With the first light of dawn, Sora rose from his bed. He had slept better that night than he had in a long time, exhausted by everything that happened the day before, yet now strangely, he felt refreshed, his body light. Grateful for that brief reprieve, he went through his morning routine: washed his face with cold water, had breakfast with his family, and after saying goodbye to his parents as they left for their daily work in the village, he returned to his room.

  There, the silence was broken only by the rustle of quills on paper and the metallic clicks of tools. Sora spent hours reviewing sketches, formulas, and diagrams at his desk. Aurelia’s light filtered through the window, casting golden reflections over the manaquartz crystals piled near his inkwell.

  By the afternoon, after lunch, the sound of light footsteps in the garden announced Nanami’s arrival. As always, the two of them walked with Teacher Seralya toward the clearing by the river, the same place where they trained every day.

  However, this time Nanami kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye, worry flickering beneath her attempt at a casual expression.

  “I’m fine, Nanami,” Sora said, noticing her unease and offering a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about yesterday, we’re already working on it.”

  “I know, dummy,” she replied, looking away as if trying to seem unconcerned.

  Seralya, walking a few steps behind, intervened with a calm tone:

  “Don’t you think you should tell Nanami what we discussed yesterday, Sora?”

  He nodded, and as they walked along the leaf-covered path, he explained the essentials of the conversation to his friend. Nanami listened quietly, her lips pressed together; it was clear the news distressed her, but Sora reassured her with that serene, confident smile that always managed to soothe her.

  Once in the clearing, the river breeze brushed the branches, and the shimmering reflection of the water danced over the stones. They began, as usual, with magical meditation exercises. Seralya walked silently between them, observing the flow of mana in their bodies.

  During the meditation, Sora spoke up:

  “So, Teacher… how are we going to deal with the manastasis?”

  “As I told you, we don’t possess the proper means to treat it,” Seralya replied calmly. “So we will improvise. For now, your magic practice should help consume part of that excess energy.”

  “Alright…” Sora said, closing his eyes again.

  In front of him, the air trembled.

  The mana orb forming between his hands grew until it reached the size of a watermelon, its surface rippling and dense, as if it were breathing. Over the past two years his progress had been astonishing: it was no longer just about increasing the size of the orb, but refining it, giving it shape, texture, even life.

  Sometimes he molded luminous figures out of it: spirals, symbols, small animals made of pure energy. Seralya watched him with a mixture of pride and exasperation.

  “Sora… focus,” she warned in a motherly tone.

  “Yes, yes, Teacher…” he replied with a mischievous smile.

  Nanami, meanwhile, couldn’t take her eyes off the display. Even knowing the teacher would scold him, she couldn’t help being enchanted every time Sora shaped mana like living clay between his hands.

  Meditation ended when the river’s murmur blended with their determined voices.

  It was time for practice. Seralya, standing on the other side of the clearing, raised a hand to call their attention.

  “Today will be a duel like the old ones, but without limitations,” she announced with a subtle smile. “I want both of you to give it your best.”

  Nanami nodded with excitement, while Sora—after a brief moment of hesitation—tightened his fists.

  He felt the pressure of the manastasis pulsing in his chest, a constant ember, but he refused to let it stop him.

  The air soon filled with flashes of light.

  The teacher summoned a wall of wind that bent the grass around her, and Sora, not holding back, responded with a blazing burst of fire that illuminated the clearing. Nanami coordinated her water magic to counter and reshape Sora’s attacks, turning them into scorching vapor.

  For the first few minutes, the duel was balanced.

  The teacher smiled, impressed by the synchronicity between the two students; however, little by little, she began to sense a shift in the flow of energy.

  Sora was releasing more power than he should.

  Much more.

  The heat in his chest had turned into liquid fire coursing through his veins. His breathing grew faster, and even so, he kept channeling magic with an almost desperate determination. Mana surged around him, warping the air as if the entire clearing were burning in invisible waves.

  “Sora, stop for a moment, you’re pushing too” Seralya tried to say.

  But she didn’t finish the sentence.

  A burst of energy exploded at once: a whirlwind of fire and wind shot across the field and struck the teacher’s barrier directly, shattering it into fragments of light.

  The impact threw her several meters back, landing hard on the grass.

  “Teacher!” Sora and Nanami shouted in unison, rushing toward her.

  Seralya pushed herself up, a bit dazed but unhurt. A lock of her white hair fell over her face, slightly singed by the blast. Upon seeing Sora’s horrified expression, she smiled calmly.

  “I’m fine,” she assured, raising a hand. “It wasn’t anything serious.”

  Sora, however, was breathing heavily.

  The burning that had been consuming him moments earlier had almost completely vanished.

  The unbearable pressure in his chest had faded, leaving behind a lightness he hadn’t felt in weeks.

  His eyes widened as he understood what that meant.

  “Teacher…” he said suddenly, a mix of surprise and hope in his voice. “Wouldn’t it be enough to release a large amount of power all at once, enough to consume all my mana? That would relieve the symptoms for a while, right?”

  Seralya, still steadying herself, brought a hand to her chin.

  “In fact, that’s exactly what I was considering. But there’s a problem, Sora,” she said in a serious tone. “What elemental form are you planning to release it in? The amount of mana you’re exceeding is enormous.”

  She crossed her arms, thoughtful, as the wind rustled the leaves around them.

  “Yesterday, when you fainted, I had to release part of your energy using a water spell to stabilize you. The amount was so great it created a massive current toward the river. If you do that on your own, with the mana volume you possess… you could cause a disaster downstream.”

  Sora’s expression darkened at her words.

  The image of the village homes washed away by a sudden torrent flashed across his mind. He clenched his fist and lowered his gaze with frustration.

  “So it isn’t that simple…” he murmured. “If I release that power without control, I could hurt someone.”

  Seralya watched him quietly, noticing the mix of fear and stubborn resolve in his voice.

  She knew Sora would not stop until he found a solution, even if that search pushed him, once again, to the edges of the unknown.

  Sora remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the river nearby.

  The sound of the flowing water seemed to help him sort his thoughts.

  Finally, he lifted his gaze toward his teacher and spoke in a thoughtful tone:

  “What if… I let the energy flow upward in a state of pure mana? Not as an element, but as unshaped mana just like we do during meditation when forming orbs. If the energy disperses in its simplest state, the impact would be smaller, right? And since it takes more effort to materialize mana, maybe it wouldn’t stand out as much. What do you think, Teacher?”

  Seralya regarded him in silence for a few seconds, genuinely surprised by the logic in his reasoning.

  Then she folded her arms, looking down as she evaluated each point carefully.

  “In fact… that could work,” Seralya finally replied, a slight note of astonishment in her voice. “It would be impossible using conventional methods, but in your case, since you already have such familiarity with direct mana manipulation—it might be feasible. Even so, the energy you release would still be visible… unless…”

  Sora tilted his head, catching that hesitation.

  “Unless what, Teacher?”

  Seralya lifted her gaze with new resolve.

  “We could do it if I prepare the area beforehand,” she explained, forming a small magic circle with her fingers to illustrate her idea. “I can deploy an optical distortion spell. It would essentially cover the area with a stable illusion that projects a false image of the surroundings, hiding whatever happens inside. From the outside, no one would see anything unusual.”

  Sora’s eyes widened in amazement.

  “You can really do something like that? That’s incredible!”

  A satisfied smile curved Seralya’s lips.

  “I can, yes. But it would consume an enormous amount of magical energy. And maintaining the distortion field for that long would require constant support. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve used such a spell, but I couldn’t hold it alone through your whole release.”

  Nanami, who had been listening in silence with a concentrated frown, took a step forward.

  “Then I can help you, Teacher,” she said with conviction. “Thanks to your lessons, I’ve learned how to stabilize energy. I could assist you with the flow of the spell if you guide me.”

  Seralya looked at her with tenderness and gently ruffled her hair, smiling.

  “I have no doubt you could, Nanami. Your control has improved greatly. But even with your help, we would still need at least one more mage to guarantee the field stays stable.”

