"Yo, sorry I'm late," I said, appearing next to Kayda. She was already there, hair tied up in her usual no-nonsense style, her hands moving with precise calm as she adjusted the table for our training session. She didn't even glance at me at first—her attention was on Amari, who sat nearby, swinging her legs absently while pretending not to be nervous.
Kayda finally flicked her eyes toward me, expression unreadable. "How did the first training go with your squad of crazy heads?" she asked, voice dry. "I assume they lived?"
"Brenda's unconscious from exhaustion," I reported casually, stretching my arms behind my head. "Sirone was on the verge of passing out—probably drooling on a pillow right now—and Apricot ran herself completely out of mana. So, in other words, it went well. They should realize how important base stats are after this."
Amari leaned forward from her chair, resting her chin on one hand. "How will that help them become stronger?" she asked. Her voice carried genuine curiosity, though there was a note of skepticism under it, the kind that said she wanted to believe but wasn't sure yet.
I smirked. "Have you ever seen Mother's stats?"
She shook her head, eyes widening in anticipation.
"Her agility total is twelve thousand," I said slowly, letting the number hang in the air like a blade. "Her level is nine hundred seventy, which means her level stats account for about ninety-seven hundred. Now you might wonder where the other twenty-three hundred comes from." I tapped the table for emphasis. "Those are her base stats. That's why I fear Mother the most—not just her experience, not just her weapon mastery, but because her foundation is terrifying."
Amari's lips parted slightly. "That… makes sense," she admitted.
Kayda, however, arched a brow. "Isn't it also because of her mastery with weapons?" she countered.
"That too," I said with a shrug. "I was just giving Amari some perspective. Besides," I grinned, leaning back, "she won't be the only one feared for weapon mastery in the future."
Kayda's lips curved faintly, though I couldn't tell if it was approval or mockery. "I see. But here, we aren't concerned about weapons. Only magic."
My shoulders slumped dramatically. "So mean," I muttered in a wounded tone.
Amari stifled a laugh at my theatrics.
Kayda, as if to ground the conversation again, set a small metallic sphere on the table. Its polished surface caught the light of the training lamps, gleaming like a stubborn little secret. "Yesterday, I gave both of you a metal ball. I'm certain you've figured out its true purpose by now."
Amari brightened, clearly pleased with herself. "Yes. Because our mana starts out aligned with an element, we need to learn to strip it down—to make it non-elemental. Doing so will make it easier to use other elements later." Her words flowed with the ease of a student who enjoyed proving she'd done her homework.
Kayda gave her a small nod of acknowledgment.
I, meanwhile, blinked. "Wait, that's what it does?"
Amari turned to stare at me. "You didn't realize that yesterday?"
"Nope." I pulled the sphere from my storage and set it on the table with a dull clink. "I only played around with it for a few hours. Tossed it, poked it, tried to push mana through without thinking too hard."
Kayda pinched the bridge of her nose. "It doesn't matter how long you fiddled with it. Could you please let me know how far you were able to
I scowled at the ball. "I sucked. I only managed to use about fourteen percent of my mana before the ball rejected me. The memory stung, and glaring at the little sphere made me feel no better.
"Fourteen percent?" Kayda repeated, deadpan. "Well, you're not the worst out there, but your mana control is clearly… subpar." She said it with such casual sarcasm that I nearly choked.
"Tsk," I clicked my tongue.
Amari, smug, leaned back. "I managed eighty-four percent," she said with a tiny smirk. "Hehe."
Kayda's eyebrows actually twitched upward. "Well done, Amari. That's excellent for one day, especially with little explanation. You're close to my ability."
My jaw dropped. "Wait, how did you do on your first day?" I demanded.
"…Ninety-one percent," Kayda answered, almost sheepishly.
I slapped my forehead dramatically. "Damn. I really do suck."
Kayda softened—just a little. "Don't worry, you're still young. You have time." She smiled, and for a brief moment, her expression wasn't that of the strict teacher but something warmer. Something almost gentle.
'Time? I don't know if I have as much as you think. I thought silently, keeping my face neutral as I rolled the sphere between my palms. It was easier to focus on its cold surface than on the sudden knot of unease in my chest.
Kayda, as if sensing my shift, straightened and reached for something beneath the table. She set down a forty-centimeter metal pole, about five centimeters thick, riddled with small holes no wider than a fingertip. "For the next stage, when you reach one hundred percent, you'll use this."
Both Amari and I leaned closer, wondering what was going on.
"You're probably wondering why there are holes," Kayda said. Without waiting for us to answer, she infused her mana at the tip. Threads of light emerged from the holes like delicate strands of silk, glowing faintly as they extended outward. "The challenge is to control your mana so that it flows through the holes without touching the pole itself. If it touches—"
One strand deliberately brushed the pole. Instantly, all of it snapped back and disappeared.
