To Be A Human

The Tower stood like a silent sentinel at the edge of the world, its spires piercing the eternal twilight that blanketed the land. The winds screamed as they twisted around its jagged peaks, carrying shards of ice that glittered like broken stars. Inside, the throne room was a cavern of frost, its walls sheathed in crystalline ice that reflected the dim blue light of the hovering moon above.


Emdragon sat upon her throne, a figure carved from majesty and sorrow. Her white hair fell in cascades over her shoulders, and her piercing, frost-blue eyes were dimmed by tears. The droplets froze as they left her chin, falling to the cold, unyielding floor in a rhythmic symphony of grief.


"When did it come to this?" she murmured, her voice brittle as the ice beneath her feet. Her fingers traced the carved arms of her throne, the edges sharp enough to draw blood—a symbol of her own isolation. "How did I come to be trapped in this endless cycle?" Her voice rose suddenly, a raw scream tearing through the silence. It reverberated off the walls, making the ice tremble.


"I just want to be like them," she whispered, her voice breaking as she clenched her fists. "The humans who wander into this cursed kingdom. I want to see their world, to understand what it means... to live." Her gaze fell to her hands, delicate and pale as snow, yet brimming with unimaginable power. "I want to be human."


The creak of heavy doors shattered her reverie. Emdragon's head snapped up, her tear-streaked face hardening into an impassive mask. The towering doors at the end of the throne room groaned open, revealing five figures cloaked in furs and leather. Their breath frosted the air as they stepped cautiously into the chamber.


"Humans," she realized, her icy gaze narrowing. "How did they get past my sentinels? Did my emotions disrupt the wards again?" With a thought, she suppressed her mana, activating her camouflage—a rare technique that rendered her presence undetectable. Her form shimmered, becoming one with the shadows.


The group hesitated, their voices carrying in the frigid air.


"What part of the tower is this?" one of them asked, his voice shaky.


"It's too cold," another muttered, pulling his cloak tighter around him.


"Is this the boss room?" a third wondered aloud, his eyes darting to the imposing throne that loomed over the room.


"It has to be," the leader said, his scarred face grim. "But why is it empty? We didn't encounter a single monster on our way here."


Emdragon watched them with detached curiosity. The humans were an odd mixture of confidence and fear, their eyes darting to every shadow. She noted the trembling hands of one hunter and the unwavering poise of their leader. Her gaze, however, darkened when she saw their captives—a woman and her child, bound and sobbing.


The child clung to her mother, her thin frame shivering in the cold. The mother whispered soothing words despite her own fear, her breath hitching as tears froze on her cheeks.


Emdragon's anger flared, a silent storm brewing within her. What are they planning? she thought, her hands clenching.


The leader turned to his comrades, his voice low but firm. "Prepare the ritual. We'll need to use the sacrifices to draw out whatever power is hiding here."


The hunters moved swiftly, dragging the woman and child forward. Their muffled cries echoed in the chamber, breaking something deep within Emdragon. She allowed herself to materialize, her presence flooding the room like an arctic gale.


The temperature dropped sharply, and a deathly silence fell over the chamber.


The hunters froze, their eyes widening as a figure emerged on the throne. Emdragon's gaze burned with an icy fury, her posture regal and commanding. "Who dares defile my domain?" she demanded, her voice reverberating with an unnatural resonance.


The leader recovered first, though his face betrayed his fear. "Who... who are you?" he stammered.


Emdragon stood, her figure illuminated by the cold light of the moon. "I am the Frostfall King, the lord of this desolate realm. You tread on sacred ground, humans. Why have you come to commit such atrocities here?"


The leader sneered, drawing his blade. "You're just another monster," he growled. "We've killed plenty before you."


Emdragon's lips curled into a smile devoid of warmth. "Mongrels," she said softly, her voice carrying an edge sharper than any blade. "You never learn, do you?"


With a flick of her wrist, the air around her crackled and darkened. "Dark Frost Destruction Technique: Frost Annihilation," she intoned, her voice a harbinger of doom.


The chamber erupted into chaos as black ice surged from the ground, twisting into jagged spires that encased the hunters in an instant. Their screams were cut short as the ice pulsed with destructive energy, reducing them to silence. The throne room trembled, the sheer force of her power leaving the air heavy with death.


Only the woman and her child remained, trembling as they stared at their savior.


The mother fell to her knees, her voice shaking. "Thank you, my liege," she whispered, her tears falling freely.


Emdragon approached them, her movements slow and deliberate. She knelt before the child, her expression softening. "Do not fear," she said gently. "You are free to go. Live your lives in peace."


The child hesitated, then threw her arms around Emdragon, her small frame trembling. "Thank you, miss," she whispered.


A faint smile graced Emdragon's lips as she patted the girl's head. "You're welcome, little one," she said softly.


As they left, Emdragon returned to her throne, the weight of her solitude settling over her once more. She sighed, her voice barely audible. "Back to being alone..."


A sudden flash of light interrupted her thoughts. A holographic screen appeared before her, its luminescent text flickering.


[SYSTEM]
LOADING…


Emdragon's eyes widened in shock and curiosity. "What... is this?" she murmured.


The screen flickered again, its message changing:


[SYSTEM]
CRITERIA COMPLETE…


Her breath hitched. "Criteria? For what?"


[SYSTEM]
WISH GRANTED…


Her heart raced as realization dawned. "My wish..." she whispered, hope and fear warring within her.


The screen displayed a final message:


DO YOU STILL WISH TO BE HUMAN?
[YES] / [NO]


"Do I still wish?" She murmured, her breath catching as something deep within her was saying otherwise, This strange light asks for the dream she had desired for so long, The sheer impossibility of it made her think that this must be another trick of the tower, a fever dream born from her longing. Her mind recoiled, ages of solitude screaming that hope was folly. I don't believe in this. I CAN'T believe in this....


