Markus struggled to remain upright as he tried walking for the first time in nearly a year. Or at least, his body's first time in a year. It's been a month since he awoke in this world, and he was finally starting his physical therapy in earnest, the last month having been mostly about getting him on solid food.

  They started him with something simple, like soup, giving him several spoonfuls throughout the day. After a few days of this, they moved on to some softer foods, such as Jello or watermelon, the food gradually becoming more and more solid until he was eating like a normal person again.

  But he wasn't idle during this time either, even if they didn't allow him the freedom of movement he so desperately wanted. Much of his activity included a nurse helping him stretch his body, or using large rubber bands to exercise what he could.

  One thing they did was lift a leg up and then let it go, having him try and hold it in the air for as long as he could. At first, the damn thing just plummeted to the ground, frustrating him to no end. But after a month, he could successfully keep it up for about 15 seconds. They told him it was a great improvement, but to Mark it felt like empty platitudes meant to stroke the ego of a struggling child.

  Another activity had the nurse pushing his leg up, until his knee was nearly against his chest. Then, he would have to try and push it straight against the small amount of counter force the nurse used against it, kind of like a Leg Press Machine. That one made him feel particularly weak.

  He thought that first month was torture, but it had nothing on the pain he was feeling now. He was in between two bars, using them to hold most of his weight as he tried to walk to the other side. His feet were swollen with blood or water or something else, he didn't know. All he knew for sure was that it hurt.

  "Come on sweetie, you can do it," cheered his mother from the other side. Markus was sure she intended that to be encouraging, but considering he was really a grown ass man, it came off as rather patronizing.

  "Who knew learning to walk was so painful. Babies are sure a lot tougher than I gave them credit for," he complained as he took another step, jaw clenched in pain. His arms were shaking like crazy, barely able to keep his face from meeting the ground.

  At this point, he wasn't sure which would be worse. On one hand, if he went tumbling down, his face would hurt, but if he didn't, his everything else would hurt. Tough decision.

  In the end, he did his best to stick it out. He needed to recover as quickly as he could, not knowing how long he had until conflict reared its ugly head. The faster he got better, the faster he could prepare.

  "You're almost there! Just a little more!" his mother continued to encourage.

  "A little more? Is this woman blind or something?" Mark thought. So far, he's only made it about halfway across. He might as well have been trying to complete a marathon. "Little more my ass."

  The nurse to his right also kept trying to encourage him, but all he really wanted was for them to leave him in peace. Having them watch him struggle to do something as simple as walking was humiliating. But what did he expect, he was a child.

  Another minute or so went by, and sweat was dripping down his brow in buckets. His breathing was labored and ragged as he tried to get one more step. That's what he kept repeating in his mind, over and over again, one more step.

  But as much as he wanted to and as hard as he tried, he just couldn't get his foot off the ground. His legs felt like they were made of sand and his feet felt like they were trapped in lead.

  His foot slid slightly, and Mark lost his balance. He fell forward with a startled gasp, but before he could slam face first into the hardwood floors, the nurse managed to catch him.

  "Mark, are you ok!?" his mother shouted in fear, dashing up to them as the nurse gently set him on the floor. She began fretting all over him, and as much as it annoyed him, he tried his best to put on a smile. Thankfully, the situation he was in helped mask the true feelings behind the smile.

  "I'm ok mother. Just disappointed I couldn't finish," he said.

  "There's no need to feel bad, you did great. I bet by the end of the week you'll be able to finish a hundred of these," Joanna boasted.

  "If you say so. Mother does know best after all," Mark replied, though it was clear from his tone that he didn't believe her. She pouted, giving him a lighthearted glare.

  "That's right she does. She also told you to call her mommy."

  The nurse, who was listening to them, smiled as she went to fetch the wheelchair.

  *Line Break*

  Markus didn't particularly enjoy being a resident of the hospital, but at least his incarceration gave him plenty of time to figure out this weird game he found himself in. He still had no idea how to earn points, but at the very least he had a better idea of what he could spend it on and the cost of such things.

  First of all there were Talents, which were basically anything a person could be good at, such as playing the guitar, mechanics, or even swimming. Not the most useful of Talents considering the upcoming war he was going to find himself in, but they're just examples.

  Next was the cost of the Talents themselves. Tier 1 started out at a cost of 10 for the most part. There were some higher and lower, but the vast majority were at 10. Each Tier above that cost the Tier Level x the previous Tier's cost.

