《Awakening in The world of Gods》


 1: Divine Disappointment

    Rain poured steadily from a brooding sky, shrouding the city in a misty haze. On the rooftop of a 24-story building stood Riku Tanaka, a 26-year-old man whose style teetered between "generic office worker" and "anime protagonist." His tie fluttered dramatically in the wind, though its effect was somewhat diminished by a noticeable coffee stain.


    His feet hovered precariously over the edge, as though he was waiting for the universe to grant him a double-jump ability.


    He stared down at the hazy cascade of rain blending into the chaotic city below, his voice heavy with sarcasm and despair. "You probably think I''m about to jump, right? Relax, I''m not that kind of idiot," he muttered, the words dissolving into the downpour. His eyes narrowed, searching the heavens as if daring them to respond. "Anyway, Where are you hiding, God?" he muttered, letting the rain sting his face. "Are you some cosmic con artist? I''ve done my part, played by the rules. But no miracles, no divine intervention¡­ "


    He scoffed, then snorted. "Truck-kun had one job. At least isekai protagonists get cheat skills and harems. Meanwhile, I get stuck in the grind of bills, bad coffee, and a string of meaningless days. What do I get? Taxes and vending machines that eat my change."


    Riku shook his head, memories flashing by like an unwelcome montage, vivid and unrelenting: his father¡¯s towering figure cloaked in shadow, his voice cold and cryptic, leaving scars that outlasted any wound; his mother¡¯s gentle smile extinguished in an instant, leaving behind an aching void; and the relentless mockery of classmates, their sneers and whispered taunts echoing like daggers in his fragile spirit. Each scene stabbed at him, refusing to blur into oblivion.


    "My father," he muttered, clenching rain-soaked fists. "A real piece of work. Murdered my mom when I was seven and told me, ''God forgives, but you still gotta take out the trash.'' What does that even mean? I was seven...!!"


    His school days weren¡¯t much better. "Being a Yakuza kid didn¡¯t exactly win me friends. No one trades Pok¨¦mon cards with the ''mobster''s brat.'' My social circle was basically me, Goku, and the Straw Hats."


    Then came his stint at a research lab. "Thought science would be my escape. Turns out, everyone''s either a robot or running on caffeine. And then¡­ I met her." He paused dramatically, as though waiting for a poignant soundtrack to swell.


    "My first love. My only love. The one bright ember in the charred ruins of my existence. She wasn¡¯t just my solace; she was my salvation, a fragile tether holding me to this cruel, indifferent world. Two days ago, that tether snapped¡ªnot by chance, not by some cruel twist of fate, but by violence.


    It wasn¡¯t just a car crash. It was murder cloaked in faith, a cruel, calculated byproduct of a war waged by zealots. Two rival cults, each drenched in self-righteousness, turned the streets into their battlefield. Their so-called ''holy war'' demanded blood, and she¡ªbeautiful, innocent, irreplaceable¡ªwas caught in the crossfire.


    Losing someone you love is unbearable, they say. But have they felt this? Have they held the shattered body of their world, knowing her death wasn¡¯t just meaningless¡ªit was sacrilegious? Not a senseless tragedy, but a deliberate act of destruction, justified by twisted scriptures and poisoned faith.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    They took her from me in the name of their gods. Gods too cruel, too silent, too absent to stop them. What kind of deity looks down on their creation and watches as love is traded for carnage? What kind of ''divine plan'' demands the innocent pay the price for the dogmas of the damned?


    She didn¡¯t deserve this. Her laugh, her warmth, the way she could pull me from my darkest corners¡ªnone of it deserved to be extinguished, least of all for their holy war.


    I loved her with a ferocity I never thought possible. She knew my scars, my madness, the shadows that crept inside me¡ªand she loved me still. She made the wreckage of my life bearable, even beautiful. And now? Now, I am left to navigate this hellscape without her. Every step I take feels heavier, as if the weight of her absence is crushing me from the inside.


    If there is a god, they should tremble. For the price of her life is one I will make the heavens themselves reckon with."


    He forced a bitter smile. "Life¡¯s a cosmic joke, huh?"