  Sora watched them for a moment, thoughtful, until an idea crossed his mind.

  “There’s someone else in Rulid who could help us,” he said, his voice lifting with hopeful confidence. “What if we ask my mother? She’s a powerful mage, and I’m sure she wouldn’t hesitate to assist.”

  Seralya looked at him and for the first time in the entire discussion, her expression brightened.

  “You’re right… Tsukari is a talented mage. If she joins us, the three of us could maintain the spell long enough for you to release the mana safely into the air.”

  For a moment, a warm calm filled the clearing.

  The three of them looked at one another with determination, sharing a smile that blended relief, trust, and hope.

  It was the first time in days that the problem of manastasis felt like it truly had a solution.

  Once their brief moment of enthusiasm faded, Seralya drew a deep breath and returned to her calm, practical tone.

  “Then we’ll proceed that way,” she said. “But we’ll need a few days of preparation. We can’t afford to release all that energy at once it would be far too risky. The safest method is to do it in several sessions, so a single massive discharge doesn’t destabilize the barrier.”

  Sora and Nanami nodded in unison, hanging onto every word.

  “Furthermore,” Seralya continued, glancing toward the forest stretching behind the clearing, “you’ll both have to help me with the preparation. It will be demanding work. We must carve containment runes into the trees surrounding the area, and it won’t be enough to simply engrave them; we’ll have to activate them and then conceal them with a camouflage seal so no wandering eyes stumble upon them.”

  The meticulous, almost mysterious tone in her voice immediately sparked Sora’s enthusiasm.

  Runes had always fascinated him, but until now he had only learned the basic ones, reinforcement inscriptions, energy storage, simple enchantments. This, however, was an opportunity to learn about high-level runes, the kind capable of altering even the magical perception of the environment.

  “Understood, Teacher,” he replied with a smile he couldn’t hide. “I’ll help with everything you need!”

  Nanami nodded as well, fists clenched with determination.

  “Me too. I’ll do everything I can to help!”

  Seralya looked at both of them with an expression that mixed pride with a faint layer of worry. She knew they were stepping into delicate territory, but seeing them so resolute reassured her.

  “Very well,” she said at last, with a gentle smile. “We begin tomorrow at dawn.”

  The following days passed in a rhythm of work, fatigue, and rising expectation.

  Each morning, when mist still blanketed the grasslands around Rulid, Sora, Nanami, and Seralya ventured into the forest with tools and manaquartz crystals in hand. The task was far more complex than Sora had imagined. He had thought it would take only a couple of days, but the perimeter Seralya chose was wide, much wider than any ordinary training would justify. It was clear she was taking every possible precaution.

  The mornings filled with the sound of chisels carving symbols into bark.

  The metallic echo of the tools blended with birdsong and the creaking wind weaving through the leaves.

  With each stroke, the runes took shape: thin lines, precise curves, and small connection circles that, once activated, radiated a faint bluish-violet glow.

  Sora watched in fascination every time the teacher activated a group of runes.

  The patterns glowed like veins of living light spreading across the trees, only to disappear instantly when Seralya pronounced the concealment spell.

  “Like this, no one will see them,” she explained. “Neither the curious… nor the unwanted.”

  Nanami helped with full dedication, cleaning the bark and tracing lines under her teacher’s supervision. At her side, Sora couldn’t shake a strange mix of pride and anxiety. On one hand, learning about such complex runes was thrilling; on the other, he knew all of this was necessary because something inside him was out of control.

  The afternoons were reserved for magical practice. Despite the exhaustion from the morning’s work, Seralya insisted on maintaining the lessons to strengthen their control and concentration. And each night, when they returned home, fatigue mingled with a shared silence: the kind carried by those who know they’re preparing for something uncertain.

  A couple of days later, during one of their secret meetings, the three of them explained the plan to Tsukari. It happened in the hidden room behind the study, where the walls still held the scent of ink and parchment.

  She listened attentively, without interrupting. When Sora finished speaking, his mother simply nodded.

  “If this can help you, my son, there is nothing to think about,” she said quietly. “Count on me.”

  From that moment on, Tsukari joined them whenever she could, helping reinforce the anchoring circles and checking the stability of the most complex runes. More than once they had to hide quickly after hearing distant footsteps or voices. One morning they even crossed paths with a pair of woodcutters cutting trees nearby, so they pretended to be gathering herbs. Luckily, no one suspected a thing.

  And so, after a full week of meticulous and exhausting work, the perimeter was ready.

  The oldest trees in the clearing now held invisible runes beneath their bark, and there was a strange vibration hanging in the air as if the forest itself were waiting for something.

  That day, at dusk, as the last rays of Aurelia dyed the sky in golden hues, Seralya lowered her gaze to Sora and said calmly:

  “Everything is ready. Tomorrow, when the sun reaches its highest point, we begin.”

  Sora’s heart skipped a beat.

  He knew this experiment could change everything.

  The first day of the mana-release sessions finally dawned.

  The air felt different from early morning. Even though it was still Aurelia, the sunlight was muted by a gray veil covering the sky, and a damp breeze swept over the fields of Rulid. It wasn’t the bright day they had hoped for, but none of them would let that stop them.

  Sora spent the morning following his usual routine: reviewing a couple of diagrams at his desk, having breakfast with his family, and trying to maintain a sense of normality he didn’t truly feel.

  His mind, however, never stopped circling what they would attempt that afternoon.

  “Release the mana… nothing complicated, right?” he told himself, trying to sound convinced. But deep down he knew this was something no one had ever attempted.

  By the afternoon, with Nanami’s arrival, the group gathered in front of the Eryndel home. The sky was still overcast, and the air smelled of damp earth, a clear sign that rain might fall.

  This time, however, they were not just three. Two more figures accompanied them: Tsukari and Aeris.

  Tsukari had decided to take part in the ritual personally—both out of responsibility and because she simply couldn’t sit still knowing her son would be involved in something so delicate. And on top of that, she had insisted on bringing Aeris along.

  “We’ll need someone trustworthy watching the perimeter,” she explained calmly. “If anyone approaches by accident, Aeris can stop them before they cross the runes.”

  The idea was accepted, though Seralya showed some reluctance at first. Allowing someone outside the magical training to come anywhere near was no small matter, but in the end she relented, trusting Tsukari’s judgement.

  Before they left, Seralya stepped toward Aeris and handed her a small necklace with a white stone set at its center. The crystal’s surface looked as though a faint mist swirled inside.

  “This is a linking artifact,” the teacher explained as she fastened it around Aeris’s neck. “If anything happens, you’ll be able to communicate with us from a distance. All you need is to focus on the crystal.”

  Watching the gesture, Sora couldn’t help smiling.

  “So basically… a walkie-talkie, huh?” he joked.

  Seralya arched an eyebrow and replied, in a conspiratorial tone:

  “Yes… except this one doesn’t use batteries.”

  For a moment, teacher and student shared a light laugh that eased some of the tension.

  It was a tiny detail, but that small exchange, a joke bridging two different worlds reminded them they could still laugh even in the face of the unknown.

  With everything ready, they began walking toward the forest.

  The path was quiet, broken only by the crunch of dry leaves beneath their steps and the distant murmur of insects. As they neared the perimeter of runes, the air grew denser, charged with that almost imperceptible vibration only mages could sense.

  Aeris stopped just before crossing the boundary, watching the others continue.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, touching the collar lightly. “If someone gets close, I’ll make sure they don’t reach this place.”

  Seralya nodded, and Tsukari placed a thankful hand on her shoulder.

  The group stepped into the circle of runes, and the atmosphere changed at once: the air seemed to hum, as if the entire forest were holding its breath.

  Sora looked up for a moment, gazing at the gray sky framed between the treetops, and thought quietly:

  “Alright… this is where it really begins.”

  They finally reached the clearing where they always trained.

  The forest usually alive with rustling leaves, birdsong, and the distant whisper of the river was strangely silent. No birds, no insects, no wind. Everything seemed to be holding its breath, as if nature itself understood what was about to happen.

