The air still carried a faint trace of the earlier disturbance — that subtle vibration of mana that hadn't yet calmed. The sunlight filtering through the study's high windows wavered slightly, disturbed by invisible ripples. Sophia sat cross-legged once again on the polished wooden floor, the faint shimmer of mana around her body fading slowly like dying embers. Her eyes, wide with confusion, turned toward Juan, who had just extinguished the volatile sphere moments ago.
Sophia could still feel the soft hum of mana beneath her skin. It wasn't pain — rather, a gentle reminder of how close she'd been to losing control. Her hands trembled faintly on her knees, more from the aftershock of fear than exhaustion.
Juan, meanwhile, stood silently before her, his long robe brushing the floor, his calm face betraying not a hint of the danger that had just passed. His presence seemed to restore stillness to the room.
Sophia's brows furrowed, her voice soft but earnest. "You said… it would have blown up the entire room?"
Juan gave a slow nod, exhaling through his nose as if weighing how to explain it to her. "You just put your own life at risk," he said evenly, his tone neither harsh nor indulgent — simply matter-of-fact. "The ball you formed from the surrounding mana was unstable. If you had gone any further, it would have exploded."
Sophia blinked. "A small ball like that… could destroy this whole room?" Her disbelief was childlike, unfeigned. But when Juan's steady gaze met hers, she realized he wasn't exaggerating.
"Yes," he said quietly. "It may look small, but that ball wasn't merely a form. You separated raw mana from the world's flow — that was good. That was control. But then…" he paused, crouching to her eye level, his voice lowering. "What you did next was the problem."
Sophia tilted her head slightly. "What do you mean? How can changing the shape of the mana make it explode?"
Juan's fingers traced a faint line through the air, as if sculpting invisible energy. "When you compressed that unpurified mana, you increased its density. It was like trying to hold a storm inside a glass sphere. The mana within was in a free, chaotic state — without an anchor, without refinement. That energy demands to move, to flow. When trapped without balance or constant supply, it tears itself apart."
His eyes softened as he saw her struggling to grasp the concept. "The mana sphere needs a steady stream from the mage to remain stable. But you—" he smiled faintly, "—haven't yet formed your first Circle. So you couldn't feed it. That imbalance would have caused an explosion, tearing through the room."
Sophia blinked again, her small face caught between awe and frustration. "So… the more compressed it is, the more dangerous?"
"Exactly. Unpurified mana behaves like pressure within a vessel. And your mind," he said, tapping his temple, "is the only wall keeping that pressure contained."
Sophia sat in silence, the implications sinking in. Her heart beat faster — not from fear, but fascination. This was the power she'd sought since the day she decided to pursue magic. Dangerous, delicate, yet full of infinite possibility.
"Hmm…" she murmured softly. "So I need to become a 1st Circle mage before I can stabilize it. But… if compressing it makes it explode without mana supply… how am I supposed to draw the magic circle and carve the runes with refined mana?"
Her question hung in the air — innocent but astute.
Juan chuckled quietly, as though reminded of his own struggles years ago. "Now that," he said, "is where true magic begins. Once you gather and refine the mana, you must release only a portion — a thin, steady stream. Shape that into the circle itself, and hold it in form while maintaining the mana flow. Every line you draw must be sustained by your will."
He stood up again, his hands gesturing as he spoke, voice taking on the calm rhythm of a seasoned teacher. "It is not just control, Sophia. It is a conversation — between your spirit and the world's energy. That conversation demands immense mental power. The stronger your mental strength, the more tasks your mind can perform simultaneously. Forming, maintaining, shaping — all at once."
Sophia's eyes gleamed as she listened. Each word etched itself into her mind, luminous and profound. Mental power… conversation with mana…
It felt complicated — almost impossible — but deep within, she felt a quiet joy. For the first time, she wasn't simply training. She was learning a language older than any human tongue.
"This is so complicated…" she sighed softly, leaning back a little.
Juan's smile turned gentle. "It is. And yet, those who persist find themselves touching something extraordinary."
The study's mana lamps glowed faintly brighter, as if reflecting her renewed resolve.
Sophia straightened her posture again, determination burning behind her emerald eyes. "I want to try again," she said, voice firm but calm.
Juan's lips curved slightly. "Then let's begin once more."
-Two Hours Later-
The once-quiet study now breathed faint waves of calm energy. Sophia sat in the center again, sweat glistening on her brow, her breathing steady but heavy. The fine strands of her white hair clung to her temples. Around her, faint traces of mana shimmered and dispersed — proof of her continued effort.
Juan stood beside her, arms folded, observing her form. She wasn't just learning quickly — she was adapting, her movements showing a natural intuition toward mana control.
Finally, he spoke softly. "It's alright if you're not able to do it yet. Many take weeks to sense mana, and even longer to gather it." He lowered himself, meeting her weary gaze. "You should feel proud of yourself, Sophia.
Sophia opened her eyes slowly, blinking away the haze of fatigue. The world felt a little sharper now, as though the veil between her senses and mana had thinned permanently.
Juan smiled, satisfied. "Our lesson for today is over. I'll be back the day after tomorrow. Until then, don't do anything except gather mana in small amounts. No compression. No circles yet, understood?"