    Tipping his head back, he let the rain cascade over his face, his chest tightening with a mixture of defiance and despair. "If there¡¯s a God¡ªif you¡¯re out there¡ªthis is it," he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice cracking. "Show up. Prove you exist. Show me the face of a coward¡ªstop hiding behind your silence and these storms! Is this all you can do? A flash of light and thunder to drown out a cry for answers?"


    Arms outstretched, he bellowed, "COME ON, SHOW YOURSELF, YOU F***ING GO¡ª"


    In a flash, lightning split the sky, cutting him off mid-rant. Thunder roared, and the world dissolved into an all-encompassing light.


    For a moment, there was silence. Then, a voice¡ªdeep, resonant, and palpably annoyed¡ªspoke from the void.


    -----


    Riku¡¯s eyes fluttered open, his head pounding as though he¡¯d head-butted a thunderstorm. His vision swam, and the world around him burst with an almost dreamlike vibrancy. The colours seemed alive, pulsing with an energy that felt both mesmerizing and disorienting, as though the very air was charged with something otherworldly. He stared at his hands¡ªslender, delicate, and unfamiliar.


    "What¡­ happened?" he mumbled, wobbling like a marionette with tangled strings. Catching his reflection in a puddle, he saw flowing robes, intricate runes, and a pointy hat.


    "Is this¡­ a mage outfit?" His voice rose in panic. "Oh no. What the heck? Am I summoned or something?"


    Before he could fully grasp his situation, a shadow loomed over him. He looked up to find a tall, imposing elf with razor-sharp features. Her expression was unyielding, etched with a cold hostility that sent shivers down his spine. Her piercing eyes, brimming with contempt, seemed to dissect his very existence, as though determining whether he was worth her time. The eerie light of this otherworldly realm gleamed off her polished armor, enhancing her ethereal yet intimidating presence. Each step she took was deliberate, her movements radiating authority that froze Riku in a cocktail of awe and dread. Her massive sword, a deadly fusion of artistry and menace, looked like it belonged in the hands of a legend, not someone who could end his life without a second thought.


    "Uh¡­ hi?" Riku ventured, offering a nervous wave. "You wouldn¡¯t happen to know where the nearest Starbucks is, would you? I just got here."


    The elf didn¡¯t respond. Her eyes narrowed, gleaming with fierce determination, and her grip on the hilt tightened, veins standing out against her pale hand. Her golden hair flowed wildly in the air. With a sharp intake of breath, she moved¡ªa blur of motion. Her blade arced through the ethereal light, slicing through the tense air with a sound like a whisper of death, as if the world itself held its breath.


    Riku¡¯s brain short-circuited. "WAIT, WAIT, WAIT! TIME OUT!"


    Too late. The sword arced perfectly, cutting him cleanly in half, and Riku found himself staring at his bisected body.


    Darkness engulfed him.


    "Why didn¡¯t I just stick to Truck-kun?"


    The last thought echoed in his mind before everything faded into nothingness.


    ***

 2: Reincarnation

    [Where am I?]


    Riku felt weightless, as though he were floating in water. There was no up or down, just an endless, tranquil void. He couldn¡¯t see, couldn¡¯t feel his body¡ªonly a peculiar calmness.


    Am I¡­ dead?


    Faint, muffled voices began to echo around him.


    "Do¡­ is¡­ boy¡­ lo¡­"


    What the heck is that? A broken radio? His senses stirred, sluggish and groggy.


    Suddenly, he felt something¡ªhis hand, maybe?


    Wait¡­ is that my hand?


    Bit by bit, the numbness faded. Sensation crept back into his limbs, like a phone finally booting up after a hard crash. Riku tried to open his eyes, though it felt like prying open rusted shutters.


    Light. Blinding, overwhelming light. His vision slowly adjusted, revealing a world that was¡­ different. Brighter, softer.


    He glanced down. His tiny hands clenched into fists.


    WHAT THE¡ª?! I GOT REINCARNATED?! THIS ISN¡¯T A JOKE?


    Does this world have magic or not? If it doesn¡¯t, I swear I¡¯ll invent a nuclear missile and blow this place to bits! Oh, who am I kidding? Of course, it¡¯s a magical world¡ªit¡¯s an isekai, dude!


    A burst of unusual thoughts exploded in his mind, each one more chaotic and absurd than the last, like a hurricane of half-baked ideas colliding in a storm of confusion.