  Without rushing, Seralya stepped forward and pointed to the exact spot where Sora needed to stand, on the ground, right beneath his feet, she had drawn a magic circle, mostly covered by a thin layer of leaves and dust. Runes carved into the soil formed an intricate pattern that, despite being hidden, revealed a faint bluish glow whenever the daylight brushed over them.

  “Stand right there,” she said softly but firmly. “That is the central point of the flow.”

  Sora obeyed, he felt the faint tingling of mana vibrating beneath the soles of his boots, as if the earth itself were breathing.

  Seralya then pointed precisely to two positions around the circle.

  “Tsukari, Nanami… the two of you will stand there.”

  Her hands traced invisible lines in the air, linking the three spots and forming a perfect triangle.

  “This way, we can distribute the energy and keep the barrier’s flow stable.”

  Both nodded without hesitation, Tsukari closed her eyes for a few seconds, drawing a deep breath, while Nanami pressed her hands together against her chest, trying to calm her nerves and focus.

  Seralya watched the three of them. Her expression was serene, yet in her eyes there was a clear shadow of tension.

  “Are we ready?” she asked in a solemn tone.

  After the two women nodded, she added:

  “Begin reciting the spell I taught you.”

  The three began chanting in perfect synchrony, the ancient words resonated through the clearing with a deep, harmonious tone more like a prayer than a spell, the echo of their voices spread among the trees, reverberating with a hypnotic rhythm.

  Sora, standing in the center of the triangle, watched in awe. It was the first time he had seen a spell of this magnitude performed by only three people. The magical energy in the air grew denser, tangible, almost visible. A faint tingling ran up his arms, followed by an involuntary shiver.

  Suddenly, the chant stopped.

  The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the low hum of mana.

  Then, from the ground right at the center where Sora stood, an expanding wave of air burst outward. It was barely visible, a subtle tremor that stirred the dry leaves and lifted dust around him.

  The wave spread in every direction, rushing like a living breeze through the trees.

  As it passed, the runes carved days earlier began to glow faintly in sequence, one after another, as though the entire forest were awakening in response.

  Aeris, watching from afar, saw the glow ripple between the trunks, the bluish light briefly bathed her face, and the collar resting on her chest vibrated softly.

  “They’ve begun…” she thought to herself, a blend of respect and fear welling in her chest as she tightened her grip around the small crystal of the necklace.

  With the optical-distortion barrier fully raised, the air inside the perimeter changed texture it was dense, heavy, charged with invisible electricity. The landscape looked the same, but something about the light had become unreal, as if the forest were wrapped in a thin veil separating it from the rest of the world.

  Seralya, her hair lightly lifted by the magical currents, turned toward Sora.

  “Alright, Sora,” she said, firm yet gentle. “You may begin whenever you’re ready. Remember: no excess energy. We’ll do this step by step, over several sessions.”

  Sora nodded with determination.

  “Alright, Teacher. I’ll start now.”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  The world around him faded for a moment as he focused his mind on that familiar sensation, the warm vibration of mana flowing through his body.

  He raised his right hand toward the sky and slowly began gathering his energy.

  Under everyone’s watch, an orb formed above his palm, it glowed with an intense violet hue, expanding little by little until it grew larger than usual.

  Its surface pulsed rhythmically an alive, almost as if it were breathing.

  The ground trembled faintly beneath his feet, the nearby grass stirred without wind, moved solely by the pressure of the magic.

  When the orb reached the size Sora deemed enough, he opened his eyes and whispered to himself:

  “Here we go.”

  He let the energy flow.

  A column of pure light burst from the orb and shot violently into the sky, ripping through the air with a deep, resonant sound like a muffled roar, for a few seconds, the entire clearing glowed with a white-violet radiance that made even the three mages maintaining the barrier squint.

  Sora felt the flow surge through his entire body: the burning pressure in his chest eased, replaced by a lightness so intense it bordered on euphoria.

  “This… this feels good.”

  In the distance, Seralya kept her hands extended, reinforcing the energy circle around them. Her voice, calm yet strained, reached for the collar to communicate with Aeris.

  “Aeris, can anything be seen in the sky from your position? Do you notice any disturbance in the area?”

  From the other side, the young woman’s voice responded clearly, only slightly distorted by the artifact:

  “No, nothing visible, Lady Seralya. Everything looks normal from here. It seems the barrier is working as expected.”

  Seralya exhaled softly, keeping her concentration unbroken.

  “Good. Inform us of any change, even the slightest.”

  “Understood,” Aeris replied firmly.

  The link fell silent.

  The forest returned to quiet… except for the constant hum of mana rising like an invisible flame.

  For now, everything seemed to be going well.

  While maintaining the optical-distortion barrier, Seralya couldn’t help feeling impressed. The amount of magical energy Sora was releasing was overwhelming even for someone of her experience.

  The air within the perimeter vibrated with an almost physical intensity; the grass leaned toward him as if bowing, and the runes carved into the trees flickered with intermittent light.

  Nanami and Tsukari, standing at their points of the triangle, were equally astonished. Every now and then they glanced toward the center, marveling at the torrent of light ascending into the sky. Even so, both forced themselves to stay focused; a mistake in the flow could shatter the barrier.

  The constant hum of mana filled the clearing, blending with a deep rumble that made the ground tremble beneath their feet.

  Nearly five minutes passed before Seralya raised her voice above the sound.

  “Sora, are you alright?” she asked, without lowering her hands from the luminous perimeter. “Do you think you can maintain this for another ten or fifteen minutes?”

  The boy, his face lit by the towering column of energy, answered with calmness and a faint smile:

  “I’m fine, Teacher. I can hold it like this for that long without a problem.”

  Sora lowered his gaze for just a second, watching as his own arms seemed wrapped in a thin veil of light, as if his skin were breathing pure mana.

  He then raised his voice, returning the question:

  “And you? Are you all holding up with the barrier?”

  This time Nanami answered, her tone firm and spirited:

  “Of course we’re fine, Sora! We’re powerful too!”

  Tsukari couldn’t help a small smile at hearing her.

  There was something contagious about the girl’s confidence; it was clear how hard she had worked to stand at their level.

  Seralya let out a quiet sigh of relief before speaking again, never loosening her focus on the spell.

  “Alright then. Keep it steady and don’t push yourselves, understood? Just fifteen more minutes.”

  Sora nodded silently. There was no need to say anything else.

  The mana’s glow continued rising with unchanging force, bathing the clearing in a radiance that made the sky itself look like a rippling mirror of light.

  Fourteen minutes had passed since the release began.

  During the first few moments, Sora had felt a soothing calm, a sense of relief spreading through every corner of his body…

  but suddenly, something changed.

  The warmth in his chest, which had been a gentle murmur, began burning like a living flame.

  His breathing grew heavy.

  He tried to speak, to warn them, to ask for help… but no sound came out of his throat, not a single syllable.

  Only a strangled gasp swallowed by the roar of mana.

  The beam of energy continued surging upward from his right hand, unchanged yet its pulse had become erratic, brighter, denser, almost liquid.

  With his left hand trembling, Sora made the gesture to open the Soul Panel.

  The air around him vibrated like a drum.

  There it was, floating before his eyes: the warning he had grown used to seeing in recent months, but this time… it wasn’t orange.

  It was red.

  Red and flashing, beating at a frantic pace, as if the system itself were screaming at him.

  Fear cut through him like a blade.

  “No… no, that can’t be…”

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  He tried to stop the flow, but his body wouldn’t obey, then a new detail froze him completely.

  Where he had always seen question marks beside his mana bar, that mystery that prevented him from knowing his total capacity, there were now numbers.

  A nine-digit number, falling at a terrifying speed.

  But the color of the mana bar didn’t change.

  It didn’t shrink.

  It kept burning with the same intensity—

  even stronger.

  “No…” he tried to say, but only a thin breath escaped his lips.

  The flow of energy broke loose.

  The beam shooting from his hand widened, roaring with a thunderous sound that made the trees tremble, the runes carved into the trunks began to flicker erratically, unable to handle the overload.