  So if Tier 1 cost 10, then Tier 2 would cost 20, Tier 3 would cost 60, and Tier 4 would 240. With Tier 4 being about the height of human achievement, it made sense that it was a costly endeavor to pursue, with the Tiers above reaching simply absurd numbers.

  It looked something like this:

  Tier 1: 10

  Tier 2: 20

  Tier 3: 60

  Tier 4: 240

  Tier 5: 1,200

  Tier 6: 7,200

  Tier 7: 50,400

  Tier 8: 403,200

  Tier 9: 3,628,800

  Mark wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to achieve those numbers, or if he was even supposed to. Perhaps if he had some idea about how he actually got the points he could think of something, but as of now, that's about all he had.

  And the cost for increasing his Stats was twice that. It was like they didn't want him to get too strong. Probably because he would turn that strength on them. Clever bastards.

  Next was the Perks, which were similar in regards to the Talents, in that they could be basically anything. Some of them, it seemed, decreased the cost of Talents, which was a good thing. The cost was still way too damn high, but at least reaching Tier 6 didn't feel like a pipe dream.

  Others gave static abilities or bonuses. Such as Ambidexterity, which cost 35 Points and made it so he could use his left hand just as well as his right. There were some which made it easier to aim a gun, or increased his leadership capabilities; things like that. He would have to keep some Points in reserve to purchase a Perk when the time calls for it.

  At the moment, Mark didn't have many Talents, though some things did transfer over from his previous life, such as the Programming Talent, which was at a Tier 3, or the Higher Education Perk he got for getting his master's degree, which lowered the cost of all Intelligence based Talents by 25%.

  But it wasn't just the game he learned about. He also learned about the world he found himself in. First of all, it was May 11th, 1919. That took him by surprise, though he suspected he was in an earlier time, just not by that much. It wasn't the worst, as far as time periods went.

  At least they knew about dysentery.

  But it was a far cry from the technological comforts he was accustomed to. Guess he had plenty of time to get used to it.

  Next, he was born on March 25th, 1913, making him 6. That part he was actually ok with. Not that he particularly enjoyed being pint sized, but it was kind of like getting a redo, and this time, he wouldn't skip the gym.

  Probably.

  He also learned quite a bit about the country he found himself in, which seemed like it was a parallel to Germany from his old world. That was mildly concerning. But at least when he asked about someone named Hitler, he only received blank, confused looks. So that was good.

  The Empire, otherwise known as the Fatherland, was a major military power formed by the annexation of smaller statelets, creating a unified country. It was known to be rather rational in most things, excluding religion, as The Empire was highly religious.

  Mark wondered if they'd feel the same after meeting one of these so-called gods? He doubted such a rational people would be able to tolerate such irrational beings.

  The Empire itself was ruled by the Kaiser, or Emperor, and the royal family. Beyond that, he didn't know much about them. All in all, he couldn't complain much about where he ended up.

  He was just glad he didn't end up in this world's Russia.

  Unaware of her son's thoughts, Joanna smiled happily as she pushed him down the hallway. In a wheelchair, of course. The last month has been one of the best she could remember. It would have been better had her son not been hospitalized, of course, but the fact that he was up again sent her over the moon.

  He wasn't the same sweet, rambunctious little boy as he was before the accident, being far more somber and serious, but he was still her little ray of sunshine, even when he was being a bit of a grouch.

  "Come on sweetie, there's no need to be so hard on yourself. You did great today," she said, trying to cheer up the crabby six year old, snapping him out of his thoughts of his current predicament.

  "It's just so frustrating, mother, not being able to walk properly. For freedom to be so close within my grasp only to repeatedly escape it," he returned with a huff. His response got a sad smile from the older woman.

  The doctor warned them that he seemed far smarter than he should, something he attributed to the bump on the head. He lost his memories and gained a staggering amount of intellect as a tradeoff. She was sure it would do him well later in life, but she missed the boy he used to be.

  She didn't expect to feel this way until he was a rebellious teenager! She wasn't ready for this faze in his life yet!

  "And just who are you seeking freedom from, huh? Trying to get away from your dear old mother? Where did I go wrong?" she wailed, getting a roll of the eyes from her son.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "It's not you I'm attempting to flee from, but this wretched establishment. I think being here for a year would drive anyone insane," he responded, getting a small chuckle from her. She was glad, at least, that he didn't want to run away from her. She didn't think she would be able to take it if he did.