    Excitement surged through him, followed quickly by confusion. Memories of an elven woman, her sword slicing him clean in half, flashed across his mind like a bad action replay.


    What was that?! Why did she go all Doom Slayer on me?


    Before he could ponder further, a sharp headache smacked him like a rubber band snapping against his brain.


    Ugh, okay¡­ Note to self: no heavy thinking in this tiny brain. I need a RAM upgrade, stat.


    Exhaustion swept over him like a weighted blanket.


    Just¡­ need a quick nap¡­


    His eyelids drooped, and the world slipped away again.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    [Nine Months Later]


    Riku woke to the sound of voices¡ªthis time, clear as day. His ears, once muffled, were now sharper.


    Wow, I can actually hear now! he thought, his mental voice brimming with excitement. His baby body let out a happy gurgle. Watch out, world, baby genius coming through.


    He flexed his tiny fingers dramatically, or at least tried to.


    But seriously, thinking hurts. Every time I try, it¡¯s like my brain throws up a blue screen. Probably because I¡¯m not fully developed yet. He chuckled internally. Gotta love baby brain. But hey, give me a few years, and I¡¯ll be overclocking this bad boy.


    It had taken some time, but Riku pieced together his situation.


    So, he mused, staring at his chubby baby hand, I got summoned, died immediately, and now I¡¯ve been reincarnated. Probably about a year or two after that incident. He sighed mentally. Figures. I can¡¯t even catch a break in another world.


    His thoughts shifted to determination. But I¡¯m not just anyone now¡ªI¡¯m Poll Nightvale!


    He paused, frowning. Okay, yeah, that name feels like I¡¯m destined to be a side character. But hey, it¡¯s temporary. I can rename myself later, right?


    Poll¡ªor rather, Riku¡ªscanned his surroundings. Across the room, a beautiful woman sat in a wooden chair, reading from a thick book. Her long, dark hair framed a face so youthful she looked more like an older sister than a mother.


    That¡¯s Seraphina Nightvale, he realized. My mom. She¡¯s a high-class mage and apparently a teacher too.


    She was tutoring three girls, each one unique and brimming with potential.


    The first girl, with short black hair and curious blue eyes, raised her hand. "Teacher! How powerful are Guardians? Like¡­ can they crush us? Or, I dunno, do they just look scary?"


    Seraphina smiled gently. "Guardians are nature¡¯s defense against the disruption of mana. They are immensely powerful, but they won¡¯t attack unless provoked."


    Poll blinked at the girl. Ah, that¡¯s Lira Wyndall, he thought. Age 10. Mana nerd. Future mage. Also, kinda cute for a kid.


    Next, a fiery redhead with a confident smirk piped up. "I¡¯d fight one," she declared, flexing her arm. "No problem."


    Kaida Thornhelm, Poll identified. Age 12. Sword enthusiast. Future warrior. Probably spends more time training than sleeping. Classic overachiever.


    Finally, the third girl spoke softly. Her sky-blue hair, lined with streaks of purple, shimmered in the light. Her golden eyes were calm, serious. "I¡¯d rather purify them," she said. "It¡¯s better than fighting."


    Elowen Valeheart, Poll noted. Age 7. Wannabe purifier. Scary wise for her age. Probably the only one here who understands the meaning of life. Or at least pretends to.


    So, this is basically¡­ a harem, isn¡¯t it? No, no, no! They¡¯re much older than me! Hmmm¡­ but who cares? Age is just a number! Ugh,


    shut up! Think straight, you dumbass!


    Poll sighed mentally, absorbing the scene.


    Man, my mom¡¯s over here running a daycare for prodigies, and I¡¯m stuck drooling on myself. But hey, I¡¯m learning things, bit by bit.


    He tilted his tiny head, listening in.


    Seraphina continued, her voice steady and melodic. "Guardians exist to keep mana balanced. They are not inherently evil, but if the flow of mana becomes unstable, they will act."


    Poll tried to keep up, but the more he focused, the more his head throbbed.


    Ugh. Baby brain strikes again.


    His tiny fist clenched in determination. No worries. I¡¯ll grow up, level up, and then? I¡¯m gonna be the most OP protagonist this world¡¯s ever seen. Just you wait.


