Trapped like an extra in a blatant cliche

"At the crossroads of destiny, there is neither light nor shadow, only the will of those who dare to walk." —Excerpt from Volume 1 of The Reborn Hero.

Brian Morningstar's Perspective.

I know I said I'd go with the flow and all that, but damn... this is borderline inhumane. What institution should you go to if you wanted to file a complaint or lawsuit against a bothersome spirit?

"Huh? What's this? You're slowing down! Give me 10 more push-ups and another 20 for disrespecting me." His eyes widened in disbelief. "How the hell did you figure that out?" he asked, panting. Meru smirked smugly. "Ha, you're centuries away from being on my level. A brat who doesn't even know how to wash his underwear properly can't beat me."

Brian shut his eyes, clenched his core, bent his arms, and lowered his body until he was sure he touched the grass beneath him. "What the hell was that? That didn't even count as one! Zero is still zero—go lower and put some effort into it," Meru declared.

This crazy hat—his motivations were crap. "Maybe I would if I didn't have a goddamned concrete block on my back! And why the hell does it feel like the air itself is trying to crush me?" He gritted his teeth as veins bulged along his arms, neck, and forehead. Yes, as ridiculous as it sounded, there was a one-cubic-meter block of concrete on his back. What kind of nonsense was this? Were they in Minecraft, and no one told him?

"If you have the energy to yell nonsense, you have the energy to go lower! So go lower, or I'll keep counting zero push-ups!" If anyone were to ask him how his week had been, well, he'd punch them in the face for making him remember—and no one would blame him.

Sweat dripped from his nose to the ground, his skin flushed from exertion, and his vision blurred. "Come on! Your potential is at its peak. We need to polish it as much as possible before time runs out. Besides, you have big shoes to fill. You come from a line of exceptional mages. You don't want to disappoint Aurora, do you?" Meru urged.

"Oh, shut up already! I told you—you're a terrible motivator!" Yeah, his week was absolute crap, no doubt about it. "Let's go, let's go! Maximum effort, maximum reward," Meru shouted, clearly enjoying every moment, like some sadistic drill sergeant. "I'm pretty sure maximum effort every day isn't healthy," Brian countered, but his complaints fell on deaf ears.

"Of course it is! Mana's a bastard—it favors those willing to chase it. Madness attracts it, so we have to get crazy."

"I'm the one going crazy if you keep shouting. And let me remind you—you're still on my head, rattling my thoughts." Meru laughed. "What thoughts could possibly come from a head as empty as yours? Now, I'm telling you—go lower."

It was fortunate they were far from the dormitories. Lost in some remote corner of the academy grounds, they could make as much noise as they wanted, with only the foliage and trees as witnesses. As early as it was, the sun hadn't yet risen, and only the twin moons lit their small clearing.

Minutes passed, agonizing as hell. Finally, only labored breaths broke the stillness of the glade. Brian collapsed onto the dirt, sitting with the concrete block still pressing against his back. He wiped the sweat from his face; his light clothing was soaked through. Fighting the urge to vomit, he focused on catching his breath.

"Aren't mages supposed to be scholars and stuff? Also, why the hell do I have to push myself this hard? My teacher's a mage, not a warrior," he gasped.

"I'm afraid your path was decided without your knowledge," Meru replied, his tone calmer. "Enlightenment came to you; the world deemed you fit to receive it. As for physical training, it's always necessary. A strong body creates a strong mind, which in turn creates strong mana for you to wield."

Thankfully, the spirit stopped shouting, abandoning his role as the world's worst motivator once the push-ups were done.

"As I told you yesterday—and the day before—the mage's path is a forked one. You'll face many hurdles that will make your journey difficult. You need to learn the knowledge of prana, understand its uses, and attune yourself to that energy—both wondrous and despicable. Forming a connection is the first step you must take. You also need to train your body, sharpen your senses and mind, carve your path by force, and think outside the box."

The spirit's voice carried the weight of determination as he delivered his sermon, unwavering with every syllable. "Enlightenment chose you for a reason. It came to you. Aurora chose you. A mere mage confined to studies and research falls short of your potential. A battle mage is better suited to your abilities. And what better goal than to become a full-fledged sorcerer? Not a brute who swings fists or swords, knowing only the basics of mana and using it inefficiently. You'll harness it to its fullest."

