Kana jolted awake to the sound of loud shouting and a sudden wave of cold.

  Her blanket was gone.

  “Kana, wake up.”

  She groaned and curled tighter, reaching blindly to pull the blanket back up. “Later, Mom… I’m still sleepy…”

  But her mother’s voice came again, calm and unforgiving. “Well, someone said yesterday that she was very interested in learning how to read and write.”

  Kana cracked one eye open. Her mother stood over her with arms crossed, the stolen blanket bunched under one elbow like a captured flag.

  “We start now,” her mother said. “Get up before I change my mind. I’ve got work to do later.”

  Kana let out a long, dramatic grunt and sat up, eyes still closed, hair a tangled mess. She shuffled to her feet like a ghost from an old story.

  “Wash your face and drink the milk first,” her mother added, already turning toward the small table where a cup waited.

  “Ayt…” Kana mumbled, still only half-conscious.

  The morning light filtered in through the shutters, soft and golden. Somewhere outside, roosters crowed and distant tools clinked in the hands of early risers.

  ……

  On the table sat a large sheet of parchment, the ink still fresh. Kana’s mother tapped it with one finger.

  “This is just an overview,” she said. “I’ll teach you the basics. If you get stuck, you can go play with Suri—but not with the boys. Please.”

  Kana yawned, nodding. “Got it.”

  Her mother pointed to the first row of symbols. “Each of these letters represents a sound. You need to remember them. Reading is sound first. Understanding comes after.”

  Kana leaned forward, eyes narrowing as she followed her mother’s finger. The letters looked strange up close—like something ancient trying to be orderly but sound familiar as it was recited by her mother.

  “I have to go,” her mother said, standing and brushing her hands on her apron. “Try to read a few of the basic books while I’m out. Match the sounds. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

  She paused at the door, glancing back once more.

  Kana was already hunched over the parchment, lips moving silently, tracing each symbol with her finger.

  Her mother blinked, surprised by the focus in her daughter's eyes. She hadn’t expected much—maybe a few questions tomorrow or a ton. Kana was bright, maybe it's just her because she’s her daughter, sure, but easily distracted. Especially when Suri or the village boys were nearby.

  Well, we’ll see tomorrow, she thought, and stepped outside.

  Kana didn’t remember all the sounds. Not exactly. But something clicked as she stared at the letters. She started noticing a pattern—shapes repeating in predictable ways.

  It reminded her of… Arabic? She didn’t know how she knew that word. It just slipped into her mind like a whisper from someone else’s memory.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  After an hour, she was halfway through the beginner’s book her mother had left. The sentences made sense—well, most of them. A few parts still confused her, but she felt certain she was on the right path.

  She glanced at the shelf that held their tiny family library: fewer than fifty books, sorted by no real order. Some were thick and scholarly, others thin and worn with age.

  Time to advance.

  Kana pulled out a random volume: The Dungeon Mysteries.

  She sat cross-legged on the floor, reading aloud slowly. Word by word. Line by line. She stumbled, corrected herself, and pushed forward. Her voice grew steadier as the minutes passed.

  Then she went outside, a stick in hand, and began tracing letters into the soft mound near their house.

  She summarized what she’d understood—well, the important bits.

  “Dungeon ranks follow the coin system,” she muttered as she wrote. “Copper, silver, gold… Platinum is the rarest, but no one’s found a platinum dungeon yet. Even gold-tier ones are rare—maybe five, ten total in the whole continent. Dungeons are key resources for kingdoms and empires. They regenerate endlessly, unless their cores are destroyed. Recovery time varies—some bounce back in a year, others take decades. When they return, they might be the same… or something new entirely.”

  She stepped back, studying the lines she’d etched in the soil.

  “This should summarize the book.” Kana smiled, proud of herself.

  “What are you doing, Kana?”

  Suri’s voice made her spin around. Her friend stood nearby, peering at the markings on the ground.

  “I’m learning how to read and write,” Kana said with a smirk. “I guess I know how now.”

  Suri blinked. “Don’t be silly. Even the smartest adults take a year to learn that stuff.”

  Kana grinned. “I started this morning. My mom taught me the basics.”

  Suri squinted at the dirt. “Your writing looks like... chicken scratch.”

  Kana pouted. “Well, I can read it.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure. Anyway, it’s almost past noon. My mom said you’re eating with us today. Miss Lily told us you’d join.”

  Kana blinked. She hadn’t even noticed the sun moving.

  “Right. I lost track of time.”

  ……..

  “Auntie Shar, do you have any other skills aside from healing?” Kana asked, watching as the Red hair woman in her early thirties worked a needle through a patch of fabric.

  Auntie Shar glanced up from her knitting. “I’ve got a few. Not the usual sort, though. Things like [Poison Resistance], [Concoct].”

  Kana’s eyes lit up. “[Poison Resistance] means you’re immune to poisons. [Concoct] is about mixing ingredients to make something new, probably potions.,right?”

  Auntie Shar tilted her head, amused. “Well, I don’t know the exact meanings, but you’re not far off. I’ve never been poisoned—even when I chewed on something questionable for a test once. I use [Concoct] all the time when I’m making potions. As for the last one…” she paused, nodding thoughtfully. “My alchemy teacher always said I had a knack for delicate herbs—stuff that needs precise mana flow.”

  She narrowed her eyes slightly, curious. “Where did you learn all that, Kana?”

  “She’s just guessing, Mom,” Suri called from the kitchen, her voice half-teasing. “She started learning how to read this morning, and now she’s acting like a scholar. Want to see her doodles?”

  Kana smirked and called back, “Hush, the adults are talking. Get back to washing those dishes. You lost the food race fair and square.”

  Suri grumbled, splashing water in retaliation but obeyed.

  Kana smiled to herself.

  She wasn’t guessing.

  She knew. Somehow, the moment a skill name appeared in her mind, she understood what it meant—as if the meaning were embedded into the words themselves, sitting inside her like a personal dictionary no one had taught her.

  And all of it…

  Was in English.