'I did it!' Leon shouted in his mind, his heart racing with a joy he hadn't felt in either life. 'I actually felt it!'
But that high didn't last long. Over the next month, Leon learned a very frustrating lesson about his new body: it was stubborn. Every night, he would prop himself up, close his eyes, and try to summon that same icy white spark. And every night, he was met with nothing but a growling stomach and a deep, soul-crushing fatigue. He couldn't even manage to stand up on his own yet without his knees buckling like wet paper.
'Was it just a fluke?' he wondered, staring miserably at his tiny palms. 'Maybe the "Absolute Swordsmanship" thing was just a dream I had while I was dying. A parting gift from a cruel universe.'
He felt small. He felt weak. And honestly, it made him a little sad. He just wanted to be able to do something.
Winter hit the kingdom hard, turning the world outside into a canvas of blinding white. One afternoon, the house was strangely quiet. His mother and sisters had headed into the nearby village to gather the last of the winter supplies before the roads became impassable. The only ones left were Leon and his older brother, Kael.
Up until now, Leon had thought Kael was just a loud, annoying brat who liked to pinch his cheeks. But as he sat in his wooden playpen, watching Kael through the window of the training yard, he realized his brother wasn't so bad. He was just... a kid with a lot of energy.
Kael stood in the snow, gripping a practice sword that looked a bit too heavy for his ten-year-old frame. He began to move. It wasn't the refined, high-level forms Leon remembered from the Eterna elite, but it was surprisingly solid. Kael would step forward, swinging the blade in a wide arc, his breath hitching in the cold air. He practiced a basic vertical strike, over and over, his feet slipping slightly in the slush, but he always corrected his balance.
'His footwork is messy, and his grip is a bit too tight,' Leon observed, leaning his head against the wooden bars. 'But his flow... it's consistent. For a kid his age, 300 years ago, he would've been called a genius.'
When Kael finished his set, he was panting, his face bright red from the cold. He looked through the window and caught Leon watching him. A big, goofy grin spread across his face. He dropped the wooden sword and ran inside, still smelling like wet wool and snow.
"Look at you, little spectator! Did you see that? I'm going to be a Grand Knight one day!"
Leon laughed happily, his small heart swelling. He was genuinely glad to see someone in this era still taking the blade seriously. He tried to clap his hands together, but the excitement was too much for his clumsy body. He leaned too far forward, his balance evaporated, and he began to tumble toward the hard floor.
"Whoa! Careful there!" Kael lunged forward, catching Leon just inches from the ground. He hoisted the baby up and gave him a playful squeeze. "You need to be more careful; you little fat boy."
Kael laughed and pinched Leon's stomach again, right on the softest part.
'Hey!!! What is wrong with you! I'm not fat, I'm just... well-nourished!' Leon yelled in his head. But out of his mouth, it came out as:
"Wanbao! Ba-ba-waaa!"
'Seriously? Wanbao? That's the best my vocal cords can do?' He huffed, crossing his tiny arms as best he could.
A few hours later, the front door stomped open. His mother returned, laden with firewood and heavy sacks, followed by his sister Les. Unlike Poldie, who was always bubbly, Les was a strange child. She rarely spoke, and her dark eyes always seemed to be looking at things no one else could see.
"Kael, help me with these bags," his mother called out, her breath misting. She looked over at Les. "Les, honey, can you take Leon up to his room? I need to get the stew started before the sun goes down."
Les didn't say a word. She just walked over, picked Leon up with surprisingly strong arms, and carried him upstairs. She laid him on his bed, stared at him for a long, unblinking moment, and then turned around and left, closing the door softly.
'Well, she's certainly... unique,' Leon thought.
He took the opportunity to try one more time. He sat in his meditation pose, straining his mind, begging for that icy spark to return.
'Please. Just a flicker. Just let me know it wasn't luck.'
Nothing. The room remained dark. The air remained still.
'Maybe I really can't use the Song,' Leon sighed, flopping back onto his pillow. 'Maybe I'm just a regular kid this time to. No Attunements. No magic.'
He stared at the ceiling, feeling a bit dejected but also a weird sense of peace. 'Well... if I'm just a regular kid, then I'll just have to be the best regular kid there is.'
"Leon! Can you go outside and grab some firewood? The hearth is getting low!"
"Coming, Mom!"
Leon, now six years old, hopped off his stool in the kitchen. He was no longer the "fat boy" Kael teased him about; he was lean, quick, and had a constant spark of energy in his eyes. Today was his sixth birthday, but the house was a whirlwind of activity for another reason. His siblings—Kael, Poldie, and even the quiet Les were all packing their bags.
They were headed to the Academy. It was the one thing that had survived the 300-year gap the premier institution for those who wished to master their Attunements and the way of the wand.
Leon walked out the back door, the crisp morning air filling his lungs. He loved this world. It was brighter and more peaceful than the war-torn Eterna he had died in. He walked toward the woodshed, but he didn't stop there.
Instead, he reached behind a stack of logs and pulled out a hidden object: a short, hand-carved wooden blade. He had spent months sanding it down until the balance was just right.
He trekked deep into the forest, following a familiar path until he reached a clearing. In the center sat a massive, moss-covered boulder. It was scarred with hundreds of shallow nicks and scratches.
Leon didn't have the "Song" yet at least, not in the way the others did. He couldn't use Akio to bring things to him, and he couldn't light up the dark. But for the last five years, he hadn't stopped practicing.
He stood before the boulder; the wooden sword held loosely at his side. He took a deep breath, feeling the cool air settle in his chest. Slowly, he shifted his weight. His feet found the dirt with a precision no six-year-old should possess. He raised the wooden blade, settling into a low, focused stance the "formation" of the old Eterna Vanguard.
'Okay,' Leon whispered, a small, happy smile playing on his lips. 'Let's try this again.'