Trapped like an extra in a blatant cliche

"When shadows and light converge into a single breath, only those who heed the whisper of mana will comprehend the purpose that destiny itself fears to unveil." —Excerpt from Volume 1 of The Reborn Hero

Point of View: Aurora Vortex.

That the ambiguous stories whispered by lost generations would come true was hard to believe. Even she could hardly imagine it; the thought had never crossed her mind... until now. She didn't know what her Mentor meant by it, but one thing was certain: her attempt to hide something wasn't very convincing. Aurora sighed, exhausted, and looked at the six students gathered before her, their youthful figures contrasting with the cryptic atmosphere her Mentor had draped over their shoulders.

What's supposed to surprise me about all this? she thought, her eyes scanning the group and stopping at the last student. A young man with aqua-green hair and a carefree smile that clashed brutally with the energy emanating from his body. The mana he radiated wasn't ordinary—unstable, bubbling, and yet fascinating, like a beacon in the shadows. It was an interesting effect... something she doubted she'd ever seen before, and it intrigued her.

"All right," she began, her tone dry as she stood from her seat. "Since you're all clueless about the basics, you'll need to work three times as hard to catch up." She moved slowly, circling her desk as she walked toward them. "First lesson: mana. It's the fundamental concept of our world, present everywhere—even in the air we breathe, the ground we walk on," she paused briefly, observing her students. "It's a cycle. A pattern. It grants us our abilities and strengths, and it's our responsibility to cultivate this gift. When our time comes, everything we've been given will return to the world to continue nourishing it."

The explanation flowed as she allowed the information to settle in their minds. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes before continuing. "This applies to everything—animals, plants, monsters, races, and more—making prana essentially a self-sustaining energy, one we use and coexist with in harmony," Aurora added, blinking away drowsiness but maintaining her flat, unimpressed expression. "That's the basic definition you need to know. The convergence theory is next, but it won't be necessary for this class."

She glanced at the kids before her, internally comparing their heights to hers—and it was no surprise who came out on top.

"Since you're here, it implies you can sense and connect with prana in one way or another. Your task... is to close your eyes and let the mana guide you. Connect with it. Feel its flow, its energy. Each of you will perceive it differently—a sensation, a tingling, a certainty."

Aurora paused in her explanation, her thoughts momentarily wandering as she evaluated a more efficient method. Of course, it wasn't exactly an approved method, but rules had always been a flexible concept for her. Repercussions? Who the hell cared?

With a subtle flick of her hand, her staff flew into her grasp with precision, leaving the students wide-eyed in amazement. None of them had seen the movement—except... Her eyes shifted back to the boy with dazzling mana, who seemed to have followed the action with his gaze, albeit clumsily.

"To make things easier, let me help you." The bottom tip of her staff struck the ground, and in the blink of an eye, runes appeared, converging into a dimly glowing circle large enough to encompass her and the six students. The circle quickly drew in and condensed the surrounding ambient mana.

"Now, begin. If you need a more detailed explanation, just say so." The amazement on the students' faces was evident. Some stood frozen, staring wide-eyed at the magical construct. Aurora, however, tried to ignore them as her Mentor's words echoed in the back of her mind once more. How could the great Heroes of yore return?

That part didn't make sense to her; they were just hollow tales, though... there were those artifacts. She shook her head. No, they were nothing more than embellishments used to highlight old legends. A whisper of doubt crept into her thoughts. Those stories were hollow... or were they?

One of the six students raised his hand, snapping her out of her musings. Of course, it was the same aqua-green-haired boy.

"I already did it. It's like an RPG game—easy," he said, still wearing that silly grin and speaking in a carefree tone.

Her eyes widened slightly, a stark contrast to the incredulous expressions of the other five students. And this boy was rated below 16% affinity? she wondered, somewhat perplexed. Though, feeling how the prana clung to every pore of her skin, she supposed her method had helped significantly.

Aurora didn't detect any falsehood in his words, so she nodded in acknowledgment. "All right. Can you project it?" she asked, testing the waters, though it was obvious he couldn't—and this was quickly confirmed.

"Of course not," he replied, his honesty and quick response earning a faint smile from Aurora. This kid was, at the very least, peculiar.

She had to admit he was lively—or was it his mana affecting her? She felt a slight influence from being so close, though she quickly shook her head. No, it was too weak to affect a living being.

Calmly, she pulled a piece of paper from her pocket, identical to the one used in the student selection process but intended for a completely different purpose. "Try with this," she said, handing the paper to the boy, who took it eagerly. "Do the same thing while holding the paper."

With those words, she waited for the result, which came within seconds.

"Done," the boy said, still flashing his idiotic grin.

The slip of paper filled with inscriptions and, for a brief second, glowed emerald green instead of the standard blue. The boy stared at it for a moment before handing it back, having nothing else to do with it and expecting a perfect score.

