From the moment Kael finally had enough resources and time to spare, life seemed to quicken its pace—days blurring one into another.

  Outside, autumn winds swirled over Lasthold, while Kael’s world had shrunk to a steady rhythm of training. He rarely left his room, relying on mana elixirs and Concentration Pills given by Draxion.

  The longer it went on, the more vividly Kael felt the sphere of mana around his heart condense and strengthen day by day.

  Only occasionally did he pause his training, dropping by the Academy or the Hall of Ancient Research.

  Fortunately, neither demanded much of his time. Practical lessons were far rarer than theoretical ones, from which Kael had been excused. In the Hall of Ancient Research, he was still entrusted only with lighter tasks.

  Magister Duran personally chose which texts Kael would translate—just to make sure he didn’t accidentally uncover something important again. Still, Kael understood the reasoning. Strategically, it was wiser to remain in the shadows after the recent uproar.

  ? ? ?

  At that moment, Kael sat in his room, carefully tracing symbols on parchment. The ink had already begun to dry, and a faint scent of herbal essence, added for durability, lingered in the air.

  He finished the last mark, drew a neat line connecting two symbols, and set down his quill with a quiet exhale.

  “Good thing I can do this from home…” he murmured, stacking the pages neatly. “A few hours’ work—and that’s a whole week done.”

  Beside him lay ancient parchments with dull yellow surfaces, covered in intricate runes. Kael carefully placed the translated sheets beside the originals, checking the alignment of symbols, then nodded in satisfaction and tucked them into his desk drawer.

  “I’ll deliver this to Magister Duran at the end of the week,” he said aloud, closing the drawer.

  For a moment his gaze lingered on the shelf, on an old book about herbs—a small thing that brought back the day he’d first stepped into the Hall of Ancient Research.

  Kael paused, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and smiled faintly.

  “By the way… I’ve been so busy, I still haven’t bought Master Violet anything as an apology,” he muttered, half to himself.

  He rose from the desk, stretched, and headed toward the wardrobe, adding as he went:

  “Maybe I should bring my ‘apology’ straight to her house? She’s been busy lately…”

  As it turned out, Master Violet really had been consumed by new work.

  According to Magister Duran, two weeks ago she’d found an ancient treatise that completely absorbed her. She had thrown herself into it so deeply that she almost stopped coming to the Hall of Ancient Research.

  Since the day Kael had promised her an “apology,” they hadn’t crossed paths—though that hardly crossed his mind now.

  He waved his hand, activating his spatial ring. At once, a vial of mana elixir and a small box appeared on the table.

  Kael lifted the lid, took out one Concentration Pill, and said with a faint smirk:

  “Today… I will break through.”

  He tossed the pill into his mouth and, without hesitation, washed it down with a mana elixir. His throat burned as if he had swallowed strong liquor. Almost instantly, a wave of power rippled through his body, and his skin became shrouded in a thin gray mist. But this was no sweat—it was his own mana, dense enough at last to manifest across his entire body.

  Kael looked down at his hands. The silvery mist drifted slowly above them.

  He smiled with quiet satisfaction.

  “Core Mage stage… wait for me.”

  With those words, he sank to the floor, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes. The air in the room grew heavier, as if the very space were waiting for him to take the next step.

  In his mind, the mantra from the Canon of Primordial Void began to resonate.

  At first faintly—like a distant whisper—then louder, until the tones merged into a single rhythm with neither beginning nor end. Kael’s thoughts gradually dissolved, and his body seemed to lose its shape. The world around him faded, giving way to an endless inner expanse where there was no time, no form—only him and the darkness filled with silence.

  His consciousness slipped deeper, and Kael felt his body cease to belong to him. All sensation receded, as if he had become nothing—a point of emptiness drawing in everything around it.

  At that instant, mana began to stir around his physical body—slow at first, barely perceptible. But with each passing second, the current grew stronger, forming a vortex. The air trembled as thin spirals of mana were drawn inward, collapsing toward the center where Kael sat.

  His body grew rapidly cold. He felt each wave of energy binding him tighter to his Soul Form. It felt as though his very essence was absorbing the nature of the Formless Void, losing its boundaries and shape, becoming a reflection of his inner faceless world.

  Yet something strange stirred alongside it. The space around him trembled, and Kael—unaware—became a center of gravity. The vortex of mana intensified, drawing in not only energy but air itself.

  Whuum… Shuvv! A violent gust tore through the room; scrolls flew from the shelves, papers spun in a frantic dance, and books hit the floor with heavy thuds.

  The inkwell tipped over, spilling dark stains across the parchment. The veil of gray mist around Kael thickened, and for a heartbeat it seemed as though the very air was trembling with strain.

  But Kael’s consciousness had already sunk deep within his own soul.

  Darkness closed in—dense, silent, infinite. From within that darkness the mantra resounded, no longer as sound, but as the breath of existence itself:

  “I am the silence that precedes sound. I am the void that holds all things.”

  Each line seemed to pass through him, burning away all excess. Thoughts dissolved, forms slipped away, losing their meaning. He saw it clearly now—everything he had called “himself”—face, name, even mana—was nothing but a mirage born of the fear of loss.

