The sun had not yet fully risen when Ren left his cabin.

The morning mist still covered Adrossa like a thin veil of silk. Wooden houses slowly emerged from the pale fog, and the first villagers were beginning to move through the small village streets. A blacksmith was already lighting his forge. A group of women carried baskets of herbs gathered before dawn. Small children ran between the houses, still half-asleep.

It was an ordinary day.

But Ren was walking toward a place that would make this day different.
A break in routine.

Myrddin’s house stood near the edge of the village, close to the line of trees that marked the beginning of a small, dense grove on the mountainside. Unlike most buildings in Adrossa, which were simple and practical, the old man’s home was larger and sturdier. Its walls were made of dark wood reinforced with stone. The slanted roof was covered in moss and small plants that had grown naturally over time.

Outside, several drying racks were filled with herbs.

The smell was strong.

A mixture of crushed roots, dried leaves, and something faintly bitter that always reminded Ren of medicine.

He knocked twice on the door.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“Come in.”

Myrddin’s voice came from inside.

Ren pushed the door open.

The interior was lit by small oil lamps hanging from the ceiling beams. Shelves covered nearly every wall. Old books filled most of them, some so worn their covers were almost unrecognizable. Glass vials filled with liquids of different colors were arranged across a long worktable.

There were also containers of powdered substances, bundles of roots tied with cord, and several metal instruments Ren had no idea how to use.

At the far end of the room, Myrddin was sitting.

He was slowly stirring a small container resting over a portable heater made of black stone.

“You arrived early,” the old man said without turning around.

“You said sunrise.”

“That’s true.”

Ren crossed his arms.

“And?”

Myrddin kept stirring.

“And what?”

Ren let out an irritated sigh.

“You’re the one who called me here.”

The old man finally turned his head.

His eyes were calm, but sharp.

“So impatient… brat.”

“You’re the slow one, oldie.”

Myrddin removed the container from the heat and set it on the table. Then he picked up a small glass vial and poured a few drops into the mixture. A strong scent immediately filled the room.

“This is for the blacksmith’s daughter,” he said. “High fever since yesterday.”

Ren watched in silence.

People came to that house often. The entire village depended on Myrddin when someone got sick or injured. Adrossa had no physicians.

Only him.

The old man sealed the vial and wiped his hands on a cloth.

“Sit.”

Ren pulled a wooden stool to the table.

“Are we starting that strange training again?”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

Myrddin sat across from him.

For a few seconds, he simply observed Ren.

As if deciding something.

“Do you remember what I used to tell you when you were little?” he asked.

Ren frowned.

“About what?”

“The world.”

Ren shrugged.

“You told a lot of stories.”

“That’s true.”

Myrddin rested his elbows on the table.

“And you rarely paid attention.”

“I did.”

“Not enough.”

Ren scoffed lightly.

“If this turns into a lecture, I’m leaving.”

Myrddin’s gaze hardened slightly.

“Wait.”

The word came firm.

Ren closed his mouth.

The old man took a slow breath before continuing.

“Do you know the story of the Cataclysm?”

“Everyone knows it.”

“Then tell it.”

Ren thought for a moment.

“A thousand years ago… the world was different. Mana didn’t exist like it does now. Then the Cataclysm happened. Something changed the entire world. After that, mana started appearing everywhere.”

Myrddin nodded slowly.

“A shortened version.”

“It’s all that matters.”

“Perhaps.”

The old man stood and walked to a shelf.

He pulled out an old book.

Its cover was cracked with age.

He returned and placed it on the table.

“Before the Cataclysm,” Myrddin began, “humanity lived very differently. There was no magic. No mages. No empires built on magical bloodlines.”

Ren listened in silence.

“Then the Cataclysm happened.”

Myrddin slowly opened the book.

“No one knows exactly what it was. Some say it was the collapse of the world itself. Others believe it was the opening of something… unimaginable.”

Ren raised an eyebrow.

“That sounds like a bedtime story.”

“Many truths do.”

The old man ran his fingers across a yellowed page.

“The fact is, after the Cataclysm, mana appeared.”

He looked up at Ren.

