Magical Soul Parade

The two weeks before the Master-rank Arcanist arrived were the longest of Finn's life.

He spent most of it locked in his room, practicing in secret. Learning to account for the inversion his Error magic always created. Teaching himself to intend the opposite of what he wanted so reality would produce the actual desired result.

It was exhausting. Mentally taxing in ways normal magic apparently wasn't, based on what he could glean from Arros's limited memories of watching village Arcanists work.

But it yielded results.

By the end of the first week, he could move small objects reliably. Could make a candle flame shrink by intending it to grow. Could create a small gust of wind by visualizing perfect stillness.

Error magic disguised as elemental manipulation.

Because that's what he'd need to do. Hide. Pretend to be a multi-elemental prodigy rather than something unprecedented. Draw attention for being skilled, not for being impossible.

He also started a journal.

Late at night, by candlelight, Finn wrote in English — the language from Earth that no one in this era could possibly read. He documented everything. His thoughts, his observations, the science concepts he remembered, the magical theory he was developing.

Partly to preserve knowledge. Partly because writing helped him think.

But mostly to keep himself anchored.

I am Finn Slade, he wrote on the first page. From Earth. Twenty years old, university student. Transmigrated once to an alternate timeline. Now sent back into the distant past. Inhabiting the body of Arros, age fifteen.

I don't know how long I'll be here. I don't know if I'll ever get back. But I have to remember who I am. What I am. Where I came from.

Because if I forget that, then Finn Slade dies. And only Arros remains.

He stared at those words for a long time before closing the journal.

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.

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The Master-rank Arcanist arrived exactly two weeks later.

Her name was Iscara Veln, and she looked nothing like Finn expected. She was young — probably in her early thirties — with sharp features and sharper eyes. Her presence made the air feel heavier, denser, like she was a bundle of magic walking.

This is what a Master looks like, Finn noted passively. His father from back in his own time had also been of the Master rank. But perhaps because of the mana density in the air of this age, this woman's presence was much more prominent.

Or maybe it's because I can actually feel mana now and I can sense more than I ever could…? Finn mused.

The woman also examined Finn with the same plethora of tests Master Elwes had performed, but with far more precision. Her assessment spells were more complex, probing deeper than surface affinity.

When she finished, she was smiling.

"Remarkable," she said simply. "True multi-affinity is rare enough. But this level of natural attunement..." She looked at Master Elwes. "You weren't exaggerating. He's exactly what House Valeris is looking for."

She turned to Finn's parents.

"I'm authorized to offer your son a place at the House Valeris Academy in the capital. With full sponsorship covered. Tuition, room, board, all included. He'll receive the best magical education available on this continent."

Finn's mother looked overwhelmed. His father just nodded slowly, torn between the pride and the worry that showed on his face.

Iscara glanced behind at the old man, Elwes, for a second, as if for approval to speak about something.

He nodded, and then she immediately continued. "I'm also recruiting another talent from this region — Elara, Master Elwes's granddaughter. She's a few years older than your son but has solid potential. I'd like to take both of them together. Safety in numbers for the journey."

"Elara?" Finn's mother brightened, a bit more assured now that a familiar name popped up. "Oh, that's wonderful! Arros, you'll have someone you know with you."

Finn nodded mechanically. He vaguely remembered Elara from Arros's memories. A quiet girl who was a few years older than him, who usually helped her grandfather here sometimes. They'd barely interacted, though.

"We leave in three days," Iscara announced. "That should give you time to prepare. Pack light. You'll be provided with everything you need once we reach the capital."

Three days.

Finn felt a flicker of... what? Relief? That he'd be leaving this house, leaving the constant weight of pretending to be someone's son? Of lying at literally every waking moment? Or maybe the feeling was guilt, for feeling relieved?

He couldn't even tell anymore.

.

.

.

The next three days were a blur.

His mother fussed over his clothes, his supplies, everything. His father gave him the leather journal — the one Finn had already started filling with English notes — encouraging him to record his experiences.

"So we can read about your adventures when you visit," his father had said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, almost like he could tell with a fatherly intuition that he'd most likely never be seeing his son again.

Finn accepted the journal with a nod, despite the fact he knew very well he was never returning. At least not him. If this body returned again, Finn wasn't going to be in it.

Master Elwes brought Elara on the second day. She was seventeen, with the same dark hair as her grandfather and a quiet intensity that reminded Finn of Althea, oddly enough. She barely spoke, and the only acknowledgement she directed in Finn's way was a simple nod.

Good, Finn thought with relief. I don't want needless conversations anyway…

On the final night, his mother made a special dinner. His father told stories about his own youth. They were trying so hard to make their last time together memorable, meaningful.

And Finn sat there, numb, going through the motions.

He knew he should feel something. Guilt about leaving them. Sadness at the parting. Something. Anything…

But he couldn't allow it. He didn't even want to. So there was only hollow emptiness.

These people weren't his parents. This life wasn't his life. This entire world felt like a stage play he'd been forced into, reading lines from a script he didn't write.

When his mother hugged him goodnight, he hugged back automatically. When his father squeezed his shoulder with fatherly pride, he smiled appropriately.

But inside, nothing.

He was simply always calculative: Three more days until I leave. Then I can stop pretending. Stop feeling guilty for not feeling what I should feel.

That night, alone in his room, Finn opened his journal and wrote:

Day 17 in the past. Leaving tomorrow with Master rank Arcanist Iscara and a girl named Elara. Destination: House Valeris Academy, capital city.

I should feel something about leaving Arros's parents. They've been nothing but kind. But I don't. I can't. They're not real to me. None of this is real.

Maybe that's wrong. Maybe it makes me a monster. But I can't afford to care about people who aren't real. I can't afford emotional attachments that will only hold me back.

I need to get stronger. I need to find defining moments. I need to trigger the tether and return home.

Everything else is just an obstacle in the way of that goal.

He paused with the pen hovering over the page, then added one final line:

Sometimes I wonder if this is how Arros really thought and acted. Or if I've totally changed and I'm corrupting his memory in the minds of those who love him…

He closed the journal and didn't sleep that night.

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Morning came very quickly.

Iscara arrived at dawn with horses for the journey. Finn's parents stood in the doorway, his mother was crying, and his father tried to remain stoic. They said their goodbyes, promised to write, to visit if they could, emphasized that they were proud of him.

Finn nodded to all of it. Hugged them when expected. Said the words they needed to hear.

This one was the hardest. Something threatened to push through. Real, actual emotions. But he shoved it back down deep. Not giving it room to grow.

And immediately after, he felt the peace of nothing again.

Elara, who was already mounted with her few belongings that were packed in saddlebags, glanced at Finn, seemingly sensing his detachment, but quickly looked away when he raised his head.

"Ready?" Iscara asked, also studying Finn a bit too carefully.

"Ready," he replied flatly.

They rode out of Millhaven as the sun crested the horizon. Finn didn't look back.