Later in the afternoon, it was time for Paulo to train with Daiki without wooden swords sized for them. The session had turned straight into a full-body grind with jogging, push-ups, sit-ups, the works. No shortcuts, no breaks.
Daiki's strategy? Simple, to make Paulo strike first. On days when work kept Daiki from draining her, this kind of raw physical training became non-negotiable.
A daily must. Turns out, no matter what world you're in, some rules never change, especially when it comes to building strength from the ground up.
I'll try my best.
As a kid, Paulo's fragile new body can't handle sword training all afternoon, so her sessions wrap up early. But that doesn't mean she clocks out.
She channels every spare ounce of energy into mastering her mana control, pushing her broken core to its limits and beyond.
Magic isn't one-size-fits-all: spells and skills drain mana at wildly different rates, depending on their nature. Lately, though, her capacity has surged, big time.
Now, she can fire off her lightning enhancement skill a full eight times before hitting empty. To burn through her reserves? Simple, go all out until the tank's dry. But today's mission shifts focus: dexterity. Precision. Control.
So she dives into intricate magic work, tiny, refined tasks that demand absolute finesse. Crafting lightning-charged pebbles. Weaving armour from raw voltage. Even etching glowing words onto book pages with pure energy.
She splits soil from the courtyard into perfect fractions, levitates keys just inches from door knobs, small feats, but insanely demanding and deep in the night, as arcs of power crackle through the dark, faint grumbles echo back from the shadows… someone's clearly not happy about the light show.
Where are they coming from? Of course, it was from Daiki and Satsuki's room. Busy working. Maybe in the not-so-distant future, my younger brother or sister will be born, I guess.
Four months in the training, and she could now channel lightning enhancement longer than ever before.
With her power surging, Paulo jumped at the chance, night after night, she trained under Yumi, diving deep into advanced lightning spells, hunting for ones that could supercharge her system and take her abilities to the next level.
"Wait, Teacher, why is magic almost only used in battle and barely in healing anymore? That's seriously messed up. Doesn't that seem backwards to anyone else?"
Paulo shot the question into the air, propped lazily against a thick tree trunk, while Yumi casually leaned on his shoulder, all ears.
"Actually, Paulo, you're selling it short calling it just a weapon, . "I've seen healers, powerful ones, change everything with it." Yumi shot back, her fingers instinctively tightening around his.
Most of the time Yumi will always answer any of Paulo's sudden questions seriously.
"Hmm, where to even start...? Legend says magic was born with the ancient long-eared ones, the high elves." Yumi mused, then plunged in.
Paulo blinked, totally baffled. "Long-eared elves? Never heard of them, in all five years of my life. Seriously, what are they? Spill it."
"Okay, picture this. The Long Ear Elves? They're a whole race thriving up north of Snowy Island on Terra, one of just four legendary islands that make up our world." Yumi said, her blonde hair twirling around her fingers as she clung to Paulo's arm.
According to Yumi's words, long before the brutal war between humans and non-humans tore the world apart, chaos reigned supreme, battle raged on every horizon.
In that turbulent age, the ancient high elves, a noble long-eared race, wielded a power unlike any other: they spoke directly to the forest spirits, bending earth and wind to repel invaders.
Legend claims this was the very first magic the world ever knew, raw, primal, and born from nature's own voice.
"Huh? So, it actually made it into the history books too? Figures, back then, they must've felt they had no choice but to write it all down, just to preserve the scars left by a war that shattered countless lives." Paulo shot back, laced with sarcasm.
"Of course it was. Humans are stuck, always documenting the past, never breaking free from the same endless battles they keep dragging along." Yumi shot back, her nod sharp and deliberate, cutting through Paulo's sarcasm.
"Magic today? It's not some forgotten relic, it's a living, breathing evolution forged by humans who mastered the art of mimicking the ancient long-eared race's power during those legendary wars. We didn't just copy it; we upgraded it. And honestly? We've got a real talent for reinventing the impossible and humans are really good at that."
"Wait, humans are really good at that? Could you explain what you mean? I'm totally lost," Paulo pressed, furrowing his brow as he struggled to grasp the final piece of his teacher's statement.
"Absolutely. Humans have always been the ultimate innovators, constantly shaping, building, and redefining this world with their ideas." Yumi shot back with a knowing smile.
It seems the human race loves to invent.
"Why limit magic to battles when it's clearly only ever used that way? If we're not stuck depending on spells, then surely there's power in the world around us, tools, forces, anything, we could harness to make things happen?" Yumi mused, her gaze drifting into the shimmering night sky.
"Wait, what kind of 'things' are you talking about?" Paulo started to ask, but his words stalled as he suddenly realized Yumi had quietly leaned into him, clinging close.
"For example, if you need a light, you can just use a candle or lantern, right."
I see, that's something very common. Compared to using magic, a tool is definitely simpler. That's kind of logical. though if it's voiceless, it's even simpler than using a tool.
"Why are you holding on so tight while telling me this?" Paulo asked, only to be swept into a warm embrace, by Yumi, not the other way around.
"Because in all my thirty-seven years, you're the very first person who truly matters to me. Now come on, let's head back before your parents start wondering where you've gone."
Yumi explained softly and with that, she hoisted Paulo onto her back and strode toward home, carrying more than just a child, she carried a promise.