The next morning, Caelan woke before the sun did.His body ached in unfamiliar ways—not the illness-born fatigue he once knew, but the strain of new muscles and focused energy. There was soreness in his spine, knots along his shoulders, and a tightness behind his eyes from pushing his mana perception deeper than before.But when he touched the floor with his bare feet, there was no wobble. No dizziness. No breath stolen from him like a thief in the dark.He was changing.And it was glorious.Before Aldric Thorne arrived, Caelan sat cross-legged in the center of his room, closing his eyes and letting his breath slow. He focused inward, following the strange, cooling pattern he'd learned: breathing mana into his lungs, guiding it gently through his veins, letting it seep into his core. It wasn't magic—not the kind Aldric spoke of. It felt older, deeper, something different.The room seemed to pulse faintly with each cycle of his breathing, a ripple of invisible energy weaving through the air.It was during one such breath that the door creaked open.Aldric Thorne entered, his boots quiet against the floorboards. His eyes widened slightly as he sensed it: mana—pure, untainted—moving toward Caelan, drawn by the boy's slow, deliberate breath. It clung to him like mist curling around a mountain peak."So that's how," Aldric muttered under his breath.Caelan's eyes fluttered open, awareness sharp as a blade."You're awake," Aldric said, stepping closer. "Tell me, do you know how a mage grows from Circle to Circle?"Caelan shook his head."A mage trains his spells through endless repetition, gains experience, refines his calculations... and most importantly, he must ignite his imagination," Aldric explained. "Some use elixirs to accelerate their growth. But the breathing technique you're using—that doesn't originate from our traditions."Caelan blinked. "You mean my breathing mana technique?"Aldric chuckled. "What you're doing now—this—is something far older. It comes from the Rumored East continent. Although we long thought it incompatible with magic, clearly...""There's another continent?" Caelan asked, surprised."I too believed it was only a rumor," Aldric admitted, folding his arms. "But perhaps there's truth in old stories after all."Caelan leaned back slightly, recalling a memory. "I learned this from a mage called Fen."Aldric's brows furrowed. "Fen?""Yes. He said little, only that it would help me survive. It seems someone was able to create a technique that lets you inhale mana directly, purifying it as you absorb it."His gaze drifted to the window, where the morning light was just beginning to creep in. As a doctor in my past life, Caelan thought, I believed healing simply came with magic. But I was wrong. This... this was different.Caelan frowned. "But why would Fen teach me something so powerful?"Aldric smiled, a rare glimmer of admiration in his eyes. "Perhaps he saw what I am beginning to see.""What do you mean?""Caelan," Aldric said, his voice low but certain, "you may not be limited to only magic. You may be able to walk both paths—magic and swordsmanship."Caelan stared at him, stunned. "I thought you could only train in one—either sword or magic—depending on your body and talent.""That's true, normally," Aldric said. "The body strains under the burden of mastering even one. But with that breathing technique... you're reinforcing yourself from the inside. You might become something rare—something almost unheard of."Caelan swallowed hard. The idea was almost too vast to comprehend. Sword and magic? Both?"You have a chance," Aldric said. "But it will not be easy."Caelan met his mentor's gaze, heart pounding. "When do we start?"Aldric smiled. "Today."They moved to the lower courtyard again, where the air was crisp and thick with the scent of pine."Let's begin with 'Heat,'" Thorne said, standing beside a stack of firewood. "Simple. Dangerous. Unforgiving."Caelan narrowed his eyes at the sigil etched into the bark: a basic flame rune."You're not going to teach me fireballs first?" he quipped.Thorne didn't laugh. "I could. But the flame that leaps too fast tends to consume its wielder. Shape first. Burn later."Caelan rolled his shoulders, steadying his breath. He held out his palm, felt the air tighten, focused on the rune, and whispered the trigger word:"Ignis." Nothing.Again."Ignis."A puff of heat. Just that. A blink of warmth and gone. The rune flickered—barely.Three hours later, the bark finally smoked. Thorne remained beside him, arms folded, eyes never leaving Caelan's form.
"You're learning faster than most," the mage muttered."Years of studying and precision," Caelan whispered. "When you hold a scalpel over a beating heart, there's not much room for error."
Thorne paused, his brows furrowing slightly. "Did you say something?"
Caelan's gaze flickered for a moment, but he quickly masked the momentary lapse. "Nothing, just thinking aloud."
"N-no" Caelan replied.The spell finally caught at noon. A flicker of fire licked the rune—small, but real."Congratulations," Thorne said. "You've begun carving your First Circle. But don't mistake this for mastery."Caelan let the flame die, chest heaving from the effort. Sweat ran down his temple. But his eyes shone."No," he whispered. "But it's a start."Later that evening, seated under a crooked pine outside the estate walls, Thorne pulled a chalked circle onto a flat stone between them. Five layers. Five steps."Each Circle is a deepening," he explained. "The First lets you shape one element. The Second lets you bind two. By the Third, you start creating, not just replicating magic."He tapped the innermost ring."And the First is the hardest.""Why?""Because you're still unmaking the person you were. Before you became a mage."Caelan stared at the circle in silence.He was a surgeon. A swordsman by blood. A forgotten heir.And now, perhaps... a flame that could shape the future.Six months passed like the turning of a page.As Caelan followed consistent breathing of mana and reinforced his body, he found himself standing taller, moving faster, his mind sharper.The halls of House Dorne remained heavy with the clang of swords and the bark of instructors, but deep within its courtyards, where no blade could reach, a different power quietly bloomed.