Vorlik stepped deeper into the mountain village beyond Mount Sorean, his footsteps echoing softly against stone paths carved directly from the rock. The place felt ancient, alive in a way he couldn't explain. Before he could take more than a few steps, a guard blocked his path, spear lowered slightly.
"Who are you, and why are you here?" the guard demanded.
"I am Vorlik," he replied steadily. "I have come here to learn magic."
The guard studied him for a long moment, as if weighing something unseen. Without another word, he turned and gestured for Vorlik to follow. Vorlik did, his heart pounding as they passed deeper into the village, until they reached an elder whose presence alone carried authority. Vorlik told his entire story—his father, the monsters, the vow he had made, and the path that led him here. When he finished, the elder rose and led him to a man with sharp eyes and a calm, dangerous stillness.
"This is Bren," the elder said. "He will teach you everything you wish to know about magic."
Bren's first lesson began with a question. "What do you know about magic?"
Vorlik answered honestly, speaking of loss, purpose, and the flow of power he believed moved through the land. Bren corrected him at once. Magic, he explained, flowed through four elements—land, water, air, and fire—and beyond them existed a fifth: sun or light, an ancient element believed to be the strongest of all.
Bren then spoke of monsters. They too used magic, but theirs was twisted—sorcery that cut with brutal precision, illusion that preyed on the mind, destruction that spread chaos and negativity, and the most terrifying of all: shadow, or darkness. Human magic shaped and balanced. Monster magic consumed.
Magic, Bren taught, was not created—it was given form. Elements could be shaped into walls, spikes, spears, armor, or weapons. Spells existed to perform special attacks, but they had to be spoken and learned properly. After flooding Vorlik with knowledge, Bren dismissed him. "That is enough. Your brain is overloaded. From tomorrow, physical training begins."
The next month was hell.
Vorlik was forced to sit for hours staring at a single black dot, his mind screaming to wander. He was ordered to catch falling cherry blossom leaves midair—an impossible task with their unpredictable paths. Then came pain. Bren struck him with a wooden stick while Vorlik was ordered to sit still, strengthening his willpower and teaching him to endure without breaking. This routine continued every day for a full month.
When it ended, Vorlik had changed. He could focus for an hour without distraction, catch falling leaves, and endure pain without losing control. Bren finally nodded. "Now, you may begin magic."
Vorlik learned to move his hands freely, as if they had infinite joints, bending the air and listening to the hymn of the world around him. Bren taught him to feel the warmth in his blood, guide it into his arm, and release it. A spark appeared—small, fleeting, but real. Magic was not born from him; it flowed through him.
For two months, Vorlik practiced relentlessly. Eventually, Bren taught him his first spell: Fireball. At first, Vorlik needed to speak the spell, but soon he could form fire without words. Bren took him to a nearby village and pointed at two Stage Two monsters. "Go fight them."
One monster hurled objects with terrifying speed, but Vorlik dodged them all, his reflexes honed by leaf training. Closing the distance, he destroyed it with fire. The second monster struck him with a massive stone weapon—an attack that would have ended him before—but his hardened body endured. Vorlik used fire-infused arrows, then his sword, killing the monster and saving the village. Bren's praise was simple but meaningful: "Good job."
Two months later, Vorlik could create fire without spells. When asked which element he would pursue, he chose fire. Bren warned him that fire could consume as easily as it could protect, then taught him to shape fire. After two weeks of failure, Vorlik finally formed a perfect sphere. Bren then showed him how to shape fire into arrows without a bow.
Then came grim news: the chief of Scout Team One had been killed by a Stage Four monster. Bren mourned him, calling him a true warrior. Soon after, Bren asked Vorlik the most important question yet: could he endure fire, not just wield it?
Vorlik was taken into the heart of a volcano and ordered to sit on a stone for four days.
When Bren returned, Vorlik was alive—and transformed. Fire no longer rejected him. Bren declared his training complete and revealed the truth: this place was a Magic Temple, one of many across the world. Just as monsters had stages, so did mages—and Vorlik was now a Stage Two mage. Bren spoke of rumors that humans could wield monster magic, though he did not believe them.
Before parting, Bren gave Vorlik an environmental spell—Blazing Oven, a spell that turned the surroundings into an inferno where enemies struggled even to breathe. Then he handed Vorlik a world map, marked with every Magic Temple known.
At last, Bren said goodbye.
Vorlik left the temple and began the journey home—not as a frightened child, but as a mage shaped by fire, purpose, and unbreakable resolve.