My neck snapped towards the speaker. Floating in the air right behind me was a woman as tall as a pencil. She had pale blue skin and white hair that draped over her shoulders, and reached her heels. Her blue eyes were bright to the point I could swear they were glowing ever so slightly.

For a long second, we stared at each other. Time seemed to slow down as my poor mind tried to rationalize what I was seeing. A freaking fairy had popped out of nowhere and was calling me Master.

“Please tell me you’re real.”

The miniature woman put her hands on her hips. “Honestly Master, I knew you lost your memories, but did you also lose some IQ points too? You didn’t have that many to begin with.”

“What are you?” I snapped back. Whatever she was, she didn’t seem hostile. Still, the attitude was a bit much.

“Linked weapon 108, also known as Armeria.” The blue pixie said with a bow. “It is a pleasure to once again serve by your side.”

I suddenly remembered something Mr. White had told me over a decade ago. My memory was pretty fuzzy. To be honest, I was half in a state of shock at the time. The whole “linked weapon” thing did sound familiar. Regardless, for her to show up now of all times couldn’t be mere coincidence. A part of me was terrified at hearing the answer. However, the implications were too strong to ignore.

Gulping down my excitement, I stared at the palms of my hands. “Does this mean I can use mana?”

“Of course,” Armeria huffed. “Not every world is like Earth. That freaking place is a death trap. What kind of lunatic cuts the word itself off from mana?”

“Wow, hold on,” I sighed. “That bastard White told me that you would clarify things for me. I’ve been waiting for thirteen long years. What took you so long?”

Armeria shot me a disapproving look. “It’s not my fault. In this world, the human body is unable to develop a connection between the soul and mana until they reach the minimum age of thirteen. I appeared as soon as I could. You should be grateful.”

“Slow down,” I said while pinching the bridge of my nose. I could feel a headache building. “I have a lot of questions that I want you to answer. Keep your responses short and to the point.”

“Yes, Master.”

The reply was a tad surprising. From the moment she showed up. This pint sized woman had been controlling the flow of the conversation. It looked like I had more power over her than I thought. A part of me was uncomfortable at being addressed as “Master”, but if she could be useful, I was willing to play along.

“Alright,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, “Let’s start with something basic. Who or what is Mr. White?”

Who was he to send me to some crazy land of swords and sorcery? I’ve wanted to give him a good slap for a while.

“He is you. Only, more you then you are.”

What? Why does that make no sense?”

“Elaborate,” I ordered.

“I thought you wanted to keep it short and simple?”

Why was my talking weapon so sassy?

Maybe she could tell from my fade that I wasn’t in a joking mood, because she threw her hands in the air in mock surrender.

“Alright, relax. Geez you sure turned into a buzzkill.”

“Being reincarnated as a street urchin will have that effect on a person.”

Armeria cocked her head to the side. “Would you have preferred to be a sea urchin? Some people do end up as those in the next life. I bet it would be rather cathartic.”

“I’d have preferred to —. Shoot! We are getting off topic again.”

“Right,” Armeria coughed. “White is an extremely powerful mage. The kind that could melt a planet like ice cream plopped into a pot of boiling water. Dude is working with some serious juice.”

“So why is he messing with me?” I asked.

“Messing with you? You don’t understand. You are him. Or more accurately, a part of him. You are Fragment 108. Meaning your soul is the 108th fragment split from White’s soul.”

All my other questions disintegrated. Those words hit my brain like a bomb. How am I supposed to react to that? I was —? What was I? A clone? A puppet?

“Relax!” Armeria giggled. “Why worry over what you can’t control? White has no direct control over you unless you die. Just live your life. As long as you stay alive, you are free.”

So for all intents and purposes White was a god to me. Whenever I died he would decide whether or not to keep me around.

“What does he want with me?”

“Nothing really,” Armeria shrugged. “I have been given a list of tasks. However, it only matters if you obtain a certain level of power or influence. As you are, you are too weak to be of any use. Giving you access to the missions that White wants accomplished would make you more of a liability.”

“I see,” I sighed. “So as long as I’m weak, I am free to do whatever I want?”

“Pretty much,” Armeria stated. She seemed bored. “Given your current circumstances, White isn’t expecting much from you. He hopes that you will use this life to reacquaint yourself with all this reincarnation stuff. I must admit, you seem awfully calm.”

“Well I did have twelve years to brood over it.” I shrugged. If she thought I had my shit together, I saw no reason to correct her. Was I still angry? Absolutely yes. Was I blind with rage? No.

There was a lot I wanted to know, but between Armenia’s attitude and my excitement as a freshly minted mana user, I decided it could wait. The only thing I cared about now was to make my status known, and start living it up.

“So, what kind of magic can I do?” I asked while rubbing my hands.

Armeria brightened at the change in topic, and mimicked my hand rubbing. “Finally, getting to the good stuff! If you were a normal mana user of this world, you would have to endure a lengthy process to both learn how to interact with mana and crafting a spell. I remove those steps. Go on, praise me!”