    For now, though, he let himself relax, a small, content smile on his mental face.


    This is my second chance.


    And this time? I¡¯m gonna make it count.


    ***

 3: 1st Birthday Party in The Kings Castle

    [AFTER A FEW DAYS]


    Poll lay in his crib, deep in thought.


    If I''m right, today''s my birthday. One whole year in this new world. He sighed internally. For normal humans, mana circuits activate between ages 9 and 14. But nope, not for me. I''ve got at least another 8 years of this baby grind before anything cool happens.


    He glanced toward a shelf stacked with books. Books aren''t really my thing, but what else can I do? Time to hit the baby basics of mana studies, I guess. Someone is coming inside the room Gotta act like a normal kid too. Here they come¡­


    -----


    The soft morning light painted the world in a golden glow, sneaking through the thin curtains and onto Poll''s face. His tiny hands brushed against the warm, familiar blanket that smelled faintly of lavender. A gentle rustle made him turn his head, his eyes blinking lazily as the warmth of the world wrapped around him.


    He felt her presence before she spoke¡ªsoft footsteps, steady and comforting. Then came the scent he always knew: a hint of wildflowers and something uniquely hers. Her touch followed, warm fingers brushing the curls from his forehead. It tickled just enough to make him gurgle softly.


    "Good morning, my little poll," her voice drifted to him, soft as the hum of a lullaby. Her words weren''t something he understood, not yet, but the sound was enough. He reached out instinctively, his chubby hand wrapping around her finger. It was warmth, safety, home.


    Her hair brushed against his cheek as she leaned close, the light tickle matching the soft press of her lips to his forehead. It made him feel snug, cherished. Somewhere in his baby heart, he understood: this was love, wrapped in the voice and touch of the person who meant the world.


    Her whispered words lingered in the air as she pulled away, her smile glowing brighter than the sunbeam he''d seen. And as she gazed at him, Poll felt it again¡ªthat deep, unspoken bond that made the world feel perfect.


    She leaned in, pressing a tender kiss on his forehead. "Happy birthday, Poll."


    Poll felt a mix of emotions. Wow, this is nice. I''ve got a family now. Even if I''m technically an adult inside, I can get behind this. Being loved like this¡­ I could get used to it, At list for now


    [Later That Day: Royal Ball]


    I thought we''d celebrate quietly at home, but nope. Turns out today''s also the second prince''s birthday, so we''re at the royal palace. King''s orders.


    Poll glanced around the grand ballroom. Chandeliers hung like upside-down forests of stars, and noble guests glided across the polished floor in clothes that screamed, I''m worth more than your house.


    His parents were mingling, exchanging polite words with other high-ranking nobles. Meanwhile, Poll was busy playing the role of the world''s cutest accessory.


    Except for one thing.


    Why does everyone think it''s okay to poke my cheeks?! He scowled internally as yet another stranger approached, their fingers reaching out to squish his face like he was some kind of interactive art exhibit or touch screen smartphone.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    That''s when she appeared.


    A young woman with platinum hair and sharp, mischievous eyes sauntered toward him, her every step exuding confidence. The elegant dress she wore shimmered like liquid moonlight, but it was her sly smirk that had Poll''s attention locked. She knelt down to his eye level, her gaze playful yet dripping with a dangerous allure.


    "Hey, little guy," she purred, her voice sweet as honey but laced with mischief. "Are you excited about life? Grow up fast, okay? Then we can do all sorts of naughty things together."


    Poll''s baby brain sputtered like a broken engine. Wait, what?! Did she just¡ª? His chubby face flushed beet red, the shock momentarily freezing him in place. Naughty things? Oh no, this was too much stimulation for a one-year-old to handle. Somewhere deep in my overly precocious mind, an unholy thought formed: Lady, I don''t know who you are, but I''ll grow up fast, just you wait.


    Trying to shake off his embarrassment, he glanced at her again, her smirk deepening as if she could read the tiny, inappropriate thoughts swirling in his head. As you wish, my lady... he thought dramatically, a baby-sized determination glinting in his wide eyes.


    "Eryndor," chimed in smoothly. "Your Highness, perhaps it''s not wise to plant such ideas in a child so impressionable. Who knows? He might take your words seriously one day."


    Wait, hold up. Did he just¡­?


