Icariel woke up.
Morning light poured through the window. He had slept deeply—maybe better than he ever had. He sat up, looking at his body—no wounds, no scratches, no pain.
"…Did he heal me?" he muttered.
Just then, Elif's voice came through the door as it opened.
"Well, look who's finally awake. Come on—breakfast is ready."
He stood up, still a little sore, and stepped out into the main room. His clothes were torn, dried blood still clinging in spots.
"Good morning," Elena greeted from the kitchen.
"Morning," he replied with a small nod.
Aelar was seated at a half-moon-shaped table, calm as ever. "Come eat."
"…Thank you," Icariel said, and sat down.
The table was filled with things he'd never eaten before—green leaves drizzled with honey, a few warm herbs. It smelled light but filling.
"Eat well," Elena smiled, placing a cup by his side.
As they began eating, Aelar spoke. "How was last night? Did you catch anything?"
Icariel was quiet at first. He finished chewing, wiped his mouth, and looked straight ahead.
"I think I understand now," he said at last. "How to achieve it."
"Oh?" Aelar raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"
"Yes," Icariel nodded.
Elif leaned forward, intrigued. "Wait, what are you teaching him, Dad?"
"My specialty," Aelar said with a calm grin.
Elena's eyes widened, and even Elif looked stunned.
"Vital Surge."
It was the name given to the rare technique—passed down through certain elven warriors—that allowed the user to activate healing spells while in motion, in combat, without hesitation or delay.
Icariel glanced down at the table. "So this technique… it's a big deal for the elves."
"Did you finish eating?" Aelar asked.
"Yes."
"Good. Training resumes now. I'll push you harder than ever before my next mission—so brace yourself."
"I will," Icariel said, rising from his seat.
As he turned to go, Elena called after him. "Icariel! I got you a pair of clothes as before—just in your actual size this time."
He gave a faint smile. "Thanks… but I'll stick with these until training's over. If I wear the new ones now, your husband's just going to wreck them again anyway."
Elena laughed. "Fair point. I'll leave them in your room then. Aelar—try not to break him."
Aelar smirked as he pushed the door open. "That's the point—he can handle it."
The two stepped out into the bright morning light, heading toward the training grounds just beyond the trees.
"…He's really trying to teach him Vital Surge?" she murmured.
Elena, still clearing the table, looked at her daughter. "Why do you think he's doing that, my dear?"
"I don't know. Really—I don't," Elif said, shaking her head.
Elena set the cup down and looked at her daughter. "Because he sees something in that boy. And knowing your father… if he's willing to teach a human something that's nearly impossible even for regular elves—then he truly believes it's possible."
She paused, then swallowed, her voice low. "But do you know what really unsettled me just now? It's the fact that Icariel said—after only one day of trying—that he already has an idea of how to pull it off. And the worst part is, I didn't detect a lie."
Elif heard her mother's words and turned to the doorway where her father and Icariel had disappeared.
Outside the house, now in the middle of the gigantic trees, Aelar picked up the familiar wooden branch with his right hand.
"So," he said, "you said you understand how to achieve it, huh?"
He grinned. "That confidence… prove it now. Or, you know—accept the pain."
"Come," Aelar said, pointing the wooden branch toward Icariel.
"Damn it" Icariel replied, raising both hands—palms open, eyes locked on the elven warleader.
"Wind Slash," he muttered.
Two horizontal wind slashes burst from his palms—full-powered, visible in the air, hissing toward Aelar with terrifying speed. The force shook nearby leaves and scattered birds from the trees.
Aelar's eyes widened for a second. "Casting two spells at once now?" He smirked. "What else can you do? Show me more."
With one swift motion, he swung the branch. It deflected both wind slashes midair, the gust tearing through the trees behind him.
"Now what?" he asked, casually.
Icariel was already moving. His heart pounded as he closed in, but his mind was racing faster than his legs.
"There's no way I can beat him. I'm not even close. But I don't want to get too wounded either… Healing or not, it still hurts—and it's annoying as hell."
He darted between trees, looking for an opening. "I need to distract him and use everything I've got… every little trick… just enough to keep the wounds to a minimum."
