The next few days were a true test of endurance for Alex. This wasn't just recovery from an injury—he was relearning how to live in this body. The center of gravity, the stride length, even the range of motion in his arms—everything was different. Alex felt like a pilot placed at the controls of an unfamiliar fighter jet: the instruments seemed the same, but the feedback was entirely different.
Every morning, Olaf visited him. Unlike the servants, he didn't tremble. Being under the Duke's direct protection, the healer understood that no matter how foul Alex's temper was, the boy couldn't truly harm him. He examined the youth with professional detachment.
"Young master, your wounds are almost healed," the healer said, placing the remains of the herbs he had just finished grinding into his bag. "You need to move more now, but do not overexert your heart," he added, applying the final bandages.
"Good. Thank you, Olaf."
The healer froze for a second. His eyes widened slightly. But he said nothing more and, bowing his head, left the room.
A few more days passed in attempts to get used to the new body, which grew more obedient by the day. He also spent time trying to see that "spark" again.
"Come on, close the circuit..." he hissed through his teeth.
He sat on the floor, trying to recreate that state of euphoria from when the first discharge had jumped. Now that the initial shock had passed, he realized: that spark had been an accidental anomaly caused by a nervous system overload. Now, trying to summon it again, he hit a brick wall. It was incredibly exhausting.
The maids continued to freeze in silent shock whenever he spoke to them without shouting. One of them, clearing an empty plate, was so rattled by his calm gaze that she nearly dropped her tray.
"Thank you," he said again, and the girl, flushing with embarrassment, hurried out of the room, leaving Alex unable to suppress a smile.
It's not about emotions, he thought stubbornly, closing his eyes. Current needs a conductor, which in my case is my own body. But where do I get a generator?
Ten days had passed since Alex "woke up" for the second time. He could already walk confidently around the room and even do some light exercises. Alex stood by the window, gripping the heavy frame, and gazed into the garden of the ducal estate. He had largely adjusted to the new body, but something remained unusual.
He straightened up, involuntarily noting how much everything had changed. The viewing angle was different—this body was taller, and his vision was perfect. No more glasses, which he had been so used to in his past life; now the world had sharp contours and vibrant colors he could previously only dream of.
However, behind these obvious changes, something else was hiding. Something subtle that gave him no peace. He stopped in the middle of the room, listening not to the sounds around him, but to himself. It wasn't pain or weakness. It was a strange sensation permeating him from the back of his head to his toes—a barely noticeable pulsation, a fine vibration on the edge of perception.
"What is this..." he muttered, examining his palms.
It wasn't until the next day that the realization hit him.
"Tell me," he asked the healer during his check-up, "are you familiar with this feeling? Like... a quiet humming inside the body?"
The healer looked up, pondered for a moment, and then gave a faint smile. "You mean the 'hum of life'? It is within all of us. What about it?"
"Nothing, it just seems strange."
"Strange? What is strange about it, young master? It is like breathing or seeing—it is like a heartbeat, proof that we are alive."
When the door closed behind the healer, Alex sank onto the bed, stunned. For the people of this world, this hum was as natural as breathing. They were born with it, grew up, and died never questioning its nature.
"So, this hum... It must be magic. I've finally found my generator."
The next two days were spent trying to connect the "generator" and the "conductor." He imagined the movement of charged particles, but nothing worked.
"What are you missing?" he muttered irritably. "Fine, let's try through imagination."
He pictured a grand flash of lightning piercing the heavens; he imagined the sting of a live wire making fingers go numb. The humming in his body intensified. And suddenly—bam!
An electrical discharge shot from his fingers and struck the floor. The surface was scorched, and a small flame appeared.
"Finally! Yes!" he shouted, nearly jumping for joy like a child.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It was one of the maids.
"Young master, His Grace awaits you in the study," her voice drifted through.
Alex paused for a moment. He remembered how fourteen days ago, when he had first regained consciousness, the Duke mentioned an important event awaiting him. It seemed the time had come.
Dressing quickly, he asked the maid to lead the way.
