Chapter 40 – Daren
The lanternlight flickered across parchment, casting tall shadows against the stone walls of the hidden study. Stacks of scrolls and bound tomes lay scattered across the table where Daren sat, his sharp eyes fixed on the diagrams etched into one particular manuscript.
Aric sat across from him, still nursing the burns along his arm from the fight with the enforcer. His father had said little when he returned, only nodded with the faintest trace of approval before motioning him to sit.
Now, Daren spoke in his measured, deliberate tone.
"You felt it, didn't you? The difference in how your power responded compared to theirs."
Aric nodded slowly. "The enforcer's attacks… they felt heavier. Like I was fighting not just mana, but the weight of the world itself."
"Good." Daren leaned forward, tapping the parchment. On it, two circles were drawn—one large, one small. "That's the difference between normal magic and divine magic."
Aric frowned, studying the diagram. "I thought divine magic was just… stronger. More mana packed into a single spell."
Daren's lips pressed into a thin smile. "That's what the system wants you to believe. But it's not about quantity. It's about foundation."
He picked up a quill and drew a line across the smaller circle. "Normal magic relies on personal mana, circulating through the body. A finite resource. The stronger the body, the more mana it can channel. That's why mortals train for years—endurance, control, shaping the flow."
Then, he tapped the larger circle. "Divine magic doesn't draw from the body. It draws from concepts. Domains. Fire, storms, desire, authority… things greater than flesh."
Aric's brow furrowed. "Like the dragons. Like the gods."
"Exactly." Daren's eyes glimmered. "When you fought the enforcer, you weren't just struck by light. You were struck by the idea of order, shaped into a weapon. That's why it felt heavier. It wasn't just mana—it was reality being forced upon you."
Aric sat back, his mind racing. He remembered the crushing sensation in his chest, how every attack seemed to suffocate his spark of flame. It hadn't just been strength—it had been inevitability.
"So how do I fight that?" he asked. "If their magic is reality, how can mine stand against it?"
Daren set down the quill and leaned back in his chair. For a long moment, he simply studied his son, weighing him in silence. Finally, he said:
"By becoming reality yourself."
Aric blinked. "What?"
"Your little flame, Aric—it wasn't strong because it was big. It was strong because it was pure. Stable. You stopped forcing mana and instead guided it. That's the beginning of divine magic. Not brute strength. Not quantity. But aligning yourself with a concept so completely that the world bends with you."
He rose from his chair, pulling a crystal from a shelf. Within it, faint sparks of light pulsed. "Mortals use mana. Divine beings embody it. That is the difference. A god of fire doesn't cast flame—he is flame. His presence ignites, his breath sears. When he strikes, the world doesn't ask 'how much mana?' It obeys, because reality itself acknowledges him."
Aric's eyes widened. "So… if I embody flame—if I become it…"
"You won't just cast fire. You will be fire."
Silence hung in the air. Aric's heart pounded with the weight of it.
But then his expression hardened. "And the system doesn't want mortals reaching that point."
"No." Daren's voice was low, grim. "That is why it shackles growth. Why it marks Taboo knowledge. Because once mortals realize they can align with greater concepts, the system cannot control them. They rise beyond its chains."
Aric's fists clenched. The faint warmth of his inner flame stirred again, stronger than before.
Daren set the crystal down, his gaze piercing. "This path is dangerous. You will not simply learn spells—you will learn to shape yourself. Every choice you make, every belief you hold, will define your domain. That is how gods are born, Aric. Not by blessing, but by becoming."
Aric breathed slowly, letting the words sink in. He thought of the enforcer, of its crushing power. He thought of his fragile flame, small yet pure, piercing through.
For the first time, he understood.
"Then I'll become more," he said quietly. "I'll shape myself until reality has no choice but to listen."
Daren allowed himself the faintest smile. "Good. Then your journey truly begins."
The lantern flickered, shadows stretching long across the stone walls—as if the world itself leaned closer to listen.