Their house loomed over the distance.
Rye ran off in the direction of their fence and saw… a man? An unknown man with black hair and chainmail armor – behind him a large sword like guts' berskerker.
Mom talked to the man, kissed him, and Mari jumped up from excitement and leaped into a hug.
When the man turned to Rye, catching his breath, his eyes widened and his face lit up in joy.
"Rye is cured?!"
The man's husky voice echoed. He seemed to be in his mid 30-s. Long, slicked back black hair, light chainmail armor, huge sword at the back and a red scarf. He looked so cool. It was none other than Ryan—Rye's father!
Rye walked forward and smiled at the man, not really knowing how to act. He should've been excited but he didn't know the guy. All he could do was make fake expressions that he didn't even feel. He would get used to him eventually. But at least he looked charming and cool.
'Would I grow up to look like that?!' Rye felt sudden hope for himself. The path to adventuring didn't look so bad now. But for now – he had to be an artist for his old life's sake.
The man—his father— crouched and embraced the three in a group hug with his clinking armor. Mom laughed and Mari too. Rye couldn't help but feel loved for once. He laughed in unison along with the others.
Even if he didn't know these people for more than a week.
…
How pitiful, being attached so early.
Sigh.
Hopefully he leaves this village soon and becomes independent. Rye wouldn't be able to progress with these nice people around, not when his heart was at max sensitivity.
***
After that, Dad mentioned Mari's potential in magic as they ate. They prepared the foraged herbs and meat Mari got. A bowl of soup, some bread, and meat with actual seasonings. (Salt that father got as a souvenir.)
He talked about his battles with Rye and Mari. Rye felt awkward at first, but then got immersed with the fighting descriptions.
A fight with a red dragon. Dungeon diving. Hunting grimoires. It all sounded like a DnD adventure or an RPG game in his past life… which were all fun to play.
"Oh, honey, calm down with the stories." Mom teased, "You've told those twenty times already."
Really? That was the first time Rye heard all of them. Maybe Mari, and that's what fueled her to be an adventurer.
"Can you train me, Dad?" She screamed out and leaped into him. She was weirdly clingy and removed all sort of calmness she extracted the first time Rye reincarnated.
"Alright." Dad replied. Then glanced at Rye. "But I'll teach your brother as well. He got sick because he didn't want to train mana, right? Now I'll force him to."
"Actually, he's been interested for the past few days. Even nearly died once from mana-circulation." Mom said.
Rye didn't know she knew this much - she tended to be less aggressive unlike Mari. Haah. Like mother , like daughter.
Dad shifted – proud but slightly worried. Like he wanted Rye to become an adventurer too, along with Mari and himself. It's an honorable job. "Well then, this will be easier."
He paused, "For now let's eat."
The table went quiet as everyone focused on their food.
Rye watched Dad tear into the meat like he hadn't eaten in days. Mom kept refilling his bowl with soup. Mari was already on her third piece of bread.
'They eat fast. Is this an adventurer thing?'
Rye tried to keep up but gave up halfway through. His stomach was already full.
After dinner, Dad leaned back in his chair, satisfied.
"Alright. Tomorrow morning. Dawn. Both of you."
Mari nodded eagerly.
Rye wanted to die.
"Can we start at, like, a reasonable time? Like noon?"
Dad laughed. "Adventurers don't sleep in, Rye."
"But I'm not an adventurer."
"Not yet." Dad grinned. "That's why we're training."
'Well, I wanted to become an artist… but this would come in handy.'
***
The next morning, Rye woke to the sound of swords clanking outside their room. Mari was nowhere up their upper-bunk, which meant that…—she was already outside.
'No. Please no.'
Rye buried his face in the pillow. A fantasy world it is – maybe real life would be better! In his past life he could sleep whenever he wanted and his parents wouldn't care.
The door slammed open. "UP!"
Rye jumped. "AAAH!"
"EXACTLY. That's the spirit." Dad grabbed the blanket and yanked it off. "Come on, Rye, I'll train you till you surpass Mari. Don't you want that?"
Rye stumbled outside in his nightclothes, still half-asleep. Mari was already there, stretching like this was normal. He never said anything about surpassing Mari. She was stronger. way, wayyy stronger than Rye in many ways. The fact she was even awake and Rye was wavering was proof.
'How is she awake? It's literally still nighttime.'
Dad pointed at the forest. Suddenly—"Run to that tree. Back. Ten times."
"Ten?!" Rye slumped.
Mari took off immediately. She ran to the tree and went for a lap in seconds. Hold on, why was she so fast?! Does having magic affect your speed?
Well, probably levels.
Rye decided to check his without looking suspicious. He tapped the tabs with his mind instead of fingers and it worked. The system screen popped up immediately.
/-/
[Level 25]-
Strength: 52
Speed: 67
Intelligence: 110
Durability: 46
Tips: (People usually have 80-100 ranging average starting stats at 13, which is the average. You're an average 9-year-old-child.)
/-/
Rye stared at the system and closed it off. He was average. If Dad knew he was average, he wouldn't make him do something too hard.
