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I didn\'t know why. I could only comprehend that I was dead.

Like drifting through the sea, I vaguely felt a heavy, shadow-like weight on my consciousness.

Gradually, the shadow grew heavier and deeper, revealing its true form to me.

It was grief and regret.

I couldn\'t become the best in kendo until the end. Since my mother passed away, all my father wanted was for me to become the best in Japan. But I failed him.

Losing my own goal, I tried to train someone else to become the ideal swordsman in my place, but it didn\'t work.

To begin with, I couldn\'t meet my father\'s expectations. This regret was deeper and heavier than anything else.

If only I could start over again... If only I could become the ideal version of myself that I longed for...

The moment I thought this, with the urge to burst into tears, my consciousness dissolved and faded away into a hazy mist.

―――

When I woke up, I found myself looking up at a ceiling lined with logs, like a log cabin.

The ceiling was lit in a warm red, casting dark shadows here and there. I could hear the crackling of a fire and smell the sweet scent of wood, along with the faint aroma of wild animal fur.

I felt little sensation in my body. Using only my eyes to survey my surroundings, I realized I was lying on something that looked like white fur. I seemed to be in a room about the size of six tatami mats (9.2 square meters), with a window carved out of the middle of a wall that looked like stacked logs.

The sky was dark, indicating it was currently night.

"... Hmm, are you awake?"

Suddenly, a voice startled me. I turned my head to the side.

A tall, slender figure wearing a large white robe appeared from a simple door.

They approached me, dragging the hem of their robe along the floor. The figure was hooded, but as they drew closer, they removed it, revealing a face that could only be described as beautiful.

I couldn\'t determine their gender. They could be viewed as either a man or a woman. Their long, flowing white hair and emerald green eyes were captivating.

But what caught my attention the most was the long, pointed ears.

"... Are you conscious? Can you speak?"

Upon hearing the voice, I finally recognized this person as a man. But I couldn\'t manage to utter a sound in response.

"Hmm, it seems you\'re not aware of your situation either. I found you collapsed in a meadow near my house. It\'s a grassland far from any roads, let alone villages. The grass is waist-high, so it\'s pure luck I spotted you lying there."

Then the young man sat down cross-legged next to me and looked down at me while introducing himself. "I am Owen Millers, the Sage of the Forest. I have no idea why a young child like you would be in such a place, but I will take care of you for a while."

Owen Millers said something strange in his introduction.

Young child? Who was he referring to?

Well, since there was no one else here, he must be talking about me. Could it be that, like in stories, elves lived long lives, so someone my age was still considered a child to them?

"What is your name?"

Hearing the abrupt question, I answered instinctively, "Konominato, Aoi..."

"Konominato, Aoi... Hmm, an unusual name. Could you be..."

I heard him say something to me, but my vision blurred, and the sound faded away.

I was overcome by an irresistible drowsiness.

As various questions floated in and out of my mind in my haze, my consciousness gradually faded away.

―――

Twelve years had passed since that day.

My physical age was over twenty. I never imagined I\'d truly be rejuvenated. Since I died at the age of twenty-four, it means I had not reached my original age yet.

I learned that this was not Earth and that I had been transferred to another world filled with various conflicts. However, there were many things here that couldn\'t be experienced on Earth, and my days were full of confusion and surprise.

Owen called me a Traveler, and he seemed quite intrigued by me and taught me various magical knowledge.

Apparently, those who possessed knowledge from other worlds and appeared once every few hundred years were called Travelers. They had brought about significant reforms in countries, cultures, academia, magic, and so on.

Perhaps because of that, despite living alone in a forest, Owen led a more modern lifestyle than I had expected.

First of all, there was a refrigerator. It seemed to release cold air from an ice magic stone, but it served the same purpose. Similarly, there was a bladeless fan powered by a wind magic stone, and if you put an ice or fire magic stone in the box inside, it became an air conditioner.

That alone was surprising, but there were also tanks of water and hot water on the second floor, making it easy to take a bath.

There were also orange-tinted lights, a stove, and a flush toilet, all of which were apparently called magical tools.

Owen seemed to be a magical tool enthusiast and had all kinds of magical tools. I wonder if he was like an appliance geek on Earth.

Anyway, I pretended not to be very interested in magical tools because it was annoying when he started talking about them.

By the way, Owen was as beautiful as a sculpture, but he was taciturn and had a surprisingly meticulous personality. When I cooked, he murmured that the food was too bland. If I told him not to eat it, he silently ate everything. He even went so far as to ask for seconds.

His contrarian nature was like that of a mischievous child.

Despite all of this, when Owen taught magic, he was thorough. No, maybe because of his meticulous nature, he was sensitive to small differences.

"No, Aoi. When using advanced magic, what\'s important is mana manipulation, not the output. Focus more. No, don\'t reduce the amount of mana you input while focusing. Imagine a thin rod of mana and knead it further, making it harder and harder without changing its thickness---"

"Hold on, shut up... I\'m trying to concentrate!"

"... But will you always have a quiet environment to focus when using magic? No. Such things are rare. When the need to use magic arises, most of the time---"

"Ah, enough already!"

When he became talkative about magic, he became annoying.

According to Owen, he perceived magic as the process of drawing magic circles in one\'s mind. The act of breaking down the process to create magic circles into individual steps and vocalizing them was called chanting.

In other words, it was a ritual that served as the blueprint for magic and was crucial for its manifestation, but Owen insisted on omitting this chanting process.

Apparently, in ancient magic, which was said to have been lost 200 years ago, there was also magic that actually drew magic circles. Owen investigated and researched this on his own, and even managed to decipher it.

It was a feat that would be considered genius or even abnormal by normal magicians, but Owen was still not satisfied.

He understood the technique of drawing magic circles and inputting the right amount of mana, but he streamlined the process by pouring mana into an already drawn magic circle.

When magic power was poured into an already drawn magic circle, since the path for mana to flow was already established, mana manipulation became extremely precise.

Even a tiny amount of extra mana could cause an explosion, and if there wasn\'t enough mana, the magic power would dissipate without any effect.

However, Owen did indeed succeed in chanting magic without drawing magic circles, although only Owen and I could do it so far.

"... Alright, It\'s done. The gem in this ring is engraved with a three-dimensional magic circle of fire magic. With this, even if you fail, you won\'t be burned to a crisp."

"Isn\'t a 3-D magic circle supposed to be at least special grade?"

"That\'s right. I\'m probably the only one in the world who can compress a magic circle this much."

"... That\'s amazing, but maybe it\'s better if you don\'t say it yourself."