Cosmo Year 927
The Kingdom of Astraea
The next day began with the same routine as any other, but for Stellian, the morning air felt charged with a quiet electricity. A deep, growing curiosity had taken root in his mind, growing stronger with every heartbeat. It was a hunger for knowledge that surpassed the simple needs of his young body.
He held the book Silas had given him as if it were a fragile treasure, its leather binding cool against his skin. Inside its weathered pages lay the secrets of the Mana Domain. In the world of mages, the Domain was the absolute foundation—the bridge between the mortal mind and the ultimate forces of the universe. It was the art of total, unwavering concentration, where a human's thoughts, hearing, and senses expanded until they grasped the surroundings whole. Within a Domain, the caster was no longer a mere observer ,they were the center of a private universe. Without it, magic was impossible.
——A hollow shell without a soul.
After a quick breakfast, Stellian retreated to his usual spot under the ancient oak tree. The shade provided a cool respite, and the silence of the garden gave a overwhelming calmness.
"Let's try," he whispered, the words barely a breath.
He opened the book and began to scan the instructions.
Sit with legs crossed. Harmonize your breathing with the rhythm of the earth. Close your eyes to sharpen the inner mind.
He flipped the page, searching for a deeper explanation, but the text remained frustratingly simple. It moved immediately to advanced applications as if the act of "sensing" was as natural as breathing.
"That's it?" he muttered, a flicker of doubt crossing his young face. "Just... focus?"
Now he understood the weight of Silas's warning. Most could never achieve this because the book didn't teach you how to see the invisible; it simply told you that the invisible was there. It was like a manual on flight that forgot to mention you needed wings. For an average child, this would have been an impassable wall—a riddle with no answer.
"But I am not going to back down easily," Stellian reminded himself, his voice firming with resolve.
He was a child in body, but his mind possessed a gravity that transcended his seven years. While the other orphans saw the garden as a place for games, Stellian saw it as a complex fabric of existence waiting to be unraveled. His mental age didn't just meet the requirements for magic , it surpassed them.
He closed his eyes and placed his hands on his knees, palms up. At first, there was only the familiar silence. The distant chirping of birds and the rustle of the wind were just sounds, distant and disconnected. Nothing shifted. The world remained stubbornly physical.
What am I missing? he wondered.
Soon, he realized his mistake. He was looking for something he had never felt, trying to find a scent he had never smelled. You cannot grasp the wind if you do not acknowledge its presence. He stopped looking for "nothingness" and began to imagine that the very air around him was a living, breathing sea of energy.
In this world.
Most mages were defined by the boundaries they accepted. For instance , an Earth mage was taught to see the world in shades of Umber, forever tied to the soil. A Wind mage saw only the flowing Emerald currents of the sky. They were told to pick a single path and master it, viewing the ability to control a second element as a rare stroke of luck.
But true geniuses do not acknowledge the walls built by those who came before them. They do not walk the paths already trodden; they forge their own through the wilderness, creating new laws for the world to follow. To a genius, a boundary is not a stop sign—it is a challenge to be shattered.
Stellian pushed his focus further, ignoring the strain behind his eyes. He stopped trying to "see" with his pupils and started trying to "perceive" with his spirit.
Suddenly, the air grew heavy. It felt as if a thick, invisible mist was appearing out of nowhere, though his intuition told him it had been there since the dawn of time. Mana was like oxygen—essential, silent, and ever-present. One simply had to be quiet enough to hear it pulse.
It feels amazing, he thought, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow as the effort began to drain his physical strength. 'But it's so heavy... like the world is pressing against my skin.'
He slowly opened his eyes, but he wasn't looking at the garden anymore. He was seeing the true face of reality. The air was no longer empty space; it was a vibrant, swirling kaleidoscope of light. He saw the sturdy Umber of the earth, the dancing Emerald of the wind, the fierce Crimson of fire, and the fluid Azure of water. Most shocking of all were the shimmering threads of Radiant Gold and the deep, swirling Violets of shadow.
"Wait..." he gasped, his heart hammering against his ribs. The book had said sensing two types of mana was a legendary feat. But Stellian wasn't seeing two. He was seeing the entire spectrum.
Because he had entered his meditation without prejudice—without seeking a specific element—his soul had remained an open vessel. He hadn't asked the world for a single gift. He had demanded to see the truth.
He closed his physical eyes, but the vision only grew clearer. He could feel the tiny heartbeat of an insect on a leaf ten meters away. He could sense the exact moment a blade of grass bent under the weight of a dewdrop. His Domain expanded like a ripple in a pond, carving out a twenty-meter circle of absolute awareness. Within this space, he was the master of all information.