    The woman¡ªPrincess Seraphine, as Poll quickly realized¡ªlaughed lightly, her smirk never fading. "Oh, Captain Nightvale, do you really think a simple comment from me could shape a young mind so easily?" She gave Poll a playful wink. "But you''re right. He might surprise us."


    What kind of royal banter is this?! Poll thought, desperately pretending not to understand.


    Princess Seraphine straightened, her demeanor effortlessly transitioning from playful to regal. She glanced toward Seraphina with a warm smile. "Lady Nightvale, it''s always a pleasure to see you. You look as radiant as ever."


    Seraphina bowed gracefully. "Your Highness, you flatter me. It''s an honor to be here on such an occasion."


    "Please," Seraphine waved her hand dismissively. "No need for formalities between us. After all, we''re practically family." She glanced back at Poll, her eyes twinkling. "And this little one? He''ll grow up surrounded by strength and wisdom. I''m sure he''ll carry a spark of my spirit, too."


    Poll sighed internally. Wow, too much drama.


    As the evening went on, laughter and music filled the hall.


    Then,


    The king''s envoy stepped forward, his voice booming. "Lords and ladies, it is my great honor to present Their Majesties, King Varyndor Aelthor and Queen Celestia Aelthor!"


    The room fell silent as the grand double doors swung open, revealing King Varyndor Aelthor. His tall, commanding figure strode forward with a deliberate authority, his posture exuding power. His robes, adorned with intricate patterns of gold and crimson, were masterfully crafted, and each step he took seemed to command respect. His strong jawline and stern features were softened slightly by the composed yet imposing air he carried, making him an undeniable symbol of leadership. The sheer gravitas of his presence made every guest instinctively straighten, their breaths held in awe.


    Beside him walked Queen Celestia Aelthor, her entrance as graceful as a gentle breeze. Her long, golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the light and framing her delicate yet dignified face. Her serene smile radiated warmth, and her effortless elegance created a harmonious balance with the king''s formidable presence. She exuded a quiet strength, her composed demeanor hinting at wisdom and a nurturing spirit that complemented the king''s authority.


    Together, they moved toward the dais, their synchronized steps echoing through the vast hall like the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. The room, adorned with banners and lit by the golden glow of chandeliers, seemed to brighten as they advanced. Applause erupted, thunderous and heartfelt, reverberating off the vaulted ceilings as the king raised his hand for silence. Their entrance was an undeniable display of unity and majesty, leaving the assembled crowd in awe of the royal pair.


    Poll''s tiny eyes widened as the towering figure of the king entered. His regal robes glimmered under the golden light, and every step he took exuded power and authority.


    Okay, now that''s a guy you don''t mess with.


    Applause echoed through the hall as King Varyndor nodded graciously, his presence commanding the attention of all.


    Poll was soon guided to a special seat, one just for him. He barely noticed, though. His eyelids were heavy.


    Big day¡­ Big room¡­ he thought, fighting sleep. Time to¡­zzzz¡­


    And just like that, the birthday boy was out cold, snuggled peacefully amidst the grandeur of the royal ball.


    ***

 4: POLLS GROWTH

    After a Few Months


    I have to learn about magic and this world....


    I think my mom has many types of books.


    He secretly took a random book from his mother''s bookshelf.


    Poll sat before the worn, leather-bound book, its ancient pages yellowed with age. The ornate symbols on the cover were unfamiliar, and as he flipped to the first page, a wave of frustration washed over him. The script was foreign, written in the flowing language of a time long past. The words seemed to dance across the page, elusive and incomprehensible.


    He frowned, running a hand through his hair. How could I learn about magic if I can''t even read this?


    It was his mother''s collection, filled with knowledge that had shaped her into the powerful mage she had become. He had always known that learning magic wouldn''t be easy, but he hadn''t expected this.


    Determined, Poll forced himself to concentrate. Slowly, painstakingly, he began to recognize patterns in the text, recalling fragments from his mother''s teachings. The letters, once tangled and alien, started to untwist themselves. It wasn''t immediate¡ªfar from it¡ªbut with each passing hour and day, the language began to make more sense. The confusion gave way to clarity, and where there had once been nothing but obscure symbols, words of power now whispered from the pages.


