Adam stepped closer to his parents, his movement breaking the taut string of their argument. Their faces shifted into a look of slight shame, as they probably did not want to be seen in such a state, their vulnerability exposed in the flickering candlelight.
“What exactly happened, mom, dad?” he asked unsurely, his voice cutting through the cloying tension of the room.
“You will explain it to your son, Kriss.” she said decisively, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. She turned and went back to finish the dinner, her back a rigid wall of silent protest.
His father looked at him and Berto, the shame even more evident on his face, etched into the weary lines around his eyes. “Let us sit first.”
He walked to the table and gestured for them to join him. Once all three were seated, the wood smooth and cold under Adam's palms, he began. “While making my way back home, I decided to slightly alter my course and visit the slums.”
His tone turned dark as he continued, his words carrying the weight of a funeral shroud. “The slums were always a grim place. Brothels, filth, murders, people trying to make ends meet somehow. It is a place completely abandoned by our Kingdom, a festering wound they choose to ignore.”
He practically spat at the last sentence, his disgust palpable. “But it is much worse now. Not only are there many more guards patrolling the area in groups, their steel clashing against the stones, but the atmosphere itself is even more heavy and dark. People’s fears have grown even deeper than before, a suffocating dread that clings to the skin. I did not even think it was possible, but here we are.”
After a moment of silence passed between them, a stillness that felt like a predator waiting in the corner, he added in a raspy voice, “There is a rumor circling around. They say that this time the Kingdom will send a larger group of the Army’s Tier 1 mages, accompanied by three Mages of Tier 2. Hopefully, they will find the culprits and bring them to justice.”
Adam could see how affected his father was by it all, the man's hands trembling slightly before he stilled them. Berto was also clutching the table, his knuckles ghostly white against the dark wood. Adam was not sure how to feel. He was angry that the slums existed in the first place, not to mention how long it had taken for the authorities to react to the disappearances that were presumably sacrifices. He wanted the culprits to be brought to light and sentenced for their crimes, but he also wanted the place itself to change. It was an impossible thought, a dream of a child in a world built on rot.
Soon the table was filled with various dishes that permeated the house with a scent out of this world, a cruel contrast to the tales of the slums. The dinner continued in silence, the only sound the rhythmic clinking of silverware. His mother was still angry at his father for risking himself, but Adam could see that she was affected by the state of the slums as well, her eyes reflecting a profound sadness. His Master, on the other hand, did not betray his emotions. He looked as if he were deep in thought, his mind likely wandering through the silent, cold halls of the Grand Library he had recently visited.
As everyone finished, his parents returned to their bedroom. There was probably still much left for them to talk through in private. His Master went to rest as well. Adam did not decide to return to his room and rest as everyone might have thought. Instead, he went back to the garden, taking his time to look closely at the plants and take in the fragrant scent that filled the air. It helped him calm his mind and think, the natural life around him a necessary tether to the world.
There was a dark premonition within him, a cold needle of intuition. If the Kingdom was truly sending Tier 2 mages to the slums, they would have to pass through the middle district. His house. Why not check in while they were at it, to see if there were more people they should bring back or eliminate?
When he finally reached the tree, its branches reaching like skeletal fingers toward the sky, he sat down in the now comfortable and familiar lotus position. He had to breakthrough today. He watched as life began to prepare for rest or wakefulness depending on its pattern. The sun was slowly setting, bleeding crimson across the sky before being devoured by the night. He closed his eyes and merged his will, his very being, with the mana. The process was smooth, a silent fusion with the invisible currents of the world, and he was getting closer.
A few hours passed in the blink of an eye. The sun was gone, replaced by the moon shining its ethereal, silver light upon the world. The silence that stretched out had an ethereal feeling to it, a sacred stillness. Beneath the moonlight sat a young boy who looked as if centuries could pass without his focus breaking. A tremor shook the mana, a violent ripple in the fabric of reality. Adam opened his eyes and snapped his fingers, his face as unmoving as stone. Only his emerald eyes looked as ethereal as the moon itself, burning silently with a fire of unstoppable resolution.
“Light Flicker.” he said. His voice was heavy and filled with purpose in the silent night.
A small flicker of radiant light appeared just over his hand. He had done it. Pure joy rose in his heart, unbothered by premonitions or the dark clouds lingering above him. While channeling the spell, he could feel the mana passing through his being, guided by his will like molten silver. Wherever it passed, the seed of change began, carving its mark into his very essence. His muscles felt heavier, healthier, and sturdier. The profound changes in his own being made him feel lighter and stronger, as if he were shedding a fragile skin.
Adam could also feel how the mana around him had become much more lively, a buzzing ecosystem of energy. It had always been this way, but now he could finally feel it. He was no longer blind. A brilliant flicker of pure light hung slowly just above his hand. It looked like a speck of dust compared to his Master’s version, but he did not care. He could feel extreme heat coming from it, an untamed energy that was not the case with his mentor’s refined spell.
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He had an idea, his mind working with a clinical precision. He visualized the flicker having the same intensity but much lower heat, shaping the mana with the force of his mind. He snapped his fingers again.
“Light Flicker Change.”