Duke Edward Redhard's study was the embodiment of stern power. Walls lined with weapons and maps, a massive dark oak desk, and the Duke himself standing motionless behind it. Leaning his fists on the tabletop, he stared directly at Alex with a heavy, testing gaze, as if trying to calculate his every move before the boy even crossed the threshold.
To the left of the Duke, his two eldest sons—Aeon and Valthur—sat on a sofa. Aeon radiated an aura of experience; his long, wavy silver-grey hair gave him a noble but somewhat severe look. His leather vest and pauldrons signaled constant readiness for battle. Valthur, with his messy dark hair and deep blue eyes, looked more relaxed in his blue cloak, but his gaze was wary.
To the right, standing slightly apart from the Duke, was a man in his late thirties or early forties. This was Baron Aiden Corvus. His broad shoulders and sturdy build marked him as a warrior who had spent most of his life in a saddle. His face was tanned. The Baron's fingers, covered in rough sword-callouses, rested calmly on the hilt of his weapon at his belt. He was dressed in a practical leather doublet, and every movement suggested a coiled readiness for action.
"You look better than I expected," Edward's voice vibrated in the air. "The healer says your body has recovered."
"Your Grace," Alex bowed his head, observing etiquette, "I feel much better."
Edward narrowed his eyes. His son's composure was disconcerting.
"You know, Alex, you are seventeen now. A year since you reached adulthood..."
At that moment, a "short circuit" occurred in Alex's mind. Seventeen? That means there's only one year left until the encounter with the "Hero"! Why was I so sure I was sixteen?
"...and summarizing everything said, what do you say?" Edward's question was directed straight at him.
"Could you repeat that, Father?" Alex said, looking confused. He had completely tuned out the Duke's monologue.
Edward knitted his brows, his gaze growing even sterner.
"I said, this is Baron Aiden Corvus, and you will marry his daughter."
"Fine," Alex replied shortly.
The Duke fell silent in surprise. The brothers on the sofa exchanged shocked glances.
"Alex," the Baron spoke up, "I will become your father's military advisor here in the Duchy. And you... you will go to my lands."
"Fine, father-in-law," the youth replied again.
Valthur snorted with laughter but was immediately elbowed by Aeon. Duke Edward studied his son for a long time before his voice softened.
"We do not require you to leave immediately. The Baron and I have agreed that you will move in a year."
"Yes, it will give me time to prepare for the transfer of authority," the Baron added.
I listened to all this, and a sense of dread began to swell inside me.
A year. They are leaving me in this castle for a year, followed by a marriage and a Baron's status who-knows-where.
Normally, this would be a great deal, but my countdown to meeting the Hero just shrank to one year—and now they want to cut it down to months, weeks?
No, that won't do. I have to get there as soon as possible. I need to change the rules of the game.
"Father, father-in-law," Alex's voice grew firm. "I am grateful for your concern. But I do not wish to wait a year. I will go there as soon as possible. If I am to become the master of those lands and your daughter's husband, then I must know those lands better than anyone."
Edward and Aiden exchanged glances in silent astonishment. Valthur could no longer suppress his laughter, for which he received a smack on the head from his brother.
"Hey, what was that for, brother?" Valthur grumbled.
"Everything has its time and place," Aeon replied.
Edward shot them a stern look that made them flinch.
"Forgive us, Your Grace!" they said in unison, bowing their heads.
Finally, Edward's gaze lingered on Alex.
"You want to go now?" the Duke asked.
"Yes, Father."
"Hmm. I will give you a month. If you don't change your mind, you depart in a month. That will also give Baron Corvus time to prepare. What do you say?"
"That suits me," the Baron said enthusiastically. "I've long wanted to begin my service to you."
"Good. Then you have a month, Alex. You may go."
Edward watched in silence as Alex left. It was all too unusual: no tantrums, no accusations, no defiant outbursts. The father tried to formulate what he was seeing, but his thoughts were voiced aloud by Valthur:
"He's changed."
"You think?" Aeon responded skeptically, though the previous certainty was gone from his voice.
Every gaze in the room remained fixed on the closed door behind which Alex had just disappeared.