The first real day of training began before the sun had finished rising over the tower.
Thiriel sat cross-legged on the cold floor of his room, the manual open in front of him. He wasn't reading. He had already memorized every word during the night. What he was doing now was different.
He breathed.
Slowly. Deeply. Controlled.
Following the text's basic instructions, but adjusting them to his own experience, he turned his attention inward. He didn't seek strength or power. He sought sensation.
And he found it.
It was weak. Barely a warm tingle, like an ember buried under layers of ash. Magic didn't move like the martial aura he had mastered in his previous life. It didn't respond to direct will or aggression. It was… elusive. Dense.
Thiriel guided that flow toward the point indicated in the manual: a vague space behind the navel, slightly deeper.
The process wasn't spectacular. There were no lights or explosions. Just a constant pressure, as if he were compressing mist inside an invisible container.
When he opened his eyes, a thin layer of sweat covered his back.
"So that's how it feels," he muttered.
He wasted no time. He closed his eyes again and continued.
Hours later, hunger forced him to stop.
In the dining hall, the apprentices ate enthusiastically. Drowen spoke animatedly, boasting about how quickly he had managed to "feel" the magic.
Kael listened in silence, nodding occasionally. The others laughed, still intoxicated by the abundance of food and the idea of a better future.
Thiriel said nothing. He just ate.
A lot.
Bread, meat, fruit, everything he could. He knew his body needed it. Refining magic didn't just demand concentration; it constantly drained physical energy.
Upon returning to his room, he ran into Drowen in the hallway.
"Training again already?" he asked with a tense smile. "No need to go so fast."
Thiriel looked at him for a second and kept walking.
Drowen frowned, watching his back, and feeling the pressure, he went back to training as well.
The rest of the day passed in an almost monotonous routine.
Train. Eat. Train.
Unlike the others, Thiriel didn't waste a single second of his time. He focused solely on refining. On drawing in small amounts of ambient energy and compacting them, over and over, into the same point.
The next day, listening to the other apprentices, he confirmed that so far only two people had gotten that far.
Him… and Drowen.
The other apprentices were still struggling to perceive magic consistently. Some felt flashes, others nothing at all.
Kael had achieved basic perception, but his control was erratic.
"It's not normal," Thiriel thought. "Even for blue talent, this is too fast."
During lunch, one of the senior apprentices approached his table.
"The master sent me to tell you he is satisfied with your progress," he said in a low voice. "Especially with your insight in sensing magic."
Thiriel looked up.
"Did the master say anything else?"
The apprentice hesitated for a second.
"That he has high expectations for you."
That confirmed his suspicions.
Vexar was watching.
After eating, Thiriel went to the garden. Caethiriel was kneeling next to a row of blue-leafed plants, carefully following the manual's instructions. She looked tired, but focused.
"Brother," she said upon seeing him. "These plants react strangely when I get close. As if... they were breathing."
Thiriel crouched beside her.
"Do you feel unwell?"
"No. Just tired."
He observed her carefully. There were no signs of magic in her, but the environment was reacting subtly. He noted it mentally.
"You've worked all day," he said. "I'll take you to rest later."
She smiled, nodding.
While she continued tending the plants, Thiriel closed his eyes for an instant. He extended his senses.
And he felt it.
A faint pressure, almost imperceptible, resting on his back.
It wasn't magic. It was… attention.
Someone was watching him.
He didn't react. He didn't open his eyes. He continued feigning calm.
"Since when?" he wondered.
As evening fell, he took Caethiriel to her room. He helped her get settled, handed her a blanket, and made sure she had water.
"I'll continue tomorrow," she said, drowsily. "I'm getting used to it."
"Don't push yourself," Thiriel replied. "Rest."
He waited until her breathing became regular. Then he slipped out in silence.
He didn't return to his room.
He went down the stairs, crossed the lobby, and stepped outside the tower.
The air was cool. The sky was beginning to darken. It was the perfect moment.
He closed his eyes and expanded his senses as much as he could without using magic overtly. He wasn't looking for energy. He was looking for presences.
The sensation returned. Clear now.
Someone was keeping tabs on him, watching him.
"Good," he thought. "Let's see how far your surveillance reaches."
He began to walk around the tower, following the perimeter. Step by step, measuring every reaction. When he moved a few meters away, the pressure was still there. When he stopped, so did the pressure.
It wasn't an illusion.
"It's not one of the senior apprentices," he concluded. "Their control is too fine."
He kept moving forward, approaching the boundary Vexar had marked as "safe." The forest loomed before him, dark and silent.
He took one more step.
The pressure intensified slightly.
He smiled.
"So this is the limit."
He didn't cross it. Not yet. But he had already obtained what he wanted.
Vexar wasn't just watching the tower. He was watching him.
Thiriel turned around and headed back, his mind working tirelessly.
"Accelerated training. Abundant food. Constant surveillance," he listed. "We aren't just apprentices… we are something else to him."
When he returned to his room, he sat on the bed without turning on the lamp.
These past few days he had achieved something important: he had begun his path in magic, pulling ahead of almost everyone. And he had confirmed the most important thing...
He had proven his assumption correct: Vexar had him in his sights.
"Then I cannot be slow," he thought, closing his eyes. "I must grow as fast as possible."
Because if Vexar was spying on him…
That meant that who knows when his time would run out.