Zenlath, 19th of Lumaris, Year 580 of the Elythera Calendar

  The golden light of the Aurelia season filtered through the window, bathing Sora’s room in a warm glow that made the dust suspended in the air shimmer softly. On his desk, a chaotic spread of improvised tools, gears, screws, and small fragments of manaquartz stood as evidence of a mind that refused to rest even on peaceful days.

  Sora leaned forward, carefully examining one of the bluish crystals. In his hands he held a device of his own design: a metallic frame with movable pieces that allowed him to shift the points of contact at the crystal’s base. It wasn’t a conventional lamp, though it might have looked like one at a glance. Its purpose was far more ambitious, measuring how energy flowed depending on the configuration of its connections.

  Beside him, his notebook lay open, filled with drawings, formulas, and observations he had accumulated over the past days. He had been experimenting with the mechanism for weeks now, but the results still refused to match his expectations.

  The meter, another of his recent inventions barely showed any fluctuations, and that was starting to frustrate him.

  What irritated him the most wasn’t the device malfunctioning, but his own inability to convey his ideas clearly to the blacksmith, Garrik. Even with detailed sketches, something always slipped during the explanations: gears that didn’t fit, pieces that failed to perform their intended function, or materials that simply didn’t react the way he imagined.

  And still, Sora couldn’t blame Garrik. The man was an exceptional craftsman.

  The real problem was that no one in Elythera could truly understand what went on in the mind of a soul from another world.

  If he spoke too much, he risked raising suspicion. If he stayed silent, his ideas would remain incomplete.

  He recalled yet with a faint shiver, the first months after arriving in Rulid… when Teacher Seralya had watched him with open suspicion, wondering whether that boy was truly what he appeared to be.

  Only time and shared trust had eased that tension.

  And now, more than ever, Sora feared repeating that story.

  Lost in those thoughts, he kept tinkering with the device he had assembled. Tightening screws, turning bolts, adjusting the crystal with care… but no matter how much he tried, the pieces refused to respond the way he wanted. The results didn’t change, and each failed attempt chipped away a little more at his patience.

  With a tense sigh, he set the tools down and left the device on the desk.

  Ideas churned restlessly in his mind, but his hands no longer cooperated. He closed his notebook, slipped it into one of the drawers, and leaned back in his chair, spending a few minutes staring at the ceiling with a deep frown.

  This tool isn’t enough to test my theories about manaquartz crystals… but I can’t create the tools I actually need either. I depend on others… on Garrik. Maybe I should learn to forge them myself. But… where am I supposed to get the time? Magic lessons, training, inventions…

  He took a long breath, forcing himself to think more calmly.

  “One step at a time,” he whispered to himself as he rose from the chair. “I’ll find the time eventually.”

  He tidied the mess on his desk, organized the instruments, and headed toward the door. It was almost lunchtime, so he decided to go down to the dining room to see if Aeris or his mother had already prepared the meal.

  However, as he descended the stairs, a sudden wave of heat washed over him. His vision blurred, and a heavy, weakening sensation forced him to stop. For an instant, he felt as though the floor shifted beneath his feet.

  By the time he reached the last step, he had to brace himself against the wall, breathing hard.

  Sweat beaded across his forehead. He immediately opened the Soul Panel, and there it was again: that triangular red notification blinking beside his mana bar.

  Again…

  He clenched his teeth, suppressing the discomfort. The symptoms had appeared years ago, yes… but never like this.

  In recent months they had intensified, and although he had tried to ignore them, he could no longer pretend nothing was happening.

  Something inside him was overflowing, and he had no idea how to stop it.

  From the railing on the second floor, Seralya watched with her usual calm expression—until something caught her eye. Sora, below, leaning against the wall, struggling to breathe.

  Her smile vanished instantly.

  “Sora?” Her voice was steady, but laden with concern.

  Without hesitation, she descended the stairs in quick, graceful steps, stopping right beside him and crouching slightly to meet his gaze.

  “Are you alright? What happened to you?”

  Sora looked up at her. For a moment he hesitated, unsure of what to say, but he quickly forced a smile, trying to make his tone sound as carefree as always.

  “I’m fine, Teacher Seralya. It’s just that… I tripped while coming down the stairs and almost fell. I was just recovering from the scare, nothing more.”

  Seralya watched him in silence for a few seconds. There were no signs of pain on his face, but something in his eyes, some tight, uneasy glimmer made her doubt. Even so, she chose not to push him.

  “You need to be careful,” she finally said, her tone gentle yet firm. “It wouldn’t be pleasant to tumble down the stairs. Take it slowly, alright?”

  Sora nodded with a slightly forced smile.

  “Alright, Teacher.”

