"This is incredible…! Power keeps surging from deep inside my body."
Ars murmured to himself while catching his breath in a corner of the training ground. The old humiliation—the days he'd been called the "mana-less prince"—flashed through his mind as bitter memories. But now, the torrent of mana coursing through him was filled with a force that could blow those past days away.
Though he felt the excitement, Ars consciously held himself back. Deep down, however, irrepressible anticipation swelled. *If I can fully control this power, I can surely accomplish something huge*—his pounding heart wouldn't calm. From then on, Ars immersed himself in training to master mana manipulation. He poured all his effort into correcting the mismatch between the mana flowing through his body and the sensations his mind perceived.
One day, two days, a month passed—his movements grew more refined with each passing time. After several months, the sensory lag had almost vanished, and he could control mana freely. When he ran, he sliced through the wind; when he swung his sword, the air howled. Overwhelmed by joy and astonishment at a body so utterly different from his former self, Ars couldn't hide his feelings.
But what troubled him most was sparring with his sword instructor, Karl. In the past, Ars hadn't stood a chance against him, but now he was convinced that circulating mana would let him fight on equal—or even superior—terms. Karl was sharp, though; the moment Ars used mana, he'd notice something unusual. So Ars proposed training without mana, claiming it was to improve his base abilities. Karl looked dubious but, pressed by Ars's enthusiasm, agreed to focus on fundamental drills.
The explosive boost to physical abilities from mana placed a heavy burden on the body. Yet for Ars, whose mana reserves had suddenly skyrocketed, basic training was actually welcome. No matter how grueling the regimen, his body never cried out in protest. Under Karl's strict guidance, Ars gradually began to control the power that surpassed his old limits.
※※※※※
Continental Elm Calendar Year 731, spring of his thirteenth year. Ars decided to enroll in the Knight Central Officer Academy. He understood all too painfully that the path of royalty was closed to him. So the most realistic route was to enter military service and distinguish himself on the battlefield.
This academy was a foundational institution for training military officers, but unusually, it opened its doors not only to nobles and royals but also to exceptionally talented commoners, in line with its founder's ideals. Physical enhancement via mana was strictly prohibited; only pure physical ability and technique mattered. That suited Ars perfectly—he could hone his fundamentals while concealing his mana power.
Moreover, the advanced curriculum included mana training and research. That was another reason Ars chose to enroll. He wanted to learn more about what the crystal's power truly meant. To unravel the secrets of Phanikia and the potential of the mana now residing in his body—those desires drove him forward.
On his first day stepping into a classroom at the Knight Central Officer Academy, Ars felt the buzz around him. A royal's enrollment instantly became gossip fodder. Guided to a seat in the very back, he sat down already weary of the wary, almost touch-me-not glances.
Noble students observed him from a distance; commoner students kept their fearful distance. The sense of alienation was no different from his days in the palace. Amid it all, a carefree smile was directed his way—from the boy in the next seat. Chestnut hair, deep blue eyes, an impish grin that stood out. The boy spoke up casually.
"Nice to meet you!"
Ars was momentarily surprised, then returned the smile instinctively.
"Yeah, nice to meet you too!"
The boy's name was Franz Kureman Rinbert. From the name, likely a commoner. Later, Ars heard that the moment Franz learned Ars's identity, he'd shown a brief look of shock—but that was all. Years afterward, Franz laughed and said, "Man, I was like, what do I do now? My first friend turns out to be royalty—I seriously panicked thinking I'd just talked to someone way out of my league."
One day, after getting used to school life, Ars witnessed a commotion. Franz was being harassed by a boy from the neighboring class and his entourage.
"Hey, why's a sewer rat scurrying around this school?"
"Where's the janitor?"
"Stinks, stinks way too much—you filthy commoner scum."
As they spat insults and saliva, Franz's right fist exploded into one boy's face. The lackeys immediately grabbed Franz's collar to shove him down, but Franz ducked, slapped their hands away with palm strikes, and drove a kick into the nearest one's gut. The boy flew back. Seizing the opening as they faltered, Franz created distance—his movements like a warrior dancing on the battlefield.
Astonished by the extraordinary skill, Ars's body moved on its own. He slammed a right hook into a student trying to grab Franz again, stepping between Franz and the group.
"Is ganging up on one guy the best you can do?"
At Ars's voice, a shocked "Your Highness!?" rose from among the boys. The nobles were thrown into disarray. No one had expected a royal to take the commoner's side.
"Tch, let's go," one clicked his tongue, and they slunk away.
"Thanks, Your Highness," Franz said, brushing off his clothes. At the title, Ars gave a wry smile.
"Cut it out with the 'Your Highness.' Just Ars is fine."
"Haha, thanks, Ars."
Franz's mischievous grin returned, and Ars smiled back.
"Ars, what the hell were those guys?"
At Franz's question, Ars recalled one familiar face among them: Josef von Brainfalk. Son of the Marquis Brainfalk, who ruled the Lebach region. The leading noble faction in Lorentz, they served as intermediaries with the neighboring ally Rehe—a prestigious house even children knew. Ars explained this to Franz.
"Tch, the worst kind—thinking they're hot stuff just because of their family name!"
Franz's blunt words warmed Ars's heart. After all, if family status mattered, Ars himself was royalty. Yet Franz spoke his true feelings without hesitation or fear—that straightforward, no-facade personality genuinely pleased Ars.
"I figured most people would freak out if a big noble like that glared at them—like, 'What do I do now?'"
Ars laughed as he said it, but Franz looked puzzled.
"I don't think like that. No matter who they are, I won't forgive anyone who looks down on others."
Those words touched Ars deeply. Someone who neither shrank from status differences nor kept their distance, but met him head-on with honesty—that was Franz. At the time, Ars had no idea this encounter would become a new ray of hope for him. From then on, Ars and Franz began spending time together at school. A friendship that transcended class barriers started kindling a small flame in Ars's heart.