  "Anyway, how is father doing? I haven't seen him in awhile," Mark asked.

  "Ah, am I not good enough for you? Is mommy's love not enough to satisfy your need for companionship?" she cried, leaning over the wheelchair to envelope him in a hug. Markus could only sigh at the woman's antics. She was far different from his previous mother, and was what one might call, an acquired taste.

  "You are excellent company, mother. I was merely asking due to the civil unrest brewing in The Empire," he responded, managing to get the touchy-feely woman off of him. She gave a small pout at that, but continued escorting him towards the cafeteria, so he could eat something that at least resembled food.

  "He's doing as well as can be. But you're right about the unrest. The military is on high alert, just in case of any radicals that may try and start something. Your father, as Admiral, is quite busy with ensuring the safety of The Empire and its citizens, though it's mostly strategy meetings," she confirmed.

  Mark hummed in thought at that. "So The Empire is worried about its citizens starting a riot or something? Or are they more concerned with their enemies doing something while people chant in the street?"

  Looking out of the window as they passed, he could see demonstrators marching in the street, waving signs and banners decrying The Empire's enemies, demanding war. The fools have no idea what a modern war would cost. Markus had the benefit of knowing about two such conflicts that devastated the world.

  Unfortunately, those damned aliens seemed hellbent on spiraling the world into chaos, all to force him to acknowledge the beauty of war or something. He couldn't fathom the thought. How could fields of rotting corpses be anything but repugnant? Those things clearly had a warped view of what constitutes beautiful art.

  "I see. Well, I hope he's getting enough sleep. It's important for his health. No need for him to join me in prison," he stated, making his mother snicker.

  "I'll make sure to remind him," she said, getting a serious nod from her son.

  The two of them entered the cafeteria and ordered something that was, on paper, food. But how they were able to make something they claimed was chicken taste like spam was a mystery. Either way, Mark supposed he should just be glad to be on solid foods again.

  Even if that made the bathroom situation seven different kinds of mortifying.

  Once they finished their "meal" Joanna escorted him back to his room, though it felt far more like a prison cell to him. It was, after all, a small room that he was not allowed to leave without authorization.

  When they eventually reached his room, his mother and the nurse helped get him back into bed, which made him curse up a storm, at least in his mind from both the pain and humiliation of the act. Once he was settled in, he let out a sigh, releasing all his frustrations as best as he could.

  "There you go. How are you feeling? Do you need anything?" Joanna asked, running her hand through her son's ginger locks. He stared back at her with his deep crimson eyes before shaking his head.

  "No, I'm alright. I am feeling a bit sleepy though," he said with a yawn. She gave him a soft smile at seeing his sleepy yawning face, though part of her dreaded him going to sleep every time, afraid he wouldn't wake up for another year.

  She remembered coming back on the second day and saw him slumbering away in his room and was driven to near hysterics, convinced she had dreamed him waking up. But when his eyes opened due to her screaming, and possibly her shaking him, she started bawling for a whole new reason, clutching onto him like a lifeline.

  He could only stare at her, utterly baffled while trying to calm her down. It was a bit surreal, and pathetic, that it was her son comforting her, and not the other way around.

  "Alright sweetheart. Just promise me you'll wake up," she said. Mark, hearing the vulnerability in the woman's tone, did his best to give her a salute, though it came out rather sloppy. His arms were just so dang weak and tired, even after all the rest he got.

  But it seemed to do the trick, as she giggled, looking about as reassured as she could. "Alright. I'll be back tomorrow for your next session. Take care," she said, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

  "Mother…" he complained with a bit of red on his cheeks. But she only smiled at his embarrassed face. That at least was the same. Boys, always so shy about a little bit of affection. He'll want a girl to kiss him someday, and when that happens, she'll probably cry about being replaced.

  But that was a long way off, not something she had to concern herself with at the moment. No second rate floozy was coming so steal her son away for a long, long time.

  For some reason, a certain blonde haired, blue eyed girl living in an orphanage felt a chill go down her spine.

  As Joanna was exiting her son's hospital room, she bumped into Dr. Eckhart, who was trying to enter. "Oh, Henri! Excuse me I didn't see you there," she apologized.

  "Think nothing of it Mrs. Adler. These old bones are tougher than they look," he said with a laugh, receiving a polite smile in return. "Tell me, how is young Markus doing? I heard from his nurse that he did quite well for his first attempt at walking, but I'd like to get your opinion if I could."