  They both headed toward the kitchen, where the aroma of freshly baked bread and spiced vegetables filled the air.

  Aeris was there, serving lunch with her usual serenity. At the table sat Tsukari and little Kanade, perched in that special chair her brother had designed for her.

  It was a simple but clever invention: a wooden structure with an adjustable base that allowed children to sit at table height without assistance.

  Sora had commissioned it from Olbran’s workshop and gifted it to his sister just a few weeks earlier. The carpenter, impressed by the design, had even offered to buy it to replicate… but Sora simply gave it to him.

  He didn’t see it as some grand creation, but rather something natural, a solution so Kanade could enjoy meals together with everyone.

  As he watched his little sister laugh and tap the table with her tiny hands, something warm flickered in his chest.

  And for a brief moment, the dizziness vanished.

  During lunch, the atmosphere was the same as always: warm, filled with soft laughter and conversations woven between bites.

  Kanade splashed her juice with her spoon, Aeris patiently wiped her clean, and Tsukari between smiles and attentive glances couldn’t help noticing her son.

  “Are you feeling well, dear?” she suddenly asked, her tone a blend of tenderness and concern. “Have you been sleeping properly? You seem… a little tired.”

  Sora looked up from his plate and answered in his usual cheerful tone, making sure nothing in his expression revealed the discomfort lingering inside him.

  “I’m fine, Mother. I slept well… I just had a little trouble falling asleep last night, but it’s nothing serious.”

  Tsukari narrowed her eyes playfully, wearing that mischievous smile she used to tease him.

  “Maybe your mother needs to tell you bedtime stories like when you were little, so you fall asleep right away.”

  Sora let out a soft laugh. He didn’t blush or protest; he simply lowered his gaze with a faint hint of melancholy.

  “I’m fine, Mother. Don’t worry.”

  It had been several years since Tsukari last told him bedtime stories. It was normal, he wasn’t a small child anymore but even so, a part of him missed those quiet nights where his mother’s voice was the last thing he heard before closing his eyes.

  After lunch, everyone went back to their routines.

  That day, Seralya had declared a break from magic lessons; a habit the three of them maintained once a week to avoid overwhelming themselves.

  Sora took advantage of the free afternoon. He went up to his room, changed clothes, and when he came back down to the dining room, he informed Tsukari and Aeris:

  “I’m going out for a bit. I’ll take a walk around the village.”

  “Alright, but don’t be late,” his mother replied while clearing the table.

  Aeris only smiled at him with her usual gentle sweetness.

  Sora nodded and stepped outside, though he already knew his walk would not be random.

  He wasn’t looking for distraction, nor for rest.

  His destination was Garrik the blacksmith’s workshop.

  He visited from time to time, and every encounter fascinated him.

  Watching how fire tamed metal, how sparks danced with each hammer strike… something in all of it stirred a deep sense of connection within him.

  Despite the blacksmith’s reputation for being gruff, Garrik always seemed to enjoy Sora’s company. There was something about the boy, his insatiable curiosity and the respectful way he observed the craft that managed to soften even the roughest man in the village.

  Sora walked along the path leading to the village, lost in his thoughts.

  That lingering discomfort was still there, like a dull echo inside his body, but he wouldn’t let it stop him. He had known worse pain, far heavier days in his previous life… this, in comparison, was nothing.

  The warm Aurelia breeze brushed against his face, and the wind-stirred leaves gleamed with golden hues under the sun. Even so, an odd sensation trailed after him: the feeling of being alone.

  Sora usually went to the village with Nanami, or sometimes with Aeris when she ran errands for the house. Going alone wasn’t new, but he still wasn’t used to it. There was something about those quiet walks that reminded him of his solitary strolls in his past life… moments of calm that, painful as they had been, he had learned to appreciate.

  He shook his head, wanting to brush off the nostalgia.

  “No point thinking about that now,” he murmured to himself.

  He continued along the path toward Rulid, and upon reaching the main gate, he greeted the guards stationed at the entrance as he always did.

  Both welcomed him with a smile; everyone in the village knew the young son of the Eryndel family, kind, curious, and always asking about everything.

  Sora paused for a moment to chat with them.

  He asked about the progress of the new safety measures being implemented around the southeastern forest, it had been a month since he and Teacher Seralya concluded their investigation into the woodcutter’s disappearance, and he wanted to know how the work was coming along.

  Pleased by his interest, the guards shared the details with him: the new boundaries, the warning posts, the additional patrol routes that had been established.

  Sora listened attentively, nodding with respect.

  “Thank you for telling me. You’re doing a great job,” he said sincerely.