  Sora’s whole body shook, his teeth clenched, fear pounding in his chest alongside that unbearable fire.

  He understood nothing.

  He couldn’t stop it.

  And worst of all, he couldn’t even scream.

  The force of the energy release climbed exponentially.

  The air inside the perimeter grew so dense that every breath hurt, mana light flooded the forest like an artificial dawn, distorting colors, making the leaves on the trees vibrate.

  Seralya, with sweat running down her forehead, sensed the shift immediately.

  The flow of energy was no longer stable.

  “Sora…” she said with effort, her voice trembling as she kept both hands raised. “Are you alright? Don’t… don’t increase the energy! You’re going to destabilize the barrier…!”

  The magical wind roared around them like an invisible storm, the runes carved into the trees flickered in a dangerous, uneven rhythm, some even beginning to crack.

  Tsukari and Nanami were struggling as well. Their faces had turned pale, their arms shaking from exhaustion, they didn’t even dare to look toward Sora anymore; they knew that a single second of distraction could bring the entire barrier crashing down.

  But Sora…

  Sora wanted to answer them.

  He wanted to say it wasn’t him increasing the energy, that he had completely lost control.

  But no words came.

  His throat was dry, the air burned as it entered, and the pressure in his chest was unbearable.

  “Stop… stop…”

  The orb of light above his hand warped, its edge shuddering violently.

  A deep humming, like the roar of some massive creature, resonated through the entire forest.

  Sora gathered what little strength he still had and, with a desperate burst, managed to shout:

  “Mas… ter—!”

  That sound was enough.

  It was the signal Seralya had been dreading.

  She whipped her head toward him, her eyes reflecting pure horror.

  The dilemma froze her.

  She knew that if she abandoned her position in the triangle, the barrier would collapse, Tsukari and Nanami wouldn’t be able to hold the flow.

  But if she didn’t go to him… Sora could die right there.

  Seralya trembled in frustration.

  She clenched her teeth and tried to reinforce the barrier, but the mana bursting from the boy already exceeded any calculation.

  The ground beneath Sora’s feet began to crack.

  The grass burned away, turning to dust under the sheer intensity of the energy.

  And he, in the center of all that chaos, could barely stand.

  His body begged him to fall, but his will kept him upright.

  He knew exactly what would happen if he lowered his hand:

  the mass of energy would crash into the ground and tear apart everything inside the perimeter…

  and far beyond it.

  His lips trembled.

  Fear and pain blended into a single desperate certainty:

  “I can’t… let go.”

  And even though his body had already surpassed any imaginable limit…

  Sora did not fall.

  More than twenty minutes had passed, and the energy still kept rising.

  The air quivered as if the entire forest were holding its breath.

  Suddenly, the communication collar on Seralya’s neck flashed—

  Aeris’s voice burst through, trembling with disbelief:

  “L-Lady Seralya, wh-what is that!?”

  The master’s worst fear was confirmed.

  “…The barrier is no longer working,” she whispered, her tone completely alarmed as she slowly lowered her arms.

  Tsukari and Nanami collapsed to their knees for a moment, exhausted, when they finally turned toward the center of the clearing, they saw Sora still standing, his right hand raised high.

  The beam of energy continued to soar into the sky, tearing through the air with a piercing hum the right side of his shirt had been shredded to ribbons, and along his arm glowing lines had appeared, violet at first, shifting toward a deep, furious red, light illuminated his face, revealing the strain in his muscles and the inhuman effort he was making to keep control.

  Tsukari took a step forward, tears in her eyes.

  But Seralya blocked her with an arm.

  “Don’t!” she shouted, voice sharp. “If you get close, that energy will disintegrate you!”

  “I can’t let my son keep going! The one who’s going to disintegrate is him!”

  “We can’t just rush in!” Seralya said quickly, struggling for breath. “Help Nanami, she’s not well. Give her this.”

  She handed her a vial filled with a deep blue liquid, almost like a fragment of the night sky turned to water.

  “I’ll take care of Sora,” she added, her voice trembling but resolute.

  With a swift gesture, she conjured a personal barrier, dense and translucent surrounding her with a low, thrumming hum, the pressure of the mana pushed against her, kicking up dust and making the leaves crunch under her boots.

  Every step she took toward Sora was a battle; the air grew thick, electric, almost solid.

  But she did not back down.

  Seralya’s gaze stayed locked on her student, still holding on with clenched teeth, his arm trembling, the glowing lines on his skin burning like embers.

  Nothing could stop her now.

  She stepped closer and leaned in, the air still charged with wild energy whipping her hair and cloak. She placed a hand on Sora’s shoulder, the heat radiating from him was scorching, as if his entire body were burning from the inside out.

  She didn’t know how to stop this…

  All they could do was hold on until he had spent every last drop of mana.

  With a soft, almost breaking voice, she whispered in his ear:

  “I can’t stop you… but I’m going to help you release the energy faster.”

  She lifted her right hand without removing the other from Sora’s shoulder, a magic circle formed over both her palms bright, dense, vibrating with a sharp tone that echoed across the clearing. Energy surged from her body, merging with the torrent Sora was unleashing.

  The air shuddered, leaves whirled violently around them.

  For several minutes, the combined flow of both unleashed a gale of blinding white light that looked as if it could tear the sky apart.

  Seralya felt her body reaching its limit—the mana burned, pushing against every boundary she had but she did not release Sora. Not for a second and then, suddenly, the torrent began to weaken.

  The column of light shrank, folding inward until it vanished in a burst of warm wind and glittering ash that drifted between the trees.

  Sora remained frozen, staring blankly at the gray sky, his hand still raised and steaming his violet marks along his arm had blackened, the texture raw fresh burns.

  Then his body gave out.

  He collapsed forward, unconscious.

  Seralya caught him before he hit the ground.

  “Sora!” she cried, her voice barely more than a thread. She instantly conjured a healing circle that wrapped the boy in an emerald glow. The minor wounds on his neck closed, but the ones on his arm refused to heal; the burns were far too deep.

  Nanami, now steady, stood nearby in silence, her face streaked with tears.

  Tsukari, desperate, rushed toward them, her voice trembling—almost a scream:

  “Is he alright!? Is my son alright!?”

  Seralya answered her with a firm voice, though the trembling of her hands betrayed her:

  “He’s stable… he’s breathing, but he’s suffering a mental collapse. You know exactly what that means, Tsukari. It happens when someone drains all their magic. We need to take him home so he can rest and we need to leave this place now, before anyone comes!”

  Without wasting a second, Seralya hoisted Sora onto her shoulders, feeling the light weight of his limp body and the residual heat still radiating from him. Tsukari assisted her, carefully supporting the boy’s arm while Nanami hurriedly gathered the tools scattered on the ground.

  The forest was utterly silent; even the insects didn’t dare make a sound, only the ragged breaths of the three women accompanied their hurried steps as they left the clearing behind.

  Seralya grabbed the communication amulet and spoke between strained breaths:

  “Aeris, we’re pulling back. We’re coming to you.”

  On the other end, the young woman’s voice trembled, still shaken by what she had witnessed.

  “U–understood, Lady Seralya. I’ll be waiting…”

  A few minutes later, they met her on the path.

  Aeris paled at the sight of Sora unconscious, his body marked and burned but she didn’t say a word. She simply nodded and moved to the front, guiding them toward the Eryndel mansion at a quick pace.

  When they approached the main gate, Seralya stopped abruptly.

  Two city guards were talking with the butler at the entrance, if they showed up like this, with Sora unconscious and his polymorph not active, the truth would slip out. His real appearance would be exposed.

  Nanami, still breathing heavily, whispered:

  “Let’s go through the secret door in the back garden.”

  Seralya and Tsukari looked at her, perplexed.

  “Secret door?” they asked in unison.

  The girl gave a faint smile, one with that mischievous air that echoed their childhood adventures.

  “Just follow me.”

  Aeris understood immediately what she meant, that hidden passage, a small gap disguised among the thorns of the back wall was the same escape route Sora and Nanami had used as children to sneak out toward the White Crest Tree.

