"Shit..." Icariel cursed to himself, his face tightening as he realized the slip of his tongue.
Aelar, standing across from him, didn't look angry—just thoughtful. And that was worse.
"I told you," he began, "I wouldn't interfere. I'd only teach you—as long as everything felt right. If you could learn it and use it naturally, I had no reason to stop you."
He stepped forward slowly, his voice lowering just slightly.
"But I've had this feeling from the very beginning—not just now. Ever since the moment we met."
Icariel looked up, confused, wary.
Aelar continued, "That first day… when Elif and I rushed to you after seeing the healing light, it wasn't just that you looked at us—you looked through us. Then you asked Elif who I, Faelar, and Valandil were, and you even mentioned how our mana felt overwhelming. At first, I thought maybe you had your Spirit Zone active, but something didn't add up. You showed no signs of exhaustion, and there was no real reason for you to have it on in that moment, especially since you used a healing spell of that size. But I let it go, thinking maybe I was overthinking it."
He paused.
"But yesterday—and again this morning—something felt off about you."
Aelar's eyes narrowed, sharp and glowing with curiosity.
"When we sparred, I noticed you casting spells. Your mana was consumed—but it started replenishing immediately. Not gradually, not like it should. It was fast. Frighteningly fast."
Aelar exhaled and looked down at Icariel.
"I chose not to ask before—it wasn't my place. But now... now you nearly cast Vital Surge—a healing spell that takes elves decades to master, and most still fail. Even as I said before, among other races, only the most gifted ever unlock it. And you… you picked it up after seeing me use it once—while you were barely conscious."
He knelt beside Icariel, placing a steady hand on his shoulder.
"Don't misunderstand me. I never teach something unless I truly believe the person can master it. I just thought it would take time. And if you couldn't, that would've been okay. I had other things to offer—ways to help you survive. How to fight. How to defend yourself."
Aelar's voice was softer now, but serious.
"But… Icariel… I think it's time you tell me the truth."
The boy looked away, uncertain.
"I'm not asking for everything," Aelar added. "But you do owe me an explanation. How… did you see?"
He leaned in, green eyes focused.
"Trust me," he said, his voice steady. "If you think I'd walk away over this, you're mistaken. I'd sooner lose my head than take my hand off your shoulder."
Icariel widened his eyes.
"He knows. He has always known."
The voice inside Icariel's mind spoke.
"Who wouldn't? Anyone with even a basic understanding of mana could tell, just by watching the way you fight, how your mana behaves, and the absence of a mana core or magic circle. It's obvious. But to think an elf—one of the most inquisitive of races—held back this much for your sake… impressive."
"So what do I do?" Icariel asked silently.
"Tell him," the voice replied. "Keeping it hidden is pointless. But… only tell him about the White Sense. Nothing else."
"Fine…" Icariel replied internally.
He looked up at Aelar, nodding slowly.
"I'm sorry," Icariel said quietly.
Aelar blinked, surprised at the boy's sudden change in tone.
Icariel said, "I'll trust your words."
He took a breath.
"You call it Spirit Zone. That ability mages have to sense mana and replenish it, to see the world through mana…"
He met Aelar's eyes, voice steady.
"I have that. But I don't need to activate it manually when needed."
He placed a hand on his chest.
"I have it on… all the time."
Aelar didn't speak.
He just stared—unblinking—his hand still resting on Icariel's shoulder. His sharp elven features, usually calm and unreadable, twisted slightly. There was a subtle shift of realization… and disbelief.
"All the time?" he finally echoed.
Icariel gave a small nod. "Yes. I see mana all the time. My vision can't return to normal. Ever."
He paused for a moment, then added, "I've also got a detection range now—about nineteen meters. The instant someone steps into it, I sense them. I can pinpoint their location and even feel the flow of their mana. As for replenishing, it's simple—I do it just by breathing."
A visible shock broke across Aelar's face.
A long silence followed.
The wind rustled through the massive forest trees behind them. Birds chirped… then fell quiet—as if nature itself had paused to listen.
Aelar slowly leaned back, his hand falling away from Icariel's shoulder.
"I see... That explains a lot. How you cast spells so quickly, how your mana regenerates so fast, and how you came so close to mastering Vital Surge."
He rubbed his chin, turning away for a moment, piecing everything together.
"So last night, you weren't just seeing me—you were copying me. Reading the mana within my body, tracking its flow, and interpreting it."
He turned back, voice low but intense.