  After saying goodbye, he followed the cobblestone path toward Garrik’s workshop, guided by the metallic echo of hammer strikes that resonated through the warm afternoon air even from a distance.

  At last, Sora reached Garrik’s workshop.

  When he pushed the door open, the small bell above the frame chimed, and a young voice rang out, firm, though still a little nervous:

  “Good afternoon! Welcome to Garrik’s workshop. How can I help you?”

  Sora smiled as he recognized him.

  “Hey, Yael. Is Master Garrik here?”

  The boy looked up from the counter and, recognizing him, his expression brightened immediately.

  “Oh! It’s you, Sora! Of course, the master is in the back working. You can go in, he definitely won’t mind the visit.”

  “Thanks, Yael.” Sora looked at him with a kind smile before adding, “You’ve really gotten used to the job, huh? You’re not the shy kid who used to greet me years ago. I’m glad to see you like this.”

  Yael’s cheeks flushed slightly as he tried to hide it by lowering his gaze to the counter.

  “I-it’s just that… I’ve spent a lot of time with the master by now. I guess it was just a matter of getting used to it.”

  “That’s good,” Sora said warmly. “Keep it up. Good work, Yael.”

  The apprentice nodded, and as he watched Sora head toward the back of the workshop, he couldn’t help feeling a small sting of admiration.

  There was something different about that boy: he spoke with a natural confidence, with a maturity unusual for his age.

  Sometimes, Yael even felt a bit jealous… but also respectful.

  After all, Sora wasn’t just any child in the village.

  As Sora stepped into the back section of the shop, the rhythmic sound of hammer striking metal filled the air.

  That steady clang, clang, clang had something hypnotic about it almost ritualistic. Heat radiated from the forge, wrapping the room in a thick wave of warmth, and the smell of molten metal and burnt oil hung heavy in the air. For most people, it would be unbearable, but for Sora, it had its own charm.

  At the far end, beside the anvil, Garrik worked with deep focus.

  The piece he was hammering glowed with an intense golden hue, almost blinding, far from the bright red of common metal. It was a burning yellow, fierce and alive.

  Sora knew what that meant: it was at the exact point, the perfect moment between form and fragility.

  The boy approached quietly, without saying a word.

  He knew that when Garrik was immersed in his work, it was best not to interrupt. So he simply took a seat on a small wooden stool to the side and observed attentively.

  Each strike of the hammer fell with precision, marking the rhythm of a craft that demanded more patience than strength.

  At first glance, the piece looked like a blade… though too short, perhaps a dagger.

  Finally, when the metal was ready, Garrik plunged it into a container of oil.

  The sizzling was brief, followed by a strong, familiar smell.

  Only then, with the tempering done, the blacksmith turned around and noticed his young visitor.

  “Good afternoon, Sora,” he said in a deep voice, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his forearm. “How are you? Did you come to order something, or just for a visit?”

  “Good afternoon, Master Garrik,” the boy replied with a smile. “I just came to visit for a bit. I didn’t have much to do this afternoon, so I thought I’d stop by. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

  The blacksmith let out a short laugh, one of those that come more from the chest than the throat.

  “Not at all, boy. You know your visits are never a bother. Though you could’ve greeted me when you came in,” he added with a playful gesture. “I could’ve put the hammer down for a moment.”

  Sora shook his head gently, looking a bit embarrassed.

  “I didn’t want to interrupt your work. You looked very focused, and it would’ve been disrespectful.”

  Garrik watched him for a few seconds before nodding in approval.

  “That shows you understand what it means to forge. Respect is just as important as strength in this craft.”

  After a bit of pleasant conversation, during which Garrik explained tempering processes while Sora listened attentively the blacksmith returned to his work.

  He had already finished shaping the blade; now came the polishing, sharpening, and finally, attaching the handle.

  The sound of metal gliding against the whetstone filled the workshop with a constant screech, while tiny sparks danced before Sora’s fascinated eyes.

  Amid that atmosphere, Garrik spoke without looking away from his task:

  “So? How did the pieces you ordered for that device you were building turn out? Did they work the way you expected?”

  Sora hesitated for a few seconds before answering. He lowered his gaze slightly, feeling that mix of shame and frustration he had been dragging since the failed experiment. He didn’t want the blacksmith to feel responsible, after all, Garrik had done his part perfectly.

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  “The pieces were very well made,” he finally replied. “I can tell you put a lot of care into them, but… I messed up some of the measurements when writing the instructions. I had to adjust several of them to make them fit, and even though I managed to assemble it, the result wasn’t exactly what I hoped for.”

  Garrik set the hammer aside and looked at him for a moment.

  “So it didn’t turn out the way you wanted,” he said in a sympathetic tone. “You could’ve told me, boy. If you need to, we can redo the pieces until they have the right measurements.”