A small smile wormed its way onto my face as I watched a four inch woman puff out her chest in pride. It was kind of cute.

“Does that mean I can cast spells right away?”

“Huh?”Armeria quirked an eyebrow at me. “I just said you can’t cast spells, dummy.”

“Huh?”

When it came to magic, spells were kind of important. And by “kind of”, I meant that without it, mana might as well be air. For close to a decade, I had investigated as much as I could in order to learn more about magic. Based on what I heard, mana was like gasoline and a spell was an engine. Without the spell, one would be unable to transform the gasoline into energy.

I’ll be the first to admit that it would be a stretch to consider all my research credible. Most of it stemmed from raging drunks, children of merchants, and fairytales. Places like public libraries were a foreign concept to the people here. Only the wealthy had private collections, that they guarded jealously. Heck a good chunk of the lower class were illiterate, myself included. Still, at the end of the day without being able to cast spells, I had no value to offer. No value meant no money.

“Noooo!” I cried, reaching out and grabbing Armeria with a hand and shook her like a shake weight. “Give it back. Give me back my ability to cast spells, you bargain bin Tinker Bell!”

“Rude! I am more of a Cortana.”

“Like I care! I want my spells, you bald Tweety Bird!”

“Stop shaking me you lunatic Potterhead!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense! Ouch!” I cried and spiked Armeria. My hand had been thoroughly chewed up.

Fangs bared, Armeria snarled at me. “Let me show you what I can do! Instruct me to summon a Klearan Mark IV Riot Drone.”

“A what? A Klearan Riot Drone?” I asked.

“No, say it after me. It’s Klearan Mark IV Riot Drone. You can do it.”

“Klearan Mark IV Riot Drone,” I grumbled.

With a snap of her fingers a drone as big as a basketball popped into existence. Its sleek metal body was covered in sturdy looking armor and a single red sensor at its center. Hanging below it was some sort of gun. It kind of reminded me of a squatting toad. A flying toad that someone dressed up in cosplay. It looked as cool as it did weird. That was until it shot something at me.

A yellow projectile slammed into me center mass, and was launched onto my back. My chest burned, as I gasped for breath. I guess I sort of deserved that.

“What was that?” I wheezed, struggling back onto my feet.

Armeria crossed her arms. “It’s the reason you are unable to cast spells. I am a soul linked arsenal. A creation that would allow the fragments of White’s soul to combat the magic users of the various worlds they were assigned to infiltrate.”

“How does it work?” I asked. Reaching out I touched the cold exterior of the drone. To my surprise, it released a buzz as it wobbled excitedly.

“I serve as a link between a pocket dimension filled with advanced magical weapons. All you need to do is instruct me which item to summon.”

Holy crap! That sounded over powered.

Maybe all this information was too much for me, because a rush of dizziness forced me to sit down. The room was spinning and I could feel bike building up in the back of my throat.

“Oops,” Armeria gasped and snapped her fingers again, making the drone disappear.

I instantly felt a difference. I was still weak in the knees, but I no longer needed to empty my bowels.

“It’s called mana sickness,” Armeria answered preemptively. “While you are unable to cast spells, the way you access the armory is via the same process. You use your soul to direct the mana into me which I use to access the pocket dimension. It also takes mana to power the weapons. It’s especially burdensome for someone with an incomplete soul.”

“But that drone was barely powered for a minute! It’s barely usable.” I complained. What was the use of having a cache of weapons that I am unable to use?

“Relax,” Armeria said. Rolling her eyes at my temper tantrum. “It’s tough for you now. Imagine the soul like a muscle. Currently you have just learned to use it. It is under developed and every time you use mana you are using this new muscle. Give it time, and you will be able to. Besides, most of the weapons have their own mana batteries. They just need to be recharged.”

“Great,” I raised my hands in the air.

“Wow, hold your horses. As you are now you would barely get it to ten percent.”

“Alright,” I nodded my head. “Is there a way to workout? You know, to speed up the process.”

Armeria chuckled and pointed at herself. “That’s easy.”

***

Bright muzzle flashes burst to life, lighting up the first floor of the abandoned warehouse. Bullet casings clattered to the ground as bottles shattered. All across the space, bottles were either hanging from the ceiling or hidden behind stacked boxes and crates.

An armored drone flew across the room, shooting at any bottle it came across. Its engine whirred as it weaved around the debris I had scrounged together in order to create this makeshift obstacle course. It mostly consisted of broken crates and wooden planks, but I was proud of it.

Several weeks had passed since my ability to use mana manifested, and I was living it up. Included in the armory was a section dedicated to emergency rations. I was still as thin as a twig, but at least I wouldn’t get blown over by a gust of wind.

As the last bottle was shot to pieces, my drone zoomed over and did several circles around me. It beeped and buzzed energetically. Unable to resist, I reached out and petted the little guy.

“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? You are! Yes you are!” I said with a mushy face.