A faint smile tugged at Brian's lips. He brushed his sweat-soaked hair from his face. "Maybe I was wrong—you're not such a bad trainer after all." Meru spun atop his head like a whirlwind, his folds forming a cheerful expression. "Now that you're done resting, I want you to run a hundred laps around the academy."

"And you just had to ruin it with your eloquence," Brian muttered as he stood, wincing. Bad idea—everything started spinning, and his vision blurred. "Maximum effort, maximum reward," he mumbled, hoping the motto wouldn't stick. Was it just him, or did his body feel heavier? Almost as if—

"Hey, bastard! Are you condensing the air around me or something, huh?"

The hat only laughed. "Took you long enough to notice. Now stop whining and get moving."

Squinting, he muttered, "What a sadistic bastard."

And so, seconds turned into minutes, and minutes into nearly two hours of suffering. Apparently, someone thought it was a good idea to increase the air's density by two kilograms per lap. He now lay sprawled somewhere within the academy's perimeter, limbs stretched out, chest heaving so hard he was sure he'd develop arrhythmia.

"When you're exhausted, when you can't go on, that's the moment to surpass the known. To surpass yourself and prove your worth," Meru proclaimed, floating freely from Brian's head. His folds, resembling eyes, hid centuries of guarded wisdom.

Huh? What was this idiot going on about now?

"Tell me, what do you desire? What drives you? What do you want?" the spirit asked, floating close to his face, scanning his expression for an answer.

"Since when are you so philosophical?" Brian retorted, though he closed his eyes, searching for a way to respond.

What he wanted… what was it, really? To go home? Finish his university degree? Live peacefully? Get married and have kids? He sighed again, brushing his hair back.

"I guess I can't give you a convincing answer because I don't have one—not yet, anyway. Maybe I never will. Unfortunately, I'm a simple person, mortal and as selfish as anyone else. As long as I keep breathing, I'll always want something, no matter how small. Preferences, desires, ideals—they all change when pushed to the edge. Nothing's perfect. We're all imperfect—at least, humans are. I can only speak for them; I don't know other races or how they think."

He smiled, opening his eyes, and looked at the floating hat. Slowly, he sat upright. "How's that? Looks like I swallowed a philosophy book after all."

Meru chuckled softly. "Certainly, an interesting answer for someone so young." Settling back on Brian's head, the spirit seemed thoughtful before reaching a decision. "Very well… it's a valid answer. I like you, kid."

He stood up, his legs trembling, tingling as if blood circulation was lacking. "What's next in your sadistic training plan?" he asked the spirit, but it merely closed its eyes and began to rest, effortlessly filtering the amount of mana absorbed from the surrounding environment. "We're done for today. You have that silly swordsmanship training. Overexerting your body would be foolish. However, if you want to keep strengthening yourself, try developing that empty brain of yours a bit," it retorted.

Later, following the old spirit's advice, he found himself back in the dormitory, in his room. Needless to say, he entered through the large window he had left open—his favorite way to come and go to avoid complaints from the caretaker of the place.

He took a quick shower; fortunately, Meru was decent enough not to follow him there. "You wouldn't die from being disconnected for a couple of minutes," he muttered before settling on the simple table he used as a desk, now cluttered with books.

"Where to start?" he murmured as he sat in front of the table, the cheeky spirit returning to his head only to fall asleep. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a crumpled piece of paper and picked it up. With the help of the lamp, similar to an oil one, he smoothed it out and read its contents. Yes, it was the same scrap of paper he had received on the day of the selection and division of classes for students—the day all semblance of common sense went out the window.

Closing his eyes, a spark of something stirred within him, and he focused on mentally projecting a screen similar to those in any RPG. He examined each section, noting how different his stats had become. The most striking change was the absence of the two separate names, Brián and Aiden, replaced by a single one—the one he had chosen to coexist in this world. No, he shook his head—that was an exaggeration. The truth was that since the moment he arrived, two souls, two personalities, had fused—his and that boy's. And as his existence contained more life experience, it became the dominant one.

That's why he felt almost unfazed by everything, as if the magical wonders he saw daily were a natural part of life accepted by his brain. Did this mean that if his soul had merged with an older one, he would have disappeared? He gave a humorless smile. Certainly, that's how it felt. Did this mean he was incredibly lucky or profoundly unlucky? A good question without definitive answers.