  Sora smiled, a little sheepish.

  “Don’t worry, Master Garrik. Your work was excellent, as always. The mistake was mine for not explaining it properly. Honestly…” he paused briefly, glancing at the tools neatly arranged on the bench, “…I’d like to be able to make the pieces myself. Sometimes it’s really hard to put what I’m imagining into a blueprint.”

  Garrik raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, thoughtful.

  For a few seconds, only the crackling of the forge filled the silence. Then, with a gesture somewhere between curious and amused, he said:

  “What if you learned to do it yourself? I mean, you’ve got good hands and more than enough curiosity. Why not learn proper smithing?”

  Sora looked up, surprised by the proposal.

  “I would love to, truly. But I don’t have anyone to teach me. And even if I did… I barely have any time. My magic lessons with my teacher already take up almost the whole day.”

  The blacksmith nodded slowly, turning his gaze back to the freshly polished blade.

  “I suppose so. But if you ever decide to learn, you’ll always have an anvil waiting for you here.” He gave a faint smile. “That curiosity of yours is worth more than the strength of many men.”

  Sora felt a spark of excitement at his words, though he tried to contain it.

  “I really appreciate your offer, Master Garrik,” he said with a sincere smile. “I’ll find a way to make time and, if your offer still stands then, I’d love to accept it.”

  Garrik let out a short chuckle.

  “Of course, boy. It’d be a pleasure to teach you to make your own inventions. I already have one apprentice, but one more won’t hurt.”

  “Well… technically I’d be an apprentice, but I wouldn’t be able to dedicate all my time to it,” Sora added, a bit nervous. “I have responsibilities at home… though even so, learning from you would be an honor.”

  The man stepped closer and gave him an encouraging pat on the back, the kind he reserved for those he genuinely cared about.

  “Then when the time comes, just tell me. The forge fire is always burning for those with real passion.”

  Sora smiled, committing those words to memory.

  He stayed a while longer in the workshop, watching the rhythm of the place the sparks, the hammering, the heat that seemed to pulse with life. Eventually, as the sun began to dip, he said goodbye to Garrik and Yael, thanking them for their time.

  The path back home felt familiar, almost automatic. He greeted the guards at the village gate, who saw him off with their usual warmth, and followed the trail that wound between the trees.

  But halfway through, the world blurred.

  A wave of heat swept through his body, and his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed to his knees on the dusty path.

  “Tsk…” he gritted out, trying to steady his breathing. His chest burned, his heart pounded far too hard. “What… the hell is happening to me…?”

  Frustrated, he slammed his fist against the ground—and almost without thinking, a small fireball shot upward, dissipating among the trees.

  A woman’s voice jolted him back to awareness:

  “Young man! Are you alright?”

  Sora lifted his head. A middle-aged woman with a basket full of herbs and wild fruits hurried toward him.

  He tried to stand, but his legs trembled, so the woman helped him up.

  “I’m fine,” he said, forcing his voice to sound convincing. “I just… got hit by the heat. It’s already passing.”

  The woman looked at him with clear concern.

  “You need to be more careful. The sun doesn’t forgive during this season.”

  She rummaged through her basket and offered him an apple. “Here, this will help you regain some strength.”

  Sora accepted it gratefully, giving her a tired smile.

  “Thank you… truly.”

  She hesitated for a moment, as if reluctant to leave him alone, but he gently insisted that he was already feeling better.

  Eventually, they each went their separate ways: the woman heading slowly toward the village, and Sora continuing forward with the weight of a worry he could no longer ignore.

  The rest of the afternoon passed with apparent normality… or at least with the superficial calm Sora tried to maintain.

  Even so, deep down he knew something inside him wasn’t right.

  Later that night, he lay down on his bed, trying to relax.

  The discomfort had lessened, but the unease had not.

  Every breath reminded him of that wave of heat, that sudden stab in his chest that came and went without warning.

  While staring at the ceiling, he let out a weary sigh.

  I can’t keep ignoring this. I have to talk to Teacher Seralya… I can’t keep holding it in on my own.

  He knew well how stories ended for those who clung to pride until the bitter end, and he had no intention of repeating them.

  With that resolve, his thoughts slowly faded, and sleep finally overtook him.

  The next morning slid by peacefully, bathed in Aurelia’s warm light.

  Everything seemed the same as always, as if the world refused to warn him about what was coming.

  In the afternoon, Nanami arrived right on time, full of energy and enthusiasm.

  She never missed a single day of training; she enjoyed magic lessons just as much as he did, and her presence always brought a joyful breeze to the place.