  When they found it, Aeris couldn’t help the faint, ironic smile on her lips.

  “Of course… how could I forget,” she muttered, helping Seralya through with the boy.

  Once inside the grounds, Tsukari paused to compose herself fixing her hair, wiping the sweat from her face before speaking in a firm, resolute tone:

  “Go inside and act normally. Seralya, hide yourself and treat Sora in the secret room. I’ll go out and see what the guards want.”

  The three nodded without protest.

  Seralya tightened her hold on the boy against her chest and headed into the house, accompanied by Nanami and Aeris, while Tsukari walked toward the main entrance, her serene posture barely masking the storm of fear churning inside her.

  Seralya and Nanami descended the hidden staircase behind the bookshelf in the study on the first floor. The air below was colder, denser, carrying the faint scent of damp stone and old ink. The manaquartz lamp embedded in the wall cast a pale blue glow across the secret room—a spacious, silent chamber lined with books and arcane tools.

  The teacher hurried to spread a quilt over a rug in one of the corners and gently laid Sora down. He was still unconscious. His breathing came unevenly, and every so often a faint violet shimmer pulsed along his right arm, an echo of the energy he had unleashed.

  “Will Sora be okay…?” Nanami asked, her voice trembling as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Seralya looked at her with calm reassurance, though her own heart pounded violently.

  “He will. He’ll be fine,” she said, her tone more promise than certainty. “I’ll take care of him.”

  She approached the girl and added, her voice firm but gentle:

  “Nanami, you should go wait for your mother in the sitting room. After that spectacle in the forest, she’ll surely come looking for you.”

  “But, teacher!” Nanami protested, clenching her fists. “I don’t want to leave Sora!”

  Seralya studied her for a moment, and then, in a tone sharper and more serious, replied:

  “Go wait for your mother, Nanami. Sora will be fine. I will look after him.”

  The strictness in her voice was enough. Surprised by the sudden change, Nanami nodded with tear-filled eyes. Seralya then leaned in, brushing away the girl’s tears with her fingertips, and continued softly:

  “I mean it, Nanami. Sora will be all right… but you must not tell anyone what happened. If they ask, say you spent the afternoon playing with him indoors because of the weather. And if your mother wonders why he didn’t come to say goodbye, tell her he wasn’t feeling well and went to rest in his room.”

  Nanami took a shaky breath, absorbing every word. Her small voice came out barely above a whisper:

  “Okay… teacher…”

  She turned slowly and made her way to the hidden stairs, casting one last glance at Sora before vanishing through the passageway. Seralya, meanwhile, knelt beside the boy, watching the faint violet glow that still traced the marks along his arm, and whispered to herself:

  “Hold on, Sora…”

  Now alone in the secret chamber with him, Seralya settled by his side. The silence was broken only by the soft hum of the manaquartz lamp. She placed both hands on the boy’s chest and began to chant diagnostic spells; translucent blue circles unfolded over his body, rotating gently.

  The results were clear. Sora was stable but he had drained every last drop of his magical energy, that was why he remained unconscious.

  What worried Seralya the most was his right arm: it was severely damaged, burns spread from his wrist all the way up to his shoulder, still releasing a faint purple glow.

  The teacher remained silent for a few seconds, studying the shimmering scars that continued pulsing with a residual magical echo. She knew exactly what they were.

  The magical circuits in his arm had collapsed under an absurd amount of energy.

  “This is going to be quite the mess to fix, Sora…” she murmured, her voice carrying both fatigue and affection.

  She placed her hands over the boy’s arm and began to weave a long-range healing spell. The air of the chamber grew heavy with the scent of ozone and heated manaquartz. The light of the healing circle expanded, bathing the damaged skin in hues of gold and emerald. Slowly almost reluctantly, the invisible pain of magical collapse began to fade, though the deepest injuries refused to close.

  Hours passed. The bluish flame of the lamp flickered weakly when footsteps finally echoed down the hidden stairs.

  It was Tsukari, accompanied this time by Alvaron. Their faces showed worry, but also a controlled calm.

  Seeing them approach, Seralya paused the spell and turned toward them, wiping the sweat from her brow.

  Sora now rested on the quilt, his arm completely bandaged and his face pale but he was breathing steadily.

  Tsukari knelt by his side, gently brushing a hand through his hair.

  Seralya settled in front of them and spoke softly, almost as if afraid to disturb the boy’s sleep:

  “He’s out of danger now… but we need to talk about what happened.”

  The three of them took seats around the small circular table in the underground room. The dim light of the hanging manaquartz lamp illuminated their tired faces, casting long shadows across the stone walls.

  Alvaron, his brow deeply furrowed and his voice low yet tense, was the first to break the silence:

  “What happened out there? What was that uproar in the forest? And why is Sora unconscious? Did something attack you?”

  Tsukari lowered her gaze for a moment before answering, as if choosing her words with great care.

  “We were helping Sora treat his manastasis…” she said at last, her tone calm but weighed with sorrow. “We decided to release part of his magical energy, just like I told you a few days ago. We managed to raise the distortion barrier and everything was going well, but… it spiraled out of control. He ended up breaking the barrier. That was the light they saw from the village.”

  Alvaron’s eyes widened in disbelief, his voice trembling slightly as he asked:

  “So… that light… was Sora?”

  Seralya nodded slowly, intertwining her fingers atop the table.

  “Indeed, it was Sora. We knew his mana excess was putting his life at risk, and that’s why we tried to help him. But I never imagined the amount of energy would be so overwhelming. The plan was for him to release it gradually, until his body grew used to the process… however, everything overflowed.”

  Silence settled over them for several seconds. Only the soft crackling of the mana lamp and their restrained breaths filled the room. Alvaron stared toward the corner where his son rested, a mixture of awe, fear, and quiet pride in his eyes.

  “And Sora… will he recover?” Tsukari finally asked, her voice trembling. “After a spectacle like that… will he truly be alright?”

  Seralya lifted her gaze. Her expression was a blend of exhaustion and faint relief.

  “The amount of energy he used was unimaginable. Anyone else would have disintegrated themselves in mere seconds. But Sora…” She paused, swallowing hard. “…Sora survived because he has something that…”

  The words caught in her throat. She knew the truth perfectly—but she could not speak it. Not after the promise she had made to him. He had survived only thanks to the blessing of Goddess Astaria… but that was a secret that had to remain buried until he chose to reveal it himself.

  Tsukari and Alvaron watched her quietly. Both of them noticed her hesitation, but neither pressed her. They knew her well enough to understand that her silence wasn’t born from distrust, but from respect for her pupil.

  At last, Tsukari sighed, placing a hand over her chest.

  “As long as he’s alive… that’s all that matters.”

  Seralya nodded with a faint, weary smile.

  And in that silence, the three of them understood the same truth: the incident in the forest had not only pushed Sora to his limits… it had sealed the fate of all of them.

  After a few seconds, the air in the chamber grew dense again. Only the faint crackling of the manaquartz crystal illuminated the room with its cool blue light. Alvaron, his hands clasped tightly over the table and his brow deeply furrowed, spoke first:

  “Sora is safe…” he said at last, releasing a breath he had been holding for hours. “For that I give thanks to the goddess. But… what are we going to do about what happened in the forest? The people in Rulid are terrified. Even I didn’t know what in the world it was, and I imagined the worst. Rumors will spread, and in the worst case… the Conclave will get involved.”

  At those last words, his voice faltered. He knew exactly what that meant. A magical outburst of such magnitude would never go unnoticed. The Conclave of Astaria, relentless in its control over any unusual manifestation of power, would have already detected the disturbance. Even in a remote village like Rulid, its shadow reached far.

  Seralya drew a deep breath, trying to maintain the composure the others needed.

  “If the Conclave comes to investigate,” she said firmly, “we know nothing. We saw the light from the house, just like everyone else, and were as shocked and worried as the rest.”

  She paused for a moment before continuing in a lower voice:

  “I’ll take care of erasing the magical traces in the area as much as possible, but I’ll need discretion from the guards. No one must notice my presence.”