At least the growth of his critical hit chance remained on track. It wasn't causing him any trouble—one less thing to worry about. 6%, he read before dispelling the mental screen, extinguishing that spark of something he had sensed when activating the visualization.

Anyway, he still had time before sunrise. Reading, his favorite activity in the world, awaited him. His pupils roamed over the desk; they spotted countless ink-stained papers. At least his handwriting had improved—a point in his favor. It no longer looked like alien hieroglyphs and had advanced to a level akin to doctors competing for the worst penmanship. And guess who would have won that competition with honors?

He grabbed a book and scanned its title: Magical Concepts for Beginners. He debated whether to open it or not. "Meru, correct me if I'm wrong, but 'mage' is used as a word with many nuances, right? It varies depending on who uses it or who it's referring to. Take, for example, a mage who focuses on research or innovation, versus one dedicated to crafting artifacts, alchemy, or potions. They're vastly different from someone devoted to combat or damage restoration."

The hat, who pretended to be asleep (because it didn't actually need to rest), remained silent, pondering Brián's words. Reformulating the boy's question into an easily understandable format, it decided to provide clarity, as "mage" encompassed much, and most people failed to grasp the distinctions for one reason or another.

"Normally, this would be your Master's job to explain, but since she's not here, I'll make an exception," it began.

"The term 'mage' originates from ancient times, from proverbs long before my existence. People often remain ignorant of the different applications of the word. To begin with, as you mentioned, there are mages who focus on research, innovation, or the alchemization of products or tools. They are the perfect example of individuals well-versed in the study of prana, capable of employing and utilizing it."

"I'm not saying that other mages more involved in combat can't do this, but they are considered scholars in that domain. They spend their time studying rather than strengthening their bodies. They lack synergy or have no interest in attaining it. That's why many stagnate or fail to advance down the path of power."

"Next, we have magic users, also mistakenly referred to as mages by common folk. They fall into the 12% of the global population who can interact directly with mana, whether within their bodies or the environment. Generally, they focus on the raw side of magic, learning the art inefficiently. These magic wielders often resort to shortcuts when faced with challenges in their training, whether due to difficulty or other reasons. They rely on grimoires, enchanted tools, objects that enhance their bodies, or amplifiers for their spells."

"Then, there are combat-focused mages. Don't confuse them with battle mages or sorcerers. These individuals tend to specialize in teamwork. Usually, they play support roles. While their bodies are stronger than the average person's, the disparity with their magic is evident. If their physique rates a 2, their magical power is an 8."

"Lastly, we can mention spiritualists—individuals capable of utilizing their prana in constructive rather than destructive ways. They are essential due to their ability to communicate with natural spirits in various places. They focus on spells capable of repairing the environmental damage caused by others."

"Alright, now let's move on to the sorcerers, the path granted to you upon receiving Illumination. The main difference between them and others is that it's a lifestyle. Not everyone is willing to follow it. Not everyone wants to resemble them. Sorcerers are the common denominator in defensive vanguards, a role they share with hunters—individuals who follow a very similar path but focus more on physical strength."

"People tend to label them as crazy, bloodthirsty lunatics—and to some extent, they're right. Because sorcerers are willing to make the necessary sacrifices to achieve their goals. Their path is always hard. They must train both mind and body equally to achieve synergy with their mana since this energy favors those desperate enough to pursue it. Their spells are designed to be lethal to their enemies. Generally speaking, they are the most dangerous individuals you could encounter. That's why the ignorant respect them as much as they fear them."

"A perfect example of this would be walking into a bar and announcing at the top of your lungs that you're a mage. No one would say anything; they'd just look at you weird for shouting out of nowhere. But if you did the same thing using the word 'sorcerer' instead, the mood would shift immediately—for better or worse. Who knows? Only fools would have the answer."

"The opposite applies to battle mages. A pretentious title that these new generations concocted to provide a sense of security to their citizens. There are many nuances to this, and I don't feel like explaining them all. I'll just say it helps reduce the appearance rate of the Resem. So, to summarize, battle mages are considered the pinnacle of sorcery, stripped of all its negative connotations."