  In the clearing by the river, where the water reflected the golden hues of the lowering sun, Sora, Nanami, and Seralya gathered once more to begin their routine.

  Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but beneath that serenity, something invisible was already pulsing.

  Seralya taught with her usual calm, alternating between initial meditations and theoretical explanations before moving on to practice.

  They had already stepped into the realm of advanced magic—an achievement few students reached at their age.

  Even so, their teacher never stopped marveling at the progress of her two apprentices: Sora’s relentless determination, and Nanami’s surprising natural talent, who despite having no divine blessing advanced through sheer willpower and discipline.

  “Today we’ll do something different,” Seralya announced as the forest breeze gently stirred her silver hair. “I don’t want you two fighting each other. This time, I want you to learn how to coordinate.”

  The two students exchanged curious looks.

  “Against who, then, Teacher?” Sora asked with a mischievous smile.

  Seralya raised a hand, and a faint smile crossed her lips.

  The air began to vibrate, and a magic circle formed beneath her feet. From it emerged an elemental water golem over two meters tall. Its liquid surface shimmered with blue tones, reflecting sunlight like living mirrors.

  “Against me,” she answered calmly.

  Sora and Nanami were left speechless for a moment.

  They had learned that summoning spell themselves a few weeks earlier, but the creatures they managed to create were nothing like the majestic, precise entity now roaring before them.

  “Incredible…” Nanami murmured as the damp ground trembled beneath the golem’s steps.

  Sora nodded with a confident smile.

  “Ready, partner?”

  Nanami smiled back.

  “Always.”

  They both took their combat stance, sharing a knowing look.

  Seralya watched them with a spark of pride before giving the signal.

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  In an instant, the clearing exploded with movement and light.

  Gusts of wind clashed against blasts of water, grass swayed under the pressure of magic, and the river’s surface rippled with every impact.

  It was controlled chaos, a spectacle of coordination and power.

  On the surface, it looked like just another lesson… but inside Sora’s body, something had begun to twist.

  As the battle progressed, Sora and Nanami moved as if guided by a single thought.

  Every attack, every defense, every movement sprang from an almost perfect coordination.

  With only a few words or gestures, Sora guided the strategy, and Nanami understood him without hesitation. It was as if the two of them shared the same flow of mana.

  “Now!” Sora shouted.

  Both raised their hands at the same time, channeling their energy.

  A double magic circle formed before them, and at once a blast of freezing wind erupted forward, sweeping across the clearing with a cutting force.

  Sora had reasoned that if the enemy was a water elemental, the best option was to freeze it.

  And the plan was working.

  The storm of icy wind struck the golem with such strength that the water jets it launched scattered before they could reach them.

  Nanami amplified the spell by concentrating the cold, while ice began climbing up the creature’s legs, slowly creeping toward its chest.

  “We’re doing it, Sora! Keep going!” Nanami exclaimed, her smile shining with the glow of her effort.

  Sora nodded… but his breathing was already uneven.

  A faint dizziness forced him to blink several times.

  The air around him began to shake, and the intensity of the blast faltered all at once.

  “Sora?” Nanami turned toward him, confused. “What’s wrong?”

  Then she saw it.

  Sora, who seconds ago had stood firm, was now on his knees, one hand pressed into the grass to keep from collapsing entirely.

  The spell still burned in his other hand, but the light of the magic circle flickered weakly.

  And something else caught Nanami’s attention: his hair, which had been brown moments before, had completely regained the silver glow of his aurari form, the polymorphis had vanished.

  “Sora!” she cried, cancelling her own spell at once.

  The wind vanished in a single breath, and with it, the golem’s ice began melting rapidly.

  Seralya reacted instantly, dispelling the summon with a snap and rushing toward her student.

  Sora was breathing with difficulty, sweat running down his forehead, and the light in his eyes looked strange… dull, unstable, as if the mana inside him were thrashing out of control.

  Seralya knelt beside him immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “Sora, look at me. What’s happening to you?” she asked, a mix of firmness and worry in her voice.

  The boy lifted his head just slightly. His breathing was shallow and uneven, and even then, he tried to hold on to his usual smile.

  “It’s nothing… just a bit of exhaustion… I-I’m fi—”

  He didn’t finish the sentence.

  His body collapsed all at once, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

  “Sora!” Nanami cried, dropping to her knees beside him. She grabbed his shoulders, shaking him gently. “Sora, wake up! Come on, say something!”

  The silence tore at her. Her voice trembled, and soon tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Teacher, what’s happening?! What’s wrong with Sora?!”

  Seralya leaned in, trying to keep her composure even as her pulse quickened.

  “I don’t know… the training was going fine, his mana flow was stable…” she muttered as she passed her hand over his chest. “Though… it’s true he was using far too much power…”

  With a swift motion, she invoked a diagnostic magic circle.