    Poll''s initial frustration faded, replaced by a growing sense of accomplishment. He had begun to unlock the mysteries of the book, and with them, the path to magic itself.


    After a Few Months of Learning


    According to the book, it describes magic as the very foundation of reality, woven into the fabric of the world itself. Magic, or mana, is not merely mystical¡ªit is a primordial force that predates the physical world, connecting everything in existence. Throughout history, beings have learned to tap into this vast reservoir of power using rituals, spells, and artifacts left by ancient civilizations.


    Mana allows for the manipulation of natural elements. Some powerful individuals have unlocked advanced knowledge, understanding that magic, when combined with scientific principles and imagination, becomes even more efficient and limitless than traditional incantations.


    Okay, very confusing words, but if I say it in my simple words, that means mana is something that can manipulate scientific elements.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Hoooo¡­. Why not give it a try¡­? He thought with dangerous smirk on his face


    Ok, Poll, put all your financial and scientific knowledge into this.


    Hmm...,


    Okay, oxygen is always present in the air. To summon water, I just need to gather hydrogen¡ªor maybe create it.


    Ahh... Anyway, here we go!


    Ammm...!!


    Poll, barely two years old, reached out with his tiny hands, his brow furrowed in intense concentration. He had watched others perform magic effortlessly, their hands weaving through the air, shaping reality with a simple thought. Imitating them, he tried to summon the power within himself, but nothing came. The air around him remained still, unbothered by his attempts.


    At such a young age, his connection to magic was still fragile, like a seed yet to take root in the soil. Though the potential was there, his body was far too undeveloped to channel the raw force of mana. Frustration flickered in his eyes, but the power he sought was still beyond his reach, lying dormant, waiting for the time when he would be ready.


    Too much for nothing, haa..!!


    Well, I can learn more...


    After hours, 10 days, and 5 months spent deciphering the intricate symbols and mastering the language, Poll finally closed the book with a satisfying thud. His fingers lingered on the worn cover, a quiet pride swelling in his chest. He had done it¡ªfinished his first book on magic. The dense pages had once been an indecipherable maze, but now they were etched into his memory, their secrets unlocked.


    Within those pages, he had learned about the elements: fire, water, earth, thunder, light, air, etc.¡ªeach one a fundamental force, bound by laws older than time itself. He now understood how they interacted, how a mage could shape them with the right words, gestures, and intent. His mind buzzed with the possibilities, the knowledge of elemental magic forming a foundation for something far greater. But this was just the beginning.


    By the time Poll reached the tender age of three and a half, his daily routine had become as disciplined as it was demanding. Each morning, he would wake with the dawn, his small body moving through a series of light exercises meant to strengthen him both physically and mentally. After breakfast, his focus shifted to something far more elusive¡ªmana.


    Every day, he practiced mana control, sitting cross-legged in quiet meditation, his mind reaching out to the unseen force that flowed through the world around him. At first, it was intangible, like trying to grasp water with his hands, but he persisted. For months, his days followed this rhythm¡ªexercise, food, books, and mana training. Four, five months passed, and the results were minimal, but Poll never wavered.


    Then, one morning, something changed. As he focused inward...


    Whoo... What was that...!!


    He felt it¡ªa subtle shift, like a spark catching in dry tinder. The mana, once elusive and distant, responded to his will. It pulsed within him, no longer a foreign energy, but a part of him. Poll''s eyes opened wide in surprise, a grin tugging at his lips. This was different.


    For the first time, he felt control¡ªtrue control¡ªover the mana that flowed through his veins.


    ***

 5: The First Adventure

    Whoo...


    I feel different today; He looked at his own trembling hands. Is this really mana inside me. I can feel something.


    Wait, I¡¯m in my room. If I do something wrong, maybe my room will explode. I think I should tag along with Dad and Kaida.


    Yup, you''re right. She¡¯s the girl who wants to become a warrior and has been training with my dad. Tomorrow is the day, when they¡¯re both going to the forest for hunting training.


    It¡¯s not gone be that simple I have to convince dad first


    Dinner Time


    Poll sat at the dinner table, swinging his legs beneath the chair as he nibbled on a piece of bread. His eyes darted between his parents, waiting for the right moment. Finally, after a dramatic pause for effect, he cleared his throat.