  Alvaron nodded, though the tension in his jaw was unmistakable.

  “I’ll arrange for the guards to stay clear, but you’ll have to move quickly. The Conclave surely detected that surge… they’ve probably already sent knights and envoys to investigate.”

  “I’m perfectly aware,” Seralya replied without hesitation. “I’ll go tonight. Pull back the guards at nightfall. I want to cleanse the area before morning.”

  Tsukari, who had remained silent until then, placed a hand gently on her friend’s arm.

  “Don’t overexert yourself, Seralya. You already pushed yourself too far today.”

  The teacher returned a calm look, but there was a fierce resolve shining in her eyes.

  “And that effort will mean nothing if they find traces that lead them back to Sora. Even if his magic isn’t registered with the Conclave, a single coincidence or testimony would be enough to raise suspicions. If they take him away… everything would be lost.”

  Tsukari and Alvaron exchanged a glance full of dread. Both knew that if the Conclave ever connected Sora to the phenomenon, his fate would be sealed.

  At last, Tsukari stood up, her voice firm with determination.

  “Then I’ll help you. It’ll go faster if we do it together.”

  Seralya studied her for a few seconds before nodding.

  “Very well… but don’t overdo it either, Tsukari.”

  The two women prepared themselves quickly. Outside, the wind was beginning to rise, heralding a long night.

  Alvaron remained beside Sora, watching the rise and fall of his breathing as Aeris entered with a tray of food and clean cloths. She moved in silence, as if even the air around them should not be disturbed.

  “I brought you something to eat, Lord Alvaron,” she whispered. “I don’t think they’ll return until later.”

  The man nodded without taking his eyes off his son.

  “Thank you, Aeris. I won’t leave his side.”

  He only stepped away for a few minutes—just long enough to order the guards to take the night off.

  “Nothing was found in the area,” he claimed.

  And so, under the cover of night, Seralya and Tsukari headed back into the forest… while the Conclave’s shadow was already creeping silently toward Rulid.

  Two days passed after the incident.

  During that time, Tsukari and Seralya continued returning to the woods each night, erasing the remnants of the optical distortion spell and patiently dismantling the runes carved into the trees. The area where everything had happened was beginning to look normal again, with no visible trace of the magical catastrophe.

  Meanwhile, Sora remained unconscious, lost in a deep sleep from which no one knew when he would wake.

  On the third day, at last, his eyes opened.

  For a moment, the world appeared blurry. The first thing he saw was a stone ceiling faintly illuminated by a manacite lamp. It didn’t take long for him to recognize the subtle scent of healing herbs and warm wax: he was in the house’s secret chamber.

  “What… happened?” he murmured hoarsely, his mind still foggy.

  He tried to sit up, but the sensation was strange, as if his whole body weighed twice as much. Slowly, he pushed himself upright on the soft blanket and looked around, noticing the shelves filled with scrolls, the boxes, and the old tapestry hanging along the wall. There was no doubt: they had brought him here to keep him hidden.

  Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs and a voice reached him, thick with relief.

  “You’re finally awake ! You scared us, Sora…” Aeris rushed to his side and hugged him tightly.

  Sora barely managed a faint, weary smile in response, but when he tried to lift his right arm, a sharp, deep pain shot through his side.

  “Ah!” he gasped, clenching his teeth.

  Aeris pulled back immediately, gripping his shoulders gently.

  “Careful, Sora. Your right arm is still injured. The teacher spent hours healing it, but it will take some time to fully recover,” she explained softly, though her eyes revealed the exhaustion of several sleepless nights.

  Sora nodded slowly, taking a steady breath.

  “I understand… thank you, Aeris.”

  She gave him a tender smile.

  “I’ll go tell your parents and the teacher that you’ve woken up. They haven’t left the house since the day of the incident.”

  Without wasting a second, she slipped out through the hidden hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar.

  Silence returned, and Sora stayed still for a few moments, listening to the fading echo of Aeris’s footsteps.

  Then he let out a sigh and—almost reflexively—raised his left hand.

  “Soul Panel…” he whispered.

  The projection unfolded before his eyes, bright and steady.

  For a moment he didn’t move.

  The warning that had followed him for months, that orange, flickering marker beside his mana bar was gone.

  His heart leaped with relief.

  But when his eyes focused on the mana bar, something else caught his attention.

  Where once there had been an empty symbol…

  now there was a number.

  Sora blinked, stunned, and his voice escaped in a shaky breath:

  “N-nine digits…?”

  His expression froze somewhere between shock and disbelief.

  Just then, hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs. He recognized his parents’ voices.

  He gulped, composed himself, and closed the Soul Panel at once before they arrived.

  Finally, the door to the secret chamber opened.

  Tsukari, Alvaron, and Seralya rushed in, and the moment they saw Sora awake, all three halted in place. Relief washed over their faces instantly.

  Tsukari reacted first, running to her son and pulling him into a tight embrace.

  “Sora! Thank the goddess…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  Sora returned the hug, though he let out a small cry when pain shot through his right arm.

  “Ah… it hurts a little, Mom,” he admitted with a weak smile.

  She pulled away at once, apologizing with a gentle caress on his cheek.

  “I’m sorry, dear. It’s just… we were so worried.”

  Seralya stepped closer as well, watching him with the composed expression of someone who could finally breathe again. The exhaustion on her face was obvious, dark circles, slightly disheveled hair yet her eyes shone with relief.

  “Well, I think I overdid it, master,” Sora joked, easing the tension in the room.

  Seralya let out a small laugh.

  “It’s all right, Sora. What matters is that you’re safe,” she replied with a sincere smile.

  The boy lowered his gaze slightly, his expression turning more serious.

  “Jokes aside… I did have the energy flow under control. But suddenly it just overflowed. I couldn’t even speak to ask for help. I’m sorry, master.”

  Seralya shook her head gently.

  “There’s nothing you need to apologize for. What happened went far beyond anything any of us could have predicted.”

  Sora took a slow breath, then asked hesitantly:

  “Did… did the barrier hold?”

  Tsukari, still seated beside him, stroked his hair tenderly.

  “It’s fine, Sora. We’re already taking care of that, so don’t worry. Instead, tell me. how do you feel?”

  The boy leaned back slightly against the cushions, eyes drifting to the stone ceiling bathed in the soft glow of the manacite lamp.

  “I feel… a bit dizzy. But the burning in my chest is gone. I guess even if it was reckless it worked to keep the manastasis in check.”

  Seralya let out a quiet sigh of relief.

  “So it seems,” she said, her gentle smile easing the tension in the air.

  Alvaron, who had remained silent until then, crossed his arms and let out a restrained laugh.

  “Looks like I wasn’t wrong to let them focus on training you in magic instead of the sword, like I wanted.” His smile widened. “You’ve got talent for it. That light… it was incredible.”

  Sora blushed slightly, lowering his gaze with modesty.

  “It wasn’t intentional…” he muttered.

  The three adults laughed softly, and for the first time since that disaster in the woods, the room no longer smelled of worry.

  At last, Sora was awake. And for now, at least, everything was calm.

  After that emotional reunion, Sora insisted on standing up.

  His parents, concerned, kept asking him to stay lying down, but he was already tired of being bedridden. When he learned that he had been unconscious for three whole days, he felt he couldn’t waste a single minute more inside that room.

  No one blamed him for it. Even so, Alvaron and Tsukari watched him closely as he slowly climbed the stairs to the upper floor. His steps were steady, though every so often his right arm reminded him of the price he had paid.

  Once in his room, with a bit of help from Aeris, he managed to change back into his usual clothes: a light shirt, a sleeveless vest, and comfortable pants, the outfit he wore on days without lessons.

  The rest of the day passed with a calm so unusual it almost felt out of place after everything that had happened.

  Even so, Sora couldn’t shake the discomfort. The bandages around his right arm extended all the way to his shoulder, held in place by a cloth strap running over his neck to keep the limb against his chest. It was a new and irritating sensation; in neither of his two lives had he suffered an injury that limited him this much. But if he had learned anything, it was not to stop just because of pain.