  A pale light formed above Sora’s body, rotating slowly, until violent sparks burst from the circle, forcing Seralya to pull her hand back in alarm.

  “By Astaria…” she whispered. “So this was it… I suspected an imbalance, but not of this magnitude.”

  “Teacher, what does he have?!” Nanami cried, her voice breaking.

  “A magical energy overload,” the woman answered gravely. “His body is absorbing more mana than it can contain. It drains his vitality and can lead to collapse.”

  Without wasting a second, Seralya placed both hands on Sora’s chest.

  Two new magic circles ignited, one beneath each palm spinning in opposite directions.

  From her left hand burst a bluish current of energy, a steady flow that extended toward the nearby river.

  Nanami watched, not fully understanding.

  “What are you doing, Teacher?”

  “Discharging the excess,” Seralya said through strained breaths. “If I can redirect the surplus mana before it damages his internal organs, he should stabilize.”

  The river water began to churn, glowing under the magical light flowing from Seralya’s body.

  The current grew dense, powerful, as if nature itself were responding to the spell.

  Nanami could only watch, her hands clenched in helpless tension.

  “Please… hold on, Sora…”

  The glow of the circles intensified until, finally, a surge of wind swept through the clearing, dispersing the remnants of energy that still floated around them.

  Seralya lowered her arms slowly.

  The mana around her calmed… but her expression remained tense.

  Several minutes passed before the silence broke with a faint groan.

  Sora regained consciousness little by little, opening his eyes with difficulty.

  The sky above him appeared blurry at first, the leaves of the forest swaying softly in his vision.

  His breathing was uneven, but steady.

  “Sora… Sora!” Nanami cried, throwing herself over him in a tight embrace. “You’re okay, thank the goddess…!”

  Still dazed, the boy sat up with her help, settling onto the damp grass.

  A weak smile tugged at his lips.

  “I’m sorry… I didn’t want to worry you.”

  Seralya, still kneeling, watched him with narrowed eyes.

  Her voice was calm, but her expression carried something far deeper than relief.

  “It was just a magical overload, nothing more,” she said though a hint of doubt lingered in her tone. “You’ll be fine, but you need to rest.”

  Nanami stayed clinging to his back, refusing to let go.

  “Don’t ever scare me like that again, do you hear me?” she said, her voice trembling with barely contained sobs.

  Sora raised a trembling hand and gently brushed her hair.

  “I promise.”

  Seralya then leaned closer to them, her gaze fixed intently on the boy’s face.

  “Tell me the truth, Sora. How long have you been feeling the symptoms?” she asked seriously. “That day you said you almost fell down the stairs… that wasn’t just a stumble, was it?”

  Sora lowered his gaze. Shame and exhaustion blended into his voice.

  “I’m sorry, Teacher. I thought if I ignored it, it would go away. But… it seems I was wrong.”

  “You don’t have to carry this alone,” Seralya replied softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s happening to you is serious, but we can control it.”

  Your body isn’t used to such an amount of mana; you absorb it faster than you can regulate it.

  It’s not common, not even among the vasto sapiens.

  Nanami, her eyes still wet, nodded firmly.

  “Please, Teacher… help Sora. I want him to be alright.”

  Seralya took a deep breath, gazing toward the forest as she pondered.

  “I’ll do everything I can, but… the tools I need are in the capital.

  With what I have here, I can ease it, not cure it completely.

  We must act soon, before this gets worse.”

  The wind swept through the trees, lifting golden dust and dry leaves.

  Sora closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady the wave of dizziness that wrapped around him.

  The pain was already fading, but something deeper had begun to stir within him, a cold unease, a gut feeling that sent a shiver down his spine.

  Something was changing.

  And although he did not yet know it… the price for underestimating the unknown was only beginning to be claimed.

  With Seralya and Nanami’s help, Sora finally managed to stand. Still unsteady, he felt their hands supporting him gently, as if they feared he might collapse again at any moment.

  The air smelled of damp grass and dissipating magic; the leaves around them still swayed softly, as if the forest itself held its breath after what had happened.

  Sora insisted with a strained smile that he was fine, and the moment they released him, his first reflex was almost instinctive: he raised a trembling hand before him and opened the Soul Panel.

  The translucent interface floated before his eyes, and there it was again, the warning that refused to disappear.

  But this time, the triangle didn’t glow with a faint yellow.

  Its color had deepened into a dark orange, almost red, pulsing as if it were alive.

  Sora’s heart lurched. He swallowed hard, trying to contain the surge of worry running through his chest.

