The campfire burned beneath the open sky.
Its light was small—far too small against the vast darkness of the surrounding forest.
Orange flames flickered across Elna's face as she tightened the final knot of the bandage around Vein's right hand. The swelling was obvious, unnatural, as if the bone beneath the skin had shifted and refused to settle back into place.
There were no walls around them.
No roof above them.
Nothing separating them from the endless night except a small circle of firelight.
The trees stood tall beyond that fragile boundary. At first they seemed still, until a slow wind moved through the forest, bending the higher branches with a dry, hollow creak.
"It's broken," Elna said calmly. "Not fractured. Broken. So don't force it."
Vein nodded.
She handed him a small vial filled with cloudy liquid—mana absorption suppressant. He drank it awkwardly with his left hand. The potion tasted bitter and cold, sliding down his throat like a blade of ice.
A few seconds later, he felt it.
The quiet pull inside his body—the steady intake of mana from the surrounding air—began to slow. The invisible current weakened, as if some unseen valve had been tightened.
The fire cracked softly.
The wind moved again.
Branches swayed above them, scraping faintly against each other in the darkness.
Nothing else made a sound.
"Elna," Vein said quietly, staring into the fire. "Why was I hallucinating?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Her gaze remained fixed on the flames.
"Do you know where mana comes from?" she asked instead.
Vein shook his head.
"From nature," she said. "From the soil beneath us. From the trees above us. From the air around us."
A gust of wind slipped between them, tugging lightly at the edge of Elna's cloak.
"What enters our bodies," she continued, "is still raw."
Vein listened in silence.
"Raw mana flows into us like water from a tap. Our bodies filter it. Calm it."
She paused briefly.
"The heart refines it."
The wind shifted again, making the branches above them sway. Shadows twisted for a moment before settling once more.
"That's where raw mana becomes usable mana," Elna said. "Once it's refined, it flows with the blood."
"So we're filters," Vein murmured.
"Yes."
She raised two fingers.
"The problem is that not all raw mana is stable."
The flames dipped low, then rose again.
"There is clean mana," she said quietly.
Her voice lowered slightly.
"And there is corrupted mana."
Vein swallowed.
"Poisoned mana."
Elna nodded.
"It looks the same. It enters the body the same way. It follows the same pathways." She tapped her temple lightly. "The body can endure some of it."
The wind brushed past them again, colder this time.
"But the mind cannot."
Vein remembered the serpent.
Remembered knowing it wasn't real—and yet still following its movement as if it were.
"That's why I saw things that weren't there," he said slowly.
"And heard things that felt real," Elna replied. "Corrupted mana does not strike the muscles first."
Her finger tapped her temple again.
"It touches what is soft."
"The mind."
Above them, the branches shifted again.
No animals cried out.
No insects buzzed in the grass.
Only the wind moved through the trees.
Only wood rubbing softly against wood.
"Then how did I escape?" Vein asked quietly.
"You nearly emptied yourself."
"The buff spell?"
"Yes."
She nodded slightly.
"You forced the flow wide open. For a moment, everything inside you rushed outward—clean and corrupted mana alike."
Her eyes remained steady.
"The current was severed."
The fire crackled, sending a small spark upward into the darkness before it vanished.
"So I didn't defeat the serpent," Vein said.
"No."
"I stopped the flow."
Silence returned.
Heavy and still.
Elna's gaze slowly lifted toward the dark forest beyond the firelight.
"Elna… how do you tell the difference?" Vein asked after a moment. "Between clean mana and corrupted mana?"
She looked at him.
"I don't."
The wind moved again, stronger now, bending the tops of the trees in slow arcs.
"There is no visible sign. No scent. No change in the air. Even mages cannot sense it until it has already entered their bodies."
She gestured toward the empty vial in his hand.
"That's why we prevent it."
"The suppressant."
"Yes."
"It slows absorption. Reduces how much raw mana enters the body."
"So instead of filtering poison…" Vein said slowly.
"We close the tap."
Vein studied the empty vial for a moment.
"Then why doesn't everyone use it?"
Elna's expression tightened just slightly.
"Because it carries a risk."
The fire flickered sharply.