  The afternoon faded beneath golden skies, and the house fell into the quiet stillness of dusk.

  When it was time for his bath, Seralya helped him change the bandages. Steam filled the room, mingling with the scent of the healing ointment she had prepared. When she removed the wrappings, Sora couldn’t help but stare.

  The burn marks covered his forearm and part of his shoulder: thin lines glowing faintly with a violet sheen under the light, as if traces of mana still lingered beneath the skin.

  “They’re your magical circuits,” the teacher explained gently as she applied a balm. “They collapsed while channeling that much energy. I had to restructure them with healing and stabilization spells. With a few weeks of rest, you’ll return to normal.”

  Sora nodded, looking at his arm with a mix of awe and respect. These scars weren’t ordinary wounds; they were proof of what he had survived.

  “I understand, master,” he replied quietly.

  A short while later, once dressed and freshly bandaged, he headed to bed. The house was silent—the kind of silence that only comes when everything seems to have returned to normal… yet leaves a strange echo behind.

  Sora lay down, staring at the ceiling faintly lit by the manacite lamp. He felt a vague unease, a pressure in his chest that didn’t come from physical pain, but from something deeper.

  Something is going to happen… he thought, turning over.

  He tried to shake off the feeling, convincing himself it was just leftover paranoia from everything he had gone through. But even as sleep finally overtook him, that sensation remained quiet, patient, like a shadow waiting for dawn.

  The next day, Sora woke as usual.

  The morning light bathed the room in a gentle golden glow through the curtains. With Aeris’s help, he dressed carefully again: light shirt, vest, and the strap that still held his right arm in place. Though the wounds still hurt, his body felt steadier.

  When he went down to the dining room, he found everyone already gathered. Tsukari, Alvaron, Seralya, and Aeris were sharing breakfast in a calm, almost family-like atmosphere, as if peace had finally returned to the household. The aroma of freshly toasted bread and herbal tea filled the room, and for a moment, everything felt normal again.

  Until a loud, heavy knock shook the front door.

  The impact was strong enough to make the cups rattle on the table.

  “Lord Alvaron Eryndel! We come as emissaries of the Conclave! Open the door!”

  The authoritative voice boomed through the entire house.

  The air tensed instantly.

  Alvaron rose abruptly, his expression shifting from serenity to alertness. He straightened his clothes and walked with firm steps toward the study. The others followed him with their eyes, too tense to speak. In silence, he took his sheathed sword from its stand and fastened it to his belt with a swift, precise motion.

  Tsukari, Seralya, and Aeris followed him into the vestibule, taking seats on the nearby sofa to feign normalcy… though everyone knew nothing about this moment felt normal.

  Sora, however, felt a chill run down his spine.

  In the middle of his nerves, he noticed the worst possible thing: he didn’t have his polimorphis active.

  His heart lurched. With a swift, discreet gesture, he activated the spell again, covering himself with the appearance of an aurari child, brown-haired and violet-eyed. Just in time.

  Alvaron drew a breath and opened the door.

  On the other side stood three knights wearing refined armor engraved with the Conclave’s emblem. Their white capes fluttered softly in the wind, and their swords gleamed at their belts. The one in front stern gaze, commanding presence was the one who had called out. The other two remained vigilant, standing beside two imposing creatures with gray scales and deep-blue eyes.

  Sora’s breath caught.

  That pair, winged bodies, talons scraping lightly against the ground could only be wyverns.

  The sight was as majestic as it was terrifying, almost unreal.

  For a moment, he felt as if he were standing before one of the fantasy scenes he had once read about in his previous life.

  But the fascination didn’t last.

  Reality struck hard:

  The Conclave had come to Rulid.

  And while the knights introduced themselves formally to his father, a single thought echoed in Sora’s mind cold and sharp:

  What are they here for? Did they come because of the incident…?

  Seralya, noticing the stiffness in Sora’s body, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and murmured into his ear in a low voice:

  “Don’t worry… we erased every trace of it.”

  Sora nodded, but the tremor in his chest wouldn’t settle. His breathing quickened just enough for Seralya to notice the slight shake of his hand resting on the table.

  At the entrance, Alvaron held his posture firm. His gaze, calm but alert, met that of the knight standing at the center, the one wearing the most ornate armor and a mantle embroidered with the Conclave’s solar seal in golden thread.

  “Good morning. How may I assist you, honorable knight of the Conclave?” Alvaron asked with courteous restraint, without lowering his guard.

  The knight stepped forward. His voice was deep, measured with the precision of someone accustomed to commanding respect.

  “Good morning, Lord Eryndel. I am Coren, Second Sword of the Conclave’s Elite Knights. With me are Seren, Eleventh Sword, and Rhaedon, Ninth Sword, we come by direct order of the High Council to investigate the recent phenomenon that struck the forests of this region three days ago. We expect your full cooperation in clarifying its origin… and identifying the responsible insurgent.”

  Alvaron maintained a serene expression, though his fingers brushed instinctively against the hilt of his sword.

  “It is an honor to have you in my territory, Sir Coren,” he replied diplomatically. “I will gladly offer any assistance and information you require. In fact, we have already been cooperating these past days with the first envoys sent from Caelith.”

  Coren gave a slight bow of his head, though his expression remained carved from stone.

  “We are aware of that,” he said calmly. “We have been gathering information at the site of the incident. Your contribution has been invaluable, Lord Eryndel… and it is precisely because of that contribution that we are here today.”

  Alvaron’s brow furrowed subtly, not yet understanding what he implied.

  “And what exactly are you insinuating, Sir Coren?”

  The knight stepped forward once more, and the other two aligned behind him with perfect synchronicity. His voice came out colder this time, almost inquisitorial:

  “We have personally investigated the site of the incident,” Coren declared. “We managed to detect a trace of magical energy that matches the frequency recorded at the point where that light was sighted.”

  He paused, letting the words sink in before continuing in an even more measured tone:

  “Furthermore… we found runes carved into several trees around the perimeter. Someone attempted to erase them, but not entirely. Their pattern is unmistakable, they belong to a ritual.

  One that only a high-level mage could have performed.”

  Upon hearing that, Seralya froze.

  Her breath caught for an instant. She had known that, in their haste, they hadn’t been able to fully erase every trace of the runes and now the price of that oversight had come to claim them.

  Sora and Tsukari tensed immediately as well. A single glance between them was enough to understand the danger they were in.

  Coren resumed, his voice firm, almost solemn, steeped in inquisitorial authority:

  “It is evident that no registered mage in this town possesses the power or knowledge required to perform such a ritual.

  Thus, we have proceeded to check for any potential unregistered casters within the village.

  As you know, Lord Eryndel, anyone who practices magic must be registered under the Conclave’s supervision, is that correct?

  Therefore, I trust there will be no issue if we conduct an inspection of every member of your household.”

  He added, almost politely:

  “We are not implying the culprit is here… but it is necessary to rule out the possibility that a hostile element is hiding within this settlement.”

  The silence that followed was suffocating.

  Though clearly troubled, Alvaron kept his demeanor steady and diplomatic.

  “Of course, Sir Coren. My family serves the Conclave with loyalty; we have nothing to hide.”

  “Excellent,” Coren replied with a brief incline of his head. “Then, Lord Eryndel, if it is not too much trouble, could you gather every resident of your household in the outer courtyard?

  We regret the inconvenience, but it will expedite the process.”

  Alvaron nodded politely. Turning toward Aeris, he signaled for her to assemble the staff.

  Minutes later, every member of the estate stood outside—servants, cooks, guards, and the family itself.

  The air felt heavy. Even the birds on the branches above had gone silent.

  The three knights moved with precision. Seren and Rhaedon inspected each person one by one, using a subtle detection spell that shone with a faint white glow around their hands.

  When Coren approached Tsukari, she extended her hand, revealing her old mage emblem, the very one she had carried in her days as an adventurer.

  “A registered mage,” Coren said neutrally, giving the slightest nod. “There is no need to scan her.”