Instead, Aurora stared at him, stunned, for two obvious reasons.

Name: Brián Morningstar

Age: 12 years

Attributes:

♜ Vitality: 1.6 + 240% + 1% = 3.8

♜ Physical Resistance: 1 + 240% + 1% = 2.4

♜ Prana Resistance: 0.1 + 240% = 0.2

♜ Strength: 0.8 + 240% + 1% = 1.9

♜ Speed: 1.4 + 240% + 1% = 3.3

♜ Agility: 1.8 + Trait Amplification + 240% + 1% = 13.9

♜ Prana Production: 0.2 + 240% = 0.4

♜ Prana Affinity: 14%

♜ Physical Fortitude: 1%

♜ Critical Chance: 1%

Traits:

♜ Nervous Synthesis

Type: Passive

Trait Strength: 4 + 240% = 9.6

The young sorceress was stunned, her eyes blinking like those of a fish. She reread the content to make sure. She vividly recalled the glow of the slip of paper turning green instead of the usual blue.

Is this what Mentor meant? Did she already know? Is that why she decided to teach this class too? So, there's another one? What the hell? Her mind raced. In mere milliseconds, a whirlwind of hypotheses flooded her thoughts. The paper in her hand crumpled at lightning speed as her fist closed around it, and within her palm, it burned to ash, leaving no trace behind.

Nothing to see here, she decided. "Brián Morningstar, if you don't mind, I'd like you to stay a few minutes after this class," she said, masking her astonishment with a flawless poker face. She didn't want anyone else involved, especially not potentially nosy children.

The boy nodded, seeing no issue with her request, oblivious to the storm of thoughts he had unleashed simply by showing her that piece of paper. Thankfully, the other five students present hadn't noticed anything; their bewilderment outweighed their senses.

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Point of View: Brián Morningstar

The story of my life, he thought, letting out a sigh as he drummed his fingers on the desk. Getting into trouble without even trying seemed to be a remarkable talent that had followed him from home to here. He could only say he was a lucky guy—yes, any malevolent entity listening to his thoughts had better be envious, because he wasn't sharing that luck with anyone.

Sitting in the front row, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. His eyes wandered around the classroom, darting repeatedly toward the glances aimed at him. Some were condescending, others curious, and one, oddly enough, seemed concerned. Right, the animal-eared girl. He thought he might have heard her whisper a word of encouragement, though he couldn't be sure.

Finally, the class ended. The students left one by one until he was alone with his teacher, who looked at him with an unreadable expression.

"I suppose you know why I asked you to stay?" the young woman with purple hair said, breaking the silence.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't dare smile. "Well, I'm guessing I somehow got myself into trouble," he said without a shred of shame. Aurora blinked, momentarily puzzled, before shaking her head slightly.

"Do you not know? Or do you not understand the gravity of your situation?" Her tone shifted, and for the first time, she seemed genuinely interested in something.

For his part, he began to retrace the day's events. His sharp mind quickly reviewed every detail: his peculiar greeting to the colorful group of bullies, breakfast, his impeccable look that made him feel phenomenal, and, of course, his speed in completing the task the teacher had assigned. But in that last one—how was it his fault? After all, when he closed his eyes, he encountered a tangible, crackling barrier of something he didn't have before, something his senses wouldn't have picked up on until recently.

He was human; curiosity was inevitable. The sensation attracted him like a magnet, and one thing led to another, resulting in… well, whatever it was that made him see his stats as if he were in a dumb game, complete with a neat visual interface.

Judging by his silly expression, visible enough for his teacher to sigh in resignation, she hit him with a bombshell that made him understand everything. And he couldn't feel dumber for not considering it as his first guess.

"Innate abilities—does that ring any bells?" Aurora said, her staff tapping against the floor.

Clarity struck him. The words triggered a memory. The lecture about risks and responsibilities given by the academy's lovely nurse two days ago came rushing back like a boomerang, hitting him hard.

"I guess that paper gave me away somehow," he admitted, scratching his cheek with a mix of awkwardness and embarrassment.

His teacher nodded. "From now on, I strongly advise you not to show that to anyone. Trust me, it'll be better for you and those around you."

Seeing the way she reacted, he mentally checked off the implications of the situation. He was witnessing firsthand the consequences of his predicament, and the academy nurse hadn't been lying; if he wasn't more cautious, the magnitude of what was considered Innate could crush him like a fly.

Then Aurora dropped another bombshell:

"Brián Morningstar, would you consider becoming my apprentice?" she asked, gripping her staff tightly. This time, her usual apathetic expression cracked slightly, revealing a hint of expectation in her eyes.

"Also, regardless of your answer, I'd like to offer you some advice that could help you," she added, her violet irises gleaming with something unidentifiable.