Yet... beneath the crushing weight of disbelief, a forbidden warmth bloomed in her chest. "I've been trying to leave this tower my whole life, always restarting to this throne room, like am a puppet... If this is real, it's my only chance to see the human world. Even if it costs me my immortality, I couldn't care less. What's the use in being immortal if I'm forever alone"


A tiny, desperate ember flared. Maybe... The word slipped like a fragile whisper against the howl of her cynicism. Just... maybe... It was light to hope, but the question itself, spoken to her deepest, most forbidden desire, was a hook in her soul. The dream she had told herself was impossible was now presented on a screen.


Her hand hovered, trembling not just from cold she created, but from the sheer magnitude of the choice between crushing reality and impossible hope.


And with a deep breath, she reached out. Her finger, pale against the luminous screen as she chose.





[YES]


The room filled with blinding light as the system's final words echoed:


REQUEST ACCEPTED. YOU ARE NOW HUMAN.


As darkness overtook her, a faint smile lingered on her lips.


Finally, I'll be free…


Blimp.. Blimp.. Blimp.. B-B-L##-P................

The world was a blur of light, shadows, and muffled voices. Crisp air caressed her skin, accompanied by a gentle warmth that carried a faint, comforting scent of lavender and honey. It was a strange yet soothing sensation—like stepping into a dream. Slowly, consciousness seeped in, a disorienting wave of awareness.


"Where am I?" The question echoed in her mind, heavy with confusion.


Through the haze came a voice, vibrant with elation and tinged with tears. "She's breathing! Our baby is breathing, Derrick!" The sound pulled her closer to clarity, anchoring her in this strange, new reality.


"Vivian, she's alive and breathing," replied another voice, deeper and steadier but no less overwhelmed. The man's tone wavered between disbelief and profound joy.


A third voice, older and weathered by years of experience, chimed in, filled with wonder. "It's a miracle! In all my years as a midwife, I've never seen anything like this."


The voices swirled around her like fragments of a melody, surreal yet undeniably real. Her senses sharpened, though everything remained slightly out of focus. She became aware of her body, small and fragile, a stark contrast to the imposing form she had once possessed. Tiny fingers twitched, toes wiggled hesitantly. The effort of opening her eyes was monumental, but slivers of light and shadow greeted her as they fluttered open.


She caught glimpses—a room bathed in warm sunlight, wooden beams above, and the soft flicker of a nearby oil lamp. The faint crackle of a hearth fire filled the silence between words. Slowly, her gaze fell upon herself. Tiny hands, impossibly small feet, and a body that didn't feel like her own. Panic rose briefly before a strange acceptance settled in its place.


She turned her head, catching sight of the couple who had spoken earlier. Their expressions were a mix of concern and wonder. The man, Derrick, leaned closer, his brow furrowed in thought. "Her brother is crying, but she isn't," he noted, a puzzled yet amused tone coloring his words.


At that moment, the weight of her situation hit her like a crashing wave. A realization dawned, bright and undeniable: I'm human. I'm really human.


Emotion surged within her, overwhelming and uncontrollable. She did the only thing that felt natural—she cried. A sharp, piercing wail tore from her tiny lungs, filling the room and announcing her arrival into this fragile, new life.


Before the couple could react, the door burst open, and a small figure dashed inside with the unbridled energy of youth. "Ellie, careful!" Vivian warned, though her tone was more amused than scolding.


The girl, no older than five, climbed onto the bed, her bright blue eyes sparkling with curiosity as she stared at the newborns. "Wow! They're so small!" she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of awe and excitement. After a moment of intense observation, she straightened, puffing out her chest with dramatic flair. "Fear not, little ones! I, Ellie, your big sister, will protect you from everything!"


Her declaration was met with laughter from the adults, their joy filling the room like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Even the midwife chuckled, shaking her head at the girl's theatrics.


The lighthearted moment gave way to quieter contemplation as Derrick and Vivian began discussing names for their newborns. "Ethan," Derrick suggested, glancing at the crying boy swaddled in a blanket. Vivian smiled, her gaze softening as it fell on the baby girl. "And Emma," she added, her voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking the name aloud would make it all the more real.


As the names were spoken, a strange warmth spread through the room, settling like a protective embrace. Emma—the name wrapped around her like a second skin, unfamiliar yet comforting.


From her vantage point, Emma studied them all through half-lidded eyes. Her father, Derrick, was tall and broad-shouldered, his grayish-white hair lending him a distinguished air. His piercing blue eyes, sharp and observant, softened as he gazed at his newborn children.


Her mother, Vivian, was the picture of grace. Dark blonde hair framed her face like a halo, and her pale eyes—an otherworldly shade of white—glowed faintly in the dim light. There was an ethereal beauty about her, as though she didn't entirely belong to this world. Yet the tenderness in her gaze as she cradled Ethan spoke of a love as human as any.


Ellie was a whirlwind of energy, her mischievous grin lighting up the room. She shared her mother's dark blonde hair, though her eyes were a striking blue that mirrored her father's. Her boundless enthusiasm seemed to radiate warmth, filling every corner of the room.


Then there was Ethan, her twin. His cries were strong and insistent, a stark contrast to Emma's earlier silence. Tufts of grayish-white hair framed his small, round face, and his bright blue eyes, though unfocused, already seemed to hold a spark of determination.


The midwife, an older woman with kind eyes and hands weathered by years of hard work, lingered near the door, watching the family with a satisfied smile.


The room itself was humble yet inviting—a small, cozy space with wooden walls and floors that carried the scent of fresh pine. An ornate rug, worn but well-loved, covered the floor beneath the bed. The hearth fire crackled softly, its glow casting dancing shadows on the walls. Outside the single window, the golden hues of a setting sun painted the horizon, signaling the end of one day and the beginning of another.


As the family cooed over their newborns, Emma's exhaustion began to creep in. The day had been overwhelming in every sense, a cacophony of emotions and sensations she hadn't experienced in lifetimes. Her eyelids grew heavy, the world around her fading into a soothing blur of warmth and love.


For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she felt at peace. This wasn't just a rebirth—it was the start of a journey, one filled with hope, love, and the infinite possibilities of a life she had only ever dreamed of.


And as sleep claimed her, a single thought lingered in her mind: I am Emma. This is my family. And I will cherish this life, no matter what it brings.