  This isn’t good… it’s getting stronger every time, he thought, closing the interface with a slight motion.

  Nanami, who hadn’t left his side for a second, noticed the gesture and looked at him with a tense frown.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Let us take you home, Sora. You must still feel awful.”

  He gave her a weak smile, trying to sound carefree.

  “Don’t worry, Nanami. I’m fine now… I just need to rest at home. I’ll be good as new.”

  The girl watched him, uncertain, wanting to insist but the trust she had in Sora held her back.

  If he said he was fine, she had to believe him… though something in his voice sounded different, more tired, more distant.

  Seralya, a few steps behind them, watched with her arms crossed. The wind stirred her golden hair as her gaze narrowed on Sora. She said nothing, but worry and suspicion blended in her expression. It was clear the boy wasn’t well. Even so, he had taken an important step by acknowledging his problem and asking for help.

  The teacher took a deep breath, letting Aurelia’s warm air fill her lungs.

  He trusted me, she thought, watching Sora and Nanami head back home. Now all that remains is to see what we’ll do in the next few hours.

  The murmur of the nearby river accompanied her thoughts, and the sunset began tinting the clearing in shades of gold and orange. Something in the air warned her that the time they had left to act was growing slimmer.

  The three of them returned home. As always, Aeris had prepared an afternoon snack for the children: steaming tea and freshly made sweets that filled the dining room with a comforting scent of honey and cinnamon.

  Sora, though he still felt that constant pressure inside his body and the persistent buzzing at the back of his mind, did his best to act naturally. He smiled, joked with Nanami, and thanked Aeris for the food with his usual politeness. He didn’t want to worry her, nor anyone else.

  Night had already fallen by the time Nanami left. This time it was Seralya who accompanied her home; she didn’t allow Sora to escort her as he usually did. Though she said it gently, the message was unmistakable: you need to rest.

  Dinner passed with the familiar calm, the crackling of the hearth filling the quiet spaces between bites. Sora ate slowly, responding with soft smiles to his family’s conversations. Even so, Tsukari watched him from the corner of her eye from time to time, with that mother’s gaze that knew everything even when he stayed silent. Something in her instinct told her her son wasn’t nearly as fine as he claimed.

  When dinner was over, Sora went up to his room. The distant murmur of the household faded behind him, and when he closed the door, silence wrapped around him.

  He sat at his desk, the soft bluish glow of the manaquartz lamp reflecting on the glass surface of the table, and let out a long sigh.

  For several minutes he remained still, meditating on everything that had happened that day.

  Finally, he began murmuring to himself, just as he always did when working on his inventions:

  “It’s an excess of mana… the logical thing would be to let the excess out, but how? Just firing it into the air? Would doing it once be enough…?”

  He shook his head, frowning.

  “Maybe I’d have to do it regularly… but that would draw too much attention,” he muttered again, thinking of the magical barrier surrounding the house and the curious eyes of the village beyond it.

  Suddenly, soft knocks on the door snapped him out of his trance.

  Sora jolted slightly and, almost instinctively, began to cover his tracks.

  He quickly hid his notebook inside the drawer, turned the manaquartz lamp to full brightness, and opened his writing case, spreading pencils and pens across the desk. He pretended to be focused on some notes as he answered in a calm voice:

  “Come in,” he said calmly.

  The door to his room opened slowly, letting in the warm light from the hallway.

  “I see that even when you’re feeling unwell, you still can’t keep yourself away from your inventions, Sora,” Seralya said softly—though her voice carried that tempered authority so characteristic of her.

  The boy lifted his gaze for just a moment.

  The manaquartz lamp on his desk cast bluish glimmers over his papers and notebooks, tinting the air with a faint glow that made the room look almost ethereal.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Behind her, Tsukari entered with slow steps, though her eyes clearly held a mixture of worry and tenderness.

  “We need to talk about what happened this afternoon, Sora,” the teacher continued. “I brought your mother because she also needs to know.”

  Sora nodded silently.

  For a moment, he seemed about to speak, but his lips closed with a quiet sigh.

  He lowered his head, brown strands falling over his eyes.

  “All right, Teacher…” he murmured. “We need to talk about it and think about how to deal with it.”

  Tsukari stepped forward, her voice warm but firm.

  “What’s happening to you, son?” she asked, leaning slightly toward him. “Seralya explained a little before we came, but I want to hear it from you.”

  Sora took a deep breath, feeling that pressure in his chest that never fully went away.

  “For a few months… no, actually for more than a year now,” he began, “I’ve been dealing with something I don’t fully understand. It’s like… a wave of heat that hits me suddenly. It weakens me, leaves me breathless. At first it was manageable, but lately it’s become this constant pressure, like something inside me is trying to get out. I felt… that I could control it, that I didn’t have to worry anyone.”

