Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Martyn the Wanderer

Father had made a promise, and after several days of diligent reading instruction, it was fulfilled.

Jorael struggled a bit with the initial learning phase, but his young mind somehow deciphered the cryptic text in the books.

To his parents' astonishment, after weeks of consistent practice, Jorael was reading.

"Son, you're truly remarkable! You're different from your Father, thankfully! Let's read together!" his father exclaimed.

Jorael selected a children's book, something within his reading skill level.

"Aha! Martyn the Wanderer! Do you recall the times I used to narrate this tale as a bedtime story?" Roland inquired.

"Indeed, Father," Jorael responded.

Then they started to read in unison:

"One fine day, Martyn the youth departed his village, With no sense of direction, he wandered and pillaged. He plunged off a precipice, landing in a foreign land, Among Elves he found himself, everything was grand.

Without a scratch on him, the Elves had healed, He embarked on a sea voyage, a new terrain revealed. He stumbled upon Demons, entangled in their fight, Seeing only war, he chose flight.

He plunged into the sea for refuge, Half-human, half-fish was his new visage. Rescued by the Sirens, he felt anew, No longer felt like a waif, his confidence grew.

Through the chilling mountain ranges, he scaled, Among Dwarfs, his spirit regaled. With Angels in the sky, he took flight, They saved him from a dreadful plight.

The Gods showed mercy in the end, They allowed him to wander near his homeland. Returning home, Martyn the Wanderer earned his name, And thus, everyone learned of his fame."

Jorael fell silent after the story.

"What's on your mind, Son?"

"Is this story a legend?" Jorael questioned thoughtfully.

"It's a tale, Son," his Father answered.

"But what about Sirens, Angels, and Gods? Are they real?" Jorael asked innocently.

"They exist if you choose to believe in them," Roland responded.

Jorael frowned at the similarity to his previous response to Elijah's question about Santa Claus.

"Father, can we read another book?" Jorael asked, moving on from his contemplative state.

"Certainly, Son!" Roland responded, visibly impressed.

"How about that one?" Jorael pointed towards a book on a shelf.

"Are you sure, Son? That book..." Roland's voice trailed off, a look of apprehension on his face.

"Why are you looking worried, Father?" Jorael inquired.

"Because, sweetheart, that book talks about Magic," Joanna interjected, picking up the book.

"M-magic?" Jorael exclaimed, taken aback.

"Magic is inside us, sweetheart. Would you like to know more?" Joanna asked, taking a seat next to him.

"But, Joanna, isn't it too early..." Roland voiced his concern.

"Roland, you need to accept that our boy is a prodigy," Joanna replied.

Joanna then started teaching Jorael the basics of Magic.

"Magic resides within us, and sooner or later, you will feel an innate force inside you. The time will come when you need to understand and harness it. For now, let's cover some basics.

Magic can have different manifestations. It can mend, and it can hurt. However, its utilization requires careful thought, or else it may lead to self-harm or harm to others.

There are magical circuits in our bodies that circulate magic. There are seven tiers of magical knowledge required to cast spells.

Once you awaken your circuits, you'll be able to utilize basic magic. However, you'll need the correct formula and incantation. Without these, you'll fail to cast spells, so it requires diligent study and practice.

We Demons can only wield Arcane Magic, a collection of offensive spells.

Your Father, on the other hand, should be able to use Red Magic, a versatile set of spells for offense, defense, and healing."

"Why 'should' I be able to use it?" Roland asked, not quite understanding his wife's phrasing.

"Because, if you attempted it, you'd create chaos! You know, your Father is more of a brute force, swordsman, adventurer type," Joanna replied with a sigh.

"I'll show you what I'm capable of! Come, Son, follow me outside!" Roland declared, storming out of the house.

"Sweetheart, let's go outside and see what your Father is up to, but stay close to me," Joanna said, guiding her son outside.

Outside, Roland was focusing, preparing to conjure a spell. His target appeared to be a tree.

"In the name of Her who birthed all, I cast Firebolt!" Roland chanted.

A glowing circle materialized from his palm, pointed towards the tree. It was red, and within it was a seven-pointed star. As soon as the star appeared, a sphere of fire the size of Roland's head erupted and launched towards the tree.

The sphere collided with the tree, causing a minor fire explosion that slightly charred the tree's bark.

"Did you see that, Son? Did you see your Father's power? Ahah!" Roland exclaimed, laughing heartily.

"You barely singed that tree," Joanna teased.

"W-what?! Barely?! That was an exceptional spell!" Roland protested.

As the two bickered, Jorael remained fixated on the scorched spot on the tree, utterly speechless at what he had just witnessed.

"W-was that real?" Jorael asked innocently, his eyes gleaming.

"Ahah! Told you, Son! Your Father is formidable!! Ahah!!!" Roland laughed triumphantly, striking victorious poses.

"Yes, sweetheart, that was real. As you can see from that scorched spot, that was offensive Magic. It's basic, but can be dangerous. If your Father hadn't known what he was doing, he could have gotten hurt. That's why studying and learning always precede practice."

As Joanna explained the perils to her son, his mind started to wander into the realm of magical abilities. Suddenly, a somber thought seized him, and his bright eyes clouded over as he began contemplating a grim "What if" scenario.

"Mother, is it possible to heal others with Magic?" Jorael asked curiously.

"Yes, sweetheart. White Magic can be used to heal others. Sadly, we Demons are incapable of using White Magic or Red Magic. Only Elves and Humans can..." Joanna was explaining when she was cut short by her son.

