Michael grit his teeth as he watched his mana dwindle, easily being overpowered by the violet mage's will infused mana. If he left things as they were, his only defenses would soon crumble, leaving him with no choice left but to accept his death.
Which was why with no options remaining, he had the crazy idea of refining this foreign mana within his body.
Even as a white mage, Michael knew that it was impossible. Having been tutored by his mother from an early age, he was well aware of the laws of magic, even if he was incapable of getting stronger.
It was common knowledge that only mana without an owner could be refined within the body. Even then, this mana must be purified before a mage could do so.
That was because refining was done by the soul.
If even the smallest trace of impurities were leftover when refining, a mage could find their soul corrupted. The side effects of corruption ranged from mild headaches all the way to complete madness and even death.
Yet Michael had no choice.
If he allowed the violet mage's mana to surge unimpeded through his body, he'd be quite literally torn apart from the inside out. But trying to refine it with his soul was not much better.
For the ten-year-old Michael, it wasn't a matter of choosing how he died—it was about struggling to survive. His desperation led him down the only path that was left.
Usually, one would need to clear their mind of any distractions and meditate before trying to refine mana. Yet he did not have such a luxury.
Blood began to seep from his seven orifices as he forced himself into the lotus position. On his left wrist, the two yellow rings light dimmed considerably, a sign that he had almost used all of his mana reserves.
Michael ignored it, removing the invisible mental barrier around his inner palace that kept his soul in place. The moment he did so, a bright light erupted from between his eyes, illuminating the desert surrounding him.
When refining mana, it wasn't typical to release a mage's soul. Generally, a mage would send out tendrils from the inner palace located between the eyes, keeping their soul protected from harm behind the mental barrier.
But Michael had no such luxury.
If I don't risk it all, there's no point in even trying! He shouted in his heart, gritting his teeth.
The appearance of his soul within his body caused him to quiver subconsciously. As a mage, this was the most vulnerable he could be.
With his mind's eye, he watched the final battle between his own yellow mana and the violet mage's, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
Then it happened.
As the final motes of his yellow mana disappeared, the rampaging violet mana was stagnant for a moment, having lost its target. As mana with only a lingering will, it lacked the intelligence to immediately continue the assault on his young body.
Using this opportunity, Michael sent his soul rushing towards the foreign mana, encompassing it with his pure white soul. Yet the moment they made contact, the young boy let out a blood-curdling scream of pure agony.
The pain was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, much deeper and more torturous than he could have ever expected. The murky violet mana with all its impurities mixed in with his white soul, corrupting it almost instantaneously.
Michael felt his faculties failing as he desperately attempted to purify and refine the mana within his soul. Yet for every tiny part he purified, another would take its place, compounding further and further until his soul began to turn dark.
He heard a shrill scream enter his ears, only realizing later that it was his own.
Michael's vision went dark as he slowly began to lose consciousness. Even though he knew that doing so would only lead to his death, the young boy had suffered enough, he deserved respite from this pain.
It's enough right?
I did my best mother…
These thoughts swirled in his mind as he succumbed to the darkness.
Let's meet again in the afterlife.
Michael felt like he was slowly sinking underwater, falling to the bottom of the abyss. He reached out his hand, as if longing for someone to come save him, to see his mother once more.
That's when he saw it.
In the far distance, a small yet bright light manifested. At first, it was the size of a needle, but it quickly grew, soon taking up his whole vision.
Despite the harsh light, Michael didn't close his eyes as he stared at the pure white visage. Now that it was closer, he could make out that it was a figure, but he wasn't sure who it was.
By now, the pain he was feeling was like static, though present he could ignore it somewhat. Michael squinted, trying to get a good look at the bright figure.
Is it one of the gods? He thought.
Yet when the figure turned around, he saw his own face staring back at him.
Before his mind could even question what he was seeing, the bright figure reached out its hand and grabbed him. Michael didn't resist, in fact he couldn't even if he wanted to.
Then, he felt a pulling force as he was slowly lifted from the depths of the abyss he had been sinking into.
As he was pulled, the static filling his mind began to slowly subside, relieving the intense pressure on his mind. Michael felt as if he was being cleansed, albeit slowly and painfully.
A feeling of peace replaced the pain, bringing him to a state of fulfillment.
Is this what death feels like?
Having been put through the worst pain imaginable, this was the only conclusion he could come to. Michael felt untethered to the world, as if nothing was tying him to it.
He was free to spread his wings and soar through the skies.
Even as he thought about his mother, gone was the pain of her death. In its place was the warm memories that she left behind.
As the only person who had ever treated him with unreserved love and affection, Alice Aurelius had been Michael's safe haven throughout his short life.