“Disgusting,” Armeria gagged.

“You are just jealous of the bond we have!” I countered and scratched the drone’s chin. Well, what I assumed was its chin.

“Yes, I am just dying to be treated like a dog,” Armeria grunted. “Still, I’m impressed at how quick you have improved.”

Throwing a thumbs up, I grinned from ear to ear. “I would hope! I’ve been practicing nonstop.”

And it was true. The first few days were difficult, but eventually I learned to time the capacity of the drone’s mana battery and my ability to recharge it. By doing this, I could almost guarantee to never hit the point of contracting mana sickness. Now the only burden on me when it came to mana was to refill the magazines for the drone’s machine gun and the mana needed to directly control it.

“Careful though, keep this up and you might get assigned a mission.”

Armenia’s words hit hard at a looming problem. I wanted strength, to not be a starving homeless dude. On the other hand, my trust towards Mr. White was nonexistent. I’d rather hug a viper.

“Are you really unable to warn me?” I asked.

Armeria let out an exasperated sigh. “Like I told you before, I have no access to the mission files. They are locked until your soul is able to withstand utilizing a certain amount of mana. I am also unable to determine the threshold of when you will be eligible to be assigned your first mission.”

“That’s frustrating,” I grumbled.

“No point worrying about it,” Armeria shrugged.

Perhaps he had purposefully designed it so his fragments would have a hard time dodging their responsibilities. Regardless, it also illuminated how dangerous this new world can be.

I have been living my entire life in Foso; while difficult, a normal human could still survive. However, I was capable of summoning a drone with the fire power above the average handgun. If I had to estimate, it would be around the stopping power of a deagle.

Meaning there were a plethora of threats out there. The whole dark age vibe Foso had given off had warped my frame of mind. Just because they had no sense of hygiene and plumbing was a pipe dream, it didn’t mean I only had to worry about knights with swords. Some random dude in a bathrobe and pointy hat could probably melt my face off with magic. That thought was both comforting and mildly concerning.

“I think it’s time I made myself known.” I said and made for the door.

Armeria twirled in the air beside me, before landing on my shoulder. “Great! Where are we headed?”

My foot paused midstride. “Uh, um, to the mayor? Don’t look at me like that! Alright, I admit some of the finer details of my plan needs to be ironed out.”

“The extent of your plan had a grand total of two steps. The first was to become mana blessed, and the second was to hug the legs of some faction to live it up. Hardly a concrete or admirable plan.”

“Hey! I only need to do this, because besides weapons, all you have are some emergency rations. All that space, and not a single bar of gold.”

“Technically this is your fault,” Armeria huffed.

“That was past me, a completely different person.” I countered and walked outside. The overhanging clouds were fat and dark gray. Smells of oncoming rainfall wafted in the air.

“Yeah, screw past you.” Armeria pumped her fist in the air. “By the way, what are you calling yourself in this life?”

“Arlo is the name my mom called me. Said it belonged to one of her better paying customers.”

“Oh, are you really sticking with that name?”

“Why not? She may never have been in the running for mom of the year, but at least she didn’t toss me out with the bathwater. She raised me for eight years, and this name is the only thing I have to remember her by.” I scratched the back of my head.

“But it sounds like it belongs to some random street thug. You sure are different now.” Armeria sighed in resignation.

“What was I like before I lost my memories?” I asked.

“You used to be one of the top performing fragments. A man of few words, who basically lived to complete White’s grand work. You were practically a robot, and that’s coming from me.”

“By the way, why am I okay with having you summoned?” I asked.

She had been here since I became mana blessed. I was struggling to come up with a reason why she was an exception.

“It’s because I’m not a weapon of the armory. Well, this body is, but it’s built custom for me. There is no good way to explain it with your limited knowledge. The simplest explanation is that I’m a separate entity that has been attached to the soul fragment that is your soul. As long as your soul is able to interact with mana, I can siphon it automatically to power myself without burdening you.”

“So you're like a tick?”

“I’m no parasite. We have a symbiotic relationship. And no, I am unable to power the armory myself.”

“Wow you took the words right out of my mouth. It’s kind of scary how easy you read my thoughts.” I shivered.

“It’s because you’re so simple minded.”

“Gee thanks. We are about to hit a crowded street.”

Without further prompting, Armeria snapped her fingers and vanished.

[You’re just trying to get rid of me.]

Is there an option to mute you?

[Ha, ha. You are so funny. The answer is no.]

Why does it feel like you’re lying to me? How is there not an option to go radio silent?

[L-lying? Me? I would only ever act in your best self interest.]

No, you act in what you think is in my best interests. There is a difference.

Over the past two weeks, I had learned quite a bit about the weapons I had at my disposal and some of the tricks Armeria could perform. She could make her physical body return to the armory and have access to my sensory information. She could also communicate telepathically. I still was getting used to having a voice in my head. There was plenty that we each had to learn about each other, but at least we had a lukewarm relationship. For now.