The weeks passed in a blur of unfamiliar sensations and endless adaptation. Emma lay nestled in her crib, her tiny fingers reflexively gripping the soft blanket that covered her. The world outside seemed vast and chaotic, a sharp contrast to the tranquil bubble of her newfound existence. Above her, a wooden mobile spun lazily, painted animals moving in circles, casting faint shadows on the pale nursery walls.


Everything felt surreal. "A second chance," she mused, staring at the ceiling as her mind—still sharp despite her infant body—reflected on her bizarre reincarnation. But the novelty of being reborn was wearing thin.


Her twin brother, Ethan, began wailing from the crib beside her, his cries splitting the otherwise serene atmosphere. "Does he ever stop?" she thought in irritation, her tiny hands curling into fists. For all her internal maturity, she was a prisoner of this helpless body—unable to walk, speak, or even quiet her infant sibling's relentless noise. She closed her eyes, summoning every ounce of patience.


The months slipped by, and as Emma's world slowly expanded, so too did her fascination with it. By the time she was five months old, her mother, Vivian, decided to take her and Ethan out for their first real excursion.


The morning sun painted the horizon in soft golds and pinks, illuminating the cobblestone streets that crisscrossed their small town. Vivian walked briskly, her graceful figure wrapped in a flowing pale green dress. She carried Ethan in her arms while Emma was securely fastened to her back in a simple woven carrier.


The town bustled with life. Market stalls lined the streets, their colorful awnings fluttering in the gentle breeze. Vendors called out their wares, their voices mixing with the chatter of shoppers and the occasional clatter of horses' hooves against stone. The air smelled of fresh bread, roasted nuts, and the tangy sweetness of overripe fruit.


Emma's gaze darted everywhere, wide-eyed and curious. Each stall seemed like a portal to another world.


They stopped briefly at a fruit seller's stand. The woman behind the counter had sun-weathered skin and kind eyes. "A beautiful day for little ones, isn't it?" she said warmly, leaning in to pinch Ethan's cheek. He responded with a whimper, which quickly turned into a full-fledged wail.


Emma grimaced, her inner monologue brimming with exasperation. "You'd think he's auditioning for a tragedy," she thought, casting a sideways glance at her brother. Vivian, ever the patient mother, soothed him with a soft hum and a gentle pat on the back.


As they moved deeper into the market, something caught Emma's attention. A blacksmith's forge stood at the edge of the square, its glowing embers casting flickering light on the muscular figure hammering away at a blade. Sparks flew with each strike of his hammer, the rhythmic clang of metal on metal reverberating through the air.


Emma's breath hitched. She watched, transfixed, as raw iron was shaped into a gleaming sword. The blacksmith's hands moved with practiced precision, his brow furrowed in concentration. Her tiny body leaned slightly forward in the carrier, straining to get a closer look.


In her previous life as the final boss of Frostfall Tower, she had wielded legendary weapons, each imbued with unimaginable power. But she had never stopped to wonder how they were made. Now, watching the process unfold before her, she felt a strange sense of reverence. "So this is how it begins," she thought, her gaze lingering on the glowing blade.


The market was a sensory overload. Nearby, a potion seller displayed bottles of vibrant liquids, their contents shimmering like captured starlight. Each vial seemed to whisper promises of transformation—healing, strength, perhaps even magic.


A jeweler's stall boasted an array of necklaces, bracelets, and rings, their gemstones catching the sunlight in dazzling bursts of color. A group of children crowded around a pastry vendor, their excited chatter rising above the din as they pointed at sugary confections shaped like animals.


Vivian paused to purchase a loaf of bread, exchanging a few coins with a baker whose hands were dusted with flour. Emma observed it all, soaking in the details—the texture of the cobblestones beneath her mother's feet, the way the sunlight danced across the vibrant fabrics of the stalls, the murmur of conversations weaving together into a living symphony.


As they passed a cheerful confectioner's stand, Vivian stopped again. She bought a small bag of candies, the sugary aroma wafting into the air as she opened it. Placing one gently in Ethan's mouth, she watched with a smile as his cries finally subsided, replaced by soft coos. Then, turning to Emma, she offered her one as well.


The moment the candy touched Emma's tongue, a jolt of delight surged through her. The sweetness was pure and intense, unlike anything she had tasted before. Her tiny lips curved into a smile, and for the first time since her rebirth, she felt the simple joy of being a child.


The walk home was peaceful. The cobblestone streets, now bathed in the soft glow of late afternoon light, seemed less bustling as the market began to wind down. Ethan, finally content, rested quietly against Vivian's shoulder.


Emma, nestled securely in her carrier, let out a soft sigh. The day had been a revelation. The sights, the smells, the intricate lives of the people around her—it was all so vibrant, so alive. For someone who had once been confined to the cold, dark halls of Frostfall Tower, this world was nothing short of a miracle.


She glanced at the horizon, where the setting sun painted the sky in fiery oranges and deep purples. Somewhere in that vast, beautiful world, her destiny awaited.


"I'm ready," she thought, her tiny hand reaching up to grasp the fabric of Vivian's dress. "For whatever comes next, I'm ready."


The rhythmic sound of her mother's footsteps on the cobblestones lulled her into a peaceful slumber, the world around her fading into a warm, comforting blur.

The passage of time in the manor was marked by the rhythms of daily life. Morning light seeped through ornate curtains, painting the wooden floors in golden hues. Three months had passed since the market trip, and in that span, Emma's curiosity about the world around her had grown insatiable. Her small hands itched to explore every corner of the house, a boundless determination hidden beneath her cherubic appearance.


One afternoon, as the warmth of the sun gave way to the soft coolness of late day, Emma seized her chance. Vivian was preoccupied with the clatter of pots in the kitchen, and Derrick was buried in his study, his deep voice occasionally drifting into the halls as he muttered to himself about numbers and trade. With the stealth of a tiny adventurer, Emma crawled out of the nursery, her movements deliberate and practiced.