“First in the mountains. Then in the rivers. Forests. The air itself.”

“I know.”

“Wait.”

Ren sighed.

But stayed silent.

“With time,” Myrddin continued, “living beings began absorbing mana naturally. Plants. Animals. People.”

He closed the book.

“Mana became part of the world’s order.”

Ren rested his chin on his hand.

“That part everyone knows.”

“Oh, do they?”

Myrddin watched him carefully.

“Then you know what it means to exist outside mana.”

Ren didn’t answer.

The old man spoke more slowly.

“Mana is not just power. Not just magic.”

He tapped the table lightly.

“It is order.”

The silence grew heavier.

“Everything that lives,” Myrddin continued, “possesses mana.”

“Plants.”

“Animals.”

“Humans.”

“Even children.”

Ren frowned.

“Yes,” Myrddin continued. “A child is born with mana, even if they cannot use magic yet.”

He paused briefly.

“For most people, awakening happens around the age of two.”

Ren had heard that before.

“Commoners develop control gradually.”

“And nobles are born with it already awakened,” Ren finished.

“Exactly.”

Myrddin studied him.

“Because of that, society was built around mana.”

“Cities.”

“Armies.”

“Empires.”

“Everything depends on it.”

Ren crossed his arms.

“You’re taking too long to get to the point.”

Myrddin didn’t answer immediately.

When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

“According to general knowledge…”

He paused.

“Life cannot exist without mana.”

Ren didn’t move.

“Because what exists outside mana exists outside order.”

Silence.

“And what exists outside order…”

“Is chaos.”

Ren exhaled slowly.

“I already know that.”

Myrddin raised an eyebrow.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

Ren placed his hands on the table.

“You’re trying to say I shouldn’t exist.”

The old man didn’t answer right away.

“No.”

Ren stared at him.

“I’m saying your existence should be impossible.”

Silence returned.

A knock came from the door.

Myrddin stood and opened it.

A woman stood there, holding a small girl.

“The fever came back.”

“I just finished the medicine.”

He handed her the vial.

“Three drops every four hours.”

“Thank you, Myrddin.”

She left.

The door closed.

When Myrddin returned, Ren was still watching him.

“You’ve trained with me before,” the old man said.

“Many times.”

“And it didn’t help much.”

“Didn’t it?”

“I don’t have mana.”

“No.”

“You don’t.”

He pulled another stool.

“But you have something else.”

Ren frowned.

“What?”

“Life.”

Ren rolled his eyes.

“Everyone has that.”

“Not everyone.”

Myrddin pointed at his chest.

“And yet… you exist.”

Silence.

“That means one of two things.”

“Either you’re an anomaly…”

“Or something is wrong with this world.”

Ren let out a quiet laugh.

“I’d bet on the first.”

“I wouldn’t.”

The old man stood.

“Stand.”

Ren stood.

Myrddin walked toward the training area.

“Attack me.”

Ren blinked.

“What?”

“Attack me.”

“You serious?”

“I am.”

Ren stepped forward.

“If I knock you down, don’t complain later, oldie.”

Myrddin rested his staff on the ground.

“Try.”

Ren moved.

Fast.

But—

Tok.

Blocked.

“Again.”

Tok.

Deflected.

A kick—

Missed.

“You’re slow.”

“You’re old.”

“Losing to a poor old man?”

Ren lunged again.

Tok.

A precise strike to the shoulder.

He stepped back.

Breathing heavier.

“You’re thinking too much.”

“Thinking?”

“Mages think.”

“They feel mana.”

“Connect to it.”

“Shape it.”

“But you…”

“You don’t have that.”

Ren moved again—

Tok.

Knee strike.

Balance lost.

“Then what do I have?”

Myrddin answered immediately:

“The chance to react before magic exists.”

Silence.

“The world believes everything lies within mana.”

“But maybe…”

“Some things exist outside it.”

“And if that’s true…”

“You might be the proof.”

Ren exhaled.

“Or just a guy without magic.”

A faint smile.

“Perhaps.”

The staff rose again.

“Again.”

“Again?”

“Again.”

Ren moved forward.

This time—

He didn’t think.

He just moved.

©JAE-HOON