Chapter 2
The morning after the flame, Ren woke with a purpose that burned hotter than the tiny fire he had conjured the night before.
The shock of reincarnation was gone. In its place was clarity.
He was Ren—five years old, born into a poor but loving family, living in a quiet village at the edge of the world. And hidden beneath that fragile body was the mind of a grown man, armed with divine gifts that had no place in mortal hands.
Power was real. Gods were real.
Which meant mistakes would be fatal.
Ren slid quietly out of bed, careful not to wake his sister. His movements were small, deliberate. Over the past weeks, he had learned how to be Ren—how the original boy spoke, how he hesitated, how he smiled. Mimicry was survival.
He observed everything.
The way his mother Lyra rationed spices while cooking.
The calluses on his father Kael's hands, earned through years of labor.
The nervous way Elara hovered near him, afraid he would fall ill again.
From them, he learned restraint.
From the village, he learned limitation.
Oakhaven was insignificant—too small to matter, too far from power to attract attention. Magic existed here, but only in its weakest forms. Children were tested around the age of seven, and most celebrated if they could conjure a spark of fire or guide a weak breeze.
No one mastered more than one element.
The idea of six was myth.
Good, Ren thought. That meant secrecy was possible.
And necessary.
His Personal Magic—gifted by the Child God—was already proving invaluable. It granted him the ability to learn and master any personal magic skill, but only under strict rules. He couldn't invent skills from nothing. Simple ones required written descriptions. Complex ones had to be witnessed.
For now, he used it for something far more important than flashy spells.
Control.
He practiced regulating his emotions, his breathing, his reactions. A genius who acted strangely would draw attention. A five-year-old who behaved like a five-year-old would survive.
Progress had to be invisible.
But power… power had to be tested.
One afternoon, while Elara helped their mother with chores, Ren slipped away.
He told his father he was going to play near the creek. Instead, he veered toward the dense forest bordering Oakhaven—a place villagers warned children to avoid. Beasts, spirits, curses.
Perfect.
The forest swallowed him quickly. Towering trees blocked the sun, casting the ground in perpetual shadow. The air was damp, heavy with pine and earth.
Ren stopped deep inside, far enough that no one would hear him scream.
He closed his eyes and reached inward.
Testing Fire Magic
Fire was first.
The candle flame from the night before proved existence—but not lethality.
Ren visualized heat, compressed and violent. A miniature sun, unstable and hungry. Mana surged through his tiny arm, resisting his control, threatening to scorch him from the inside.
Control.
The chaos settled instantly.
Ren thrust his hand forward.
"Fireball."
A roaring sphere of flame erupted from his palm, blazing through the forest air and slamming into a dead oak tree twenty feet away.
WHOOM!
The explosion echoed violently. Smoke billowed. Heat scorched his face.
Ren staggered back, coughing, heart racing.
Then he rushed forward.
The tree still stood.
Charred bark smoked, blackened but intact.
That's it?
Disappointment hit hard—but only for a moment.
Ren stared at the tree, teeth clenched.
Good.
If even a dead tree could withstand him, then this world was worth conquering. His body was weak. His output limited.
That could be fixed.
He made his first rule.
Every day, this tree burns.
Something shifted in the forest.
Ren froze.
The air felt heavier—quiet in a way that set his instincts screaming. He slowly turned, scanning the shadows.
A deer burst from the underbrush and fled.
Ren exhaled, but he marked the area carefully.
His power had not gone unnoticed.
Testing Wind Magic
Next came Wind.
Flight was the goal. Escape, mobility, dominance of terrain.
He focused mana around his entire body, compressing air beneath his feet.
He jumped.
Ren shot upward three feet—then wobbled violently and crashed back down.
"Ow."
He gritted his teeth and tried again.
This time he hovered, rising ten feet, wind screaming in his ears—
Then control slipped.
He tumbled into a bed of ferns, groaning.
Theory without physique was useless.
Still, he smiled grimly.
Second rule.
Fly across the clearing without falling.
Personal Magic: First Manifestation
Finally, Ren turned inward.
Personal Magic was different. Intimate. It reflected the soul.
He asked himself a single question.
What do I want most?
The answer came instantly.
Understanding.
Observation.
Analysis.
Mana shifted—quiet, precise.
A translucent blue window formed in his mind.
Dead Oak (Forest Grade)
Durability: 98%
Mana Resistance: Low
Weakness: Fire (1.5× damage)
Notes: Exceptionally dense wood, common to this region.
Ren's breath caught.
He tested it again—on a stone, on the ground, on himself.
Limited. Contextual. Logical.
Perfect.
"Appraisal," he whispered.
Not omniscient. Not broken.
But dangerous in the right hands.
The reason his Fireball failed wasn't weakness.
It was information.
A slow grin spread across his face.
Two goals.
One tool.
One unbreakable rule.
Never let anyone see how fast he was growing.
Ren turned back toward the village as the forest seemed to watch him in silence.
He was still too weak to destroy a single tree.
Good.
That meant this world had limits.
And limits were meant to be broken.