My eyes widened. "Huh!? What the hell? Could you please clarify how I should accomplish that?
Kayda's calm tone was almost cruel. "When you can do that, you'll move to the next one." She produced another pole—same length, thinner, holes smaller. Then another. And another. Until six poles lay before us, each more impossible than the last. The final one was as thin as a reed, with holes barely pinpricks.
"This is impossible," I groaned, sinking lower in my chair. "Good luck, Amari. Looks like you'll outclass me very fast at this rate."
Amari giggled. "You're a monster at everything else. Let me have this."
Her grin was infectious, and despite myself, I chuckled. "Haha. I wouldn't be so sure about me being good at everything."
Kayda interjected, voice calm as ever. "It took me three years to reach the final pole. That was with dedication and experience. Expect it to take time."
Amari pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I'll aim to finish before the academy in three years. That feels like a reasonable goal."
Kayda nodded approvingly. Then her gaze shifted to me. "And you, Kitsuna?"
I hesitated. Then, with a stubborn lift of my chin, I said, "I want to finish in two years, max. I need that time for weapon mastery—and for… other reasons."
Their surprise was obvious. Kayda's brow rose. "How do you plan to do that when you struggled with the first exercise?"
"I'll figure something out," I said simply, shrugging. But inside, my resolve burned hotter. I want dimensional magic. I want to create my own domains. I don't have the luxury of dragging this task out.
I leaned toward Amari. "Oh, and you—try doing it in a year and a half. You were brilliant in our previous life, so I believe you can handle it.
She rolled her eyes. "Tsk. Fine. I'll try, sis."
The air felt lighter for a moment—until Kayda spoke again. "Enough about mana. Let's cover elements. What type of magic is stronger than others?"
Amari and I groaned in unison. "More learning?"
"Yes," Kayda said firmly.
I rattled off the basics with a sigh: "Fire beats wind, wind beats earth, earth beats water, and water beats fire."
"Correct. But don't rely too heavily on that. It mostly comes down to who can wield their element better."
Amari nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense."
I raised my hand like a student in class. "Question."
Kayda tilted her head. "Yes?"
"Yesterday, you made ice pillars at my tree. How did you do that exactly? I understand you used water and wind, but how did you form a rare element? Even if it's weak, it was still a rare one."
Kayda's eyes softened with memory. "That comes with years of experience. You split your elements into their base forms. For example, if Amari splits her storm magic, she gets water, wind, and lightning. Each of them would be as strong as a standard element, since storm is a race-element."
"HUH!?" I gawked. "Is her storm magic associated with a specific race element?" What race is it tied to?"
"You didn't know?" Kayda asked, confused.
"Kayda, I've only known my sister for three days! We haven't exactly traded magic secrets." I turned to Amari. She nodded sheepishly. "So all three of her elements are race elements," I muttered, shaking my head. Then, with a resigned sigh: "Fine. Guess it's fair to admit mine too. All three of my elements are also related to race.
Kayda tilted her head. "I suspected as much. Zagan's shadow magic is a race element. The twins also have them. I assume most reincarnates do."
"That's… shit," I muttered. "So all reincarnates have race elements. That's going to be a problem for the war."
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
Amari froze. "War?" she repeated, her eyes sharp with sudden alarm.
My glare snapped to Kayda. "You really are terrible at keeping your mouth shut," I hissed, a thread of killing intent slipping out with my words.
Kayda flinched, then lowered her gaze. "Sorry. I didn't know Stacy hadn't told her."
Amari stood, fists clenched. "If there's a war coming, I need to know. I want to help. I would rather not be protected and kept ignorant. I want to be useful."
Her determination shook me. For a moment, she looked so much like the girl I remembered from before—the one who always burned with conviction. My chest ached.
"I'll talk to them," I said softly. "But you'll need real power if you want to be helpful." I reached out and patted her head gently, a rare gesture I didn't offer lightly. Then I turned back to Kayda, my tone hard again. "That's twice in one hour that you've slipped. This time it's fine because we're family. But watch your tongue in front of others."
Kayda lowered her head further. "I will."
"Hey, sis, you don't have to be so harsh," Amari said.
"I do," I replied. My voice was steady, but my chest was tight. "There are things Kayda knows that must never be revealed. Not yet." I picked up one of the poles from the table and tucked it under my arm. "I'll be leaving. Thanks for the lesson, Kayda."
Without another word, I flash-stepped away, vanishing into the forest. My anger simmered, but beneath it was a deeper ache. I knew I should find Mother, talk to her, and confront her about all of this. But right now… I couldn't. If I did, I'd only blame her, and I didn't want to throw that weight on her shoulders unjustly.
No. I needed to cool my head.
The forest swallowed me as I ran, branches whipping past, the sound of my breath loud in my ears.
And beneath it all, one thought pulsed, insistent and sharp:
Time. I don't have as much time as they think.