The morning sun had barely crested the horizon when Tatsuya arrived at the training grounds.
Or rather Paul's front yard that was a masterpiece of nature's laziest design—just sand, rocks and here and there some small grass patches as if someone had rage-quit halfway through landscaping.
The air was crisp, filled with the earthy scent of dew-covered grass and the distant hum of insects waking from their slumber.
His breath came out in small clouds, the morning chill biting at his skin.
The end of the moon season was near but the mornings were still chilly.
The cycle of the year flows like a tale written by fate itself, its chapters divided into the radiant embrace of the Sun Season and the quiet whispers of the Moon Season.
The year begins with Gorath, the first month, marking the dawn of the Sun Season.
The days stretch long, bathed in golden brilliance, as if the heavens themselves bless the land with warmth.
This season continues through Zathor, Louistina, and Soryn, each month passing like an unbroken dream of endless light. Crops flourish, rivers glisten, and the world hums with the vitality of life untouched by darkness.
But even the most radiant glow must eventually yield to change.
As the final embers of Soryn fade, the land enters Kaelros, the bridge between light and shadow. Neither wholly Sun nor fully Moon, Kaelros is a month of flux, a time when nature takes a deep breath before exhaling into transformation.
It is the longest month, stretching over fifty days, as if time itself hesitates before allowing the inevitable shift.
The days shorten, the winds whisper of something unseen, and the world prepares for the hush of the coming Moon Season.
Then, the transition is complete.
The veiled months of Iselith, Syrntoph, Morvak, and Valerian take hold, their nights long and hauntingly serene.
This is the Moon Season, a time when silver replaces gold, and the world slows beneath the watchful gaze of the quiet sky.
Frost lingers on the edges of the morning, and shadows stretch further than they did before.
Valerian, the final month, marks the year's twilight, closing the chapter before it all begins anew with Gorath once more.
Apparently the months are named after the 7 emperors Tatsuya read about in the history book. But who are Louistina and Syrntoph? Were they erased from history or something?
It is currently Morvak, the 8th month of the year. It will be new years soon.
As His breath continued to produce small clouds, he paid it no mind. His focus was on the man standing before him.
Paul.
His short walnut brown hair swayed in the wind like a swordsman of legends who cared little for titles.
His tall frame cast a long shadow over the training field, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded Tatsuya with an expression that betrayed neither approval nor disappointment.
A simple wooden sword rested against his shoulder, its presence a silent promise of what was to come.
Never in his life would Tatsuya have thought that this moment would come, he was going to become a swordsman.
Isn't it every man's dream to become a mighty worrier? As Tatsuya was thinking he swallowed, gripping his own training sword tightly.
The stick was a crude thing, unbalanced and heavier than he expected, but he refused to let his nervousness show.
His heart pounded in his chest, each thud echoing in his ears like a war drum, and a bead of sweat traced a slow path down his forehead.
However, before it could complete its journey, a different sensation took precedence—something soft and insistent brushing against his ankle.
Looking down, he found Loki pressing her small head against him, rubbing her cheek against his leg with deliberate movements.
The gesture wasn't just affectionate—it was possessive. A silent yet unmistakable declaration.
The meaning behind it was obvious: This one is mine.
As if carving those words into the very fabric of reality, she continued marking him with her scent, ensuring that any fool who dared to think otherwise would be swiftly corrected.
He let out a small sigh, a mixture of amusement and resignation curling at the edge of his lips.
Yeah, yeah, I get I'm yours and yours alone.
This was the beginning of his training—the first step toward becoming strong enough to carve his own fate.
"…You're late," Paul finally said, his voice as sharp as the blades he usually carried at his hip.
Both of the swords were propped against the base of a large tree, Above them, swaying gently with the breeze, a hammock was strung between the branches—though calling it a proper resting place might have been generous.
With its slightly uneven sag and the way it creaked under the weight of absolutely nothing, it looked less like an invitation to relax and more like a poorly executed trap waiting for its next victim.
Tatsuya flinched. "But the sun just came up—"
A dull thud rang out as Paul's wooden sword struck the ground between them, silencing any further protest.
His gaze was piercing, demanding an answer Tatsuya couldn't provide.
"Do you think battle waits for the sun to rise?" Paul asked, voice low and steady. "Do you think your enemies will hold back just because you need more time to wake up?"
"…No," he admitted.
Paul nodded. "Good. Then we start now."
With that, he moved.
Tatsuya barely had time to react before Paul's wooden sword came swinging at him in a wide arc.