He felt the mana being guided by his will once more, and with it came a strain upon his being, a cold pressure that made the breath stop in his chest for a moment. The light coming from his spell dimmed slightly, but he could now touch it without risking burns. He tried it. His hand passed right through the ethereal concept, and he could feel a slightly uncomfortable warmth. He smiled, a thin expression of victory. He was truly happy to have taken his first step on the path of the arcane.
What interrupted him was the strain getting stronger, a predatory weight on his mind. He paused and thought. That is the price you have to pay for channeling mana into a spell. The strain on one's body, a debt to the universe. He had gotten stronger, true, but guiding the mana was not something a slightly stronger child would be able to manage long term. No one was.
He let his focus slip, and he felt the link between his will and the mana break, snapping like a frozen twig. The spell vanished instantly. He felt tired in both body and mind, a bone-deep exhaustion, but he decided to check one more thing before informing his Master. He closed his eyes again and focused on pure meditation. The whispers. They had become clearer and louder, a raspy chorus of ancient echoes, albeit not by much. He had thought that would be the case, and now he was certain. The price of progress was a loss of silence.
He opened his eyes with his mind set on going to his Master now.
BERTO’S POV:
He was deep in sleep when a slight tremor in the mana woke him, a jagged resonance signaling that someone had channeled a spell. His eyes immediately snapped open and he jumped out from his bed, his instincts honed by war. The dizziness was completely gone. His mind shifted to a cold, calculative state as he readied himself for battle. He left his room and paced toward the garden, his steps completely silent, moving with the shadow-like grace of years of experience.
He walked downstairs and realized that the feeling came from the garden. “Weird.” he murmured to himself, his voice a low growl. He opened the door that led outside quietly. The cold breeze of the night hit him, but he did not shake under it. What he saw, however, achieved exactly that. Under the tree sat a young boy with a brilliant flicker of light slightly hovering above his palm. Suddenly, the mana shifted again, and he could hear the boy speak.
“Light Flicker Change.”
The light dimmed a bit, and a sudden realization hit Berto as to why it did. The boy had not just cast the spell; he had already grasped its malleability, intuitively adjusting the intent behind the mana before the first flicker had even faded. He watched as the boy went further and his hand passed through his own spell. It wasn't an impossible feat, but to do so without years of calculated study, through mere instinct alone... that was the terrifying part. His pace of feeling the mana and understanding the concepts beneath it was monstrous. He was like a sponge, absorbing and refining everything that was thrown at him. Berto was watching the birth of a prodigy whose intuition might one day bypass the very limits others spent lifetimes trying to breach. If he lived.
Soon the spell vanished and the boy closed his eyes, seemingly meditating. The sudden realization hit Berto again, a cold weight in his stomach. The whispers. Something must have changed, but what? He paced leisurely toward his disciple. He saw the boy’s eyelids open again.
“Congratulations are in order first, I think, but tell me. The whispers. Did anything change?” Berto asked. He could hear that it came out much more darkly than he had intended. His inner turmoil, a storm of pride and terror, made itself known.
Adam’s eyes went from a surprised spark to cold resolution in a moment. “Master, I was just about to go to your chambers. How is it that you are here?” the boy asked, his voice calm.
“I felt the mana, Adam, and thought someone was trying to breach this house.” Berto stated as an obvious fact, his gaze searching the boy's face.
“Oh… well, that does make sense. Sorry for startling you, Master. As for your question, they did change. They are slightly clearer and louder now than they used to be.”
Berto could tell that even if the boy’s gaze lingered on him, his mind was somewhere else. Occupied. So they did grow in intensity, a slow-acting poison accompanying his growth. Berto could feel his mood turning sour, even if he should be proud and happy at his disciple’s achievement. They would have to visit the Elven library before the boy could breakthrough to the next tier, for the darkness was catching up. It would take a long time, even with the boy’s potential and monstrous perception. First, Berto would have to teach him a simple yet unknown trick to hide from the Magic Stone, a method he had patented on his own. But that could wait until morning.
ADAM’S POV:
His Master appearing just before him as he opened his eyes surprised him immensely. He had not even heard him getting close, the man moving like a ghost. After answering what he thought would be all the questions, another came.
“So, why did you decide to train more at night instead of rest? Not that I am condemning you, but I am curious as to your reasons.”
Adam looked upon his Master, meeting his gaze with an intensity that belied his age. “Master, I simply thought that if Mages of Tier 2 are coming to the slums from the inner district, they must pass through the middle one. And while they are at it, why not visit our house to see if there are more targets?”
His voice was grim, a reflection of the cold world his father had described. He could see a sudden jolt of realization dawn upon his Master, a shadow of genuine shock crossing the old man's features.
“I had not thought about it like this… You are right, Adam.”
He could see that his mentor blamed himself for his slip in judgment, the man's gaze dropping for a brief, heavy second. Berto had been so preoccupied with the dream threat and the archives that he had overlooked the most obvious, mundane danger on their own streets. It was a rookie mistake, a lapse in tactical thinking that clearly stung the veteran's pride.
“Master, I need you to teach me the method of veiling yourself you told me about.” he said decisively, his tone final.
Berto’s gaze changed from self-reproach to a silent, professional focus. He nodded and sat down next to him, taking out from beneath his robes a rough stone that was already well known to Adam.
“Let us start.”
