[Days Since Reincarnation: 5]
The sun was high in the sky, bathing the estate in bright midday light. Caelan walked through a wide, deserted corridor, his footsteps echoing softly off the polished stone. He had a little less than an hour until his training with Kira.
Last night, I managed two. The thought surfaced in his mind, cold and precise. His reservoir had been nearly empty after hours of practicing with that strange "thread" of mana he had discovered within himself. After the second sphere, darkness had taken him instantly. But now, he felt he could create nine, maybe even ten such orbs before depleting his reserves again. The familiar pulling ache in his chest was proof that his reservoir was growing.
He recalled his time with Lianna yesterday. Leaping out from behind a rose bush with a childish "boo!", he had meant to startle her. And he had succeeded. She had cried out in surprise, and a wave of instinctive cold had slammed into the hands he'd thrown up to shield himself. The fingers on his left hand still had a faint, numb ache. He wasn't angry. It was like a kitten unsheathing its claws while playing—not out of malice, but simply a lack of control.
A maid appeared ahead, humming a quiet, simple tune as she polished a silver sconce on the wall. The moment her eyes met his, the song died in her throat. She flinched as if struck, hastily pressing herself against the wall, her body contorting into an awkward angle to seem smaller, less obtrusive. She bowed her head so low that all he could see was the pristine white fabric of her cap.
Caelan walked past, his own soft footsteps the only sound in the now-deafening silence. He didn't look at her, but he felt her gaze on his back after he passed — a palpable weight, a mixture of fear, curiosity, and awe.
Four days ago, in the courtyard of that wretched monastery, he had been less than this girl. He had been merchandise, a thing to be kicked and sold. If their paths had crossed then, she wouldn't have even spared him a glance, let alone stopped her song. Now, a single word from a powerful man had inverted their realities. He was "Master Caelan," and she was a silent, bowing figure in the corridor.
This unearned reverence felt like a poorly fitting costume, itchy and absurd. It wasn't respect. It was a reflection of the Duke's power, a borrowed light that cast a long and lonely shadow. It was another variable in his equation, yes, but one with a bitter, metallic taste. The taste of a cheat code.
He stepped out onto the training ground. The sun was nearly at its zenith. Kira was already waiting by the weapon rack, leaning against a tree. Her orange aura was as calm as a candle flame. Seeing him, she pushed off from the trunk and nodded with a faint smile.
"You're on time. Did you rest well after yesterday?"
Caelan just nodded. Words were unnecessary.
"Alright," she said, her voice growing more serious. "Let's start with the absolute basics. Your task is simple: defend yourself. I want to see your shield."
She took a position opposite him, a hint of guilt for yesterday's incident still lingering in her eyes.
"Don't worry," she said, her voice softening. "This time, it will be gentle. I'll only give you a little push with this spell."
She held out her hand, and the air around her palm began to shimmer. A small, translucent orb of compressed air formed, harmless and clear. It was a pure demonstration of control.
Before she could even finish her thought, she flicked her wrist, sending the orb flying toward his chest.
The orb flew toward him. He had seen it form, seen the air compress around Kira's palm, but now, watching it approach, his mind went blank.
Shield.
He threw his hand forward, palm facing the translucent sphere, and screamed the word in his mind. He desperately tried to feel that same instinct Kira had spoken of, to replicate what he had seen in others. But inside, there was only silence. No response, no surge of power.
He knew it wouldn't work.
At the last moment, when the orb was just a meter from his chest, his body took over. The only instinct he had left forced him to act. He took a sharp step to the side, dodging clumsily. The translucent orb flew past him and dissipated silently in the air.
Caelan was breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on Kira, who was already starting to form another projectile.
"Stop!" he shouted, raising a hand. "Stop! I… I can't."
Kira lowered her hand, her brows furrowed slightly.
"Can't what?"
"Make a shield," he exhaled. "I don't know how. When you throw… something… my body just moves on its own."
She was silent, processing his words. It was so fundamentally wrong, it seemed absurd. An elf who couldn't create the simplest magical barrier was like a bird that couldn't fly.
"You mean you were never taught?" she asked carefully, searching for a logical explanation.
"I was taught," Caelan answered coldly, remembering the priest and his ice pellets. "But it doesn't work."
Kira slowly walked toward him. She didn't look disappointed or annoyed. A deep, professional curiosity shone in her violet eyes, like that of a master craftsman who had stumbled upon a unique, incomprehensible material.
"Alright," she said calmly. "Then we'll start with something else. If you can't make a shield, show me what you can do. Show me your mana."
Caelan nodded. For him, it was as natural as breathing. He held his hands out, palms facing each other, and gave a quiet mental command.
A luminous substance began to flow from his body, gathering in the empty space between his palms. In a few seconds, a small, perfectly smooth sphere of white light hung there. It emitted no heat, had no scent, and made no sound. It simply existed—a pure, untainted form.
Kira leaned in slowly, her violet eyes studying the small miracle. She could feel that it was mana. But her warrior's experience, her instincts tuned to detect threat or intent, were silent. This sphere was utterly empty.
"The Duke told me it was… different," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "But to see it…"
She cautiously reached out and passed her fingers through the sphere. As expected, she felt nothing. No resistance, no heat or cold. It was like touching the air.
