The training yard was enormous. Stone pillars, glowing runes, floating practice dummies, and a crowd of students buzzing with energy.
And then there was me.
"Perfect," I muttered. "Everyone's athletic, magical, dazzling… and I'm… this." I waved my wobbly arms for emphasis. This being a tiny, weak, uncoordinated child who couldn't swing a wooden sword without almost hitting himself.
I tripped. Twice. Slammed face-first into the dirt.
"Riven Ashcroft!" bellowed a silver-haired instructor. His glare could've fried steak. "Try to survive while you're still conscious!"
"Yes, sir!" I said cheerfully. Inside, I was screaming. Survive, survive, survive.
I glanced at the other students. Every single one of them was perfect—lean, fast, glowing with mana. And here I was, regressed to my weakest form. My previous life flashed in my mind: days of training, duels, and endless manuals. Alone.
"Never again," I muttered. "I won't be humiliated this easily."
I swung my wooden sword at a dummy. Missed. Hit the ground. The dummy's arm fell off anyway. Well… satisfying.
Nearby students were laughing, whispering, pointing.
"Don't mind them," I said aloud, as if the dummies could console me. "Just me… small, weak, underestimated… but very, very clever."
I attempted to sprint. My legs betrayed me immediately. I collapsed. Taren, my new "friend," helped me up.
"You're… something else," he said, trying not to laugh.
"Thanks," I replied, brushing dirt off my pants—well, optional pants. "I call it disarming charm."
The instructor blew a whistle. "Time for pairing exercises!"
Pairing exercises. Lovely. I had to find a partner… preferably someone who wouldn't scream when I accidentally staggered into them.
I sighed, collapsing onto a practice dummy. The dummy didn't complain. I liked that about it.
Then a voice echoed in my head:
"Remember… survive. Train. And grow stronger. The war is coming."
Yeah, yeah. I remembered. Survive. Grow stronger. Even in this weak, regressed body, I could feel it: I still had hidden power.
Tomorrow, the drills would be worse. The day after… probably catastrophic. But for now, I was alive, sarcastic, and still… underestimated.