He had succeeded. He had touched the fundamental pulse of the world.
Stellian remained in his state of grace, basking in the glow of the hidden world, when a cool, mature voice drifted from behind him, cutting through his concentration like a silk ribbon.
"Maybe Master was right... you truly are a unique one."
Stellian flinched. It wasn't the suddenness of the voice that startled him, but rather the way it resonated. Because his Domain was still active, the voice didn't just reach his ears; it vibrated through his very essence, amplified by his heightened sensitivity. It felt as if someone had dropped a stone into the perfectly still pond of his mind.
He spun around, his breathing ragged as he broke the trance. Standing before him was a young woman who looked to be in her early twenties, though she carried an air of grace that suggested a far more disciplined life. Her hair was a striking, deep blue—like the ocean at midnight—cascading down her back in elegant waves. But it was her eyes that held him; they were a sharp, piercing emerald, shimmering with a light that suggested she, too, could see the world's hidden colors.
She smiled at him, a gesture that was soft yet carried the weight of hidden power. She crouched down, her high-collared silk dress pooling on the grass like a flower in bloom, and placed a gentle hand on his white-blonde hair.
"Hi," she said softly.
"H-Hi?" Stellian stammered, his mind racing to catch up. He quickly tried to pull back into his shell, his expression shifting into the cold, distant mask he usually wore for the world. He looked at her with the sharp, suspicious eyes of a stranger. "Who are you?"
"Don't be so thick-skinned," she teased, her smile widening as she observed his defensive stance. "My name is Aurelia. Aurelia Zenin."
The name didn't struck a anything in Stellian's mind. Even though , in the neglected corners of an orphanage, the name Zenin was spoken of in legends. They were a pillar of the Kingdom of Astraea—a high-noble family of peerless arcanists. They were known across the continent for their innate affinity for the heavens, famously whispered about as The Gale-Born Zenins, But Stellian never engaged in normal conversations to knew
"I am here as a volunteer," she explained, noticing the flicker of recognition in his eyes. "I've decided to offer my services to the orphanage for a while."
Her first sentence intrigued Stellian. He narrowed his eyes, focusing his gaze until it was as sharp as a needle. "What did you mean by 'Master'?"
He paused, a theory forming. "Wait... is your master... Silas?"
"Yes, Silas Grave is indeed my mentor." she replied, her emerald eyes twinkling.
For the first time in their conversation , a genuine, unguarded smile broke across Stellian's face. The realization that he wasn't alone—that this powerful, beautiful woman was connected to the man who has indeed the most closest to him—melted a small portion of the ice around his heart. However, he quickly regained his composure, tucking the emotion away.
"I see," he muttered, looking back toward the book. "Since you are here to volunteer, do you require anything from me? I am busy with my studies."
Aurelia shook her head, laughing softly. "No, I don't require anything. But you are a child, Stellian, and you seems to be alone and more difficult to approach then others. I am not the only one who applied to help here, but I noticed you. I simply came to check on you."
Check on me? Stellian searched her face for a hint of lies or pity, but he found only sincerity. It was a strange sensation—someone looking at him not because they had to, but because they wanted to.
"Hey, — ~ am Aun—?"
"Don't you dare," Aurelia interrupted, her finger raised in a playful warning. "If you finish that word, I'll make sure your next meditation is much more difficult. I am far too young to be an 'Auntie'." She raised her index finer "You can call be Sis Aurelia Or Big sis as you want "
Stellian's cheeks flushed a faint, embarrassed red. He had never had a sibling, never known the warmth of a mother's guidance or the playful bickering of a sister. The sudden closeness made him anxious, but in a way that didn't hurt.
"Then... Big Sis Aurelia," he managed to say, his voice barely audible. "Let's go back to the house. It will be lunch soon."
"A fine idea," she said, standing up and smoothing her dress with a regal flick of her wrists.
They walked back toward the orphanage together. Inside the dining hall, the air was thick with the comforting scent of vegetable stew. Alina Thorne was moving between the long wooden tables, pouring portions for the other children.
Aurelia didn't wait to be asked. She stepped into the kitchen area, rolling up her sleeves with an elegance that made even manual labor look like a ritual.
"Let me help you with that tray," she said warmly.
Alina looked up, her tired eyes sparkling in surprise as the high-born Zenin noble and the quiet, white-haired boy entered the room together. For the first time in his life, Stellian didn't feel like an observer watching the world from the outside. He felt, if only for a moment, that he was part of it.