Instinct kicked in, and he raised his own weapon to block, but the force behind Paul's strike was overwhelming.
knocking the "sword" from his grip, and before he could recover, Paul's foot swept his legs out from under him.
The world tilted. His back hit the ground hard, the breath torn from his lungs in an instant.
Pain flared through his body, but more than that—humiliation burned hotter.
Paul loomed over him, offering no words of comfort, no acknowledgment of the pain. Instead, he simply tilted his head. "Get up."
Tatsuya gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet. His muscles protested, but he ignored them. He had expected training to be difficult—but he hadn't expected to be humiliated this quickly.
No.
This wasn't humiliation.
This was reality.
Paul wasn't holding back. He wasn't treating this like some lesson where failure meant nothing.
He was making it clear—if Tatsuya couldn't even withstand this, he had no place wielding a sword.
Tatsuya tightened his grip on his weapon.
His breathing was still ragged, but his stance was firmer now. His eyes, once wavering, were sharp.
Paul watched him for a moment, then smirked. "That's more like it."
Tatsuya's breathing was still ragged, his arms aching from the relentless drills Paul had put him through.
He had lost count of how many times he had been knocked to the ground, only to be told to stand up and try again.
His body protested, but his pride wouldn't let him collapse.
Paul, on the other hand, was completely unfazed. His stance remained firm, his wooden sword resting against his shoulder as he eyed Tatsuya with a critical gaze. After a long silence, he finally spoke.
"Enough swords play for today."
Tatsuya eyes widened and a small regret filled his chest. But he understood why he decided to stop.
Look at me all covered in dirt, almost not able to stand anymore. I can't remember when the last time was I have worked out this much?
But he still wanted to continue.
Part 2
His mind raced as he absorbed Paul's words.
The four steps of spellcasting—Spell Genesis, Determination of Size, Determination of Speed, and Activation—each formed a crucial pillar of magic. But beyond the theory, the real challenge lay in execution.
Paul stood before him, arms crossed, his sharp gaze locked onto his student.
"If you fail to grasp these steps properly, your magic will never amount to anything more than a cheap parlor trick." His voice was firm, almost dismissive, but there was no malice behind it—only expectation.
Paul lifted his hand, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he conjured a small flame between his fingers.
The flickering ember danced in the air, its heat palpable even from a few steps away.
"This is Spell Genesis." Paul's tone was instructive, his movements precise. "At this stage, the most important thing isn't power—it's understanding.
A fire spell is not just about summoning flames. It's about comprehending the very essence of fire itself."
He curled his fingers slightly, and the ember elongated into a thin wisp of flame, bending unnaturally without dispersing. "What is fire, Tatsuya?"
Tatsuya blinked. His lips parted instinctively, but hesitation gripped him. "It's… heat? Light?"
Paul let out a short, unimpressed sigh. "That's what it does. Not what it is."
The fire in his hand grew brighter, its orange glow turning a deeper red. "Fire is consumption. It devours to exist. It is never satisfied, never stagnant—it is hunger incarnate."
The flame twisted again, splitting into two, then three, each flickering with a life of its own.
"If you do not understand your element, you can never master it. No amount of mana will compensate for ignorance."
Tatsuya clenched his fists. The weight of Paul's words settled in his chest.
Understanding.
Not just the mechanics, but the nature of the element itself.
Paul let the flames vanish with a flick of his wrist before continuing.
"Once you've shaped your mana into a spell form, you must determine its size." He extended his hand outward, and a new fireball ignited, this time much larger—nearly the size of a person's head.
The heat radiating from it was intense, making the air shimmer.
"A small spell requires little mana and is easy to control." Paul closed his fingers slightly, and the fireball shrank to the size of an apple.
"A larger one increases power, but it also demands more from you. If you lack the capacity to sustain it, you'll burn yourself out before you even reach your target."
Tatsuya nodded, filing away the information.
"Next is speed."
"And finally," Paul said "Activation."
A subtle shift of mana pulsed in the air.
Without warning, Paul hurled the fireball forward. It shot through the air like a comet, fast enough that Tatsuya barely registered its movement before it collided with a distant tree, sending sparks flying.
A burst of heat and force spread outward in a delayed explosion, sending leaves and embers flying.
Paul turned back to him, his expression unreadable. "A slow spell is easier to control, but it's useless if your enemy dodges. A fast spell sacrifices precision for impact."
