A silent, internal explosion reverberated through the very core of my being the moment the two ends of the mana ring connected. It wasn't violent or painful, but profoundly right. A shockwave of pure, exhilarating energy surged through me, a bonfire igniting in my marrow, a jolt of lightning cleaning out every cobwebbed corner of my soul.
The moment the first magic circle was forged around my heart, the world shifted on its axis. I felt the change instantly. A powerful, cleansing current of purified mana—my own mana—burst from the newly-formed mana heart and flooded through my veins. It was like drinking pure, cold sunlight. Strength I'd never known hummed in my muscles, and my senses, which I'd thought were sharp before, were suddenly peeled open.
Who knew becoming a mage felt this… incredible.
The rate at which I pulled mana from the air around me increased exponentially. Now, with a proper vessel to hold it, the energy didn't just pass through and flee; it was drawn in, refined, and stored within the luminous ring around my heart. The efficiency and elegance of it fascinated me. But the most immediate wonder was the sensory upgrade. I could hear the individual rustle of leaves on trees fifty yards away. The murmur of two imperial knights, standing guard over a hundred meters from the garden's edge, came to me as clear as if they were whispering beside me. I could see the individual threads in their tabards, the subtle shifts in their posture.
"Wow… this is amazing," I breathed, unable to hide the awe in my voice.
Arthur, observing the unguarded wonder on my face, smiled. "Congratulations on your first step, Young Master. You are officially a mage. The path to becoming a mage-swordsman is now truly open to you."
"Thank you," I said, the gratitude genuine and deep. I was no longer just a boy with potential. I was a mage, a being of power revered across empires, with the potential to one day stand among the mightiest in this world. My mind flashed back to the scornful faces of my half-siblings, to the whispered label of 'cripple.' Look at me now. No longer broken. A member of the royal family. And I had just taken my first, definitive step onto a path of legendary power.
I couldn't help but wonder what their faces would look like when the official proclamation named me the Second Prince. Would it be regret? Bitter envy? I chuckled softly at the thought. They are in for one hell of a surprise.
"How do you feel?" Arthur's question pulled me back to the sun-dappled glade.
"I feel… great," I said, stretching my arms and feeling new power thrum in my limbs. "My senses are sharper. I feel stronger, faster… and I feel like I could devour five entire pots of potatoes right now."
Arthur raised an eyebrow, then let out a rich, genuine laugh at my last admission. "Well, that is to be expected. You are no longer a baseline human. Mana flows through you constantly, and your new mana heart actively absorbs raw energy from your surroundings, purifies it, and pumps it through your body. It enhances everything—your physical form and your mental faculties."
"Mental faculties? You mean I get smarter?"
"In a manner of speaking. Faster processing speed, accelerated learning, greater intuitive leaps. It's a significant advantage for mages, who must grapple with increasingly abstruse and dangerous spellcraft. However," his expression grew serious, "do not be fooled. This enhances your capacity for knowledge. The knowledge itself must still be sought, studied, and earned. It is a tool, not a gift."
I nodded, the lesson sinking in. "I understand."
"Good. And remember, the stronger you grow, the faster your absorption, the greater your mana capacity, and the more profound the enhancement to your being." Arthur closed his eyes, as if consulting an internal ledger. "Take, for example, an Eighth-Circle mage. The sheer volume of mana stored in their heart allows them to cast dozens of high-tier, complex spells. They can sustain combat for hours, even an entire day, without exhausting their reserves."
Damn. That's overpowered. The implication was clear. A battle against a higher-circle mage wasn't just about power; it was a war of attrition you were destined to lose. They could simply outlast you.
"However," Arthur continued, his eyes opening, "both the Eighth and Ninth Circles are but distant shores compared to the continent of the Tenth. Reaching the Tenth Circle represents the absolute zenith of mortal magical achievement. They are beings of near-divine power." He let the words hang in the air. "Excluding the mythical Eleventh and Twelfth, a Tenth-Circle mage possesses a mana pool so vast, so deep, that to those below them, it appears functionally infinite."
I was dumbfounded. "Meaning they could cast any spell they want without worrying about running dry? That's… ridiculously broken."
Arthur nodded. "Hence, they are often called Demigods. The gap between circles grows exponentially. The difference between the Ninth and the Tenth is not a step, but a chasm—the difference between a lake and an ocean."
My earlier, naive thought about a Ninth-Circle mage challenging a Tenth under favorable conditions now seemed laughably quaint.
"But do not misunderstand," he cautioned. "While their reserves are immense, casting spells of the Tenth Circle consumes a correspondingly monstrous amount of mana. They are not truly infinite. But casting spells of the Ninth Circle and below? They can do so with a casual ease that is, as you said, devastating to anyone of lower rank."
I nodded. That made a brutal kind of sense. Even with that limitation, their power was still world-ending.
"Those who reach the Tenth Circle stand at the mortal pinnacle," Arthur finished. "Unless, of course, they somehow achieve true divinity."
"Let me ask you this," I said, a new thread of curiosity pulling at me. "You said it's unknown if anyone from our world has reached godhood. But what about the gods we worship? Were they never from here? Did they just… appear?"
This kid… he asks the questions that cut to the bone, Arthur thought, a flicker of admiration in his golden eyes.
"Yes and no," he replied, his tone flat and factual. "Their origins are one of history's greatest enigmas. There is no record of their birth or creation in our world. They simply… were, long before our civilizations rose. There are historical accounts—fragments, really—of a few Tenth-Circle or Ten-Star beings who attempted the ascent to divinity. They all vanished without a trace."
"How do beings of that magnitude just… disappear?"
Arthur shrugged, a gesture that seemed to carry the weight of lost eons. "No one knows. The prevailing theory is the simplest: they perished in the attempt. A mortal reaching for divinity is, by all accounts, an impossible dream."
It sounded like accepted fact, but a part of me remained skeptical. Gods had to come from somewhere. My mind drifted to Virgil's confession—that he was a 'void being.' Did that mean he wasn't always a god? I shook my head, dismissing the tangent. From the lore of my past life, void beings were often cosmic, eldritch entities like Pennywise and others, existing outside normal comprehension.
One thing was crystallizing in my mind: to be strong enough for the coming storm Virgil and Finalis had warned of, I would likely need to surpass mortal limits altogether. I would need to reach for that impossible divinity. The 'how' was a terrifying, exhilarating mystery.
If I ever meet them again, I'm getting answers, I vowed silently. Or perhaps I would have to explore the furthest, most forbidden corners of this world and uncover the truths on my own. This was an empire that worshipped many gods, primarily the Sun God, who had blessed the Zalanta line for millennia. It was fascinating that Alexandra, wielding that same solar power, was the first woman to ever sit on the throne.
"Any more questions?" Arthur's voice broke into my reverie.
"No," I said, filing my thoughts away for later. "Not for now."
"Good. Now, a practical matter. Do you wish to proceed directly to the martial path today, or would you prefer to rest? Forming your first circle is a significant strain, even if it doesn't feel like it yet."
Honestly, I didn't feel strained. I felt invigorated, alive in a way I never had before. But my stomach gave a loud, protesting gurgle, reminding me of its own pressing needs.
I shook my head. "I want to continue today. I'm not tired. Just… profoundly hungry."
"Are you certain? There is no need to rush," Arthur said, but seeing the unwavering resolve in my eyes, he sighed in mock resignation and rose to his feet in one fluid motion. A gentle smile returned to his lips. "Very well. First, we fortify the commander. Let's go fill the belly of the young master."