  The silence that followed was heavy.

  Seralya crossed her arms and watched him for a few seconds, her face illuminated by the blue light of the manaquartz.

  “Sora,” she said gravely, “what you have is a condition that has begun to appear frequently among younger vasto sapiens. It’s called Manastasis.”

  The name echoed through the room with a strange weight.

  mother…” Seralya turned to Tsukari “belonged to the first generation that suffered from it.”

  Sora lifted his gaze, eyes widening.

  “You too…?”

  Tsukari nodded slowly, a sad smile crossing her face.

  “Indeed, Sora. I went through it as well. Back then it was something unknown. Many children my age…” her voice wavered “…didn’t make it.”

  For a moment, the room fell silent except for the faint hum of the manaquartz crystal.

  Tsukari placed a hand over her chest, as if remembering a distant pain.

  “But I was fortunate,” she continued. “My parents took me to the capital, and there they learned how to contain it. It wasn’t a cure, just a way to stabilize it.”

  Seralya nodded gravely.

  “And for that very reason,” she added, “we can’t ignore this, Sora. If we don’t treat it soon, that energy could overflow completely.”

  Sora lowered his gaze, feeling the weight of her words sink into his chest.

  Manastasis… the name already sounded like a sentence.

  He lifted his eyes again, a glimmer of hope breaking through.

  “Then… what can we do?” he asked in a tight voice. “From what you’ve said, it can be handled, right? If Mother overcame it, that means there’s a cure… isn’t there?”

  Seralya observed him in silence for a few seconds before responding.

  The bluish glow of the manaquartz played across her features, highlighting the seriousness in her expression.

  “It has no cure, Sora,” she finally said, “because it’s not an illness. It’s a condition… something you must overcome before it overcomes you.”

  Sora frowned, trying to process those words.

  Seralya continued:

  “There are methods to stabilize it. They use discharged manatite crystals—they act as receptacles that can absorb excess mana. However…” she sighed “manatite has become extremely scarce in the inner Elythera.”

  The boy stayed silent, repeating those last words in his mind.

  “Inner Elythera?” he finally asked, tilting his head with curiosity. “What do you mean by that, Teacher?”

  Seralya opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak, Tsukari gave her a quick nudge in the arm, a small, almost unnoticeable gesture.

  Seralya understood immediately she had said more than she should.

  “It’s something you’ll learn about later, Sora,” she replied gently, softening her tone. “Let’s just say that in our part of Elythera, there are no natural manatite deposits. The few that remain are far beyond our reach.”

  She paused before continuing, her gaze growing distant, as if recalling a time long gone.

  “I have a few crystals in my home in the capital, relics I’ve kept for several centuries… but they’re small, far too weak to contain your level of manastasis. In your case, we would need a considerable amount of manatite, and that simply isn’t possible here.”

  Sora intertwined his fingers over his lap. His face remained calm, but inside him, his teacher’s words weighed like lead.

  “Then…” he murmured, “we’ll have to find another way.”

  Seralya nodded slowly.

  “Exactly. And we will find it. But in the meantime, you must avoid forcing your energy, even during training. Until we have a method, every excess could be dangerous.”

  Sora lowered his gaze, nodding in silence.

  That sensation in his chest returned like a wordless reminder that time was working against him.

  Tsukari saw her son’s serious expression and couldn’t help moving closer. Tenderly, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him against her chest.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she whispered, gently stroking his hair. “Seralya and I will help you overcome the manastasis. And I know how smart you are, between the three of us, we’ll find a way.”

  Sora stayed still for a few seconds, feeling how that embrace eased, even if only for a moment the pressure choking him from within.

  Then he nodded and returned the hug with a small smile.

  The room fell into a quiet filled only with the bluish glow of the manaquartz lamp and the faint tinkling of the wind outside.

  As they were about to leave, Sora trying to lift the tension looked up with his most mischievous expression.

  “Wait a moment,” he said. “You said manastasis started appearing among vasto sapiens a few centuries ago… so… how old are you, Mom?”

  Tsukari froze, eyes wide. Then, pouting dramatically, she replied with feigned indignation:

  “Your mother is still a young vasto sapiens lady and it’s rude to ask a woman her age!”

  For a brief moment, all three laughed, easing the weight that had hung over them the whole day.

  When they left, Sora remained alone, lying on his bed.

  The manaquartz lamp still glowed faintly, scattering soft blue reflections across the ceiling.

  His thoughts circled around that new word he had just learned manastasis and everything it implied.

  He closed his eyes with a sigh, he didn’t know how, but something inside him told him that this day would mark a before and after in his life.