"If your mana runs out while absorption is blocked… you cannot draw more from the environment."
Vein's eyes narrowed.
"You mean—"
"If your internal mana is completely depleted," she finished quietly, "your body loses its energy source."
The wind pressed harder through the branches above them, bending the trees with a long, slow groan.
"It becomes life-threatening."
The words lingered in the air.
No sound followed them.
"So it's a double-edged blade," Vein murmured.
"Yes."
"It protects the mind," Elna said. "But if you misjudge your limits… your body will fail before the night ends."
Vein leaned back slightly, staring into the fire.
Above them, the branches swayed.
Around them, the forest remained silent.
No animal cries.
No movement beyond the wind.
Only darkness pressing slowly against the fragile circle of firelight.
And two figures sitting within it—
now aware that the most dangerous things in this forest were not the ones that roared…
but the ones that flowed quietly,
unseen,
through the blood.
—
Vein remained silent for a long time.
The campfire had shrunk to a bed of glowing embers, dim red light pulsing faintly against the darkness of the forest. Above them, the wind drifted lazily through the treetops, stirring the higher branches with soft, hollow creaks.
He glanced at Elna from the side. The question sat in his throat for a while before he finally spoke.
"Elna… how do you understand all of that?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Her gaze dropped to her hands—fingers marked with faint scars, traces of countless hours spent practicing alone.
"Because I used to study," she said at last.
Her voice was quiet. Neither proud nor bitter.
"Since I was little… I wanted to be strong."
Vein didn't interrupt.
"I had an older sister," Elna continued. "Her name was Arcelia Whitfield."
A faint warmth flickered briefly across her face.
"She was… amazing. Nature magic. Buff magic. Healing. Everything."
She stared into the dying embers.
"People spoke her name with admiration."
Her fingers moved slowly across the dirt beside her.
"I wanted to be like her. Not because anyone forced me… but because I admired her."
She exhaled softly.
"She used to ruffle my hair every time I pushed my training too far," Elna said quietly. "And she would call me 'little storm.'"
Vein blinked.
"She said I was always trying to outrun the sky."
The wind brushed through the forest again.
"So I studied," Elna continued. "Books. Old notes. Small experiments."
Her voice grew quieter.
"Until I had no time left for anything else."
Vein noticed the pause between her words.
"I didn't have many friends," she said. "And I didn't care."
A faint, bitter smile appeared.
"I thought that if I became strong, everything would go smoothly. Just like it did for my sister."
Her hand slowly tightened.
"I used to come to this hill often," she said. "No one here. No one to stop me."
"That's why I practiced here. Nature magic. Healing. Buff spells… and corrupted mana."
Vein turned sharply.
"You absorbed corrupted mana as a child?"
Elna nodded.
"Little by little. The effects were always there. Dizziness. Strange dreams. Sometimes… voices."
She let out a slow breath.
"But I learned to recognize it."
The embers shifted faintly.
"My sister warned me once," Elna continued. "She said I was too hard on myself."
This time her smile wasn't bitter.
Just tired.
"I got angry. I told her she didn't understand." Her fingers brushed absently through her hair. "She was already strong. It was easy for her to say 'stop.'"
Silence settled between them.
"Then one day," Elna said quietly, "Arcelia said goodbye. She left for war."
Vein felt his chest tighten.
"I didn't walk her out. We were arguing."
Her gaze remained fixed on the embers.
"I thought… I could talk to her when she came back."
A small piece of wood collapsed in the fire with a soft crack.
"But I never saw her again."
The words carried no dramatic break.
And that made them heavier.
"After that," Elna continued softly, "I stopped dreaming about becoming like her."
She looked up at Vein.
"But everything I learned… was already inside me."
Vein lowered his gaze, unsure what to say.
Elna remained quiet for a long time.
"I'm disappointed," she said finally.
"In myself."
"On the outside, I look strong."
Her voice trembled faintly.
"But inside… I'm still that child waiting for her to ruffle my hair again."
The embers dimmed further.
For a moment there was no mana, no danger, no world—only two people sitting in the quiet, sharing wounds that could not be seen.
And Vein finally understood.