Tatsuya's eyes followed the scorch marks left on the tree's bark. The balance between power, control, and speed—each decision altered the spell's effectiveness.
Tatsuya's eyes widened.
"It doesn't always end when you cast it," Paul explained, lowering his hand. "Some spells persist. Some can be detonated at will. Others can be guided, maintained, or even altered mid-flight. Activation is not just about release—it's about how your spell manifests in reality."
Tatsuya exhaled slowly. He had never thought of it like that before.
Paul's gaze hardened. "And here's the most important thing, Tatsuya." He took a step closer, his tone growing serious. "Your magic is only as strong as your understanding of it."
Tatsuya clenched his jaw.
"You think you can wield fire? Then tell me—what fuels it?"
Tatsuya hesitated, but this time, he didn't want to give a shallow answer. He thought back to the science classes he had. To the warmth of a hearth. To the destructive infernos that consumed everything in their path.
"…Oxygen," he finally said. "And something to burn."
Paul nodded. "Good. Now tell me—what happens if you don't understand that? If you don't control how it interacts with the world around it?"
Tatsuya felt a chill despite the lingering heat. He already knew the answer.
"The spell becomes unstable."
Paul's smirk was faint but approving. "Exactly. A fireball thrown carelessly might not just hit your enemy—it could ignite a whole forest. A lightning bolt cast in the rain might turn the battlefield into a death trap for everyone, including yourself."
Paul stepped back, crossing his arms once more. "Control. Precision. Understanding. Those matter more than brute force."
"For normal people all these steps are done through an incantation. Only people who use silent spell casting do these steps in their heads. And the last method of casting a spell is through a magic circle."
"Magic circle?" Tatsuya questioned.
"Yes you just draw the pattern of the spell and pour mana into it." Paul answered.
"Can you draw the pattern with anything?"
"Yes, that right." Paul nodded. "Some skilled mage's can even draw them in the air with their finger."
Tatsuya took a deep breath, steeling himself. This wasn't just about casting spells—it was about mastering why they worked in the first place.
And he had a long way to go.
Part 3
Paul sat down cross-legged, motioning for Tatsuya to do the same. Reluctantly, he obeyed, trying to ignore the soreness in his limbs.
"Combat is not only displayed by swords or other weapons." He started. "It extends when magic is involved."
Magic of course, Tatsuya listened carefully like a nerdy student following his favorite subject.
"mana exists within every living being," Paul continued, "but most people don't understand how to use it. Mana is the essence of life itself, a force that flows through all things. If you learn to control it, you'll become something far more dangerous."
Tatsuya let those words sink in.
The only time he had seen magic before, was of course, Paul's Velocity Surge but hearing it explained so plainly made it feel… tangible.
Like something he could reach out and grasp for himself.
"There are several types of magic," Paul said. "You'd be a fool to only rely on one."
He lifted a finger. "Healing Magic—used for recovery, Venomancy, Aegimancy, detoxification and Thaumatology. It includes healing wounds, creating barriers, and even enchanting objects or people."
Tatsuya nodded slowly. "So magic can be used to protect, too."
"Of course," Paul said. "But it can also be used to destroy."
A second finger went up. "Attack Magic—elemental spells, the kind you're probably more familiar with. Fire, water, wind, earth, lightning, ice… the list goes on. This is what most people think of when they hear the word 'magic.'"
"Then there's Physical Enhancement," Paul said, raising a third finger. "This one's simple—boosting your body's abilities. Speed, strength, reflexes, endurance. If you can master it, you'll move faster, hit harder, and survive longer in a fight."
Tatsuya glanced down at his own hands, as if willing them to become stronger. He had fought with everything he had today, and it still wasn't enough.
Paul raised a fourth and final finger. "And then… there's Forbidden Magic."
The air around them seemed to grow heavier.
"This kind of magic violates the natural order," Paul said, his voice carrying a weight it hadn't before. "Cursed Techniques that twist reality itself. Resurrection magic that brings the dead back to life. Things that should never be touched."
Tatsuya felt a chill run down his spine. "…And people actually use that kind of magic?"
Paul exhaled through his nose. "Some do. And most of them don't live long enough to regret it."
Tatsuya had always thought of magic as something unnatural, something powerful that shouldn't exist —but now, he was beginning to understand.
Magic wasn't just power. It was a responsibility. A weapon that could just as easily save lives as it could take them.
"I'll explain all the branches in Healing magic." Paul said, arms crossed. "Venomancy."
Tatsuya raised an eyebrow. "Wait… poison magic falls under Healing?"