    "Ahem. Father," he began, putting on his most serious face, "I think I should join you and Kaida for hunting training tomorrow."


    His dad, Eryndor, paused mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. He blinked at Poll, clearly caught off guard. "You want to come hunting? Tomorrow?"


    "Yup." Poll nodded confidently.


    Eryndor frowned, scratching his chin. "Poll, I thought you wanted to be a mage. You''ve been holed up with books, muttering spell gibberish for months now. What''s with the sudden interest in hunting? Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re planning to enchant the deer or something."


    Poll shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I still want to be a mage," he said, then added with a sly grin, "but I figured it wouldn¡¯t hurt to learn some of your cool moves too. You know, expand my skill set. And who knows? Maybe I¡¯ll invent a magic-infused hunting technique."


    Eryndor raised an eyebrow. "Magic hunting? Like fireballing a rabbit? That seems... efficient."


    Poll beamed. "Exactly! Efficient!"


    Seraphina, who had been quietly observing with a knowing smile, finally spoke up. "Well, isn¡¯t my little star just full of ambition?" She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "But Poll, hunting can be messy. Are you ready to trade your magical tomes for dirt, sweat, and possibly stepping in deer poop?"


    Poll grimaced, but quickly recovered. "I¡¯ll wear boots!"


    Eryndor chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, Poll. If you¡¯re so eager to join, you¡¯re welcome to come. But don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you¡ªKaida¡¯s training sessions are no joke. That girl¡¯s got a competitive streak a mile wide. If you slow her down, she might just use you for target practice."


    "Great! I¡¯ll bring a shield," Poll quipped.


    Seraphina laughed, ruffling his hair. "Just don¡¯t overdo it, multitasker. Whether it¡¯s magic or hunting, you¡¯ve got time. No need to conquer the world in a day."


    Poll grinned up at her. "Thanks, Mama. I promise I won¡¯t explode anything. Probably."


    Eryndor raised his glass with a smirk. "Here¡¯s to surviving tomorrow¡¯s adventure without any magical mishaps. And to Poll, the future master of everything."


    Poll raised his bread like it was a toast. "To not stepping in poop!"


    The family burst into laughter, the warm sound filling the room as they continued their meal. Tomorrow promised to be an interesting day.


    The Next Morning


    Poll stood in his room on the second floor, gazing out the window as the first light of dawn spilled over the horizon. The faint sounds of his father and Kaida preparing outside reached him through the open window. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his small bow and slung it over his shoulder.


    With quick, eager steps, Poll descended the stairs, the cool stone beneath his feet reminding him that today was different. As he reached the bottom, his father glanced up from the courtyard, a smile tugging at his lips.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "Ready, Poll?" he asked.


    Poll nodded, heart racing with a mix of nerves and excitement. "Ready."


    As Poll reached the courtyard, his father¡¯s eyes fell on the small bow slung over his shoulder. He chuckled softly, shaking his head.


    "That bow¡¯s a bit ambitious for a boy your age," his father said with a warm smile. He knelt down and handed Poll a wooden sword, its surface smooth but sturdy. "You¡¯ll need more practice before we trust you with the real thing. For now, this will do."


    Poll took the wooden sword, his fingers curling around the grip. It wasn¡¯t a real sword, but he could feel its weight and purpose. His father ruffled his hair.


    "Remember, Poll, strength comes in many forms¡ªwhether it¡¯s wielding a blade or mastering magic. Focus on control before power."


    Poll nodded, understanding that this was part of the journey, even if the real sword had to wait.


    As Poll stood in the courtyard, adjusting his grip on the wooden sword, he heard hurried footsteps approaching. He turned to see Lira and Elowen sprinting toward him.


    "Wait! We¡¯re coming too!" Lira exclaimed, her ponytail bouncing as she ran up, followed closely by Elowen.


    "We¡¯re coming too!" Elowen added, her eyes sparkling with excitement.


    Poll¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. "How did you know about today¡¯s hunting?"


    Lira grinned mischievously. "Because Kaida told us!"


    What¡­!! If they¡¯re coming with us, I won¡¯t have the chance to experiment with my first mana spell, Poll thought. "I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here!" he said, a mix of excitement and disappointment swirling in his chest.