Not because Elna knew so much.
But because she had been hurt first.
He shifted awkwardly.
"…You know," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his uninjured hand, "if your sister could see you now… she'd probably scold you again."
Elna blinked faintly.
"For overworking yourself. For absorbing corrupted mana alone. For nearly getting eaten by a giant serpent."
A breath escaped her.
Almost a laugh.
Vein stared at the dying fire.
"You said she was amazing, right? Then she'd understand why you tried so hard."
He hesitated before continuing.
"People who push themselves that much usually do it because they care too much."
Elna looked at him.
"And if she really was that great," Vein added quietly, "I doubt she left thinking you were weak."
The wind brushed softly past them.
Elna lowered her gaze.
"…You're bad at comforting people," she murmured.
"Hey."
"But…" Her voice softened. "…thank you."
Silence lingered between them.
Then, almost too quietly—
"Even if I regret not saying goodbye…"
Her fingers tightened slightly against her sleeve.
"I'm grateful I got to meet you, Vein."
Her voice was small.
Nearly lost to the night.
Vein blinked.
"Huh? What? I didn't hear that."
Elna immediately turned away.
"Nothing."
"It's nothing," she repeated. "Forget it."
Vein frowned slightly.
"…Fine."
But he didn't forget.
The last ember flickered weakly between them.
And in the fragile warmth of that fading fire—
the silence no longer felt lonely.
It felt shared.
—
They didn't rest long.
The fire was extinguished until only a thin ribbon of smoke curled upward into the night air. Vein checked his bandage once while Elna was already on her feet.
Her expression was tense.
Not from exhaustion.
From something unseen.
"We need to find Sylva," she said. "Now."
Vein inhaled slowly.
"We just barely survived—"
"I know," Elna interrupted softly. "But we can't stay still."
She started walking immediately, her steps quick despite the lingering weakness in her body. Vein followed, ignoring the sharp throbbing in his right hand.
"Elna," he said as they moved between the trees, "Sylva is a Second-Rank mage from the Sanctum of the Three Arts. She should be fine."
"Yes. She should be."
Elna didn't look back.
"And that's exactly why I'm worried."
Her pace didn't slow.
"A Second-Rank mage should be able to control her flow," she continued. "If she's losing control… then something deeper has already been touched."
The air felt heavier the farther they walked.
Vein opened his mouth to respond—
BOOOOM.
The sound shattered the silence like a hammer striking the sky.
The ground trembled beneath their feet.
Dust rose somewhere ahead.
Vein froze.
"That was—"
Elna was already running.
They tore through the brush and scrambled over uneven slopes. The sound came again, closer this time. The earth ahead was fractured, massive stones scattered as if the hill itself had been forced apart.
And then—
they saw her.
Sylva.
She hovered in the air.
Wild currents of mana coiled around her body—not flowing smoothly, not disciplined, but twisting violently as if resisting containment.
The hill beneath her—
was split in half.
Not collapsed.
Split.
A clean line carved from the peak down to the base, as if an invisible blade had sliced the land itself.
Vein stopped breathing.
"SYLVA!" he shouted.
She turned.
Her face was blank.
Her eyes open.
No rage.
No panic.
Nothing visibly wrong.
"Sy—"
WOOSH.
Elna slammed into Vein from the side, forcing him to the ground.
His body hit hard. The air burst from his lungs.
At the same instant—
a razor-edged gust sliced through the space where his head had been.
CRAAACK—
The trees behind them were severed.
Not one.
Not two.
An entire row of trunks collapsed at once, falling together in thunderous unison.
The cuts were clean.
Too clean.
Vein went cold.
If Elna had been a second slower—
he would already be dead.
He slowly turned his head.
Elna was still pressing him down, her breathing uneven.
"Don't move," she whispered.
Vein looked back toward Sylva.
She still hovered in the air.
Still expressionless.
Still perfectly upright.
She didn't look enraged.
She didn't look unstable.
She didn't look lost.
And that—
was what made Elna's blood run cold.
Because Sylva did not look like someone who had lost control.
She looked—
perfectly controlled.
And the terrible feeling Elna had carried since the fire died—
had finally become real.