Nadiel’s Point of View

The air in my room was still.
The velvet curtains danced lazily from a breeze I didn’t remember inviting, but my attention was fixed on the opening door that let the breeze in — and the parade of authority that stepped through it.

First came my father, his expression set like carved marble, every step deliberate, his golden eyes simmering with the kind of restrained fury only a king could master. His cloak — deep violet with golden trim — swayed behind him like a royal tide.

Behind him came two figures I recognized instantly.

Lady Belmira, head of the royal household, looked as polished as always. Jet-black hair coiled into a neat bun, emerald eyes sharp and judgmental, her gown of navy and gold somehow managing to look both ceremonial and practical.

Next to her, Master Corrin, the palace’s chief steward, moved with military precision. Slate eyes cold and unreadable, he looked like he could command an army with a single raised eyebrow.

Trailing them was a man I had never seen before — an old man, average in appearance, wearing robes of muted crimson. His braided white beard was long enough to reach his chest, and in his right hand he carried what appeared to be an ordinary black walking stick. Something about him felt... unremarkable.

But the moment I reached into the flow of mana around the room, I noticed it.

All four of them had mana levels I couldn’t read — not even a fragment. I’d suspected the king and his closest attendants were strong, but I hadn’t expected this. And yet… the old man’s mana wasn’t just unreadable. It was complicated. The way it twisted, folded in on itself, and shimmered beyond logical patterns made it feel more like a riddle than a river.

I didn’t know what he was. But he wasn’t ordinary. Of that, I was sure.

Still, I kept my face calm and regal — even as I sat on the bed in a child’s body. The ultimate dragon doesn’t shrink just because the flesh does.

The king came to a stop beside my bed. He looked down at me — and for just a moment, his gaze softened.

Then it vanished.

His voice rang out, sharp and commanding.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done, boy?”

I said nothing.

“You awakened your mana system — alone. No supervision. No preparation. No clearance. Not even a word to your mother or to me.”

He took a slow step forward, his tone deepening.

“This isn’t a playground, Nadiel. Mana isn’t a toy. You could’ve died.”

He said the last part quietly, but it struck deeper than any roar.

“I’ve buried two children under this roof. Do not make me bury a third one.”

The silence that followed dragged like a storm cloud. Not even the butlers dared move.

“As of now,” the king said, straighter than before, “you are banned from the royal library for the rest of the season. You will not enter again until I say otherwise.”

A silence heavier than the king’s words settled in the room.

He turned, cloak swirling behind him, and walked toward the door. Corrin followed.

The old man’s eyes met mine as he passed. He gave me the smallest of nods — not of respect, but of acknowledgment — like someone who had taken a measure and made no comment on the result.
His plain staff tapped the marble with each step.

Just a normal old man, I thought.
Sure. And I’m an aqua-squirrel with wings.

They left. The door shut softly.

Only Lady Belmira remained.

She straightened her gown and stepped forward with the firm poise of a noble general.

“Your Highness,” she began, her emerald eyes shining with gentle pity, “I know you're eager. I know you’ve spent time in the library, reading about things you could only dream of. And I know you wish to test what you've learned.”

She adjusted her gloves.

“But the activation of a mana system is no simple feat. It's a process we perform under strict supervision, with healers, clerics, and mages nearby. Even the smallest mistake can rupture your core. Or worse — your mind.”

Her tone, though level, struck like a whip. The kind only someone old, trusted, and sharp could wield without raising their voice.

“Your sisters awakened theirs under controlled conditions. Theria when she was twelve last year, the twins early this year. The fact that you activated yours at seven, unsupervised... it’s unprecedented.”

She met my eyes.
“But your father is right to be angry. Because if you had died — all this would have been for nothing.”

I didn't answer.
Not because I had none.
But because, for the first time in what felt like centuries, I found myself with nothing to say.

She bowed — stiff, proper — and turned to leave.

The click of the closing door sounded far too final.

I stared at the ceiling for a while. Then I swung my legs off the bed, walked to the massive window, and pulled it open.

Cool morning wind flowed in, brushing against my face.

Well, that was new. I’ve been scolded before — but never like this. Not in silence. Not with shame.