The path to the library was no small feat for someone so small. Plush rugs muffled the sound of her tiny hands and knees against the floor, and towering doorframes loomed like gateways to unknown realms. At last, she reached her destination—a grand oak door slightly ajar, beckoning her inward.


Inside, the air shifted. It was cool and faintly tinged with the scent of old paper, polished wood, and ink. The library was unlike anything Emma had encountered in either of her lives. The walls were lined with shelves that stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, each brimming with books of various sizes and colors. Sunlight filtered through a high window, casting a kaleidoscope of light and shadow across the room, while a heavy desk sat in the corner, cluttered with scrolls and an unlit oil lamp.


Emma's wide eyes roved over the titles embossed in shimmering gold and silver on spines of deep green, crimson, and black. Her tiny fingers brushed against the smooth leather covers as she pulled one out—a tome nearly too large for her to hold. It slipped from her grasp and thudded softly onto the plush carpet.


With great effort, Emma opened it. The parchment crackled faintly under her fingers, and intricate illustrations leapt to life on the pages. A castle rising against a blood-red moon, a forest shrouded in ghostly mist, and a map etched with strange symbols filled her vision. The text, although unreadable to her infant eyes, seemed alive, as though each stroke of ink carried the weight of the stories it told.


She turned more pages, her small hands trembling slightly as she uncovered glimpses of the world outside her home. One particular passage caught her eye—a detailed illustration of a towering tree, its roots coiled like serpents and its branches cradling the clouds. Next to it, a faint sketch of a giant, its features fierce and noble, loomed large on the page.


Her mind painted vivid pictures of what the book described. The Elf Kingdom of Elverian, hidden behind the veils of the Misty Forest, whispered promises of ancient magic and perilous journeys. She imagined the forest alive with danger—thorns sharp enough to pierce steel, shadows that moved when no one was looking, and an eerie silence broken only by distant whispers.


The Assalion Fortress, home to the reclusive Dwarves, stood proud and impenetrable to the south. Its defenses were legendary, its walls a patchwork of ingenuity and indomitable stone. Emma envisioned dragons with hollow, glowing eyes, circling its skies, their wings darkening the sun as they answered the call of the Dwarf Necromancer.


Then there was the Vermonthy Kingdom, eastward past the Hermagon Mountains. Her gaze lingered on the sketch of the World Tree, its immense roots spreading far and wide, birthing life on a colossal scale. The thought of the Giants, their steps shaking the earth, filled her with both awe and trepidation. They were said to possess strength unmatched, and their culture, though alien, spoke of an enduring connection to the world itself.


Emma's breath hitched. This was no ordinary world. It was alive, vast, and waiting to be uncovered.


Her wonder deepened as she flipped to a different book she had pulled from a lower shelf. This one depicted alchemical symbols and tools. It was filled with vibrant sketches of glowing potions, some bubbling, some swirling with eerie, unearthly light. She could almost smell the tang of the ingredients they described. One page showed an elaborate diagram of a brewing station, complete with labels for everything from dragon's breath essence to crushed phoenix feathers.


"This place is... it's like a treasure trove," she thought, her baby-like lisp betraying her adult mind. She grinned at the sheer absurdity of her words. For the first time since her rebirth, she felt truly at peace, immersed in the thrill of discovery.


But her moment of awe was short-lived. The sound of Vivian's voice echoed faintly in the hall, growing closer. "Emma! Where are you, sweetie?"


Panicked but unwilling to leave the books in disarray, Emma hurriedly pushed the fallen tome back into place. Her fingers lingered on the smooth cover for just a moment longer. She glanced back at the library, its shelves towering over her like silent sentinels.


"I'll be back," she murmured under her breath, her voice filled with quiet resolve.


The door creaked open, and Vivian stepped inside, her expression softening with relief when she saw Emma near the shelf. "There you are!" Vivian scooped her up into a warm embrace, brushing a stray curl from her daughter's face. "What have you been up to, little one?"


Emma leaned against her mother, her small hand clutching a corner of Vivian's blouse.


Nothing much. She thought to herself though her heart raced with the secrets she now held.


Vivian carried her back to the nursery, humming softly as they moved through the halls. Emma glanced over her mother's shoulder, watching the library door grow smaller until it disappeared from view. The scent of old paper and ink still lingered in her mind as she was tucked into her crib, the soft mattress cradling her small form.


As her eyes closed and the world dimmed around her, Emma's thoughts were alive with possibilities. The library was more than a room. It was a gateway, a promise of knowledge and adventure waiting to be unlocked. She smiled faintly, already dreaming of the day she would return to delve deeper into its mysteries.


This world, with all its secrets, was hers to explore. And Emma—small, curious, and determined—would leave no page unturned.

The days that followed Emma's first encounter with the library were marked by failed attempts and thwarted plans. Vivian, ever-watchful, seemed to appear out of nowhere, her voice scolding and maternal:
"Emma, this is no place for little ones. Off you go now."

But today was different. The house was unusually quiet. Vivian had gone out on an errand, leaving Derrick absorbed in his work, his study door firmly shut. Emma's opportunity had come.

The nursery door creaked open as the little girl peeked into the empty hallway. Shadows from the late afternoon sun stretched along the wooden floorboards, casting intricate patterns. Emma moved with purpose, crawling silently, her tiny hands pressing against the cool planks. She paused at the corners, her wide eyes scanning for any sign of movement.

Finally, she reached the library door. Its dark wood loomed before her like the gateway to another world. With a determined push, the heavy door groaned open, and she slipped inside.

The library was a realm of quiet majesty. Towering shelves stood like silent sentinels, each row brimming with books of all shapes and sizes. The air was heavy with the scent of aged parchment and leather bindings. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, dust motes drifting lazily in its golden beams.

Emma crawled to the nearest shelf and reached up, her small fingers brushing the spine of a particularly thick book. With a grunt, she tugged it free, the weight nearly toppling her backward. She giggled softly, her laughter swallowed by the library's vast silence. Settling on the floor, she opened the book, the pages crackling with age.