Then the memory of last night flashed before his eyes. Right before fainting, he'd seen Aelar use a healing spell mid-motion—no chants, no hands after the sparring had finished. Just a glow of green light wrapping his injuries as he moved.
It was like a loop… mana traveling through his body from his magic circles, hitting the wounded hand, and vanishing. The wound healed instantly.
Back to the moment—
Fssht!
Aelar vanished, reappeared, and slashed Icariel's neck with the wooden branch—a shallow cut.
"What was that?" Aelar scoffed. "You think spells like that will be enough?"
"Tch…" Icariel gritted his teeth and stepped back, panting.
"Monster… Even with White Sense telling me exactly where he is, I'm still too slow to dodge him. And he's not even trying yet."
Aelar began walking toward him, expression flat. "I told you, didn't I? Mimic a real battle. Try to Heal in the middle of it. But honestly saying your spells—they're lethal. You'd kill someone if they landed."
His brow twitched. "Guess I'll just have to beat that lesson into you."
Fap!
He blurred forward again, launching another brutal series of attacks. The wooden branch became a blur, slashing into Icariel's arms, shoulders, neck, and face. Blood welled again. His clothes tore open even more.
"Ah—!"
"Let's do it. Let's do it now."
"Without a mana core or set magic circles—and with my mana already circulating from head to toe—I don't need to channel anything at all."
A branch strike grazed his chest. Another nicked his jaw.
"If I just pour the mana straight into the intent—like with regular healing—if I focus all of it into one thought: heal…Even if it drains me completely, I'll bounce back fast. After all, White Sense gets my mana regenerated just by breathing."
"I said—let's do it!" Icariel shouted.
He threw himself right into the barrage. Aelar's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
Green light erupted from Icariel's skin. His body glowed, pulses of mana racing across every wound.
"Heal… Heal!"
But then—Puff.
The light vanished. Just like that. The spell fizzled out.
And in that moment—BAM!—the branch slammed into his face, knocking Icariel to the ground.
He hit the grass hard, landing on his back, dazed.
Aelar stepped forward, resting the branch on his shoulder. He looked down at him. "What were you trying to do just now?"
Aelar stood over Icariel, watching him rub his messy black hair, still sitting on the ground.
"Tch, tch… I thought I almost had it," Icariel muttered, frustrated. "Why the hell didn't it work…"
Aelar narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Don't tell me…" He observed the boy more closely, eyes scanning every detail. "He nearly pulled it off—in just two days? Who is this mountain kid, really?"
The memory of that green light replayed in Aelar's mind.
"That was his mana, responding directly to his will… and it almost succeeded. It was interrupted halfway, but that level of instinct? That's nothing short of incredible."
Aelar's expression grew more serious.
"Elves spend fifty years training just to come close to this—yet most never succeed. Even human prodigies only master it with exceptional talent or rare abilities. And then there are those with the Infinity Body, who can replicate techniques just by seeing them."
"And yet… this kid?"
"Self-taught, he claimed to be. Only watching. Imitating. And almost pulling it off…" Aelar's sharp green eyes narrowed further. "I saw it with my vision. He was this close. He did something wrong… just one thing. I need to tell him what."
"I was trying to use the healing spell while moving," Icariel said, frustration thick in his voice. "That's all."
Aelar raised an eyebrow. "And how, exactly, did you intend to pull that off?"
"Well," Icariel muttered, glancing down at his arms, "since my mana already flows through my whole body, I figured channeling it just to the wounds wouldn't work. I don't have a core. No magic circles. But if the mana's already everywhere… then maybe I don't need to channel anything at all. Just… act."
Aelar stared at him—stunned silent for a breath.
"…And where did you get that idea?"
Icariel looked up at him, completely honest.
"From you. Last night. I saw how you cast the healing spell. I watched how the mana moved inside you."
He paused, realization dawning a second too late. His eyes widened slightly.
"…Shit."
Aelar's gaze snapped into focus. His body went still.
"…What did you just say?" he asked, voice suddenly low.
"I—"
"You saw the mana inside me?" Aelar's voice cut sharper now, no longer calm. "When? You were almost unconscious. Don't say to me you used Spirit Zone—you were too far gone to activate it."
He stepped closer, green eyes piercing.
"So tell me, Icariel. How did you see?"