stare at the blade. Feel it."
Kael did more than feel it — he broke it down, mentally dissecting its center of gravity, its metal composition, its weak points.
But he never cast a single spell.
The goddess had been right. This world was flooded with mana, but Kael's body couldn't absorb it. He was what they called a Hollow Vessel — born without a magical core.
A tragedy to most.
To Kael, it was a challenge.
"So what if I don't have magic? Magic is just a tool. My mind is sharper than any spell."
He spent his days studying the structure of spells, not to use them — but to counter them. While other kids played with sparks and levitation, Kael was creating diagrams of mana flow disruption, designing mechanical tools to mimic magic using pressure, chemicals, or physics.
And at night, when the stars were clear, he'd look up at the sky… and whisper her name.
"Aria… wait for me."
His obsession wasn't just survival — it was preparation.
He was already planning how to get into a dungeon at fifteen.
Already sketching blueprints of a dimensional gate.
Already listing the materials he'd need to build a way back.
---
One afternoon, while walking through the market with his mother, Kael saw something that made him pause.
A teenage mage was harassing a merchant — using fire magic to threaten him over prices.
People looked away, fearful. No one intervened.
Kael stepped forward.
"Stop it," he said, voice steady.
The teenage mage laughed. "What's a Hollow like you gonna do? Cry?"
Kael simply smiled — and threw a small metal orb.
Boom!
A flash of light and a concussive blast knocked the mage flat. The crowd gasped. The merchant gawked.
"What the hell was that?!"
Kael picked up the orb's casing — a hollowed nut shell packed with magnesium dust and reactive salt. Handmade. Triggered by moisture from skin contact.
"Just a toy," Kael replied. "But it gets the job done."
His mother stared at him in shock.
The merchant fell to his knees in thanks.
The mage… ran.
---
That night, Kael scribbled something in his notebook:
Weaponize science. Undermine magic. Build my own system.
Because Kael Arden had a plan.
And magic wasn't invited.
Years passed, and Kael's body grew stronger, but his lack of magic still marked him as different. Villagers whispered, calling him a "ghost child," a boy born without the life force that flowed in everyone else. Still, Kael refused to let that define him.
At age eight, he approached the village guard captain, a stern woman named Serra. With a calm confidence far beyond his years, Kael requested to train under her.
"You? A Hollow Vessel? You want to train with the warriors?"
Serra narrowed her eyes. "Magic is everything here. Without it, you're weak. Why should I waste time on you?"
Kael met her gaze steadily. "Because strength isn't just magic. It's discipline. Strategy. Endurance."
After a long pause, Serra nodded once. "Very well. Prove it."
Training began before dawn the next day.
The other trainees — all powerful magic users — mocked Kael. But he ignored them, focusing instead on perfecting his movements, his stamina, and his reflexes.
Days turned into weeks. Months turned into years.
Kael learned to fight using speed and precision. He trained in hand-to-hand combat, archery, and the use of light weapons — all things he could master without mana. His mind turned every lesson into data, every strike into calculation.
One evening, Serra pulled him aside.
"You're unlike any Hollow I've seen. Most give up. But you… you fight smarter."
Kael nodded, breath steady.
"Thank you, Captain. I'll keep fighting. Not with magic… but with everything I have."
Serra smiled—a rare warmth in her fierce eyes.
"Good. Because the world you're preparing for… will test more than your strength."
Kael's thoughts drifted to the goddess's promise—the dungeon, the recipe, the way home.
His journey was just beginning.
The sun was low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the training grounds. The air buzzed with the crackle of magic as the village's young mages practiced their spells with effortless grace.
Kael stood apart, gripping a wooden staff—his only weapon. Around him, the other trainees sneered, their eyes flashing with contempt.
"You really think you can fight without magic?" one sneered, conjuring a small flame in his palm. "You're just a Hollow. Nothing but a joke."
Kael's lips curled into a calm smile.
"We'll see."
The village captain, Serra, called the group to attention.
"Today, Kael will face one of you in a duel. If he wins, he trains with us. If he loses…" Her voice trailed off, but everyone knew the consequence: Kael would be sent away.
A buzz spread through the crowd.
A tall boy stepped forward—Darin, known for his fire magic and arrogance.
"You're going down, Hollow."
The duel began.
Darin shot flames that danced like serpents toward Kael, forcing him to dodge with agility. Kael's training had made him fast, but flames could still singe.
He rolled behind a tree, then hurled a small device from his pocket. It exploded with a sharp bang and a blinding flash.
Darin stumbled, temporarily blinded.
Kael charged, closing the distance. Using his staff like a lever, he knocked Darin off balance and pinned him to the ground.
The crowd gasped.
Serra nodded with approval.
Darin struggled, then grinned bitterly.
"Not bad… Hollow. Not bad at all."
Kael released him and stood tall.
"I don't need magic. I need will."
The duel wasn't just about winning—it was about proving a point. Kael had made his first mark.
To be continue...