Her words pierced his thoughts, dragging him out of his imposed contemplation and leaving him pondering. What the heck? What was there to think about? If there was one thing he had gleaned from all the murmurs he'd overheard in class, it was that this woman was incredibly strong. Didn't she decide to do whatever she wanted, consequences be damned? He had nothing to lose, and besides, he'd be a complete idiot to pass up the chance to learn some cool magic tricks.

"I think I'm getting ahead of myself," the young sorceress said, her concealed excitement making her skip steps in such a personal conversation. She raised her right hand, which ignited with a blue glow—a flame that danced along her limb, mirroring the erratic nature of fire, darkening slightly.

"First, let's ensure this conversation is secure. Let's bind it with a linking chant."

"By the way… a linking chant is the safest way for sorcerers to share secrets. It's a contract between souls that's impossible to break. Impossible because, if it were broken, the consequences would be catastrophic."

His eyes sparkled with interest at the peculiar fire-like energy. His expression turned that of an awestruck child, and without hesitation, he shook her hand. Why? Well, his senses told him there was no real danger in this; in fact, he felt no change or strange sensation as the energy enveloped his hand.

"In case you're wondering, the contract is for me—it ensures I won't reveal anything you want to share with me," his teacher explained, dispelling his doubts and affirming his instincts.

"If you still wish it, it would be an honor to learn from you." Still holding the handshake, he bowed his head, adopting the demeanor of a knight, adding a dramatic flair to the situation. If he was going to do this, why not do it with style, honor codes, and all that jazz?

His assertiveness left Aurora flabbergasted. She shook her head, and for the first time since his arrival, she wore a full smile.

In contrast, he began to second-guess his decision. Why? Well, the hand gripping his was surprisingly rough, and the young woman's limb felt like an immovable wall.

Again… what the hell was up with this place and its ridiculously strong women?

"Very well," his teacher nodded to herself. "From now on, you may call me Master."

Brián grinned foolishly, perhaps because the whole scene reminded him of some old anime.

"Understood, Master," he replied, hiding his embarrassment behind a faintly ironic tone.

Going with the flow was his life philosophy; adapting to opportunities as they arose was essential for success—or at least, that's what he had read in one of those self-help books. Although... how did those situations compare to what was happening here? Well, he didn't know, nor did he know who would even think of asking him.

Suddenly, loud laughter echoed through the room. Boisterous chuckles came from the grandiose desk the classroom offered. The hat, seemingly plucked straight out of Hogwarts, began to float, eventually settling atop Aurora's head, adjusting itself as if it belonged there. Its folds, which mimicked eyes, opened with a curious, glowing intensity.

"I didn't think the day would come when you'd take on an apprentice, let alone so soon," the hat remarked with playful amusement. "Especially after turning down so many others. I suppose even you have your preferences."

"And I see you didn't consider making him a disciple," the ancient spirit teased, its tone a mix of mockery and affection. "You're unsure about imparting your ways of life to him, aren't you?" The old entity grinned like a father watching his daughter grow. "Now that introductions are out of the way, and since the boy agreed to be your apprentice, it's time to cram as much knowledge into his head as possible before his unique effect wears off."

Both were left confused by the statement. "What do you mean, Meru?" Aurora inquired, a hint of genuine concern in her voice. Her lifelong companion smiled knowingly.

"You know, I'm talking about Enlightenment, that singular phenomenon the boy is currently experiencing. You're somewhat familiar with the theory, but since it manifests in such uniquely varied forms, you didn't recognize it."

Meru turned toward Brian. "Tell me, kid, when did you start feeling capable of taking on the world? That feeling of being unstoppable, of wanting to test yourself against the best?" the spirit asked, its audacious tone cutting through the air.

Brian blinked a few times. Enlightenment? Did that spiritual mumbo-jumbo exist here too? Was that why he felt as if he'd downed 20 cans of Red Bull in one go?

"I think it started after I finished training this morning, before the sun was fully up," he replied, still unsure of where the talking hat was going with this.

Aurora, on the other hand, began connecting the dots. The bubbling energy within her apprentice now made sense if it was caused by something as rare as Enlightenment.

"Since hours have already passed, the chances of the phenomenon ending anytime soon are slim," the old spirit continued. "While it might last seconds, minutes, hours, or even weeks or months, there's no time to waste. Every moment counts. You have a one-of-a-kind opportunity on your hands, and now it's this girl's job to teach you as much as possible before the time runs out."

Speaking from experience, Meru's voice carried weight. There was little reliable documentation on this peculiar effect granted by mana. Cases were rare and scattered, making it nearly impossible to archive securely. As he'd said, it could last mere seconds or stretch into entire months, as rare as finding a single grain of salt on a vast beach.