    His father chuckled. "Well, it seems I have my work cut out for me¡­ Let¡¯s see what you all can handle today. Are you all ready for adventure?"


    "Yes, sir!"


    As they made their way through the forest, Poll¡¯s mind raced with thoughts.


    I remember reading something about this in a book¡ªsomething related to science and nature. But how does it all connect? He glanced at the trees around him, their towering trunks and rustling leaves whispering secrets he was eager to understand.


    He took a deep breath, the scent of damp earth and pine filling his lungs. What if I could find a way to blend my world¡¯s science into magic with the natural world¡­?


    "Hey, Dad, what are we going to hunt today?"


    "Hmm¡­ Nightwolves would be good. I saw a poster at the guild hall. Maybe we can make some money too."


    "But it¡¯s daytime."


    "Yeah, it is."


    "So, how¡­?"


    Kaida chimed in, her tone confident. "Hm hm hmm... We¡¯ve got a trick or two up our sleeves. Nightwolves can be lured out if you know what you¡¯re doing."


    Eryndor turned to the group with a commanding voice. "The four of you wait here. I need to get the permit."


    Without waiting for a response, he took a few strides forward, putting several meters between himself and the kids. Then, with a swift concentration of mana in his legs, Eryndor launched himself upward. In a blink, he leapt from branch to branch, the dense forest canopy parting before him as he ascended the towering tree.


    Poll watched in awe as his father scaled the 50¨C60-foot tree with ease, his movements fluid, almost effortless, like a creature born to the wild. Within seconds, Eryndor reached the top, disappearing into the dense leaves above.


    "Woooaaah!" Poll whispered, eyes wide. "That¡¯s so cool!"


    At the top of the tree, Eryndor perched on a thick branch, the vast forest stretching out beneath him. He reached into his tunic and pulled out a gleaming badge, the emblem of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Holding it up, he focused his mana through it, connecting with the distant guild officer.


    "Eryndor Nightvale here, requesting permission to hunt the Nightwolves in the Western Forest," he spoke, his voice calm but firm, like a seasoned warrior. The wind rustled through the leaves, but Eryndor stood perfectly still, his piercing eyes scanning the dark forest below, ever vigilant.


    Silence.


    "...Heyyy¡­ do you hear me?! Where did everyone go?!" he barked, irritation creeping into his voice as he shifted impatiently, eyes narrowing. This was supposed to be easy...


    A muffled sigh came through the receiver. "Yeah, we can hear you. Can you please repeat your request, Adventurer? Your signal¡¯s a bit spotty," the officer¡¯s voice replied, the calmness only adding to Eryndor¡¯s mounting frustration.


    Seriously? He shook his head, trying to keep his composure. "I said, High-Class, Rank S¡ªEryndor Nightvale, adventurer extraordinaire. I hereby submit a quest request to hunt down the dreaded Nightwolves of the Western Forest... with three middle schoolers and one kindergarten boy."


    There was a pause.


    "...Wait, what?!" the officer spluttered, disbelief creeping into his voice. "Did you say¡­ kindergarten boy?"


    "Yes," Eryndor replied flatly. "One kindergarten boy. Don¡¯t ask questions, just sign me off."


    Another awkward silence. Finally, the officer''s voice came back, much more cautious. "Request accepted¡­ Permission granted, Captain Eryndor. We know this job is a walk in the park for you, but please be cautious. Reports say the Nightwolves have become more¡­ aggressive recently. Ensure the safety of your team, especially the kindergarten boy. And remember, the pack leader¡ªdeal with it quickly."


    Eryndor nodded solemnly, despite the ridiculousness of the entire situation. "Understood. I¡¯ll handle it."


    The badge on his chest flickered briefly, and the connection ended. He let out a tired sigh. This was going to be fun.


    With the guild¡¯s permission secured, Eryndor wasted no time. He leapt from the towering tree, descending in graceful arcs. Branches swayed as he passed, and in moments, his feet touched the ground without a sound.


    "We¡¯re heading left from here," he said, his voice steady but filled with purpose. "A short walk will take us to a rocky area. That¡¯s where the Nightwolves are most often found."


    He glanced at the group, his eyes sharp. "We¡¯ll set up some traps there to prepare for the hunt."


    "Yes, sir," they all replied, eager for the adventure ahead


    ***