Rye stared after Mari. 'She's insane. They're all insane.'
He started jogging and circled another tree. By the third lap, his lungs burned. By the fifth, he wanted to collapse. By the seventh, he was pretty sure he was dying.
Mari finished all ten and wasn't even breathing hard.
Rye, however, dragged himself through the last lap and collapsed face-first in the grass.
"I'm dead."
"You're not dead." Dad walked over. "You did good."
Rye groaned and forced himself to stand. His legs felt like jelly.
Dad led them to the center of the yard. "Alright. Mana exercises. Mari, you know the drill. Rye, just follow along."
Mari sat cross-legged and closed her eyes, focusing.
Rye copied her, sitting down and trying to look like he knew what he was doing.
"Feel your mana," Dad said. "Let it flow through your body. Don't force it. Guide it."
Rye focused on the warmth in his chest. It moved through his veins easily now—way easier than when he first started. Back when Mari trained him for his first manifestation.
"Good. Now push it outward. Not to manifest anything. Just let it extend beyond your body."
Rye concentrated. The warmth spread to his fingertips, then beyond. A faint glow surrounded his hands. A blue, bright tint.
"Not bad," Dad said. "But Mari's is stronger. See?"
Mari's entire body was glowing faintly. Her mana radiated outward in waves.
'Of course hers is stronger. She's been training for years.'
"Don't compare yourself to your sister," Dad said, like he'd read Rye's mind. "Everyone progresses at their own pace."
'You're the one who started the comparison…'
Mari snorted, eyes still closed. "You collapsed twice from exhaustion. Your determination is pretty monstrous."
"That's different—"
Dad clapped his hands. "Alright, enough. Next exercise."
He pulled out two wooden swords from... somewhere. Rye didn't even see where he'd been hiding them.
"Combat training. Mari, you're up first."
Mari stood, taking one of the swords. Dad took the other.
They squared off.
Then Dad attacked.
Mari blocked, parried, countered. The wooden swords clacked together in rapid succession. She moved fast—way faster than Rye expected.
But Dad was faster.
Within thirty seconds, he'd disarmed her. The sword flew out of her hands and landed in the grass.
"Good reflexes," Dad said. "But you're too predictable. Mix up your attacks."
Mari picked up the sword, breathing hard. "Again."
They went three more rounds. Mari lost every time, but she was improving. Her strikes got sharper. Her footwork better.
Finally, Dad called a stop. "Alright. Rye's turn."
Rye blinked. "My turn for what?"
"Combat practice."
"I don't know how to fight—"
"That's why it's called practice." Dad handed him the sword. "Don't worry. I'll go easy on you."
'That's not reassuring.'
Rye took the sword. It was heavier than he expected.
"Ready?" Dad asked.
"No—"
Dad swung.
Rye yelped and blocked on instinct. The impact rattled his arms.
"Good!" Dad said. "Again!"
He attacked again. And again. And again.
Rye blocked desperately, stumbling backward with each hit.
"Stop retreating! Hold your ground!"
"I'm trying!"
"Try harder!"
After what felt like an eternity, Dad finally stopped. Rye collapsed, gasping. His hands felt weak and he shook from the fear of getting hurt. At least Dad held back… it was pitiful how he did. Mari was way better and Rye couldn't help but compare. Damn it.
"Not bad for a first try," Dad said.
"I almost died!"
"That means you didn't die." Dad pulled him to his feet.
"We'll do this every morning. You'll get better."
"Or I'll actually die."
"You won't die." Dad ruffled his hair. "Now go wash up. Breakfast soon."
Training became routine.
Every morning: running, mana exercises, combat drills.
Every afternoon: work at Tomás's stall.
Every evening: family time.
Rye's body ached constantly, but he was getting stronger. Faster. His stats kept climbing.
[Level 25 → 26 → 27]
One evening, Dad asked Rye to demonstrate his "mana control" again.
'Crap. I need to fake this without revealing my pathway.'
They went outside. Dad, Mom, and Mari all watching.
"Alright," Dad said. "Show me what you've been practicing."
Rye's mind raced. 'I can't just manifest something. He'll know it's the Artist pathway. I need to make it look like normal mana projection.'
He crouched down, pretending to focus. While everyone watched his hands, he used his foot to draw a small circle in the dirt behind him.
"I'm... trying to push mana outward," Rye said, concentrating.
He poured mana into the hidden circle.
A small dirt disk popped up behind him.
"Oh!" Dad looked surprised. "You manifested something!"
"I did?" Rye turned around, acting shocked. "I didn't even realize—"
"That's basic mana projection," Dad said, examining the disk. "You're converting mana into solid form. That's advanced for someone your age. Maybe you have a creation-based pathway?"
'He doesn't know it's from a drawing. Good.'
Mari snuck in, "Well, yeah, he seemed to like drawing so much ever since he woke up. Maybe it's connected. Pathways are formed from personalities right?"
'Crap! She knows!'
But she didn't know it was a system.
***
The days flew by.
The Harvest Festival.