  The knights continued down the line, when Coren’s gaze fell upon Seralya, his expression shifted just a shade, recognition.

  “Seralya of Caelith, the Royal Scribe,” he murmured. “We were unaware you were still outside the capital.”

  Seralya met his gaze steadily, her voice calm yet measured.

  “I am here for personal reasons, Sir Coren. I have the High Council’s permission to remain in Rulid for a time.”

  The knight nodded without comment, but the fleeting shift in his expression made it clear he had taken note.

  The inspection continued, one by one.

  With every new name called, the tension among Seralya, Tsukari, and Alvaron grew heavier and dense enough to be felt in the air.

  It was as if the very forest surrounding the mansion had drawn in a silent breath.

  Sora watched in silence as the knights approached, moving slowly along the row of servants and family members.

  Behind them, a fourth soldier, the only one not performing scans stood with his hand resting atop the pommel of his sword, observing every movement.

  Only two people left before Sora.

  He could hear his own pulse pounding in his ears, he could feel the faint tremor in the air each time the knights extended their glowing hands.

  Tsukari’s fingers had curled slightly, poised to react the moment anything went wrong; Alvaron stood firm beside her, eyes locked on Coren.

  When the knight stepped toward Sora, reaching out his gloved hand to begin the scan.

  Seralya cut through the silence.

  “This makes no sense, Sir Coren,” she said, her voice ringing clear and firm, without a hint of hesitation. “There is no mage in Rulid with the potential to perform such a ritual.”

  All three knights turned toward her at once.

  Their expressions remained unreadable, cold and pristine as the blades at their waists.

  Coren stepped forward, fixing his gaze on her.

  “And how can you be so certain of that… Scribe Seralya?”

  She held his eyes without blinking.

  “Because I was the one responsible for that ritual,” she said calmly. “I was conducting an experiment for academic purposes. That is why I came all the way to Rulid: to avoid causing trouble in the capital by attempting it there.”

  A faint murmur spread among some of the servants, but Coren did not react, his voice came out sharp as a blade:

  “Are you aware, Scribe Seralya, that your experiment released enough energy to endanger Conclave property by putting this settlement at risk?”

  “That is what the runes were for,” she replied without hesitation. “To raise a barrier capable of containing the energy and preventing it from going out of control.”

  She paused, then added with steady honesty:

  “But in the end… it exceeded what the structure could withstand. I apologize for that.”

  The three knights remained silent for a few seconds.

  Only the whisper of the wind rolling dry leaves beneath their boots could be heard.

  At last, Coren spoke:

  “It is true you possess the capacity to carry out something of this magnitude. But you also know that performing research outside the Conclave’s knowledge and supervision constitutes a crime. You are aware of this, are you not?”

  Seralya bowed her head slightly.

  “I am fully aware, Sir Coren. And I am prepared to pay the price for my mistake.”

  The knight gave a faint nod.

  Without another word, he walked to his wyvern and withdrew from one of the saddlebags a pair of black metal shackles engraved with sealing runes.

  The air turned frigid in an instant.

  Sora stepped forward, eyes widening.

  His instincts screamed at him to intervene to step between them, to fight, to defend her.

  But before he could move, Tsukari’s hand gripped his shoulder firmly.

  Their eyes met. No words were spoken, none were necessary.

  We cannot oppose them.

  The message was clear.

  Seralya, having sensed her student’s impulse, turned her face slightly toward him.

  She offered him a gentle look warm, steady, full of trust.

  It was the same expression she often wore during their training, the one shaped by the echoes of the past she carried.

  A look that, without a single syllable, told him:

  “It’s all right, Sora. Let me handle this.”

  Attacking the knights now would have meant betraying everything she had just done to protect him, while Coren fastened the cuffs around Seralya’s wrists, his voice sounded with the same relentless coldness that had accompanied him since he arrived:

  “Is there anyone else involved in this ritual?”

  Seralya, without lifting her gaze from the ground, answered calmly:

  “I am the only one who worked on it for months, i spent all that time carving the runes into the trees, alone. I have no accomplices, as I already said… it was a personal investigation.”

  Coren nodded, devoid of emotion.

  Then, with a gesture to one of the knights, he allowed Rhaedon to help Seralya mount her wyvern, she climbed up without resisting, her hair swaying gently in the wind, her eyes fixed on Sora.

  Coren then turned toward Alvaron, offering a slight, almost protocolary bow.

  “I solemnly regret that a servant of the capital has caused you trouble, Lord Eryndel, we shall take our leave now.”

  Alvaron, still in shock, struggled to maintain his composure.

  “We regret the inconvenience as well, Sir Coren.”

  The knight nodded once. Then, with a sharp gesture, he gave the order.

  The three knights mounted their wyverns, and with a powerful beat of their wings that lifted a swirl of dust and leaves, they took flight into the sky.

  Sora did not look away for even a second.

  From atop the creature, Seralya looked at him one last time, her expression calm, serene… and on her lips a faint smile, a smile of apology.

  It was her silent way of telling him not to regret anything.

  Slowly, the silhouettes grew smaller on the horizon, disappearing among the clouds.

  Sora fell to his knees on the grass.

  With his good hand he pressed the ground tightly, feeling the tremor in his fingers.

  He wanted to scream.

  He wanted to curse.

  He wanted to unleash fire until he emptied himself completely.

  But he held back.

  Upon reincarnating, he had promised himself he would never cry again.

  Not in this life.

  And yet… the pain pierced through him like a blade.

  All because he had taken things lightly.

  Because he hadn’t foreseen the consequences.

  An innocent person had paid the price for his carelessness.

  Tsukari, seeing him on his knees, approached slowly.

  She leaned down and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, trying to offer him some comfort.

  A few steps away, Alvaron took a deep breath, holding back his anger.

  He heard the murmurs of the staff, the whispers that were beginning to spread.

  Then, with a voice he rarely used firm and authoritative, he declared:

  “You may return to your duties. This is not a spectacle, you have plenty to do for the rest of the day and I don’t want a single word about what happened today. Understood?”

  Silence was immediate.

  The servants withdrew quickly, heads lowered, surprised, they had never heard that tone from Alvaron.

  Only the sound of the wind stirring the grass remained, and the distant echo of the wyverns disappearing among the clouds.

  Sora locked himself in his room for the rest of the day.

  He didn’t even come down for lunch; he remained seated at his desk, his notebook open, its pages filled with sketches and scribbled formulas under the pale glow of the manaquartz lamp.

  Elsewhere in the house, Tsukari and Alvaron were restless. They didn’t know how to approach him, nor what to say. They preferred not to disturb him, afraid that any word might shatter the fragile silence that had fallen since that morning.

  As for Sora, he did not use those hours to lament. He didn’t cry, didn’t curse.

  He simply thought.

  And he thought until the thinking solidified into resolve.

  This was no time to lick his wounds.

  He knew this was the true starting point of his mission. He had allowed himself to drift too far from the purpose of his reincarnation.

  “I have to kill Selmyra…” he murmured, his voice low and almost hoarse.

  Determination shone in his eyes, accompanied by a restrained anger.

  But upon realizing the magnitude of that hatred, Sora closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, he didn’t want to feel that again. It was a poison he knew all too well… one that had consumed him in his previous life.

  Shaking his head to drive the memories away, he closed the notebook, tucked it under his arm, and left the room. His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as he made his way to the dining room.

  Tsukari and Alvaron were there, speaking in low voices. When they saw him appear, they lifted their gaze.

  There was worry and sadness in their expressions.

  “Are you alright, son?” Tsukari asked in a faint voice. “What happened with your teacher… we’re truly sorry.”

  Sora took a deep breath. His eyes, serious and determined, rose to meet his parents’.

  “Mother, Father… we need to talk. But not here, not in the dining room, we have to go to the secret room.”

  The silence that followed was heavy. Alvaron and Tsukari exchanged a look, surprised by the grave, almost adult tone in Sora’s voice. They had never seen that expression on him before.

  Finally, Tsukari nodded softly.

  “Alright, son. Let’s go…”