Her tiny fingers traced the illustrations as she studied the intricate map of the Human Kingdom, Eldo-Clearoth, to the west. The text spoke of the Saturn of Lily Valley, a sprawling meadow filled with celestial flowers believed to bloom only under a full moon. Legends claimed it was the birthplace of Aurora, the goddess of dawn, though the book offered frustratingly few details.

Emma huffed, her lips pursing in frustration. "I want to know more," she muttered, flipping to the next page.

As she continued to read, the book described the Human Kingdom's grandeur—a land brimming with life, its cities a patchwork of bustling marketplaces, grand castles, and peaceful villages. Emma's brow furrowed as she tried to picture it, the imagery sparking her imagination.

Her exploration was momentarily interrupted by an itch. Tugging at the edge of her diaper, she grumbled, "Curse this thing. How can anyone focus like this?"

Determined not to be deterred, she turned to the next section, her eyes widening as the text described the Underworld Kingdom, the Netherlands. It was a realm shrouded in mystery, buried deep beneath the earth. The book spoke of Towers—massive, obsidian structures that occasionally emerged from the ground. These enigmatic monoliths were rumored to be harbingers of doom, their purpose unknown but their presence always followed by chaos.

A chill ran down Emma's spine as she read the prophecy:
"When the Towers rise, darkness will spill forth, consuming the surface in eternal night. None above will be spared."

Her tiny hands trembled as she closed the book. "I won't let that happen," she whispered, her voice firm despite her small stature. "I'll grow stronger. I have to."

As she stood to return the book to its place, another tome slipped from the shelf above, landing squarely on her head.

"Ow!" Emma yelped, rubbing the sore spot. Her annoyance faded as her eyes fell on the title embossed in golden script: "Basic Magic Theories" By Henry Watchers.

Her heart raced as she opened the book, the pages revealing strange diagrams and arcane symbols. The text described the basics of magic—how it could be harnessed through focus, willpower, and understanding. This book wasn't just about magic; it was a potential map to a new power, a way to replace what was lost. Could this be the key she needed? A theoretical magic of humans to rebuild her strength? A way to protect the world and face the darkness foretold?

She leaned closer, absorbing every word, when a sudden shadow loomed behind her. A chill crept up her spine.

"Emma," a voice whispered, low and sharp, sending her heart into her throat. She turned slowly, fear gripping her chest.

Ellie stood there, her expression a mixture of astonishment and exasperation. Her hands rested on her hips as she tilted her head. "What are you doing here?"

Emma let out a shaky breath, relief washing over her. Ellie!... she exclaimed, her voice a touch too loud in the hushed library.

Ellie knelt, lifting Emma into her arms with practiced ease. Her tone softened, though the scolding remained. "This is no place for you. Come on, back to bed."

Emma pouted but didn't resist as Ellie carried her out of the library. The older girl's voice was a constant stream of chatter, recounting her day and the stories she had shared with her friends. Despite Ellie's lively tone, Emma's mind was elsewhere.

The book on magic lingered in her thoughts, its pages a promise of potential and power. She resolved to return, her determination burning brighter than ever.

"I'll be back," she whispered under her breath as Ellie tucked her into bed.

As the soft glow of the moon filtered through the curtains, Emma drifted off to sleep. Her dreams were a tapestry of kingdoms and magic, prophecies and danger. The library had unveiled a world of wonder and mystery, and she was determined to uncover its secrets.

Tomorrow held the promise of new discoveries, and Emma was ready. She would grow, learn, and face whatever challenges the world had in store for her—one page at a time.

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Days passed in the tranquil rhythm of the village, and with each sunrise, Emma's thoughts swirled more fervently around the concept of magic. The word itself carried a weight of mystery and possibility that she couldn't ignore. Crawling aimlessly around the house, her infant mind raced with questions: What was magic? How did it work? Could I wield it someday?


Her questions found an unexpected answer one quiet afternoon. The sun dipped lazily in the sky, casting long, golden beams through the windows. As Emma ventured into the corridor, a faint hum of energy drew her to Ellie's room. The door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, she saw her sister sitting cross-legged on the floor.


Ellie's eyes were closed, her face serene, as though she were listening to a melody only she could hear. The sunlight caught her hair, turning it into a halo of soft amber, and the room itself seemed to pulse with an unspoken power. Intrigued, Emma crept closer, careful not to make a sound.


Her curiosity deepened when she noticed a faint glow emanating from Ellie's midsection. It started as a dim flicker, like the first light of dawn, before solidifying into a radiant orb. The small sphere shimmered with a kaleidoscope of colors—fiery reds, brilliant golds, and streaks of pale white that danced within its core.


Emma's breath caught, her small hands gripping the edge of the doorframe. She leaned forward, her eyes wide as the energy within the orb swirled like a living thing. The red hues pulsed with a heartbeat-like rhythm, vibrant and alive, and the golden light bathed the room in a warm, ethereal glow.


"Wow," Emma whispered, her tiny voice barely audible over the faint hum of energy.


Suddenly, the air shifted. A gentle breeze stirred within the room, ruffling Ellie's hair and lifting the edges of her tunic. Her expression changed, her brows furrowing in concentration as she lifted a hand and spoke in a calm, commanding tone.


"Wind Technique—Levitate."


The words seemed to hang in the air, resonating with an unseen force. In response, the breeze intensified, swirling around Ellie in playful currents. Slowly, as though cradled by invisible hands, Ellie's body began to rise. The orb of light at her core flickered, and the winds carried her a few inches above the ground.


Emma watched, captivated by the sight of her sister defying gravity. Ellie's expression was one of fierce determination, her lips pressed into a firm line. But the winds faltered. The glow dimmed, and with a sudden rush of air, Ellie dropped to the floor, landing on her bottom with a soft thud.


"Ow! Not again," Ellie muttered, rubbing the sore spot with a sheepish smile. Despite the mishap, there was no frustration in her voice—only a quiet resolve. She took a deep breath and returned to her meditative pose, her hands resting lightly on her knees.


"I have to keep trying," Ellie murmured, her voice firm but soft, as though she were speaking to herself. "I must grow stronger. Strong enough to protect Ethan and Emma."