"Can even mortal wounds or diseases be cured?" Jorael pressed on, his expression grim.

"It depends on the individual's magical prowess and skill level, but it's certainly possible..." Joanna answered.

Hearing these words delivered so casually triggered the melancholic thought that had been brewing in Jorael. His mind sank into a deep sea of sorrow.

"We were in the wrong world. If only Miranda, Elijah, and I had been here... Why do I have to endure all of this?

If only... If only there was a way..." Jorael thought to himself, staring blankly into the distance, the weight of loss and despair burdening his young shoulders.

"In a world not meant for us...

Where Miranda, Elijah, and I exist...

Why must I carry all this weight?...

If only… if only...

If magic had also graced our world, I could have escaped my sickbed! I would have evaded the agony, the chemotherapy, the dread of losing my loved ones...

A fear realized...

I abandoned them...

What are they up to?... Are they well?...

And my poor Elijah...

Why... why... why... why... why... why... w..."

"Darling, are you feeling alright? Do you have a stomachache?" Joanna inquired tenderly, concern etched in her voice.

"Yes, Mother. Yes. I would like to retire to bed," Jorael responded, his voice laden with sorrow.

"Of course, Darling, but promise to let Mommy know if it worsens, okay?" The Mother implored, her hand gently stroking her son's hair.

"Yes, it hurts, Mother...

This pain is worse than any other...

It's as if a million needles are piercing my heart...

But... thank you... for your kindness, dear Mother..."

This was the storm of thoughts whirling in Jorael's mind as he sought solace in sleep, hoping to drown his sorrows in the realm of dreams.

...

For a few weeks, Jorael battled a wave of depression, but with the comfort of the few family-owned books, his spirits gradually lifted.

Jorael picked up a book he had perused several times before.

"Martyn the Wanderer, eh?... Will I ever leave this forest to wander the world like you?

Could that be the key to unravelling the mysteries of this cryptic existence...

Who knows..."

"Son, I'm home from the hunt! Tonight we feast on..."

"Warg..." Jorael interjected, his voice lacklustre.

"No, my son… we're having Cockatrice!" Roland announced with infectious enthusiasm.

"What?!" Jorael questioned, sensing an ominous presence looming behind him. It was his Mother.

"You fool… Do you have a death wish?!?!...

Why would you provoke such a bird-like Magical Beast?!?!

Do you not know its bite is lethal?!?!"

Joanna was livid.

"Calm down, calm down. Wasn't I once an adventurer?

Goddess Kalipso blessed me with this robust physique, Joanna…"

Roland was eager to show off his prized kill, striking his peculiar poses with pride.

The family rushed outside to marvel at the creature their patriarch had slain.

The monstrous bird was about 4-5 mels (meters) in size. Its wings spread wide, its claws deadly, venomous fangs protruding from its avian skull, while its body resembled a flying lizard, or one could argue, a dragon.

"Are we supposed to eat that thing?" Jorael asked, a hint of revulsion in his tone.

"My boy, never underestimate the nutritional value of Magic Beasts. They're a powerhouse of nutrients for both your body and spirit.

Look at me! I've always eaten them, and behold my physique! Ahah!" Roland proudly flexed, striking his signature poses.

"Honey, ignore your silly Father, but this meat is indeed beneficial.

Magic Beasts, being imbued with magic, contribute to the formation of your Magic circuit.

It's good for you!" Joanna explained, her smile comforting.

Then, the trio enjoyed a sumptuous meal of Cockatrice meat complemented by fresh garden vegetables. Upon eating, Jorael felt a peculiar energy surge within him.

"Is this what Magic feels like?" he asked, met with his parents' tender smiles.

...

By the age of three, Jorael's Magic circuit had finally stabilized, and he felt an inner tranquillity.

In those subsequent years, he matured quickly, realizing the necessity of strength in this hostile world he had reincarnated into.

His ambitions led him to train in the Magic arts with his Mother, while he honed his body and sword skills with his Father.

From his Mother's lessons, he learned that a devotee needs to pledge themselves to a Deity to cast and enchant spells. Joanna was a follower of Atremis, the Goddess of War, while his Father was a believer in Kalipso, the Goddess of Time.

"When you recite the spell formula, you're asking your Deity's permission to use Magic. Since you have mixed heritage, either Atremis or Kalipso may accept your faith..." Joanna explained.

"Mother, so you mean you can't devote yourself to Kalipso, the Goddess who protects Humans?" Jorael asked.

"No, I can't, just like your Father can't devote himself to Atremis, the protector of Humans..." she answered.

"But since I'm of mixed blood, can't I pledge myself to both deities?" Jorael inquired naively.

"I can't be certain if that's possible...

What you're proposing is akin to becoming a Sage..." Joanna replied, her voice enshrouded in mystery.

"S-sage?!?!" Jorael exclaimed in surprise.

"A Sage is a skilled master who has dedicated their life to the path of Magic. Somehow, they can cast any spell from any Magic without reciting the formula, and they're known to possess heightened senses.

The stories speak of only a handful of Sages arising throughout history, and they were only Elves or Humans..."

Upon hearing Joanna's explanation, Jorael asked, "So there's never been a Demon sage?"

"No. We Demons, through millennia, have been too preoccupied with battling each other for dominance...

Demons treasure power and strength above all." Joanna explained with a melancholic expression.

"I've decided, Mother...

I'll wield both Arcane and Red Magic!"