  Joanna sighed, looking back towards the sleeping form of her son. "Doctor, do you think we can talk about this in the hall? Mark just fell asleep," she said, trying no to let the terror of that notion show on her face. Judging by the understanding, yet pitying look she received, she didn't think she was all that successful.

  "Of course, of course. Right this way," he said, moving out of the way so she could exit. He then gently closed the door, and the two began to walk towards the exit.

  "Honestly doctor, it was hard to watch. Seeing him struggling so much from such a simple task. He was crying; he was in so much pain. Isn't there anything you can do to help?" she asked, practically begging. But Dr. Eckhart only shook his head sadly.

  "Unfortunately, there is very little I can do. I have consulted expert nutritionists and kinesiologists to create a program suited for his needs. All we can do now is believe in his will to get better and provide as much aid as we can," he responded. It wasn't the answer she wanted, but it was the one she was expecting.

  "I understand. Sorry for putting you in such a position, Doctor, I just…" she said, but she couldn't finish the statement, choking on her own words.

  "There is nothing to apologize for. I want little Markus to recover as swiftly as possible as well. Nothing would make me happier as his doctor. Now, there was one matter I wished to discuss with you," he brought up gingerly.

  "Oh? What's that?" she asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.

  "Well, due to his accident, he has yet to be given a Magical Aptitude Test. I was hoping to run it today, honestly, but there's no rush," he informed.

  "Is it really necessary so soon?" she asked. She knew he would be given one sooner or later, but he only just got out of bed. Surely they could wait until he was walking properly again, at the very least.

  "Not in the strictest sense, no. However, if he does possess a sufficient aptitude, we may be able to aid in his recovery by using magic. This is a relatively new field of study, of course, so there is no real guarantee, but I thought I'd bring it up nonetheless," Dr. Eckhart said.

  That news brought her up short. Anything that would help her precious baby recover faster was worth considering, as long as it didn't put his health at risk. Which is exactly what she asked about next.

  "Hm, I wish I could tell you, but as I said, the field of magical medicine is new, still in its infancy really. However, from what I understand, theoretically anyways, is that it may help to recover his strength after a strenuous day like today, meaning he would be able to keep going for longer periods of time, thus expediting his recovery. Again, this is merely conjecture, and I only wish to test him at the moment. This would be entirely moot if he doesn't have the aptitude for it."

  "But couldn't they simply use their magic to do the same thing? Why does he have to have the aptitude?" she asked, confused. Her question got a sigh from the elderly doctor.

  "The aptitude for a Mage to be able to use healing magic beyond simple first aid is extraordinary. So much so that the Empire only has one, and he's the personal physician of the Emperor. However, while many struggle to use magic to heal another, using it on themselves is a different matter. I'm unsure of the exact reasons why, but I imagine circulating your own magic through your own body is much easier than doing it for another person. "

  "I see. Well, I suppose I don't see the harm in merely testing him. My husband should be able to come tomorrow, would it be alright if we were there?" she asked, making the doctor brighten up.

  "Of course! You're his parents after all. And it would only make sense for your husband to be there as Magical Aptitude Tests are done by the military anyway," he said with an excited tremor in his voice.

  Joanna sighed, "Alright Doctor. I'll see you tomorrow then.

  "Yes, of course, of course. Have a wonderful evening Mrs. Adler," he said before walking off to continue his duties. Joanna left the hospital with many things to think about.

  The Next Day

  Markus grit his teeth, trying not to show how much pain he was in. He wasn't walking today, unfortunately, due to the amount of fluid build up in his feet and legs. The Doctor gave him a drug that was supposed to help drain it, but it seemed to be taking its sweet time in doing so.

  So right now, he was doing the same basic physical therapy he's been doing for the past three weeks. The nurse had just finished helping him stretch out his muscles, and was currently massaging his legs.

  You might be wondering why that would be painful. Two reasons, really. First, his muscles were sore from the previous day, and massaging a sore muscle hurt. Two, the fluid which had built up made things twice as sore, and her rubbing it, trying to get it to move around the muscles, rather than pool around in one spot, did not help matters.

  If he was going through puberty, there would have been a third reason as well, but seeing as he lacked the necessary hormones to enjoy the touch of a beautiful woman in a nurses uniform, he was stuck with only pain, no pleasure.

  Curse those damned aliens.

