“You see, Adam, most would think of hiding themselves by putting up a wall or some sort of illusion, but that is not the case here. This trick is something I patented myself, and while it is easy in theory, it is incredibly hard in practice. It will put a strain upon you which you have probably felt when channeling a spell already, is that not right?” Berto asked, looking directly at him with a gaze that remained heavy and unblinking.

  Adam nodded slowly, the silence of the garden feeling like a physical pressure against his skin. “Yes, I did feel a strain when I changed the spell. It was present in both my body and my mind. I thought of it as a price that had to be paid to guide something as powerful as mana.”

  A faint, approving smile appeared on his mentor’s face, but it was quickly lost in the natural darkness of the garden. “You are right, Adam. We call it Mana Overload. It occurs when your will and body have been bearing the strain of mana for too long, or when the amount is simply too much to handle. There are stages to it. At first, there is a slight strain that grows in potency as you force yourself further. That strain eventually becomes a searing pain, feeling as if your whole being is being torn apart by cold, invisible claws. You can faint or even fall into a coma if you push too far.”

  Berto paused, his expression hardening into a mask of cold professionalism. “In cases where you completely go overboard by trying to channel something you have the knowledge of but not the strength to back up, the consequences are dire. You will bleed from your orifices, or you could even die a gruesome, painful death, your very essence collapsing under the weight of the power you sought to anchor.”

  Adam nodded again, absorbing the gravity of the warning. It was a logical progression. One did not only need the knowledge and understanding of mechanics to begin visualization, but also the raw strength of both body and will. There was always a price to pay for guiding mana toward a desired outcome; the only question was whether one was capable of paying for it.

  “To hide your potential before the Magic Stone, you will have to merge your will with the mana emanating from it at precisely the right moment and guide it back yourself. It requires perfect timing and immense focus. The strain resulting from this will be high.” Berto explained, his voice low and raspy.

  He held up the rough, grey stone, a fragment of solidified darkness that seemed to watch them with inanimate indifference. “The Magic Stone sends out three mana waves that pass through your body, like jagged ripples in a still pond. Each wave that passes successfully symbolizes a Tier of potential, and the next one comes with increased power to strain you further, just as I told you days ago. Your job will be to merge with the third mana wave and send it back before it can fully pass through you. If you succeed, the stone will register your potential as Tier 2.”

  Adam looked at the stone, feeling its cold presence. He understood the gamble. He had to let the first two waves scan him completely, exposing his nature to the core, and then, like a gate slamming shut against a storm, he had to intercept the third. It was a dance on the edge of a blade. He was ready to try.

  “I am ready, Master.” he said, his voice decisive and his emerald gaze burning with an unstoppable focus.

  The Master handed him the stone, which was rough and warm, just as he remembered. What he had not felt earlier, however, was the silent yet heavy presence the stone emanated as it rested in his hand, as if it were a tether to something ancient and indifferent. He felt a tremor in the mana, and soon the stone guided that energy into his being. He felt the first wave passing through every nook of his body. The strain was nonexistent, and even if he had tried to stop it right there, there was no point in hiding his potential at the level of a mortal when he was already Tier 1 himself. That lie would not go far.

  As the first wave ended with a tremor of mana, the next one arrived. This one did not put a strain on his body yet, just as it had been on the first day they tested his potential, but he felt that stopping it in the way his mentor described would be a task requiring more than simple willpower. As the stronger wave passed through his whole body, he closed his eyes and let the background of the world fade into insignificance.

  Soon, he felt the mana trembling with even more strength before it even entered his body, a violent resonance. Then came the third and strongest wave. To let it pass through his body would be easy, but to stop it? The weight of doing so felt immense, like trying to halt a mountain's collapse. He tried to merge his will with the mana surging through his body, and the strain momentarily became extreme. It felt as if he were trying to stop a hurricane with his bare hands. Not only did he fail as the mana surged through his being and the Magic Stone turned pure white again, but during that third wave, he heard the whispers once more. They came with much more clarity than he had ever heard during his meditation, even as a Tier 1; a raspy chorus of ancient echoes that seemed to vibrate in his very skull.

  He coughed violently, feeling as if his body were burning with an internal fire. Changing the spell had been much easier, both in the execution and in the price he had to pay. The task before him felt as if he were facing a solid wall and had to get past it by slamming his head against it repeatedly. Along with the mana overload, he could still hear the whispers, though they receded into a dull hum once the wave passed.

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  His Master watched him with a worry that was etched into the weary lines of his face. “To be honest, Adam, I never tried stopping the third wave. I never had to, because for me, it fails on its own. Even with my Tier 2 strength, stopping the second wave was a hard task. Meditate for a moment. It will let your body and mind regenerate, and then we will have to try once more.”

