We plummeted like stones, the wind shrieking past my ears. My hair, which had been neatly tied back, whipped free in a wild, dark stream around my face.
Fuck, fuck, this is insane! I cursed inwardly, my gaze locked on Arthur's infuriatingly calm smile as the ground rushed up to meet us with terrifying speed.
The cobblestone courtyard grew larger, more detailed, every crack and shadow becoming horrifyingly clear. I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact that would shatter every bone in my body.
But the crushing pain never came. Instead, my feet met something solid yet yielding, with only a soft thump. I slowly opened one eye, then the other.
Beneath us was a shimmering, golden platform of pure light, hovering just a few inches above the ground. My legs turned to water. I collapsed to my knees on the glowing surface, my heart hammering against my ribs like a frantic bird.
"Ah… ah… I'm alive," I gasped, the words a breathless prayer of relief.
"You should have seen your face, Young Master!" Arthur chuckled, the sound rich and amused. "You looked as if you'd seen a ghost. Ahaha!"
My head snapped up. I glared at him, fury burning away the residual terror. "You—"
"You know I would never truly harm you," he interrupted smoothly, his smile never faltering. "And a fall from that height is nothing to someone of my strength. Or yours, with me beside you."
I knew that. Logically, I knew a vampire of his power could survive a much greater fall, and he wouldn't have let me splatter. But logic and the primal fear of a ten-story drop were two very different things.
He just kept smiling, and all I could think of were increasingly violent and specific ways to end him—strangulation, immolation, a diet of pure garlic. But I also knew the stories: vampires here were not felled by such simple folklore.
I let out a long, shuddering sigh, forcing my composure to return. I tried to stand, but the moment I put weight on my hands, the golden platform beneath us winked out of existence.
I dropped straight down, landing hard on my backside on the cold cobblestones with a grunt of pain. Arthur, of course, landed gracefully on his feet beside me.
A fresh, sharp ache bloomed in my tailbone. I shot him a venomous look as I scrambled to my feet, dusting off my pants. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
"Of course not, Young Master," he said, the picture of innocence. "My magic simply… malfunctioned. Such failures happen from time to time." He gave an elegant shrug.
"Malfunctioned my ass," I muttered under my breath.
"What was that, Young Master?"
"Nothing. Let's just go to the training grounds," I said, turning away before my expression could betray my murderous intent.
Around us, the stationed guards and passing servants who had witnessed our dramatic descent were whispering among themselves.
"Did you see that?"
"Yeah. Sir Arthur did the same thing to Princess Sephira when she was little. She screamed just like that, too."
I frowned, catching snippets of their conversation. He did the same to Sephira? I turned to look at Arthur in disbelief. He met my gaze and offered that same, placid, knowing smile.
Someone please find a wooden stake.
Pushing down my annoyance, a new curiosity surfaced. What kind of ability lets him create solid platforms of light? A creation-type affinity?
Arthur fell into step beside me. "Our training grounds are this way," he said, pointing not toward the massive, guarded gates of the official sparring yards behind us, but toward the sprawling palace gardens.
"What are you talking about? The training grounds are right there." I jerked a thumb over my shoulder.
"Not today, Young Master. Today, we train outside."
"Huh?"
"Isn't it exciting?" He spread his arms wide, as if embracing the sky. "Training amidst nature, feeling the invigorating breeze, the kiss of sunlight on your skin…"
It is the opposite of exciting.
"In the sun?" I pressed.
"Yes."
"Aren't you going to… burn?"
"No."
"You're sure?"
"Quite sure," he said patiently. "As you are aware, vampires no longer combust in daylight."
"Tsk. Fine. Let's go."
He was right. According to the histories, vampires had once been creatures of the night, but a powerful progenitor among their kind had broken that curse generations ago. Now, they walked in the sun as easily as any human, without the need for enchanted jewelry or mystical trinkets.
We walked along a winding cobblestone path that cut through the manicured lawns. Soldiers and servants alike paused to bow or offer respectful greetings. "We greet the Lord Commander! Young Master Lucas!"
Lord Commander. The title suited him, I supposed.
Soon, we passed from orderly lawns into a space that transcended the label of 'garden'. It was a vast, cultivated forest within the palace walls. Dozens of ancient willow trees, their long, graceful branches swaying like green curtains, dotted a rolling field of emerald grass. A breathtaking border of blood-red roses encircled the entire area, a vibrant ring of color against the green and grey. The beauty of it was almost surreal.
I took a deep, slow breath. The air was a complex symphony of scents—damp earth, the sweet perfume of countless flowers, the crisp, clean smell of greenery, and the underlying scent of old stone. It brought an unexpected calm to my still-jangling nerves.
"It… might not be so bad after all," I admitted grudgingly.
"I told you," Arthur said, a hint of genuine pleasure in his voice.
It was strange. A vampire who was a connoisseur of sunlit forests and roses. The world was full of contradictions.
We stopped beneath the expansive canopy of a giant willow. I sat on the soft grass, crossing my legs, while Arthur remained standing, a tall, pale sentinel against the dappled light.
"So, Young Master," he began, crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you know of magic circles and mana cores?"
I thought for a moment, organizing the knowledge I'd scavenged from the palace libraries. "Magic circles are concentric rings of refined magical energy that mages form around their heart. Each circle represents a stage of progression and power, with the first circle marking the beginner level. A mana core is an internal organ that acts as a reservoir and filter for mana. Its strength and purity determine a user's magical potential."
It was a textbook answer. In my past life, mana cores were a staple of fantasy, but the concept of constructing magical rings around one's heart was entirely new. I wondered where the mana was stored in that system—perhaps within the heart itself?
Arthur nodded, a teacher pleased with a diligent student. He clapped his hands together once, the sound sharp in the peaceful glade. "A good foundational understanding. But allow me to elaborate."
"A magic circle is, as you said, the evolution of a mage. You build rings of pure, solidified mana around your heart. With each new ring, your capacity and control grow exponentially, allowing for more potent and complex spells. The first circle is indeed the beginning. The tenth circle is the pinnacle most can ever dream of reaching—a rank of true, world-shaping power. Only a handful in all of history have ever ascended beyond it, and their numbers could be counted on one hand."
"You mean the eleventh and twelfth circles?" I asked, the names feeling heavy on my tongue.
"Yes," he confirmed, his golden eyes holding a distant, respectful light.
In this world, tenth-circle mages were living legends, the powers behind thrones. Those who were said to have reached the eleventh or twelfth were myths—figures who had either ascended to godhood or vanished in the attempt. It was a height I needed to reach. No, had to reach. Whatever was coming demanded nothing less.
"The eleventh and twelfth ranks are not for you to worry about now," Arthur said, pulling me back to the present. "Focus on reaching the tenth first."
"You say that as if it's easy," I retorted.
"You can always try."
Easy for him to say. Reaching the tenth circle was a lifetime's struggle for most prodigies. And I wasn't just aiming for that; I was attempting the dual path—forging both a mana core and magic circles. The texts were clear: attempting both was like trying to house two opposing storms in one body. The risk wasn't just failure; it was catastrophic, internal annihilation.
I had to try anyway. The alternative was being left behind.
*********
I lied ;-;