Ren was running.
Not along the trails beneath the mountains of Adrossa.
But through a long corridor.

White marble. Golden columns. Banners bearing the symbol of the Arian Empire hung from the ceiling like watching eyes.

The sound of footsteps echoed behind him.

Metallic. Rhythmic. Inevitable.

He didn’t look back, but he knew who was coming.

White armor. Blades that sliced the air before they were even swung.

Magic Knights.

At the end of the corridor stood a throne.

And seated upon it…

A man with eyes as cold as glass.

“A flaw in the bloodline cannot be allowed to exist.”

The voice echoed inside Ren’s mind.

“Eliminate him.”

The air grew heavy.

Pressure.

He tried to run faster, but his legs wouldn’t obey. It felt like chains were wrapped around them.

A blade cut through the air.

Ren woke up.

He sat up abruptly, his body drenched in cold sweat. His breathing came short and uneven. The cabin was dark, save for a thin streak of bluish light slipping through the crack in the window.

He dragged a hand down his face.

Just a dream.

But not only that.

He had never seen the palace. He didn’t know what place that was.

And yet his body reacted as if those memories were real.

As if they were written into his blood.

Ren got up before the sun had fully risen. There was no point trying to sleep again.

The village of Adrossa was still quiet, wrapped in morning mist. Thin trails of smoke rose from a few chimneys. The scent of pine and damp earth filled the air.

He started the day the way he always did.

Work.

First, he went to the communal well. The heavy bucket creaked as it descended along the worn rope. When he pulled it back up, the water was cold and clear. Two, three, four trips until the barrels of the elderly families were full.

Then he helped reinforce the northern fence, where fresh beast tracks had been found. He hammered stakes into hard soil. Tightened ropes. Tested the structure with his own weight.

No magic.

While he worked, two younger boys struggled to lift a fallen log.

Ren said nothing. He simply walked over, grabbed the other end, and lifted with them.

One of the boys smiled, out of breath.

“Thanks, Ren.”

He just nodded and kept walking.

Training with the children would begin soon.

When he reached the central clearing of the village, Sawe was already there.

Unlike Ren, he always seemed to wake in perfect composure. His white hair was tied back simply, his posture straight—almost elegant. He was a feline man, a race descended from the Bestials and considered a branch of humanoids.

He was speaking to two younger girls, gently adjusting their hand positions.

“It is not about force,” he said patiently. “Mana responds better when treated as a current, not an object. Think of guiding it, not tearing it out or throwing it away.”

Ren stopped beneath the shade of a tree, watching.

Sawe noticed him and smiled.

“You’re up early today.”

“Didn’t sleep much.”

Sawe tilted his head slightly, studying him.

“Another nightmare?”

Ren shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Sawe didn’t push. He rarely did. He simply understood.

Soon the other children gathered, and training properly began. Sawe demonstrated basic mana manipulation again. A flame formed in his palm with impressive stability for someone only seventeen. Then he shaped a small sphere of water, stirred a faint tremor beneath the soil, and summoned a controlled gust of wind.

He could manipulate every basic element.

Except shadows.

There was technique in it. Control. Refinement.

He wasn’t merely talented.

He was disciplined.

“Observe your breathing,” he instructed. “If your mind scatters, the flow becomes unstable. Mana amplifies what resides within you.”

Ren had heard that many times.

Mana amplifies what resides within you.

And what was inside him?

A void.

When the time came for the Response Stone test, the atmosphere grew heavier. The black granite block rested at the center of the circle, faint runes carved across its surface.

One by one, the children tried. Some made it tremble. An older boy lifted it two centimeters, shaking with effort.

Then Sawe called,

“Ren, would you come forward, please?”

There was no irony. No pity.

Only respect.

Ren stepped into the circle. Silence followed naturally.

He placed his hands on the stone.

Closed his eyes.

Tried again.

Not because he believed it would work.

But because part of him still wanted to be wrong.

Nothing answered.

The emptiness was absolute.

He opened his eyes.

“Nothing.”

Sawe inhaled slowly before speaking.

“Ren, listen to me. The absence of visible manifestation does not necessarily mean the absence of potential. There are ancient records of delayed awakenings, particularly following trauma—”

“I don’t have mana, Sawe.”

There was no anger.

It was a fact.

Sawe maintained his composure.

“Even if that is true, it does not define your worth or your usefulness.”

“It does out there.”

Sawe held his gaze.

“Perhaps. But we are not out there.”

A murmur spread among the watching adults.

Ren crouched in front of the stone.

“I’m going to lift it.”

Several children widened their eyes.

“Ren, that is unnecessary,” Sawe said carefully. “The purpose of this exercise is to understand the flow of mana, not to demonstrate physical strength—”

“I know the purpose.”

He positioned his hands.

The tension in his muscles was visible before he even moved. Veins rose along his forearms. His jaw tightened.

The stone left the ground.

No glow.

No wind.

Only weight being conquered.

He held it at chest height for long seconds. Even some of the adults held their breath.

Then he dropped it.

The impact echoed through the village.

Ren wiped his hands on his clothes.

“For me, that’s enough.”

A hoarse voice came from behind them.

“It isn’t.”

Myrddin walked slowly forward, his staff striking the ground in a steady rhythm.

He studied the stone, then Ren.

“Strength has its uses. But against a prepared mage, it is insufficient.”

Ren crossed his arms.

“You could at least teach me something that actually works, old man.”

Sawe intervened cautiously.

“Master Myrddin, Ren is not entirely mistaken. What others possess in mana, he possesses in physical strength. It would be inaccurate to describe his strength as ordinary for a human.” He allowed himself a faint, restrained smile.

Myrddin gave Sawe a long, distant look.

“You speak like a scholar.”

“I am merely considering precedent.”

The old man turned his attention back to Ren.

“And you? What path are you prepared to walk? Do you truly believe you can survive beyond these mountains?”

Ren didn’t hesitate.

“Here or there, it doesn’t matter. Either way, I wouldn’t be able to enter any human nation without being hunted or killed.”

The silence that followed was deeper than any before.

At last, Myrddin nodded.

“Finish your duties today. At dawn, come to my cabin.”

Sawe frowned slightly.

“You intend to train him… in what manner?”

Myrddin did not take his eyes off Ren.

“Let’s just say this old man still remembers a few things.”

A chill ran down Ren’s spine.

But he didn’t step back.

As training ended and the children dispersed, Sawe approached him quietly.

“Are you certain?” he asked in a low voice. “The master does not make such offers lightly.”

Ren looked at his calloused hands.

“I don’t have many places left to run.”

Sawe took a steady breath.

“Then if you choose this path… know that you may rely on me. I will stand beside you, as far as I am able.”

Ren studied him for a few seconds.

“You’ve got a future. You could enter the Imperial Academy. Or any academy in any nation, even as a demi-human.”

“And you possess resolve,” Sawe replied calmly. “I have no intention of simply watching from afar.”

The wind grew stronger then, descending from the mountains and carrying the scent of distant snow.

Ren turned his eyes toward the horizon hidden beyond the mist.

Somewhere beyond those mountains, a throne existed.

And someone who believed he never should have been born.

Ren slowly closed his fist.

If the world was ruled by mana,

then he would find another law.

And force it to matter.

©JAE-HOON