The great I… silenced. Powerless. Pinned by nothing more than a father’s anger.

I breathed in, letting the mana-laced air fill my lungs.

But now… I can feel it. Mana. Not just around me, but flowing through me. Whispering, breathing, and shifting. It’s different from how I knew it as a dragon. Less raw, more delicate. But still mine to command. It makes it all worth it.

I closed my eyes briefly — reaching out again.

I can’t read their full strength — not my father’s, not Corrin’s, not even Belmira’s. But the old man… his mana wasn’t just strong. It was strange. Like chaotic mana constantly unfolding and never ending. That staff wasn’t just for show either.

Just who is that old-looking human? I wonder.

I returned to the massive royal bed, its softness nearly swallowing me whole.

I stared up at the gold-etched ceiling, lost in thought.

Imagine. I’m so weak now that I can’t even gauge the strength of a few humans.

In my dragon days, not even the world-pillars could hide from my watchful gaze. But now? I can’t even make sense of a walking stick.

Auren's Point of View

Throne Room, Royal Palace

Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows of the royal throne room. High above, carved dragons watched in silence. Golden banners rippled from the tall pillars as if listening to the conversation below.

I stood at the base of my throne, my eyes fixed on the old man beside me.

“Gustan,” I said plainly. “What do you think after seeing him?”

The old man chuckled softly.

“Ah, Auren. Straight to the point, I see. You used to ask about my health first.”

I frowned.
“Gustan.”

“Yes, yes.” He tapped his staff on the floor twice. “He’s an extraordinary boy — but you didn’t need me to tell you that, did you?”

“I needed you to confirm it,” I said.

“Then confirmed it is. Breaking the Last Breath Curse didn’t affect the child. His mana fluctuations are as normal as a child who just open his mana system, If what that witch pulled off had gone wrong… I would’ve seen it before the maids finished their tea. And... you have to admit, activating his mana system alone — what he did was very impressive impressive and gutsy for a child”

My jaw tightened.
“Still, he could’ve died. He had no idea what he was meddling with.”

“Mmm, no disagreement there.” Gustan scratched his beard. “But the circle he used — now that’s interesting. It wasn’t something you just stumble across in a child’s fairy tale.”

He gave a knowing look to Belmira, who had been quietly standing nearby.

“Let me guess,” Gustan continued. “You didn’t ask him about it.”

Belmira bowed slightly to me.
“I refrained, Your Majesty. I did not wish to give the boy the impression that his actions were… praiseworthy.”

I nodded but said nothing.

“I just hope he didn’t etch something foolish,” I muttered at last.

Gustan gave me a crooked grin.
“Oh, no. It was far from foolish. The mana flow he generated… I haven’t seen that kind of circulation since my fights with the Twin Gates. That was no beginner’s scribble. Whatever he picked up from your library — if that’s where he got it — was advanced. Dangerous, too.”

Corrin finally spoke to refresh what he speculated of Nadiel knowing about the mana system.

“Your Majesty. The prince spends most of his time in the royal library. And the librarian… does not report what is read. But as we all know, both the librarian and the library are among the secrets of this kingdom, holding knowledge that is quite formidable and dangerous. I believe it was quite wise of you to have banned the prince from the library. Not to give him any more ideas of experimenting with what he has picked up there.”

“Yes. Siarah has been in that library long before I was born. She doesn’t leave it or follow anyone’s orders, so we can’t be exactly sure how much Nadiel has picked up from it,” I said, trying to relate to Corrin’s analysis.

Gustan found a place to sit as he complained,
“Making this old man use Magic Sight at such an old age — you sure are one hell of a king.”

I replied to Gustan’s complaint with a couple of acknowledgments.
“You’re one of the very few powerful mages I know that can use Magic Sight at such a high level to probe into someone’s unnatural magic nature without the innate talent of Mana Sight. And most importantly, you’re one of the few people I trust, Gus.”

Gustan replied,
“Alright, no need to say it like that.”

I stepped back and stared out the tall window, my voice low.
“Keep an eye on him. Discreetly. Nothing harsh. Just… closer.”

Corrin bowed.
“Of course.”