Next, Master began to explain the concept of mana veins. "Mana veins," he said, tapping the side of a thick parchment roll, "are pathways within the body used for channeling mana. Without them, you would be unable to circulate or control even a single drop of it." He unrolled the parchment on the table, revealing a detailed anatomical drawing. Thin, glowing lines ran through the illustrated body like roots spreading from a tree.
Looking at the drawing, I felt both fascination and confusion. The structure looked simple enough, but the flow of mana seemed to be directed only toward specific areas—almost like predetermined routes with no freedom to branch.
"Master," I asked, pointing at the diagram, "is there any way to change your mana veins? Or make them better at handling mana?"
He gave a heavy sigh, the kind that carried decades of experience. "There is a way to create additional mana veins or expand the ones you already have. But the procedure is incredibly dangerous. A single mistake could cripple you for life… or kill you outright. I would not recommend it."
His words made me pause. Even so, my mind wandered. Electric circuits, I thought to myself. The way mana veins worked reminded me of how circuits flowed—directed, structured, not always efficient. And if circuits could be modified…
Master continued the lesson without noticing that my mind had drifted. "As you felt when you used mana for the first time, it enhances the physical body. That enhancement allowed a boy your age to rip a chain out of a stone wall."
I scratched my cheek, a little embarrassed to be reminded of that.
"But," he continued, "that is only the most basic use of mana. By using the mana within you and the mana outside in the atmosphere, you can create natural spells. Conjured spells, however, are different. They rely solely on your own mana and on your understanding of the spell's structure."
I raised my hand. "Wait—so natural spells use less mana than conjured spells?"
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Ah, so you caught that. Yes. Since natural spells draw partially from the ambient mana around you, they require less internal mana compared to conjured spells. Conjured spells depend entirely on the user's reserves."
I nodded slowly. That made sense. Natural spells were like breathing air, while conjured spells were like holding your breath underwater.
"Now then," he said, closing the book with a soft thud, "stand up and chant these phrases. We will begin your first spell."
I froze. "Wait, chant? You need to chant to use a spell? But you cast spells without saying anything."
"That is because I am an arch-mage," he replied flatly. "And because I am extremely familiar with the structure of the spells I use. You, however, are a beginner. Now—get ready."
I reluctantly stood and took the paper he handed me. The chant felt awkward and dramatic, and I couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Still, I breathed in deeply and began speaking the words. As I did, a warm sensation spread through my chest and then throughout my limbs. Mana flowed like gentle water through my veins, gathering above my open palm.
A small ball of water—no larger than a baseball—slowly formed in the air above my hand. My mouth fell open as I stared at it.
"I… I actually did it," I whispered.
The little sphere wiggled unsteadily, then burst, splashing water all over the floor.
Master sighed. "You must maintain focus. Control. If you wish to grow stronger, practice is unavoidable." He paused for a moment, his expression softening. "How was your first spell?"
Still in shock, I felt a slow smile forming on my face. "Amazing."
For a brief moment—a rare one—he smiled at me like a grandfather watching a grandchild's first steps. Then the expression vanished as if it had never been there.
"That is the end of today's lesson. I will be in my study throughout the night. Eat dinner alone."
I bowed. "Yes, Master."
When he left, I felt a faint tug of curiosity about his study, especially what he kept hidden beneath it. But this opportunity—to learn magic—was too precious to risk by poking around where I shouldn't. So I pushed the thought away.
After cleaning the spilled water, I prepared lunch and sat down with a book on language studies. But a familiar knock interrupted me.
"Sir Lurthar," a knight's voice called gently, "the young lady requests your company for afternoon tea."
I sighed. Afternoon tea, huh? That was her excuse every time. She tried so hard to sound mature and noble. But in truth, every time I visited the mansion she just wanted someone to play with. Honestly, I understood the importance of forming a good relationship with the marquis's family… but four visits a week? I was an adult on the inside—I was getting tired of playing pretend with a child.
Still, I opened the door and greeted the knight. "I will go."
Maybe, just maybe, I'd get a chance to explore their library today.
After putting away my food and climbing into the carriage, we headed to the mansion. As expected, Oriane was waiting at the entrance with her usual proud expression.
"Welcome back, Lu. Now let's go have some tea," she said, hands on her hips. She'd given me the nickname "Lu" weeks ago, and honestly, I didn't mind it.
Following behind her, I finally said, "Look, kid— I mean, Oriane. I've been playing your games every time I come over. Can we do something else today?"
She stopped, turned to me with a mix of irritation and confusion. "Then what do you want to do?"
"Do you have a library here?"
"Yes, but you can't play in there."
"I'm not trying to play. I just want to see it."
Still confused, she led me inside.
The library was enormous—easily twice the size of Master's home. Shelves were organized by sections: law, noble houses, history, magic, biographies, and more. I felt like I'd stumbled into a treasure vault.
I went straight to the empire's history section. "Can I read some of these?"
Oriane tilted her head. "But that's so boring…"
I laughed. "Right, I forgot—you're still a kid when it comes to reading."
Her expression darkened. She stormed right up to me until her face was inches from mine.
"Stop calling me a kid! We're the same age! And you were a slave, so you shouldn't talk to me like that! I was being nice letting you play with me, but you keep being rude!"
The moment the words left her mouth, she froze in horror. Then she ran out of the library, her shoes echoing down the hallway.
I stood there, stunned. Not angry… just surprised.
A moment later, the marquis entered the library. I bowed immediately.
He chuckled lightly. "Please forgive my daughter. She has never had friends her age before. But some of the blame lies with you as well. You are clever—far too clever for a boy your age. But she is just a normal girl. You must be mindful of her feelings."
"Yes, sir," I replied quietly.
"Well then," he said, gesturing to the shelves, "enjoy your reading. And please—do forgive my daughter."