The three powers - the three mystical energies that humankind could possess - were not born of the Creator. They originated from higher beings who possessed freedom beyond the Creator's reach.
Yet no human knew this truth. They believed these powers were the Creator's gifts, which was precisely why the Evalo-blooded humans concealed their existence from those they deemed inferior.
"The three powers I talked about can be used by every human, not just those with Evalo blood."
The old man said, before handing the grilled fish to the young man.
"Life, Willpower, and Spirit - these three powers are crucial. If you want to survive in this world, you must learn to master them all."
The old man cleared his throat.
"But I can only teach you Spirit, because that's all I know."
"So what can it do?"
The young man asked curiously.
"You can use it to contact different kinds of beings."
"And what kind of beings are they? Angels, fairies, or celestial deities?"
"Basically, all those."
"And what do we gain by contacting them?"
The young man asked, his mind already racing with possibilities.
"It depends on which entity you contact. They range from lower beings like insects to higher entities that people call gods."
Hearing this, the young man's eyes shone with even greater curiosity.
"But every being has its own agenda, especially the powerful ones who don't respond to casual attempts at communication."
After listening, the boy formed a conclusion in his mind.
"But that means some entities are willing to give away their power easily, right?"
"Why do you think that way?"
"Because if entities have their own agendas, there must be some who want to help humans, or even grant power to make humans harm each other."
The young man explained, not entirely confident that he was correct.
"You're absolutely right."
The old man replied, looking at the young man with pride, before beginning to explain what else Spirit could do.
Beyond communicating with other beings, a Spirit user can alter their own spirit. This modification is divided into conditions and oaths.
Conditions involve setting prerequisites for one's own actions - for example, creating a rule that one must press their palms together before launching an attack.
An Oath is about imposing a rule upon one's own soul - for instance, vowing that in this lifetime, whenever encountering someone in need of help, one will never turn a blind eye.
The two are fundamentally different. Conditions can be changed at any time, and there are no consequences for not following them. But an Oath - if you break the rule you've established, that person will be punished."
Despite their differences, the two share one similarity: both grant power to those who fulfill the established conditions or honor the oaths they've sworn.
"You can set any Conditions you want, but remember - Oaths are dangerous. Unless absolutely necessary, you must never swear one."
The old man warned with a stern expression.
"I'll engrave it in my mind,"
The young man replied, his expression equally solemn.
"Actually, that's about all Spirit can do."
"So can I use it now?"
"You've been able to use it since I flicked your forehead."
The old man replied, then yawned and stood up.
"We'll learn the remaining things tomorrow,"
the old man said before turning to head back to the hut.
"But if Spirit power is limited to this, what else is there for me to learn?"
the young man asked. The old man froze mid-step.
The truth was, there was nothing left to teach. But the old man had been alone for so long. Yet admitting it outright embarrassed him.
"I mean, I was going to teach you swordsmanship!"
"But I already know how."
"Then do you know how to navigate by the stars? Without a map you might get lost."
"I've known that since I was a child."
The old man turned around and yelled at him,
"That's ridiculous! How could you have learned that as a child? Weren't you a slave?"
"I became a slave when I was 7 years old. Before that, I lived with my Gramp,"
the young man explained. The old man gave up on trying to keep him longer.
"Then before you leave, you'll need to take the sword I just commissioned."
Hearing this, the young man grew curious.
"I ordered a new sword for you. It should be ready next week."
Since that was the old man's wish, the young man smiled and accepted willingly.
Each passing day was much the same, but one thing Titus had come to understand: the old man who helped him was an incredibly annoying fellow.
On the second day, the old man secretly stole Titus's pants while he was bathing.
On the third day, the old man shoved Titus into the water and then paddled away, pretending nothing had happened.
On the fifth day, while Titus was intently building a sandcastle, the old man watched from a distance. When the sandcastle was finally completed, he ran over and destroyed it before jumping into the sea and swimming away from Titus.
And this morning, the old man woke Titus up saying it was almost dawn, then told him to wait before returning to the hut. Titus sat waiting for hours before realizing he'd been tricked by the old man.
Though the old man was annoying, this was the first warmth Titus had felt since the day he became a slave.
The old man's loud laughter echoed from afar before he came running to appear before Titus, bearing a moon-silver sword.
"With this sword, you cannot oppose me. In the name of the king of this land, I command you - accept this blade!"
The old man declared in character, before presenting the sword to Titus.
As Titus received the sword into his hands, tears began to stream from his eyes.
"No need to cry. We'll meet again,"
The old man said.
The youth wiped his tears, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Who's crying? I'm just allergic to your terrible taste in swords."
The old man didn't scold him, but instead laughed loudly before fixing Titus with a serious expression.
"I hope you won't be like the others I've helped before."
The young man didn't fully understand the meaning behind those words, but he smiled back and said,
"Of course. I won't let you down."