  “I do not cling to form, for form is illusion. I do not cling to thought, for thought is chains.”

  The deeper he accepted those words, the more clearly he felt it—something vast and silent was listening. The space within the darkness trembled, and in that trembling was the sound of approval.

  Somewhere far away—or perhaps within him—echoes of a heartbeat resounded. Yet now they felt alien.

  For the first time during meditation, he began to feel his physical body. Yet the sensations were strange—off, somehow. As if his body were turning to mist, spreading through the room, filling every empty space.

  “Let all pass through me, and let nothing leave a trace…” The words whispered through his mind.

  And in that moment, Kael sensed something new taking shape within the hazy, formless body that filled the room.

  At first—a tiny spark in the center of silence.

  Then—a slowly turning point of gravity, drawing everything around it inward. It pulsed with a gentle light, and within it came a deep, heavy sound—the beating of his heart:

  Thud-thud… Thud-thud…

  With each beat, the rhythm grew louder, deeper, resonating through every part of his consciousness.

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  The sound spread in waves, as if the whole world were answering the pulse of his heart. He no longer distinguished where illusion ended and reality began.

  And in that brief instant, when all became one, the final words of the mantra rang within Kael:

  “In this stillness, power is born. In this void—there is infinity.”

  As soon as they faded, the surrounding space shuddered.

  The darkness that filled everything suddenly stretched into infinity—

  And then collapsed back, swiftly, as though existence itself folded into a single point.

  Into the point that was him.

  His eyes flew open, and he gasped for breath.

  “Ghh—ahh!”

  His eyes gleamed with a wild light, as if he hadn’t yet realized he was awake.

  But this time, awakening did not mark the end of the training. The vortex of mana did not dissipate—it continued to pour into his body.

  Everything trembled and roared. The room had become chaos—papers whirled, books slammed against the walls, furniture shook, and gray mana mist poured outward, flooding the space.

  Heavy blows pounded against the door outside.

  “Son! Kael! Open the door! Are you all right?!” His mother’s voice was tight with panic, but her words barely pierced the rising roar.

  He tried to exhale, to answer—but his heart suddenly jerked and struck harder than before.

  THUM-THUM!

  And in that same instant, a wave of mana burst from his body like a shockwave from an explosion.

  BAAAM!

  The walls shuddered, the floor cracked, the window shattered outward under the pressure. Air burst in a violent gust, and the entire room flared with a blinding flash of silvery light.

  Below, in the restaurant, the resounding impact made every guest flinch. Dishes rattled, and one of the lodgers glanced in surprise toward the staircase leading to the second floor. Even the passersby outside turned, startled by the blast.

  But Kael himself only parted his lips, stunned by what he felt.

  In his chest, where once only mana had pulsed, a dense, perfectly spherical core had formed. It glowed with a soft silvery light, and across its surface glided shifting patterns—living lines, like script written by nature itself.

  Kael held his breath. His fists clenched, muscles trembling with overwhelming exhilaration.

  He tried to contain it—but then he shouted, hoarse and fierce, with all the joy and fury that had been building for ages:

  “At last! After hundreds of years, I’ve done it!”

  His shout echoed off the walls—only to be drowned out at once by another, far more piercing cry:

  “Oh God! What’s happening?! I have to get help!” His mother’s panicked voice cut through the hum of mana.

  Those words yanked Kael out of his trance. His mind, just moments ago soaring in ecstasy, felt as if it had been struck by a wave of ice water.

  He leapt up, barely feeling his legs, and stumbled toward the door.

  With a sharp pull he flung it open and saw Mira: pale, trembling, tears shining in her eyes.

  “Why didn’t you answer?!” she gasped, and before he could react, she pulled her son into a desperate embrace.

  Kael stood frozen, staring at his mother.

  Only now did he grasp what his room looked like—overturned furniture, a shattered window, scraps of parchment strewn across the floor, ink splattered across the walls.

  And in that moment, Mira noticed it too and cried out at once:

  “God! What happened here?!”

  Kael forced a crooked smile, trying somehow to ease the tension.

  “I’m sorry…” he breathed, gently resting his hands on her shoulders. “During meditation I… suddenly figured out how to overcome my condition.”

  He hesitated slightly, feeling the power stir again in his chest.

  “Anyway, I somehow managed to break through to the Core Mag—” he caught himself quickly, correcting with unnatural ease, “I mean, to the Bronze Mage stage.”

  To prove his words, Kael raised his palm.

  At once waves of gray mana rippled across his skin, swirling smoothly like ink in water. The flow moved softly, fluidly—and even the air around him began to hum.

  “It’s a miracle, isn’t it?” he said with quiet awe, watching the trembling vortex above his hand.

  But his mother’s reaction wasn’t what he expected.

  Mira froze, staring at the strange living light. Her eyes widened, her lips trembled—and then she went limp, collapsing without a sound.

  “Hey!” Kael lunged forward, catching her just before she hit the floor.

  He held her close, carefully supporting her head, feeling his heart pounding in fear.