"But you know what, Icariel? I'm one hundred and twenty years old."
His green eyes narrowed seriously.
"I've never seen—or even heard of—an ability like yours. It's unheard of. Not naturally, at least. Sure, some humans come close with a Spirit Zone, and maybe a few rare elves have something similar, but to detect mana signatures and replenish your own just by breathing? That's something else entirely."
He shook his head. "Unheard of. So let me ask you—how did you achieve it?"
Icariel went quiet for a moment.
Then, calmly, he said, "All the mana inside my body… I gathered it and burst every bit of it into my eyes and brain. That's how it activated."
Aelar looked at him for a long time.
"…I see," he finally murmured.
"He's not lying," Aelar thought. "Not a single word. He's telling the truth."
"So it's not Spirit Zone," Aelar said aloud. "It's something beyond it. You don't activate it… you live with it."
Icariel remained silent, but didn't deny it.
Aelar nodded, a quiet understanding in his gaze. "That's the only explanation that makes sense. I believe you, truly. And your secret is safe with me."
"Thanks," Icariel said as he nodded.
A beat passed.
"…Now what?" he asked.
Aelar's lips curved into a smile. "Now?"
He straightened, crossing his arms.
"But don't think this means I'll go easy on you. Quite the opposite."
His grin widened.
"You're the kind of student I always dreamed of."
Icariel let out a long sigh and muttered, "Why does that sound like a threat…"
Aelar laughed. "It is!"
Then his voice dropped into teaching mode.
"You made a mistake earlier—when you tried to imitate my healing technique. Do you know what it was?"
"What mistake?" Icariel asked, brow furrowed.
Aelar crossed his arms, gaze sharp. "When you almost succeeded… you let go of your desire. Or more precisely—the mana didn't accept your desire fully."
"Do you know why that happened?"
"No idea," Icariel replied honestly.
Aelar nodded. "Because you tried to use all of it."
Icariel's dark eyes widened.
"Even if you try again, it won't work," Aelar said, his voice steady. "You think you can recover it, but the moment you draw on mana and the moment you sacrifice it are two very different things."
He raised his hand, his fingers glowing with a faint, controlled light. "Using and sacrificing mana might seem alike, but they serve entirely different purposes. Your body can handle vast amounts of pure mana spread throughout it, but draining it completely? That's not something it can allow."
He pointed at Icariel's chest. "Your body knows its limits. It instinctively resists giving it all up—that's why your spell failed. It never fully obeyed you."
Icariel stayed quiet, absorbing every word.
"So what's the solution?" Aelar asked aloud. "You still use your full-body mana… but in limited amounts. Using it carefully—bit by bit—through every part. Don't empty yourself completely."
"…So I should do the same thing," Icariel said, "but preserve a bit of mana?"
"Exactly," Aelar replied. "It'll be harder than using it all at once. But once you get it—you'll be able to use Vital Surge as if it were second nature."
Icariel nodded. "Alright. Let's start again."
And so the day passed. Hours of sparring, chanting, wounds, and failed attempts. Until finally—
Baam.
Icariel collapsed to the ground, chest heaving, night falling like a curtain behind the trees.
"Another day, still didn't succeed…" he muttered, staring at the stars above.
Aelar stood nearby, branch in hand, breathing evenly. "But you're close. You really have talent for healing magic."
"Don't say that until I master it."
Silence followed. Then Icariel, voice soft, asked in his mind: "Hey, Voice. What do you call someone you learn from?"
"A teacher,"the voice replied calmly.
"…Teacher," Icariel said aloud, glancing up at Aelar.
Aelar blinked, surprised. "Oh? That's the first time you've called me that."
Icariel gave a small smile. "For everything you're doing—for giving me your time, calling me your student—I should at least return the favor."
"Haha… I like that." Aelar grinned. "That's all for today, then. But tomorrow will be harder. Let's go."
As he turned to leave, the voice whispered again.
"Stay."
"Can you go ahead, teacher?" Icariel asked. "I want to stay here a little longer. Organize my thoughts."
"Fine," Aelar said, waving as he walked away. "Don't be late—and heal your cuts yourself. I won't do it for you anymore. The more you use your magic, the more proficient you'll become."
Icariel nodded and sat back down on the grass. The night air was crisp, and stars dotted the sky above like silver dust.
Then the voice returned.
"Since you're close to mastering the ultimate moveable healing technique… Prepare."
"For what?" Icariel asked mentally.
"The next level."
"Superhuman awakening."