"Again."
Lyra's voice rang sharp as her staff deflected my clumsy mana burst, sending it ricocheting harmlessly into the sky. The trees shuddered from the force of the blast, birds fleeing in panicked flurries.
I groaned and wiped sweat from my brow. "That was my fifth try."
"Sixth," she corrected, arms crossed. "And you still overshot your focus channel. You're feeding it too much mana."
"I have infinite mana," I said, panting. "What's the problem with using it?"
She stepped closer, her teal eyes practically glowing in the shade of the forest. "Infinite doesn't mean invincible. You dump too much into a spell, and you either burn yourself out or destabilize the entire weave. Mana needs balance. Precision. Control."
I grumbled, but inside I knew she was right. The raw power inside me was like a tidal wave behind a glass wall—immense, constant, and just waiting to break. But I hadn't figured out how to aim it without breaking everything in the process.
She noticed my frustration and softened—slightly.
"Let's take five," she said. "And while we do, I'll teach you something more useful than blasting rocks."
"Like what?" I asked, collapsing onto a mossy stone.
"Like why this world is the way it is," she said, sitting beside me and pulling a flask from her belt. "You ever wonder what Viraelon really is? Why it's crawling with beasts, why some people get system titles, and others don't?"
I nodded. "I've had a few questions."
She took a sip, then offered it to me. I declined.
"Viraelon wasn't always like this," she began. "A thousand years ago, it was a single continent ruled by five great kingdoms. No monsters. No mana storms. No system."
I raised an eyebrow. "So… what happened?"
She pointed to the sky, where storm clouds crackled faintly with flickers of blue light. "The Arcanite Gates opened."
"Those are real?" I asked. "Seren mentioned them, but I thought they were just some kind of rift thing."
"They are rifts," Lyra said. "Between worlds. Or dimensions. Or timelines. No one's sure anymore. But when the Gates opened, mana flooded into our world—pure, chaotic, and alive. It rewrote the laws of nature. Animals mutated. People changed. And the system… appeared."
I frowned. "So no one created the system?"
"Some believe it's a remnant of the Gate's origin world. Others think it's a sentient force trying to stabilize Viraelon. But one thing's certain: it chooses its champions. And it doesn't always choose wisely."
I glanced down at my hands. "Then why did it choose me?"
She didn't answer right away.
"Maybe you were dying in a world where you didn't belong," she said finally. "And maybe this one needed someone like you."
"Lucky me," I muttered.
"Don't mock it," she said, eyes narrowing. "You've been given a gift that could save lives—or end them."
We sat in silence for a moment before she stood and dusted herself off.
"Alright, back up," she said. "Now that you understand what you're wielding, let's try something more… flexible."
She drew a rune in the air—an elegant pattern of curves and sharp points—and as her finger traced it, the symbol glowed with a soft blue light.
"This is a Sigil Bind. It lets you anchor a spell to a thought. Memorize it."
I stood and copied the motion, infusing it with mana. The glow was unstable at first, flickering like a candle in the wind. But with some adjustment, I felt it lock in.
"You're getting there," she said. "Now—channel a spell into it, but only a fragment. Enough to spark, not explode."
I focused, pulling a sliver of mana from the well inside me and feeding it into the sigil. The rune pulsed, then burst into a small flare of fire above my palm.
It hovered. Controlled. Obedient.
I stared at it. "That's… new."
Lyra actually smiled. "Now you're starting to get it."
I couldn't help but smile back.
But before the moment could settle, a new System Notification appeared before my eyes:
NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: Mana Sigil Control (Level 1)
You have learned to bind raw mana into rune-structured forms. Spell Precision increased.
My eyes flicked to Lyra. "Did you see that?"
She grinned. "Now you're syncing with the system. Welcome to the real fight."
Just then, the Direwolf—still patrolling the perimeter of our makeshift training ground—let out a warning growl.
"Something's coming," Lyra said, her body snapping into battle posture. "And it's not Kael this time."
The trees to the north rustled—and through the dense brush emerged a woman in elegant robes, adorned with golden embroidery and a crown-like circlet resting on her brow. Behind her were two armored knights, both holding spears crackling with mana.
Lyra cursed. "Of all the damn people…"
"Who is she?" I asked.
The woman's eyes locked with mine, and she smiled—not cruelly, but like someone amused by a secret only she knew.
"My name is Lady Cirelia Vorn, Inquisitor of the Arcanum Throne," she said. "And you, dear boy, are in violation of a very old law."
I frowned. "What law?"
She pointed directly at my chest.
"No mortal shall wield unlimited power without submitting to the Throne's command."
Lyra stepped in front of me, staff at the ready. "He's not one of yours, Cirelia."
The Inquisitor's smile widened. "Not yet."
And with that, the next chapter of my strange new life began—not with fire or fury, but with politics.
And worse—bureaucracy.