"Individuals who train solely their bodies—like fencers, swordsmen, martial artists, warriors, and others—fall under the same umbrella, except for magic warriors who belong to the magical user category. And though they are mostly brutes, you shouldn't underestimate them. Those capable of surpassing their limits become monsters in their own right. One of them is here in the academy as its current director."

"Traits are an entirely different field, and I don't feel like delving into them either. They're too diverse to explain fully. The main thing you need to understand is that most of them are active abilities. They're fairly intuitive for those who possess them, and like casting a spell, using them repeatedly will eventually drain your mana. There are also passive traits, which are rare and known as passive capabilities. They don't require significant prana expenditure and aren't as flashy. They're considered the losing side, but that couldn't be further from the truth."

"As for innate abilities, well, there aren't many of them. You, kid, are the first I've seen in decades. If a Trait appears in 1 out of every 10,000 people, then an innate ability will appear in 1 out of every 10 million people. So, imagine how rare you are."

Brián's eyes widened. He wanted a superficial confirmation of his doubts, not a full-blown lecture from an encyclopedia. "I guess I understand it a bit better now. Thanks for the clarification," he said, lying shamelessly. And while he didn't memorize all the information, he did grasp and store the key points.

"Now stop bothering me and get to reading. Don't think I didn't notice you were just stalling," Meru snapped. A guilty smile crept onto Brián's face, though of course… he'd deny it to his grave, as any upstanding and politically correct person would.

"Fine, fine. Go to sleep and stop nagging me. In case you didn't notice, someone here is trying to study," he replied, and he thought he heard a muttered "what a cheeky brat" from Meru. But he chalked it up to earwax playing tricks on him.

He set aside the book, Magical Concepts for Beginners, which he'd been fiddling with throughout the explanation. He had already read it; he just wanted to make sure he understood what it explained. Another book found its way into his hands: History of Magic: Children's Tales. Without further ado, he opened it. Yes, he knew these were primary school-level readings; his knowledge was shaky, and it had to come from somewhere.

Without the beloved internet, keeping his brain occupied to avoid overthinking was hard. Of course, Aurora, his Master, had given him plenty of study material. He glanced at a perfectly stacked pile of books on the table. Yes, the same pile he had set aside because, when he picked one up, he cheerfully discovered that he didn't understand a damn thing despite the myriad notes and annotations from his Master. That's why, upon discovering the academy's library, he decided to raid it for information at his level.

At that moment, as if some mysterious force was mocking him, a book fell from another pile—his own pile. Alphabet for Children: Learn to Read and Write with Tinalis Listair. As he said… content appropriate for his level. There was no need to feel embarrassed about it. And, of course, his gaze finally landed on another, much smaller pile: six books for his classes, topped with some papers—assignments from his teachers.

Fortunately, the deadlines were incredibly flexible, or he'd be doubly screwed. So yes, he had until the end of the month to reach the level of a first-year middle school student. Sure, one could argue the differences in study systems or his illiteracy in writing, but ultimately, those were mere excuses for his laziness or exhaustion because—surprise, surprise—his Trait's benefits weren't limited to combat. If he set his mind to it, he could read and comprehend at inhuman speeds, truly like a damned sponge.

And he would have done it, if someone weren't sadistic enough to drag him out of bed at 3 a.m. to train his body until sunrise.

His physical abilities were also impressive, though they no longer amazed him as much. He blinked a couple of times and sighed. Perhaps it was a side effect of merging the two souls into one. On one hand, there was the boy who had lived his whole life in this magical world; on the other, the young adult struggling to survive in a world full of expectations.

That thought took him back to that day, to the moment he accepted the truth. Maybe, just maybe, that was why Illumination came to him as its culminating point—because ever since it appeared, his outlook had changed dramatically, as had his innate ability, which went from enhancing his stats by 120% to 240%. A simple change triggered by accepting himself as he was now. A change that had always been there, waiting to happen, waiting for those two poor souls to stop battling separately and work as one, forever and always.

He shook his head and let those thoughts go. See why leaving a mind unoccupied was bad? You could wander aimlessly and end up depressed, reminding yourself of your current situation.

Maybe he was just being stupid, or maybe, now that his deductive abilities were at Sherlock Holmes levels on a cocaine high, his mind was wandering into unstable places. Who knows? Nothing is perfect, and in a world of imperfections, the best liar is the winner.