Her words struck a chord in Emma's chest. Watching Ellie's earnest efforts to master the mysterious power left her both awestruck and inspired. A spark of determination flared within her—small but steady, like the first flicker of a flame.


"I want to learn too," Emma thought, her tiny fists clenching with resolve. She turned away from the room, her heart racing as she crawled toward the stairs. The library beckoned her like a lighthouse in the dark, its shelves promising answers to questions she didn't yet know how to ask.


Descending carefully, she reached the familiar heavy door and pushed it open with a soft grunt. The scent of old parchment and leather bindings enveloped her, filling her lungs with the essence of knowledge and secrets.


Emma crawled to the shelf where she had last seen the book titled Magic. Her hands brushed against the spines of other tomes as she searched, their textures rough and cool under her fingers. Finally, she found it, its golden title glinting faintly in the dim light.


Settling onto the floor, she opened the book, her eyes scanning the intricate diagrams and looping script. The pages spoke of energy flows, focus techniques, and the ancient art of drawing power from the very air around oneself.


"This is it," Emma whispered, her voice filled with quiet awe. "This is the key."


The library seemed to hum in agreement, the silence wrapping around her like a warm embrace. Each turn of the page deepened her resolve, the words and illustrations painting a world of endless possibilities.


"I'll learn," Emma murmured, her tiny fingers tracing the image of a glowing orb. "I'll grow stronger, just like Ellie. I'll protect them... all of them."


The room, silent and watchful, seemed to acknowledge her promise. The soft creak of the shelves and the whisper of pages felt almost alive, as if the library itself was rooting for her.


With a resolute smile, Emma closed the book and carefully returned it to its place. She glanced back at the towering shelves, her eyes alight with purpose.


"I'll come back," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustle of a passing breeze. "I'll unlock my potential. I will protect my family."


As she made her way back to the nursery, Emma felt a shift within herself—a stirring of something greater, something that would one day grow into a force strong enough to shape the world. For now, she was small, her journey just beginning, but a spark of fire burned bright in her heart.


The library held the promise of answers, and Emma was ready to uncover them, one page at a time.

The first rays of dawn spilled over the village, painting the modest rooftops in hues of gold and amber. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains of the small home where Emma stirred, her tiny frame shifting beneath a blanket.

The memory of the previous day burned brightly in her mind—a glowing sphere of magic, swirling winds, and her sister's unwavering concentration. That moment had ignited something in her, a flame of curiosity and ambition she could not ignore.

Awake now, Emma's small hands pushed the blanket aside as she began her familiar crawl through the house. The cool wooden floor creaked under her movement, each sound swallowed by the quiet stillness of early morning. Her destination was clear: the library.

The heavy wooden door stood tall and imposing, but Emma approached it with purpose. She leaned her weight against the door, pushing it open just enough to slip inside. The library greeted her with its usual hush, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and leather bindings. Dust motes floated in the streams of sunlight that pierced the room, giving the space an almost otherworldly glow.
Emma's gaze fell upon the magic book she had claimed the day before, its leather cover weathered and faintly cracked. She crawled to it, her small hands brushing against the spine as she pulled it closer. Settling onto the floor, she opened it with a mix of reverence and anticipation.

The first words she read felt like they were written just for her.
"In this world filled with magic, there are three types of magic users: Augmenters, Casters, and Specialists."

Emma's small voice echoed softly in the quiet room as she repeated the passage, her awe growing with each word. Her fingers traced the illustrations on the page—depictions of warriors clad in armor, mages surrounded by glowing sigils, and individuals wielding powers so strange they defied description.

"Augmenters," she read, her voice rising with excitement, "are magic users capable of enhancing their physical or tactical abilities. They excel in combat and defense or in specialized skills that interact with the physical world."
She paused, her mind conjuring images of towering knights with fists that could shatter stone or nimble fighters whose movements were too fast for the eye to follow.

"Casters," Emma continued, her fascination deepening, "focus on spellcasting, manipulating elements, summoning, and shaping battlefields to support their allies. They are the architects of magic, weaving the fabric of the world into tools and weapons."

Her finger moved to the final section, her eyes wide with wonder.
"Specialists, often called Mutants, possess unique and unpredictable magical abilities. Their powers are unconventional, often born of genetic mutations or mysterious origins."

A shiver ran through Emma as she imagined what it might mean to wield such rare and enigmatic powers. The possibilities seemed endless, each path more fascinating than the last.

Turning the page, Emma found a diagram of a glowing sphere set within a person's midsection—the Ki Core.

"Magic in this world can only be manifested by channeling the life force, which they call the Ki Core," she read aloud, her voice filled with reverence. Beneath the diagram was a list of core stages, each accompanied by its own color.
"Black for Beginning or Impure," Emma murmured, her tiny finger hovering over the text. "Red for Awakening. Orange for Rising. Yellow for Gathering. Green for Settling—the stage most people reach."

She leaned closer, her breath catching as she continued.

"Silver for Rocket. White for Pure—the pinnacle of mortal achievement. And…" Her voice dropped to a whisper, her heart racing. "Colorless. The Ascended Stage. Limitless. Achievable only by gods or deities."

The weight of the words pressed against her chest. Emma closed her eyes for a moment, imagining what it would feel like to reach those heights, to wield power that transcended mortality.

With trembling hands, she turned to another book nearby. Its title, Awakening of Magic, gleamed faintly in the light. Opening it, she eagerly devoured the text within.

"Magic Awakening often occurs in children between the ages of five and ten," she read, her lips curving into a wry smile. "I'm not even a year old yet." The thought of awakening so early filled her with both amusement and resolve.

"To awaken one's Ki Core," she continued, "cultivating is key. One must channel all the energy outside and within their body to the origin of their life force. For some, the process occurs naturally. For others, late awakening may require deliberate training and effort."

The instructions were simple yet profound. Emma stared at the diagrams of children sitting cross-legged, their expressions serene as energy radiated from their cores. She mimicked the pose instinctively, her tiny hands resting on her lap as she closed her eyes.

