It felt like the entire world vanished; before Froja stood a creature he had never encountered before. A creature that made him want to flee, yet he stood his ground for some inexplicable reason.
As a child, Froja took many self-defense classes and practiced martial arts in his spare time. However, what he lacked was the resolve to kill, to take another's life. This was unsurprising; his family had always taught him to protect and preserve life, so the thought of killing had never crossed his mind.
The goblin approached swiftly, and Froja's mind was still in turmoil. He was still unaccustomed to having the body of a seven-year-old. When he attempted a slash with his dagger, it fell short. The goblin seized its chance and lunged for a quick stab; Froja barely evaded it in time and continued to size up the creature. His body was that of a child, but his mind was that of a young adult.
He refused to run anymore; he wouldn't allow himself to die again without giving his best effort to live. With that resolve, he clutched his dagger, shouted a war cry, and charged at the goblin.
Tonitrum observed all of this with great indifference; he knew Froja could kill the goblin. He could add three more goblins, and Froja would still be able to defeat them. The difference was that Tonitrum knew this, while Froja did not.
The thinking of a beast and a human was like the difference between heaven and earth. Humans took their time nurturing young ones, teaching them gradually.
In contrast, beasts, like animals, relied on a simple mindset: "Experience is the best teacher." Just like a mama bird leaving her nest, intentionally starving her chicks so they would be forced to fly, not knowing if they could do it, just gambling on pure instincts.
Tonitrum was doing the same but on a different scale. He wanted to strengthen the child, but it wouldn't be worth it if his will to survive was weak. He watched as the fight continued below.
The goblin's skin bore random cuts; anyone could tell at first glance they were made by an amateur, given the crude incisions. Froja, on the other hand, had only been sliced twice, once on his arm and once on his chest. These were shallow cuts, but the goblin was too slippery. If only Froja could stab the dagger deep enough to end its life.
He thought the outcome would already be decided if he could be faster.
With that thought, he squeezed as much power as he could from his legs. Suddenly, he felt lighter. He slowly built up momentum and, with one quick charge...
The knife plunged straight into the goblin's chest.
"Well done. Review the fight in your head and see what you could have done better. The creatures you fought today are nothing but flies of this world. If you truly want to live, then you have to be ready to receive pain and inflict it." The great dragon looked at the kid for a moment and spoke again.
"Go on, eat."
Froja had nothing else in mind. He couldn't even walk to the food, so he decided to crawl, inch by inch, slowly getting closer to the meat.
Once within reach, he greedily shoved the meat into his mouth; he didn't know what it was nor cared at this point. He continued devouring the meat pile as if there was no tomorrow. He didn't notice it, but the food he consumed was enough for four adults. After eating, Froja lay limply on the ground.
He wanted to think about what had happened but was too utterly spent; he just closed his eyes and hoped for the best tomorrow.
Froja woke up to a loud banging sound in the distance. He hurriedly stood up and held the dagger close. He then noticed that his arm was already healed. Something that should have needed surgery and months to heal was all patched up by a good night's sleep.
Noticing his confusion, the dragon said, "That's because the meat you ate was infused with mana; starting today, you will learn about mana and all its tricks. For starters, a modification is needed."
"Modification?" Froja asked mindlessly. He was still mad about what the dragon put him through, but in a sense, it taught him a lesson he wouldn't forget.
"Yes, you are too slow at processing information; in other words, you are dumb. That trait of yours has to be changed," a scroll slowly floated Froja's way.
"Also, your name. It has to be changed as well. Froja Yakane has died; you are a new person; it is taboo to carry the name of a dead person."
Froja received the scroll in his hand and pondered about his name; it weirdly made sense, so he opted to change it.
He thought of his parents, his sibling, the sanctuary; he seemed reluctant to let it all go, and in the end, he went with
"Canna Yakane will be my new name."