Paul scoffed. "You think healing is just about kindness and mending wounds? Life and death are two sides of the same coin. Just as mana can restore, it can also corrupt."
A faint shiver ran down Tatsuya's spine. The way Paul spoke about it, Venomancy wasn't just about causing harm—it was something more sinister, something unnatural.
"Venomancy specializes in creating and manipulating poisons," Paul continued. "It's different from elemental magic because the toxins it produces aren't natural
They don't obey the usual laws of nature. A fireball burns, but it can be extinguished. Water flows, but it can be redirected. Poison?" His gaze sharpened. "Poison seeps. It lingers. It kills in ways you don't see coming."
Tatsuya swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how his body still ached from training.
He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have something eating away at him from the inside.
Paul stretched out a hand, his fingers curling as if gripping something unseen.
"A skilled Venomancer can create poisons in different forms," he said. "Liquid poison can coat weapons, making a single cut fatal. Or it can be pooled on the battlefield, turning the ground itself into a death trap."
He clenched his fist, then slowly unfurled it. "Gas is even worse. A single breath of toxic mist can paralyze or kill, depending on the spell. There's no need to touch your enemy when the air itself becomes your weapon."
Tatsuya exhaled, watching Paul's hand carefully. It was empty, but for a moment, he thought he could see something… something invisible, creeping.
"But those are just the basics," Paul said. "True Venomancers go beyond that."
Tatsuya frowned. "What do you mean?"
Paul's voice grew colder. "Corruption. Decay. A master of Venomancy can rot armor with a single touch. Flesh, bone, even magic barriers—nothing is safe. They can turn an entire battlefield into a wasteland where nothing survives."
"Of course, that kind of power comes with risks," Paul said. "Venomancy is hard to control. If you make a mistake, your own poison could spread where you don't want it to. You could end up killing your allies instead of your enemies."
That made sense. A wildfire was dangerous not because it burned, but because it didn't care what it burned. Poison wasn't any different.
"And then there's the worst part."
Tatsuya glanced up, noting the way Paul's expression darkened even further.
"Overuse," Paul said simply. "The more you wield poison, the more it seeps into you. Your body starts to change. Your mana turns toxic. Venom overload is a slow, painful death—your own magic eating you from the inside out."
Tatsuya exhaled sharply. This wasn't just exhaustion. This was something that stayed with you, something that couldn't be undone.
"And if that wasn't enough," Paul added, "Venomancy is weak to Detoxification Magic. A healer skilled in detoxification can counter your poison with a single spell. You might think you have the upper hand—until all your work is undone in an instant."
Tatsuya remained quiet, absorbing every word. Venomancy wasn't just dangerous—it was self-destructive. A double-edged sword that could just as easily kill its wielder as it could their enemies.
Paul's explanation of Venomancy had left a weight in Tatsuya's chest, but before he could fully process it, his master moved on.
Part 4
"There's a way to counteract Venomancy, of course," Paul said, crossing his arms. "Detoxification."
Tatsuya furrowed his brows. "Like purification magic?"
Paul shook his head. "No, purification is too general. Detoxification is something else entirely. It doesn't just cleanse poisons—it fights fire with fire."
Tatsuya blinked. "Wait… what?"
Paul's smirk held no amusement. "It works by introducing a controlled toxin into the body. That toxin forces the body into overdrive, flushing out the original poison and boosting regeneration in the process."
Tatsuya tensed. He hadn't expected that. Magic that relied on poison to heal? The contradiction made his head spin.
"But," Paul continued, raising a finger, "it's a dangerous technique. If the user miscalculates the dosage or loses control, they might end up causing more harm than the original poison."
Tatsuya exhaled through his nose. "So… it's like using a venom to make an antidote?"
Paul nodded. "Exactly. That's why Detoxification magic is considered high-level. It's difficult to use properly, and even harder to master."
Tatsuya rubbed his temples. "And I'm guessing the side effects aren't pretty."
Paul let out a low chuckle. "You're catching on. Detoxification magic is not something you use without consequences. Some spells only purge poisons, but others push the body past its limits—at a steep cost."
Paul stretched his arms over his head before letting out a sigh. "Alright, that was Detoxification magic. Now, let's move on to something a little less self-destructive."
Part 5
Tatsuya was still processing the last lesson when Paul's words pulled him back to attention. "Less self-destructive? That'd be a nice change."
Paul smirked. "Don't get too comfortable. Magic always comes with a cost. Even defensive magic."
