St. Augustine's Orphanage, London
Morning light crept through the thin curtains of Merlin's room, casting pale stripes across the wooden floorboards.
He was already awake, sitting upright on his bed with his wand raised.
"Lumos."
A bright light flared at the tip. Merlin studied the glow carefully for a few seconds, then nodded in satisfaction. It matched perfectly with the description in The Book of Spells.
He had been practicing Lumos nonstop since last night, and it was finally paying off. Walffred hadn't lied—repeatedly casting charms really did work wonders.
But this wasn't his only gain.
Through countless repetitions, he had confirmed one of his theories about magic. After casting Lumos successfully around sixteen times, he began to feel a strange emptiness within his body. It wasn't pain, exactly—just an uncomfortable hollowness, as if something vital was missing. The feeling would fade after an hour, or about half that time if he ate something.
This proved something crucial.
Wizards had a finite reserve of magic power.
It was contrary to the movies he remembered, where wizards seemed to cast spells endlessly without consequence. This was reality, not fiction—and that meant he couldn't blindly put his trust in his past-life knowledge from watching movies.
"Since Lumos is already good enough," Merlin muttered, "let's try something else."
He reached for The Book of Spells lying on his bedside table—but then stopped, as a spark of inspiration from his other self flashed through his mind.
A grin formed on his face. "Heh… ingenious. As expected of me."
One of the reasons he couldn't sense his magic power… was because it wasn't moving. Then what if he made it move?
He put the book aside and raised his wand again.
"Lumos."
A gentle light bloomed at the tip. But Merlin frowned. The charm had activated too quickly—he hadn't had time to sense the flow of magic.
Shaking his head, he tried again.
"Lumos."
This time, the spell failed entirely. The tip of his wand remained dark. But Merlin showed an expression of "as expected."
He had intentionally focused inward, trying to feel the movement of magic while casting the spell. Of course, it failed. It was like trying to think two things at once—beyond his ability for now.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was onto something. So he raised his wand and tried again.
Again and again, he cast Lumos repeatedly, trying to sense the inner flow of his magic power each time, until finally, the familiar emptiness hit him again.
"Guess that's the limit," he murmured. "I'll have to wait for my magic power to recover."
Then suddenly he froze as a spark of inspiration flashed through his mind.
"Wait… recover?" His eyes widened slightly. "If I can feel when my magic power is empty, then I should be able to feel it replenishing as well. Wouldn't that be the best moment to sense it..."
The thought struck him like lightning.
That was it.
That was his chance.
Without wasting another second, he rushed downstairs, grabbed his breakfast from the cafeteria—just toast and jam—and hurried back to his room.
He sat cross-legged on the bed, closed his eyes, and focused on that faint emptiness inside him.
The room was silent except for the ticking clock on the wall.
Minutes passed.
Then, Merlin's eyes slowly opened, and a faint smile spread across his face.
"I can feel it."
...
Ivory Village, Aerion Kingdom
"There are many branches of magic recognized across the Gia Continent," his mother said, her calm voice filling the quiet study. "The most prominent ones are healing magic, battle magic, alchemy, runesmithing, potioneering, and ritualism."
"Ritualists are almost extinct in the Aerion Kingdom though. You might find some shamans using it in northern tribes."
Merlin sat across from her, back straight, quill in hand. The study was wide but homely, lined with shelves of books he'd practically grown up reading. Sunlight filtered through the narrow window, and the faint smell of parchment and ink gave the room a calm, familiar warmth.
"Most high-level mages," his mother continued, "end up specializing in one or two of these branches. You can't master them all. Each one demands decades of research and training. But once you step outside Floria, you'll see that the majority of mages never even reach that level."
Her tone turned a bit dry, like she was remembering something unpleasant. "Many simply call themselves battle mages, even though all they know are simple spells like Force Bullet and Fireball for offense, or Magic Shield for defense."
She sighed softly. "And even those take them far too long to cast. That's because they never develop their shaping skills. Remember this, dear—shaping decides how precisely you control your magic power. The finer the control, the stronger and more efficient your spells become. Without shaping, your spells are slow and unstable. A mage without shaping mastery is like a swordsman who doesn't know how to grip his weapon."
Her expression hardened slightly. "There are also branches forbidden by the Kingdom—mind magic, necromancy, and divination. They're dangerous, corruptive, and unpredictable. Anyone caught using them faces execution."
Merlin looked up from his notes. "Even if the one practicing them is a court mage?"
His mother's lips curved faintly. "Well… that's a topic for another time."
He nodded and jotted down a few more words. "Then all legal forms of magic are taught openly?"
"Yes," she said, "but most people learn through apprenticeships—under senior mages or noble families that hold magical inheritance. The Kyrion Academy, as you know, is the only official academy in Aerion. And it doesn't accept students from commoner families."
Merlin nodded slightly, pen tapping against the parchment. So the ruling class didn't want commoners to receive systematic training or reach higher levels of magic. But they couldn't completely cut off access either, or they risked pushing mages into a corner and causing them to retaliate.
His mother's voice broke his thoughts. "No matter what branch a mage studies, most use structured magic when casting spells."
Merlin looked up. "You mentioned that before… what's the real difference between structured and unstructured magic?"
A faint smile crossed her face. "I was just getting to that. The difference lies in the name itself."
Extending her right hand, she opened her palm. And the next moment, a faint orb of light flickered into existence above it. "This is unstructured magic. It's pure shaping, just willpower guiding the magic power."
The orb wavered slightly before vanishing.
"Now watch." She lifted her hand again. This time, threads of magic began weaving themselves in the air, forming intricate runic patterns that took the shape of a faintly glowing circle. A moment later, an identical orb of light appeared.
"This," she said, "is structured magic. It uses a spell construct—a magical framework made of runes—to guide and contain magic power. The construct stabilizes the energy, shaping it into a defined spell form."
Merlin tilted his head. "But from what I saw, isn't unstructured magic faster?"
"It is," she admitted with a small chuckle. "But it's also terribly inefficient. The unstructured spell I cast just now used nearly twice the magic power of the structured one."
His pen froze mid-sentence. "That much?"
She gave a light shrug. "Don't look so shocked. I'm fairly skilled at shaping, so the difference is smaller for me. For most mages, it's three or even four times the cost. And unstructured magic can't be used for complex, high-level spells."
Merlin scribbled everything down quickly, eager not to miss a word. He'd been having lessons like this every morning with his mother since his introduction to magic five days ago, and each one opened a new world to him.
They had covered a range of topics: the structure of magical society across the Gia Continent, habitats of some commonly found magical beasts, names and effects of basic potions and spells, and the various mage lineages of the Aerion Kingdom.
According to his mother, this was all material first- and second-year students learned at the Kyrion Academy.
Watching him write so intently, his mother smiled faintly. "How's your magic power sensing coming along?" she asked.
Merlin paused mid-note and looked up. A small, confident smile formed on his face. "Mother, I think I've got the hang of it."
She blinked. "It's fine if you haven't actually—" She stopped, staring at him. "Wait… what did you just say?"
"I've succeeded," Merlin said.
The room fell silent.