  “Damn it…” he muttered through clenched teeth. “I was so thrilled I didn’t think at all…”

  He lifted his mother as best he could and slowly dragged her back into the room, muttering under his breath, “Too much for her heart to take…”

  ? ? ?

  Only after half an hour did Kael manage to bring Mira back to consciousness.

  She lay on his bed, pale, but her breathing had steadied. In the meantime, he’d managed to tidy up a little—picked up the books, gathered the parchments, swept away the shards, and covered the broken window with a scrap of cloth to keep the wind from stealing the last of the warmth.

  When Mira finally opened her eyes, her gaze was hazy, but gentle.

  “Kael…” she whispered faintly, “I had the most wonderful dream…”

  She smiled, and a clear tear slowly rolled down her cheek.

  “In it, you cured your illness… and became a mage, just as you always wanted.”

  Another tear slipped down her other cheek.

  “I’m so sorry…” she breathed, her lips barely moving. “Your father and I… we were never gifted with magic. If not for that, you could have become a mage too.”

  Kael looked at her, not knowing how to respond.

  His heart tightened painfully—in her voice there was endless tenderness, and guilt she should never have carried.

  Kael only smiled softly, shook his head, and said quietly:

  “Just don’t faint again… but that wasn’t a dream, Mom. It’s real.”

  He raised his hand, and gray mana began to gather above it once more. The flow appeared instantly—dense, obedient, alive.

  Mira jerked forward, her eyes wide, her voice breaking into a cry:

  “How?!”

  Kael caught her hands, keeping her from rising from the bed.

  A rare seriousness flickered in his eyes.

  “I can’t say yet,” he said quietly but firmly. “And you can’t tell anyone about this.”

  “But why?” she nearly shouted, gripping his hands.

  Kael clenched his teeth, then exhaled and, hating the need to lie to her, replied:

  “It’s part of a new study at the Hall of Ancient Research. I… don’t have the right to talk about it.”

  He smiled slightly, trying to ease the tension.

  “But as you can see… it worked on me.”

  At his words, Mira began to tremble. Her lips quivered—then she suddenly broke into a nervous laugh, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

  “Then… then…” she muttered, hastily getting up from the bed. “I’ll make my signature three-meat stew right now! You must take it to the Magisters and thank them!”

  Kael stood as well, but gently placed his hands on her shoulders, steady and calm.

  “Mom,” he said seriously, frowning slightly. “You need to calm down. If the Magisters find out I talked to anyone about this research—I’ll be in trouble.”

  Mira froze. Her eyes widened, and she quickly turned toward him, pressing a hand to her mouth.

  “Oh… I didn’t know! Son, I…” she began, fumbling nervously with the edge of her sleeve.

  Kael interrupted her softly, exhaling in quiet fatigue, though without irritation:

  “Go have some herbal tea and relax. Then get back to work like nothing happened.”

  He pulled her into an embrace, holding her gently, and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

  “I’ll talk to Father myself,” he added, his voice steady, mature.

  Hearing that steady, confident voice, Mira drew back slightly. Her breathing gradually steadied, and her gaze cleared, as though she had finally awakened from her panic.

  She lifted her eyes to her son—traces of tears still glimmered there, but now they held pride and a quiet tenderness.

  “You’ve grown so much, Kael,” she whispered with a trembling smile. “And I didn’t even notice…”

  Kael smiled too, a little embarrassed but warm.

  “It’s natural. I’m nearly of age—I’ll be sixteen soon,” he replied, trying to loosen his voice and dispel the remaining tension.

  Mira still seemed in a strange, half-dazed state. She twisted the edge of her apron between her fingers as if to steady herself, then said seriously, “I’ll keep my mouth shut. You can count on your mother.”

  Kael gave a brief nod; the corners of his mouth twitched into a grateful smile.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  She nodded back, then suddenly turned and hurried toward the door—her step quick, almost rushed.

  “Everything’s fine!” she called over her shoulder, attempting to sound calm, though her voice and trembling hands betrayed her.

  She vanished through the door, leaving behind the faint smell of the restaurant kitchen and a feeling of awkward, warm comfort.

  Kael exhaled wearily and, after waiting until his mother’s footsteps faded on the stairs, simply flopped onto the bed. The mattress creaked softly; the air still hummed with the strange afterglow of his breakthrough.

  He raised his hand, and gray energy swirled above his palm again. It flowed as if alive, shifting in density and shape. Kael watched it for a few seconds before thinking, “I can feel the mana spreading through my body, and a Mana Core ringed my heart…”

  He touched his chest—there was a new force inside, as if more than just a heart was beating there now.

  “Now I can try my hand at alchemy,” he murmured, staring at the ceiling, “and begin to study the Path of Silent Pillar.”

  His fingers curled into fists without him meaning to.

  “And next… I need to start forging mana channels and catch up with my peers,” he said under his breath, smiling at the rush of excitement.

  His amber eyes flared with a hungry gleam, his expression shifting for a heartbeat.

  “I’m even starting to believe,” he whispered, “that one day my revenge might be possible…”