"Can you… do anything else with it? Change it?"
"Yes," Caelan replied.
He concentrated, and the sphere began to elongate before her eyes. It smoothly transformed into a thin, even, glowing thread of white light that stretched a meter long between his hands. The thread was stable, not wavering or fading.
Kira took a step back, impressed. She had seen mages create whips of fire or ice, but this was different. This was absolute, filigree control over the very substance of magic.
"Interesting…" she said, lost in thought. "Let me try."
She closed her eyes, focusing. Caelan watched as her orange aura flared slightly. A sphere began to form between her palms. It was similar to his, but not perfectly white. It was a translucent orb that shimmered faintly, and within it, the air itself seemed to ripple with subtle hints of warmth, like the heat haze rising from scorching metal.
"Put your hand through," she requested.
Caelan carefully touched her sphere. He felt the difference instantly. A light, warm breeze swirled inside. It wasn't empty. It was filled.
"Air… and warmth," he stated.
"This is the purest I can make it," Kira explained. "My mana always carries an echo of my 'self'. My warmth, my breath. Now watch."
She tried to replicate his trick. The sphere in her hands began to stretch into a thread. It worked at first, but the thinner the shape became, the more unstable it grew. The heat distortions inside intensified, the air within the thread beginning to glow with faint orange hues. Suddenly, when the thread was about the thickness of a finger, it erupted in a brief, blinding flash of orange flame and vanished with a hiss.
Kira looked at her empty hands, then back at him. Her expression wasn't one of disappointment, but of genuine, professional astonishment.
"My old master," she said with a slight shrug... "a man who could cut a falling leaf in two, spent a century trying to achieve this kind of stability. And failed. What you are doing... it's beyond standard techniques."
She took a step back, her gaze becoming focused and analytical again.
"Let's try again. I want to check something. Make the thread."
Caelan nodded. He held out his right hand and extended a familiar white thread of pure mana from his index finger, letting it hang in the air, about a meter long.
Kira approached and tried to grab it. Her fingers passed through the light, feeling nothing.
"Immaterial," she stated.
The next moment, her hand flew to her sword. With a whisper of steel, the blade sliced through the air where the thread hung. The blade passed through it, leaving no mark. She made several more quick, precise strikes. The result was the same.
"And invulnerable to physical attacks," she murmured, sheathing her sword. Her curiosity was growing. "Alright. One last test."
She held out her palm, and a small, flickering flame, the size of a candle flame, ignited upon it. It was just enough to start a campfire.
Without another word, she slowly brought the flame toward the tip of the white thread.
The moment the orange flame touched the pure mana, a reaction occurred.
The thread ignited.
It was like watching fire race along a fuse soaked in gasoline. A brilliant blue flame shot down the thread with impossible speed, consuming it. The flash was instantaneous but dazzling. Caelan felt a faint wave of heat, but not enough to burn.
He didn't even have time to think about severing the connection. The blue flame reached the tip of his finger and… extinguished. It simply vanished, leaving no trace, no pain. Only the faint, sharp smell of ozone in the air.
Caelan stood there, staring at his finger, then lifted his gaze to Kira.
She was no longer hiding her shock. Her eyes were wide, and her face was a mask of utter disbelief and, at the same time, awe. She was looking at him as if he had just broken a fundamental law of nature.
"I… I've never seen anything like it," she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. "For another's magic to just… this is…"
She couldn't find the words. Instead, she looked at him, and a new idea, born from the desperation to find any sort of explanation, appeared in her eyes.
"Let's go back to the beginning. Try again. Forget everything you're doing. Just feel. Think of warmth. Of the sun on your skin. Of the fire in the hearth. Try to recreate that feeling."
"I've already tried," Caelan replied calmly. "It doesn't work."
Silence fell. Her method, the foundation of all magic in this world, was a dead end for him. But his method was just as much of a mystery to her.
"Ah!" she suddenly exclaimed as if struck by inspiration. "Then let's do the reverse! What command do you… think, when you do your trick?"
"I think gather," he answered simply. "Gather the mana."
"Alright," she nodded.
Kira assumed his stance, holding her hands out, palms facing each other. She closed her eyes, her face tense with concentration.
"I'll try."
She began to whisper, like a mantra:
"Gather… Gather… Mana, gather…"
Her whisper grew into a strained shout.
"Gather! Mana, GATHER!"
She started clenching her hands as if trying to squeeze power from the air, her body contorting with the effort. Then she relaxed, her voice dropping back to a pleading whisper:
"Mana… gather… please, gather…"
Caelan watched. Her orange aura pulsed, growing brighter, but absolutely nothing happened between her palms. The air remained empty.
"It's not working," she exhaled, lowering her hands. "I can't. I don't understand what gather means. Gather apples? Stones? For me, it's just a word. It has no emotion, no… contour for the power to follow."
She stared at him, and understanding flashed in her eyes.
"Maybe… it's the same for you? Maybe you don't… feel the command fire? Maybe for you, fire is something else?"
She furrowed her brows, analyzing her own words.
"It's strange… But I suppose your command gather is just as strange and meaningless to me as fire is to you."
Kira's words struck Caelan's consciousness like a key turning in a long-locked door.
Instructions.