Tatsuya tilted his head. "Defensive magic?"
Paul nodded. "Aegimancy. The art of barriers."
Tatsuya's interest piqued. He had always associated magic with offense—fireballs, lightning strikes, explosive spells. But the idea of using it for defense intrigued him.
"Aegimancy is one of the most important branches of magic," Paul explained. "No matter how strong you are, you can't fight if you're dead. And a well-placed barrier can mean the difference between survival and annihilation."
Tatsuya crossed his arms. "So it's just throwing up shields and hoping for the best?"
Paul let out a short laugh. "You make it sound so crude. Barriers aren't just walls you hide behind. A skilled Aegimancer can manipulate them in ways you wouldn't expect. Reflection, absorption, entrapment—the possibilities are endless."
Tatsuya narrowed his eyes. "Sounds complicated."
Paul smirked. "Everything worth mastering is. Now, let's go over the basics of casting Methods."
Paul got his wooden sword and started to draw a magic circle into the sand.
"Aegimancy is usually cast through magic circles and incantations," he said. "Like this."
He pour mana into the magic circle and A translucent barrier materialized in front of him. It was smooth, glass-like, and radiated a faint glow.
"This is the standard method. The stronger the barrier, the more complex the magic circle."
Tatsuya inspected it, tapping the surface with his knuckle. It felt solid—like striking stone.
"What about silent casting?" Tatsuya questioned.
"I have no clue, so far in my life I have never seen anyone cast without an incantation or magic circle. But you never know."
Part 6
"The last one Thaumatology – The Magic of Enchantments."
Paul's voice carried the weight of experience as he continued his lecture, his arms crossed as he watched Tatsuya's reaction carefully.
"Thaumatology is an advanced field of magic that focuses on imbuing objects, people, and even places with supernatural properties," he began, his tone even but commanding. "Unlike casting a spell, which releases magic in an instant, Thaumatology allows magic to be stored and activated later. This makes it invaluable for those with limited mana reserves or, worse, those whose mana gate is broken."
At the mention of a broken mana gate, Tatsuya stiffened. He wasn't entirely sure why, but the phrase struck a nerve.
Paul continued, gesturing toward the wooden training swords in the corner of the room. "A sword with a fire enchantment can burn through armor with each strike. A shield imbued with Thaumatology can deflect spells that would otherwise turn a man to ash. Even armor can be enchanted to lighten its weight or make the wearer faster. But weapons and armor are only one application."
He stepped forward, his gaze sharp. "People also turn to Thaumatology to overcome their weaknesses. Some are born with low mana, making casting spells impossible past a few uses. Others suffer from a damaged mana gate, meaning their natural ability to process mana is compromised."
Tatsuya furrowed his brows. "And how does Thaumatology help with that?"
"By using enchanted items—crystals, relics, and artifacts that store magic." Paul lifted a finger, as if to emphasize the importance of this point. "A person with no mana talent can still wield magic if they have a properly enchanted tool. A broken mana gate is not the end of one's magic if they have the right item."
For a moment, Paul paused, and Tatsuya could almost see something flicker in his expression. A memory? A thought? But before he could figure it out, Paul exhaled and continued.
"There's another aspect of Thaumatology worth noting—spirit crystals."
"Spirit crystals?"
Paul nodded. "These rare gems are capable of housing spirits within them. Sometimes, they serve as vessels for long-forgotten entities, allowing them to retain their consciousness rather than fading into nothingness. Other times, they serve as conduits, letting ordinary people borrow the power of spirits."
Tatsuya's mind raced. Weapons that could use magic, items that could let the powerless wield spells, and even relics that could store spirits—Thaumatology was far more complex than he had imagined.
"But don't get too excited," Paul warned, as if sensing Tatsuya's intrigue. "Thaumatology isn't without risk. If an enchantment is flawed, it can backfire. A fire-enchanted sword might explode in its wielder's hands. A strength-enhancing bracelet could shatter someone's arm if used improperly. And spirit crystals…" Paul's expression darkened. "If a spirit inside one grows too strong or rebellious, it may consume the user instead of aiding them."
Tatsuya swallowed. "That… doesn't sound great."
"It's not." Paul smirked slightly. "Which is why Thaumatology is best left to those with a deep understanding of magic. But for those who master it, there are few arts as versatile."
Tatsuya nodded slowly, absorbing the information.
Mana, magic, and the many ways they could be wielded… He was beginning to realize just how vast the world of magic truly was.