The training continued.
The last practice Hanabi learned was spreading his magic output around his body. The concept sounded unnecessary at first, but once he began learning the method properly, he discovered how complicated it truly was compared to his earlier training.
At first glance, it seemed simple. Just spread your energy outward, like stretching both arms in opposite directions. But that assumption was completely wrong.
At the beginning of his training, after getting used to the first exercises and reading several helpful articles, Hanabi's understanding of energy flow slowly widened. Day by day he felt himself improving, and he couldn't help but feel proud of his progress.
Once the energy spread around his body, constant adjustment became necessary especially at the beginning. If the range was too short, his energy would flow unnaturally, giving him minor sickness: dizziness, nausea, loss of balance, sudden fatigue, and sometimes coughing.
If the spread became too wide, his energy would release uncontrollably and drain his output almost instantly, ending his training for the day.
He had to feel the correct range of his energy flow. But that range constantly changed for time to time even after he approached the right range, forcing him to constantly adjust. Most of the time he simply lay in the middle of the training ground like a statue, doing nothing but focusing on the subtle movement of his energy.
Weeks passed. His progress was slow. Compared to his other training, this was the area where he improved the least. Yet Hanabi didn't see it as failure, nor did he feel bored. Instead, as he focused on the shifting flow of energy, he unconsciously became more aware of its smallest changes. Even the slightest fluctuation became clear to him.
To Hanabi, it felt like playing a quiet game of chase.
His first training had taught him the basic understanding of energy flow. Learning his elemental affinity had made things easier. Because of it, he formed a theory that helped accelerate his progress.
His affinity was water.
If that was the case, then energy flow should behave like water: independent in form, yet dependent on shape.
At first it made no sense. Energy didn't literally flow through the body like water. But after much reading, Hanabi realized something important, this kind of energy did not follow normal physical logic. Energy flowed around the human body. That was its true shape.
His second training involved magic constriction. At first, Hanabi believed it was similar to energy concealment. But as his understanding deepened, he realized it was about containment instead.
Like water held in a container. It sounded simple. But the process had been painful and exhausting.
Even now, he still couldn't fully understand the purpose of his newest training. As he improved, the exercises only seemed to grow harder. Time was on his side, yet the uncertainty of how long the journey would take troubled him. Tomorrow was never guaranteed.
Later, Hanabi returned to the market.
His unnecessary responsibility awaited him again, collecting leftover food from the wet market.
Even though the orphanage now had plenty of supplies thanks to recent events, Mother Lilith still insisted on maintaining their routine. She even ordered food from her merchant partner regularly, despite their storage already being enough to last a year. Hanabi understood her reasoning. The rainy season was approaching, and life became difficult during those season.
"HEY, HANABI!"
Someone called out to him as he passed by.
The voice sounded familiar.
"It's been a while," the boy greeted as he approached. Three others followed behind him.
Gan, Emn, Les, and Peut.
The four troublemakers who had left the orphanage the previous year.
"Yes, it has been a while, Gan," Hanabi replied calmly.
"How's it going?" Gan asked.
"Nothing new."
Gan chuckled.
"If you don't remember us, you don't have to pretend."
"I wouldn't pretend if I didn't," Hanabi replied.
Gan simply smiled.
"How's the orphanage?" Emn asked.
"Better than before."
"Really? That's great!" Emn said with relief.
But their appearances told another story. Their clothes were messy, their faces tired. Even without trying, Hanabi could sense the awkward tension between them.
"Things haven't been easy for you since you left last year, have they?" Hanabi asked.
"It's not like we're not trying," Gan said defensively, though his exhaustion was obvious.
They had left the orphanage at the age of eight. Mischievous as they were, they hadn't even said goodbye to Mother Lilith when they left. Yet despite their troublesome behavior, they had still been children raised by the orphanage.
Hanabi smiled faintly. Peut stepped forward and handed him a pouch. A normal pouch.
Seeing such an ordinary item felt strangely unfamiliar to Hanabi.
"Can you give this to Mother Lilith?" Peut asked quietly. "It's not much… but tell her we'll keep working hard."
Their request carried clear shame. The four of them were too embarrassed to return to the orphanage themselves.
Hanabi understood.So he made a decision.
"No."
The four boys stared at him in shock.
"Why?!" they asked.
"You should bring it yourselves," Hanabi said.
"Once you go there, you can leave again and live your lives however you want. But at least say goodbye to her properly. That's the least honorable thing you can do." Without waiting for their response, he walked away.
The four boys stood in silence, thinking deeply about his words. Soon someone called them back to work. Their break was over.
The market had become livelier than before. Even though fewer customers visited compared to the festival days, the crowd was still more than twice what it used to be.
The kingdom had moved its dungeon expeditions to the northern region, beyond the barrier where creatures were more active. Because those dungeons lacked proper records, the expeditions were expected to continue for quite some time.
"Hey kid! Are you busy?" A vendor suddenly called out.
"Depends on the job," Hanabi replied.
"I just need you to watch my father. I'll be gone for about an hour. You're an orphan, right? I always see you around here."
Hanabi wasn't in a hurry, so he accepted.
"Good afternoon," Hanabi greeted politely.
The old man looked weathered but healthy, leaning slightly on a cane.
"Are you an ogre?" the old man suddenly asked.
"No," Hanabi replied, caught off guard.
"My son said you're an orphan. Where is your orphanage?" the old man asked.
"Near the weakest side of the Barrier."
The old man's eyes widened.
"So that place still exists…"
"You know that place?" Hanabi asked.
"I'll tell you a story."
Not wanting to feel bored, Hanabi listened.
"More than a hundred years ago, the land where the orphanage stood had belonged to a noble clan. Despite the dangers near the barrier, the clan head decided to build his business there."
"What business?" Hanabi asked.
"Potions," the old man replied. "That clan was one of the largest producers in the kingdom. I used to work there as a guard." He paused.
"But now… I can't even remember the clan head's face."
Hanabi listened quietly.
"Eighty years ago, I was absent from work for a week because of an injury. And went home to recover. During that time, the clan held a grand celebration for all their relatives." He sighed.
"The timing couldn't have been worse."
"That same night, the weak side of the barrier suddenly shifted closer to the estate. A massive creature broke through and attacked. No one survived.
Because every direct descendant of the clan had gathered for the celebration, that night marked the end of their entire bloodline. The orphanage building used to be a gaurd's barracks and equipment storage," the old man explained. "It was spared only because it stood farther away and happened to be empty at the time."
Hanabi absorbed the story quietly.
"Quite sad, don't you think?" Hanabi said.
"How is the place now?" the old man asked.
"I've never seen it attacked," Hanabi replied.
The old man smiled. They continued talking while waiting for the vendor to return, the old man sharing more stories from the past.