  Adam nodded heavily and sank into meditation, the fragrance of the garden a thin, fragile tether to reality. Around thirty minutes passed before he felt ready to try again. What worried him most were the whispers accompanying him during the task. If Adam was right and they were whispering knowledge that no man was ever meant to hear, why did they appear during the third wave? Were they trying to tell him something? If so, what was it, and why him? The question that nagged him the most was their origin. Was it some God trying to help, or a vile, celestial being who wanted to see his playtoy go insane in the dark? He did not know.

  The rest of the night continued, a cycle of failure and agonizing recovery, and through all of it, Adam failed every time. When the moon was finally replaced by the first rays of the sun that bled crimson across the sky, he could only hope that it was not today that the mages arrived. He hoped his intuition was wrong. He felt immensely tired, a bone-deep exhaustion. His mind and body both screamed at the strain he had put upon himself, and the voices still lingered with him, refusing to fade into silence.

  “We have to finish for today, Adam, as you would drop dead if we continued. We can only hope that your premonitions were wrong.” He could hear that his Master did not exactly believe his own words when it came to those premonitions, the man’s voice lacking its usual conviction. It was highly likely that the mages would indeed come. “Let us go eat the breakfast that your mother prepared, and after that, go to sleep. Perhaps your next try after you have rested will be successful.”

  Adam nodded as he stood up, his legs trembling. Even walking felt as if he could drop at any moment. When they walked inside together from the garden, he saw the surprised faces of his parents. They looked at both him and Berto, their silence a heavy shroud for a long moment.

  “What were you two doing, and why does Adam look as if he is barely alive?” his mother asked. He could hear the sharp edge of anger in her voice at seeing his broken state. She looked ready to throw a fist at his Master if it turned out to be his fault.

  “Adam had a breakthrough. He is now a Tier 1 Mage, so his state is only normal.” Berto said casually, though his eyes remained grim.

  Adam watched as the sudden realization hit them. They stood there, staring agape at him, their world shifting on its axis. After the silence stretched for a while, his father burst into pure, booming laughter.

  “Hahaha! That is my son! Dear, this breakfast has to be a feast!” His voice echoed through the whole house, filled with extreme joy and a pride that made Adam’s chest tighten.

  Adam smiled faintly. He felt like shit, his body a map of pain. The world could drop upon them at any moment, but he felt truly happy seeing his parents' joy. He sat down with Berto at the table, and soon an exquisite scent filled the home. As Caitlyn joined them, the feast started. He ate like a starved beast, making food vanish in seconds, which made everyone join in a laugh that felt far too fragile.

  The rest of breakfast continued in a warm atmosphere that helped Adam calm down, but it also made him remember exactly for whom he had endured the night’s torments. As the meal ended, he felt slightly better, the amount of food aiding his recovery. He went straight to his room, his steps echoing silently as he passed through the house. When he finally reached his destination, he dropped onto the bed. It felt as if he were lying on a cloud made of the world’s best materials. As soon as his eyes closed, he was asleep, but instead of the usual blackness, he was greeted by a dream.

  He found himself in the same place he had been cast into the last time. The darkness, dimly lit by the massive, indifferent bodies of burning stars, stretched infinitely before him. The whispers soon joined him, their cacophony turning into loud, demanding voices with terrifying speed. They had grown exponentially since his last dream, a consequence of his advancement to Tier 1. He felt as if his very being were being torn apart by their weight, stretched across the indifferent stars. The unknown language resounded, drumming in his head as if trying to bore a hole through his skull.

  He screamed, but his voice never left him, swallowed by the vacuum. There was no sound in this place except for the one his tormentors made. Just as he reached the brink of insanity from the strain, he felt the voices fade. A last, barely audible sound reached his ears, and this time, he understood.

  “Change.”

  Adam was cast away from the darkness into a whirl that sent him straight back to his bed. He woke up feeling as if he had not slept at all. His whole body and mind screamed from a searing pain, and his back was drenched in a cold, heavy sweat. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at the ceiling, his heart racing with a frantic, uneven rhythm.

  He understood the word. Change. Whatever the fuck it was supposed to mean. Change what exactly, or who? He had no idea what it could possibly signify, but it felt like a command from the mysterious being. A slight grunt made him realize he was not alone in the room. In the doorway stood his mentor, looking extremely grim, his silhouette framed by the encroaching shadows. His gaze pierced Adam’s own.

  “I assume you had the dream again, but we have no time to talk about that.” Berto stopped, and for a moment, a heavy silence stretched between them. His eyes were grim, but Adam could see that he had resolved himself to something, a terrifying shift in his demeanor. “They are here, Adam.” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

  The realization hit Adam like a hammer.