For a moment, the world fell away. The distant hum of the village faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of her own breathing. In her mind's eye, she imagined the Ki Core within her—a small, dormant ember waiting to be ignited.

But the moment was fleeting. The creak of the front door snapped her back to reality, and Emma's eyes flew open. Panic surged through her as she realized her mother must be home. Hastily, she closed the book and returned it to its place on the shelf.

As she crawled back to her crib, her mind buzzed with thoughts of the future. The library's secrets had planted a seed within her—a vision of herself as a magic user, standing tall and strong, with the power to protect those she loved.

Lying in her crib, Emma stared at the ceiling, the soft glow of twilight casting shadows that danced like specters on the walls. She imagined the feel of magic coursing through her veins, the weight of power in her hands, and the possibilities that awaited her.

One day, she would harness the forces of this world. One day, she would ascend. But for now, she would dream. And in those dreams, the flickering flame burned brighter than ever.

The village lay wrapped in the gentle embrace of early autumn, the air crisp with the faint tang of fallen leaves and the promise of rain. Morning dew clung to the cobblestone paths, glinting like tiny jewels under the pale sunlight. Within the modest confines of the family's home, Emma stirred in her crib, her small, determined mind already racing with plans for the day.


Her sanctuary lay not in the bustle of the household but in the moments of quiet before the sun fully claimed the sky. These were the precious hours when she would sit cross-legged in her crib, tiny hands resting on her lap, and focus inward. The faint hum of energy in her chest—her undeveloped Ki Core—felt like a flickering ember waiting to ignite.


Each morning, she worked tirelessly to cultivate that spark, visualizing the energy coiling and pooling within her. She imagined it as a tiny seed buried deep in fertile soil, yearning for light and water. Her breaths were slow and deliberate, the rhythm steady like the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.


But the house was rarely silent for long.


Ethan, her baby brother, would inevitably interrupt her meditation with his piercing cries. His wails echoed through the house, demanding attention like a miniature overlord. With a sigh of resignation, Emma would crawl over to his cradle, her small hands reaching through the bars to pat his back gently. The warmth of her touch often calmed him, and his cries would subside into soft gurgles.


Other days, it was Ellie, her older sister, who derailed her practice. Ellie had a knack for bursting into the room with boundless energy, scooping up Ethan and Emma for impromptu play sessions. The three of them would tumble across the floor, their laughter mingling with the faint rustle of leaves outside the window.


Yet despite these interruptions, Emma's resolve never wavered.


At nine months old, Emma's world brimmed with curiosity and the relentless drive to conquer the simple act of walking. Her mind, sharp beyond her years, understood the mechanics of balance and movement, but her small, underdeveloped body refused to comply.


It was on a particularly dreary afternoon, with rain tapping softly against the windows, that Ethan decided to upstage her. The family had gathered in the sitting room, the cozy space illuminated by the warm glow of a crackling fire. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted in from the kitchen, mingling with the earthy aroma of rain-soaked wood.


Emma watched from her usual spot on the floor as Ethan, barely steady on his chubby legs, wobbled forward. His tiny feet slapped against the floorboards, his arms outstretched for balance. The room erupted in cheers as he crossed the space between their parents with a triumphant giggle.


"No way," Emma muttered under her breath, her small fists clenching in disbelief. "He beat me to it?"


Her parents showered Ethan with praise, their voices brimming with pride.


"Look at him go!" Derrick, their father, beamed as he scooped Ethan up and spun him around.


"Wuhoo! That's my boy!" Their mother's laughter filled the room.


Ellie clapped enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with excitement. But as her gaze shifted to Emma, she noticed the quiet disappointment etched on her younger sister's face.


Ellie knelt beside Emma, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. "Hey, don't be sad," she said softly, her voice a soothing balm. "You'll start walking soon. Mom and Dad always told me I didn't walk until I was almost a year old. You're already amazing in so many ways, Emma. I believe in you."


The warmth in Ellie's words wrapped around Emma like a comforting blanket. She managed a small smile, crawling forward to hug her sister tightly.


Nightfall brought with it a blanket of stillness. The house, now dimly lit by the dying embers in the hearth, seemed to exhale in collective rest. But Emma was far from ready to sleep.


Her tiny fingers gripped the edge of a low table as she pulled herself upright. The cool wood beneath her palms anchored her as she took a tentative step. Her legs wobbled like saplings in a storm, but she pressed on, determined to follow in Ethan's footsteps—literally.


"I must walk," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the silence. "If Ethan can do it, so can I."


Step by step, she moved along the wall, her fingers brushing against its rough surface for balance. Each movement was an exercise in focus, her small frame swaying precariously. When she finally let go, trusting her legs to hold her weight, she managed three shaky steps before toppling over with a soft thud.


"Ouch," she muttered, rubbing her knees. But her resolve remained unbroken.


Time blurred as she repeated the process, each attempt ending in failure. The sound of her falls was swallowed by the night, her frustration mounting with every setback. On her 50th attempt, exhaustion finally caught up with her.


"I give up," she sighed, collapsing onto the floor. Her tiny body felt heavy, her limbs too tired to try again.


But as she lay there, Ellie's earlier words resurfaced in her mind. I believe in you.


The flicker of hope reignited. Emma pushed herself upright, her determination blazing brighter than ever. This time, she steadied her breathing, her focus razor-sharp. She took one step, then another, her movements slow but deliberate.


When she finally stood without falling, a triumphant grin spread across her face. "Yes, I did it!" she whispered, her voice quivering with emotion. Tears of joy welled in her eyes as she lowered herself to the floor, her heart swelling with pride.


Later that night, her mother woke suddenly, an inexplicable sense of unease pulling her from sleep. She slipped on her glasses and padded softly down the hallway, her footsteps muffled by the worn rug.


Panic surged through her when she saw Emma's empty crib. Her eyes darted around the room until they landed on the small figure curled up on the floor, fast asleep.


Relief washed over her as she bent down to scoop Emma into her arms. Cradling her daughter close, she whispered, "Goodnight, my brave little one."