  Eventually his torture came to an end, and he sagged against his bed in relief. The unpleasant tingling aftermath remained as the only proof of his suffrage. But before he could further lament his lot in life the door opened, revealing none other than Doctor Eckhart strolling inside with a clipboard in hand.

  "Good afternoon Mark. How are you feeling today?" he asked once he reached the bed.

  "Like my legs have been stuffed in a sausage bag," he replied in a dry tone, getting a chuckle out of the doctor. He then proceeded to poke and prod Mark's still slightly swollen legs, nodding to himself as he did so before writing something down on his clipboard.

  "Well, the swelling has gone down, so that's good. We'll need to keep your legs elevated so the fluid doesn't drain and pool in them," he said.

  "Joy," Mark replied, once more dryly.

  "Now, now, you're making very good progress. Give your legs another day or two to recover and we'll try walking again," he said with another chuckle before sitting down next to Mark, getting a confused look from the child.

  "Is there something else you need, Doc?" he asked. Eckhart nodded, setting the clipboard aside.

  "Yes, actually. Today we have some guests coming who will be administering a special test. Tell me, do you know what Magical Aptitude is?" he asked, confusing Mark even further.

  "I assume it's how high or low an individual's magical aptitude is. The name's pretty on the nose, don't you think? Unless they named it that to confuse everybody and it has no bearing on what it is," Mark responded, somewhat superfluously.

  "Yes, I suppose it is. I bring this up because you have yet to undergo a Magical Aptitude Test. I received permission from your mother and the test should be conducted today. The military, along with your parents, should be here within an hour or so to do so," Dr. Eckhart explained.

  That set all kinds of alarm bells ringing off in his head. He knew he had magic, unless his Stat Screen was lying to him. In fact, it was safe to say he had an abundance of the stuff. And with what he's learned about the military leanings of The Empire, that would mean nothing good.

  He was likely to be conscripted at some point, considering it was the military conducting the test. Not to mention the chance of everything devolving into a worldwide conflict. There was a possibility this wouldn't happen, but with who he knew was pulling the strings, he somehow doubted the world would avoid such a catastrophe.

  He had hoped to possibly get a nice, easy posting somewhere, maybe in the rear or as a warehouse worker, but if he had magic, there was no doubt he would be sent to the front lines. Magic was simply too great a tool to leave sitting on the bench.

  "Doc, if I do have magic, what happens then?" Mark asked tentatively. Eckhart must have sensed his unease, as he tried to give him a reassuring smile.

  "Well for now it means we may be able to expedite your recovery, using magic to stimulate your natural recovery," he responded, hoping that by saying it would help in his recovery, that would make him less antsy about magic.

  "I see. And why is it that the military is the one conducting this test? Shouldn't you be able to do it, as my doctor?" he asked.

  "Ah, a good question. It's mostly a matter of records. While rare, it does happen that a medical professional like myself forgets to forward the appropriate data. So to prevent any mistakes, the military does the tests themselves," Dr. Eckhart said.

  "In other words, they want to know exactly who has magical potential so they can recruit them into military service. They don't want to run the risk of someone slipping through the cracks," Mark thought.

  "And why does the military want those records?" Mark asked next, just to confirm what he already suspected.

  "All Mages in The Empire are conscripted when they turn 18, so having those records ensures everyone does their duty," Eckhart said like a good state propagandist. He suddenly didn't seem like the kind old man any more, but a hungry wolf desperate to provide food for the military industrial complex.

  "And it looks like I was on the menu. Maybe I can flee the country?" Mark thought, but immediately pushed those thoughts away. His father was the Admiral of the Imperial Navy, there was no way he would be able to escape with the resources his dad had to get him back.

  And even if he did, what then? He had to play this game of war, didn't he? All to escape an eternity of torment. His options were pretty limited.

  Well, if that was the case, he would have to make sure he was sent to the officer's track. With who his father is and the magic he knew was coursing through his veins, if that's even where magic coursed through, he should be able to make that happen.

  His mother might be an obstacle though. A bridge he'd have to cross when the time comes.

  "Ah, it looks like they arrived. And early too," mentioned the doctor, getting Mark's attention. Eckhart was standing at the window, looking down with a pleased look on his face.

  "I thought he said they would be here in an hour!? Why are they here now? Are they really that eager to put a rifle in my hands?" Mark thought with aggravation. Little did he know, he was about to set a new record in The Empire.