Sophia nodded obediently, her exhaustion too deep for words.
Juan chuckled softly and ruffled her hair. "Good girl." His tone was soft but carried an unmistakable note of respect. "You're already ahead of where I thought you'd be."
With that, he rose and began gathering his things. The sound of the door closing behind him seemed to lift the tension from the room.
Sophia sat there for a while longer, eyes half-open, letting the faint hum of mana ebb from her mind. Her head throbbed faintly — an ache that came not from her body, but her spirit. Since awakening to the sensation of mana, her consciousness was constantly aware of it, brushing against her thoughts like waves against sand. Juan had warned her this would happen — that her young body wasn't yet used to the constant strain.
"Young Miss?"
Sophia looked up. Gisel stood at the doorway, her familiar, gentle face easing Sophia's fatigue.
"Gisel… I'm hungry," she said, rubbing her small stomach. "Is breakfast ready?"
Gisel smiled. "Yes, my lady. The Duke and the Duchess are waiting."
Sophia's eyes brightened slightly. "Let's go, then."
Together they walked through the quiet hallway, the gentle golden light of morning following them.
-Dining Hall-
"So… how was it?" Isabelle's soft voice carried across the long table, her smile brimming with anticipation. Her tone wasn't just curious — it was tinged with a mother's quiet relief.
Sophia, seated upright beside her, still carried a faint air of weariness, but her eyes were shining. "It was fun! I even managed to gather mana!"
Isabelle blinked, clearly surprised. "Already?"
At that moment, Damien entered the hall, his tall figure casting a faint shadow over the table. "Did I hear that right?" he said, amusement and pride coloring his tone.
"Morning, Daddy!" Sophia said cheerfully, straightening as he approached.
"Good morning, sweetheart." Damien placed a hand on her head, smiling warmly. "So you really gathered mana on your first day?"
Sophia nodded eagerly.
He let out a soft whistle. "That's quite the feat. Even geniuses rarely manage that so soon."
Isabelle chuckled softly. "Looks like she takes after you."
Damien waved off the compliment with mock humility, but the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. "Not quite. She's far calmer than I ever was. That's a mage's temperament."
He took his seat at the head of the table. "I called Juan precisely for this reason. He's one of the best teachers I know — and a close friend. But even he must be surprised."
Sophia smiled brightly at that, pride and happiness welling in her chest. "He said I did well!"
"Then that's all that matters," Isabelle said gently, reaching over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her daughter's ear. "Now, let's eat. The food's getting cold."
As the three of them began their meal, a soft warmth filled the air — the simple harmony of a family that had survived both hardship and distance.
For a fleeting moment, Sophia let herself bask in that warmth. This… this is what peace feels like.
-Inside Sophia's Bedroom-
The day's brightness had softened into a serene glow filtering through her curtains. Sophia dragged her feet across the polished floor, fatigue setting deep into her bones. "Gosh… I want to sleep…" she muttered, stretching her arms as she headed toward her bed.
But then, her gaze fell on the desk near the window — the half-open book resting on it. The book on the Verdant Household. She blinked. "Ah, right. I didn't finish it…"
Despite her body's protests, curiosity tugged her back. She sat at the desk, flipping through the thick, aged pages until she found the last section she'd read — where her mother's name appeared.
Isabelle Sinclair.
Her lips curled slightly at the thought. The next page revealed neat lines of script describing the Verdant Household's prosperity — trade, mines, and the famed mercenary guilds.
Sophia's eyes scanned the words with mild interest. "Mercenary Guild… Silverthorn…" she whispered. The Verdant House ran one of the largest mercenary networks in the Dirian Empire, where men and women of the blade earned their bread through risk. They protected, transported, hunted — but never assassinated.
She could almost imagine the proud banners of the Silverthorn Mercenary Guild flying under the mountain wind.
Then came the description of the iron mines — the ones she'd glimpsed in passing from the estate's terrace. Her small hand brushed the page absently as her mind wandered. Iron that shines like morning frost… the lifeblood of Verdant's wealth.
"This makes me wonder…" she murmured. "If there's more hidden deeper in the mountains."
Her eyes softened as she imagined the winding tunnels, the faint echoes of pickaxes, the heartbeat of the land itself.
The later pages detailed taxes, merchants, rentals — all the mundane details of governance. Sophia skimmed them with little care. That's father's domain, not mine.
But as the next section unfolded, her gaze steadied.
Damien Verdant.
At fifteen, he'd reached the Blade Seeker stage — at sixteen, entered Stelle Academy and dominated it for three straight years. By nineteen, he'd fought in the Dirian-Gridor War, earning the title "War Demon." By twenty-three, he'd become a Grandmaster of the Blade — an 8th Circle equivalent.
Sophia's heart swelled with pride and something quieter… longing. To live that freely… to wield such power without fear.
She traced her finger along the last lines — how he had declined the offer to form his own kingdom. Her father had chosen peace over ambition.
"Freedom doesn't always mean conquest," she whispered, closing the book.
The mana in the air stirred faintly, as if resonating with her resolve.
"I'll find my own way," she murmured, smiling softly to herself. "Sword or magic… it doesn't matter. I'll become strong enough to live freely."
The candlelight flickered once, then steadied — calm, unbroken, like the determination in her heart.