Meru reminisced about the words of the Sun Mage, recalling memories of a millennium ago. Certainly, since the era of great heroes, he hadn't witnessed anything like this. His eyes closed as he thought of a young woman from ages past—the only mage who had consistently amazed him, the one who had reached the realm of the gods and whose affinity for prana was unparalleled.

Aurora felt like a fish out of water. If Meru was telling the truth, they had no time to waste. She had wanted to have a long talk with Brian, her new apprentice, but if her companion was this insistent, it would be foolish to ignore him.

"Meru, take us to a spacious area near the barrier. That'll be enough to start," the young sorceress commanded firmly, her gaze igniting with resolute determination.

Brian, not fully grasping the implications or the stakes, could only feel as though a titan had captured him. A second later, the large windows flung open, and before he could process what was happening, he felt as though he were in some sadistic human centrifuge. It happened so fast his eyes couldn't adjust to the sudden change in light. Even faster, before the wind could whip across his face, he was hurled like a sack of potatoes onto the grass and dirt.

Yes, in less than a second, they had left the classroom, soared through the skies, and landed within the Academy Seraphim's forested grounds. Aurora, seen by Brian in double vision thanks to the whirlwind transport, landed gracefully, unaffected, while her apprentice barely recognized her.

He rolled across the ground, spinning a couple of times before stopping. His stomach begged for mercy, and if he'd still been in his old body, he had no doubt it would've given up entirely.

"Too fast. You needed to control yourself a bit more," the purple-haired sorceress chided, directing her frustration at the old spirit, who chuckled lightly. "Relax. The kid's fine. To be honest, I was surprised he could see anything—even just a little. The boy has potential."

Brian managed to stand, though the world spun around him. He saw two talking hats and two Auroras.

Aurora observed him carefully, injecting mana into her eyes to analyze the flows of energy within her apprentice's body.

"Enlightenment, as I understand it, is a singularity—a flaw in prana that allows one to access knowledge born of the world and its endless cycle. Few can find the flaw, or rather, few are fortunate enough to stumble upon it. It varies and is never the same. It's hard to say if it's deliberate or random."

The young sorceress rested her chin on her hand, murmuring hypotheses to herself.

"In theory, it would grant someone unparalleled mental agility, heightened senses, sponge-like learning capabilities, and, most notably, a feeling of invincibility."

She fixed her gaze on Brian, who was dizzy but clearly aware of his surroundings.

"Well, if you still remember the basic mana lecture I gave you, forget it. It won't apply in your case," she stated, confident he would listen.

"You must understand, prana as a concept is a misunderstood bastard. It blesses good and evil in equal measure. It shows no distinctions. It favors the bold and those willing to do even bolder things in pursuit of it. In your case... this applies. Even now, knowing what to look for, I can see your mana reserves expanding without limit. This is because you're in a state of perpetual absorption of ambient prana, like a bottomless sponge."

"This must be one of the symptoms you're experiencing due to your singularity. It causes that bubbling, dazzling effect in your mana. But because your body isn't equipped to keep up with such a flaw—or, more accurately, what's known as Enlightenment—you're in a state of imbalance, releasing more than you can contain. This is evident in the amount of prana escaping through every pore of your body, affecting your surroundings. It's dangerous if left unchecked."

Brian's blank expression prompted a chuckle from the pointed hat, now floating contentedly.

"In simpler terms, kid, the world gave you knowledge lost to time. Now you can process it unconsciously. You'll lose that ability when the Enlightenment ends, but for now, you can reap the benefits. However, given the nature of the knowledge granted and how unprepared you are, I doubt you'll make it through the day if nothing is done."

The old spirit laughed.

"Congratulations, kid! You'll die before sunset!"

Brian sat on the grass, brushing his hair back from his face. His lips tightened into a thin line. Great... so if he hadn't agreed to be an apprentice, the hat wouldn't have said a word, and he'd have met a premature demise? Life sure had a funny way of turning things around, he thought.

Maybe that's why every breath felt like his last. He should've shown more emotion at such news, like when someone gets told they have terminal cancer. Yet, strangely, he didn't feel any different. Instead, an unsettling calm settled within him. What happens, happens, he reasoned with a detached sense of amusement.

"Stop scaring him, Meru. It's not that bad. There are ways to fix this," the hat clicked its folds in response to the scolding.

"You're no fun," it said before moving to rest atop Brian's head. The boy didn't resist—what was the point? The spirit had moved so fast he'd only seen a blur.

"Alright, kid. For now, I'll help you filter the excess mana your body's absorbing."

Maybe that's why he felt so carefree. It was as if the world itself reassured him, subtly indicating that the solution had always been within reach and was destined to unfold one way or another.

"So, if I understood correctly, since this morning, I was a sponge being doused with buckets of water. Now... I'm a sponge with a dropper," he said, rising from his resting place. Aurora nodded, one less problem to worry about.

"So... what's next on the list?" he asked, blissfully unaware of what lay ahead.