As she tucked Emma back into her crib, the baby stirred slightly, a contented smile gracing her lips. In her dreams, Emma saw herself running through fields of gold, magic swirling around her like a living aura. Step by step, she would forge her path, unyielding and unafraid.

The small village of Windfield stood as a tranquil beacon amidst sprawling emerald plains. Cobbled streets wove through tidy rows of thatched-roof cottages, their chimneys puffing gentle streams of smoke into the crisp morning air. The gentle hum of life—chirping sparrows, the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the distant chatter of villagers—created an idyllic backdrop to the steady rhythm of change that marked the years.


It had been three years and three months since Emma and Ethan had taken their first tentative baby steps, and in that time, life had evolved quietly but profoundly. Ethan, who once filled the home with cries and demands, had grown into an exuberant, cheerful boy whose laughter now brightened every corner. His boundless energy and unshakable optimism were a source of endless amusement—and occasional exhaustion—for the family.


Ellie, their elder sister, had blossomed into a dedicated student of magic. Now a Red Stage Caster specializing in Wind Magic, her abilities were maturing swiftly under the rigorous tutelage of her school. Often, Emma would watch Ellie practice in the evenings, the swirl of air around her sister's fingers a mesmerizing display of precision and power.


As for their parents, Emma had recently uncovered the depth of their abilities, a revelation that left her in awe. Her mother, a Yellow Stage Caster, wielded the dual disciplines of Healing and Wind Magic with elegant efficiency. Her father, a rare Dual-Type Yellow Stage Awakened, balanced the roles of augmenter and caster, his mastery over Ice Magic both intimidating and inspiring.


Emma often marveled at them. To think, I'm part of a family with such potential. It's incredible… she mused, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Yet her own aspirations had grown equally ambitious. Every morning and evening, she retreated to a quiet corner of the family's modest library, dedicating herself to the cultivation of her Ki Core. Her focus was unwavering as she worked to channel the latent energy within her, yearning to awaken her potential at an early age.


Despite her youthful appearance, Emma's mind carried the wisdom and experiences of her past life, a stark contrast to her current existence. The dark frost she once commanded—an elemental mastery she had honed to god-like precision—was now a distant memory. This world, however, offered entirely new opportunities. Magic, ki, and other mysterious forces beckoned her, promising a fresh start, free from the shadows of her previous existence.


The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains in golden streams, warming the wooden floorboards of the small bedroom Emma shared with Ethan. She stirred awake with a soft yawn, stretching her small limbs before slipping out of bed. The routine of brushing her teeth and bathing followed, the mundane tasks offering a moment of quiet reflection.


As she emerged from her room, the serenity of the morning was quickly shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps. Ethan, his silver hair tousled and his blue eyes wide with concern, bounded towards her like a whirlwind.


"Emma!" he called out, skidding to a halt in front of her.


Emma raised a brow, amused by his dramatic entrance. "What's the rush, Ethan? You look like you've seen a ghost."


He shook his head, his expression serious. "Have you seen Mom, Dad, or Ellie? I've been looking everywhere, but I can't find them."


She leaned slightly to pat his shoulder, her tone calm and reassuring. "Relax, little storm. Ellie's still at school, remember? As for Mom and Dad, they've probably gone out for errands. They'll be back soon, no need to panic."


Ethan hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. Emma could sense his unease lingering despite her reassurances. She made to head toward the library, her sanctuary for reading and meditation, but Ethan grabbed her hand, his touch firm yet pleading.


"Emma," he said, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "I know you don't like to play much…"


You're supposed to! she thought, biting back a wry smile as he continued.


"But Ellie's not here, and… I was wondering if you'd play with me today?" His deep blue eyes shimmered with hope, his expression earnest.


Emma froze, caught off guard by the request. Her instincts leaned toward declining—her meditation and cultivation took precedence—but as she looked into Ethan's eyes, she felt a pang of guilt. Her thoughts turned inward.


If you knew who I used to be… a heartless deity with no time for trivialities… you'd never ask.


But that life was gone. This world, this family, was her second chance. Emma exhaled softly, a smile breaking across her face. "Alright, Ethan," she said, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Let's play."


Ethan's face lit up with delight, though he batted her hand away with mock indignation. "I'm not a kid anymore! No more hair-ruffling!, and besides we are twins" he declared with a grin.


"Sure, sure," Emma teased, following him as he pulled her toward their play area.


The rest of the morning unfolded in joyful chaos. They began by building towers with blocks, though Emma's mischievous streak led to more towers being knocked over than completed. Ethan protested loudly each time, his voice a mix of exasperation and laughter.


"Stop destroying them!" he groaned as she toppled yet another structure.


"Force of habit," Emma replied with an innocent shrug, though her smirk betrayed her amusement.


Next came hide-and-seek. At first, Emma found it tiresome—a game far beneath her—but as Ethan's delighted giggles echoed through the house, she couldn't help but be drawn in. The thrill of searching and being sought, the challenge of finding the perfect hiding spot—it was simple, yet unexpectedly fun.


They even attempted some of Ellie's magic tricks, though the results were… less than stellar. Ethan's attempt to summon a breeze with a mock incantation resulted in little more than a faint puff of air, while Emma's try ended with a toppled vase and a hastily mumbled apology to her absent parents.


Through it all, Ethan's laughter rang out, filling the home with a warmth that Emma hadn't realized she needed.


As the day wore on and the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of amber and crimson, Emma found herself sitting with Ethan on the front porch. They watched the wind dance through the tall grass of the fields, the moment steeped in quiet contentment.


Looking at her brother's beaming face, Emma felt a profound sense of gratitude. The morning's games had been a reminder that life wasn't just about mastering magic or cultivating power—it was about connection, about cherishing the bonds that made life worth living.


"Thanks, Ethan," she said softly.


"For what?" he asked, tilting his head in confusion.


"For being you," she replied with a smile.


Ethan blinked, then grinned. "You're welcome, I guess?"


As the first stars began to dot the evening sky, Emma silently vowed to strike a balance between her ambitions and the simple joys of family life. Both, she realized, were vital to shaping her path in this new world.