Magic

Arin's eyes widened at the sudden screen that popped up in his view. A secondary tab was also open, displaying a picture of the vampiress in the gray-tinted view of a ruined battleground littered with corpses, with lines of text located below the picture.

*****

[Post-human-mutant war, vampires were no longer of use to humans and were thus captured and exploited at their will. In those dark days, a certain vampiress rose. She had been turned into a vampire against her will—during her pregnancy.

Miraculously, the child in her womb survived. She named him Ereven. This child of hers eventually ascended to the vampiric throne, asserting himself as the Vampire King. Under his leadership, the vampires freed themselves from humanity's tyranny. Naturally, his birth-giver was worshipped by his subjects, who bestowed upon her the title Bloodmother.

Several years later, calumny befell the vampiric royalty. A powerful vampire known as Umbriel waged war against Ereven. With the help of his ever-loyal subjects, Ereven secured a pyrrhic victory—pyrrhic because, some days later, the Vampire King succumbed to the wounds sustained in battle.

Several centuries have passed since then, yet even now, vampires revere Ereven and his mother—the Bloodmother, Arthena.]

*****

Arin had barely begun reading the text when he saw the previously ethereal body of Bhavesh collapse to the ground. A weak look crossed his face before he lost consciousness.

Just as Nocterin and Arin rushed toward the spirit's fainted body, a series of explosions resounded. The corridor's structure had begun to crumble, its once-sturdy foundation weakened. Chunks of debris plummeted from the ceiling, smashing into the floor below.

Having no time to think, Nocterin picked up the unconscious spirit and kicked the door, causing it to spring open immediately. Arin dashed out the instant the ongoing destruction reached the hall they were in. Nocterin's figure turned into a blur, escaping at the last possible moment.

The blowing wind hit them in the face, the sound of falling debris mixing with the whistle of the sandy breeze. The group they had met before entering had emerged from their tents, their faces stricken with shock and disbelief.

They stared at Arin and Nocterin with confounded expressions, their mouths agape, their eyes widened, as the final piece of debris fell—the vampiric ruins were no more.

Prioritizing Bhavesh's health over embarrassment, Arin immediately told Nocterin to follow him to the chariots.

As their figures approached the chariots, the maid rushed out, her expression shifting to one of alarm upon seeing the spirit's injured state. As a delicate-hearted lady, even the plight of a stranger would trouble her—much less that of a spirit she had known for decades. Concern flickered in her chocolate eyes. She immediately went inside the secondary chariot, returning moments later with a colorful piece of paper in hand. The paper was eccentric, its shades shifting with every ray of light that fell upon it.

Stretching out the hands of the fainted spirit, she placed the paper on his arm. A line of unknown origin escaped her lips, and in an instant, the paper turned colorless.

Her closed eyes snapped open, her lips parting in shock. She pinched herself, as if confirming that what she had just witnessed was impossible.

Her lips trembled as she uttered, "Ce-Celestial spirit! Bhavesh is a Celestial spirit."

Arin was taken aback by how easily she had discovered that.

"We already know that. But why has his body turned so feeble?" he asked intently.

"Bhavesh has yet to reach full maturity—at least, not the maturity of a Celestial spirit. Forcibly using the embryonic state in adolescence has severed his spiritual Murim. A spirit who has lost connection to his Murim is like a mage afflicted with a mana curse." She spoke slowly, as if the weight of her own words shocked her.

A worried and guilt-ridden look crossed Arin's face. He knew how vital the Murim was to spirits—without it, they could not absorb spiritual energy. Trembling with compunction, he asked, "How do we restore the connection?"

"The Clown Marts. I've heard that an expert in energy resides there. He surely knows how," Phaedra replied, a strange confidence in her voice.

The Clown Marts were not far from the Bodus Plains, the same plains that housed the Forest of Rokaal.

With their goal now clear, Arin entered the chariot, instructing the Auriga to head toward the Bodus Plains once Nocterin and the others boarded.

As the chariot started moving, Arin gazed through the window. The girl who had led the group earlier stood near the ruins' gates, a peculiar book in her hands. Its pages appeared rusted, though they bore illustrations of an altar.

Her mouth moved suddenly, as if chanting something—but Arin could not hear her words.

The ruins came alive, trembling with an eerie force. The rubble twisted and turned, each fallen piece assembling and amalgamating with an unnatural precision. The ruins that had crumbled into dust and stone were back again—just as imposing as before.

"…."

Arin was speechless, as if a cat had stolen his tongue. He was utterly baffled—both by the girl's identity and by this miraculous restoration of the ruins.

At first glance, her attire had made him assume she was the leader of a petty adventurer's group. Yet now, that perception had been shattered.

The chariot moved forward, the humongous ruins disappearing from his view.

Shaking off his confusion, Arin finally decided to check the system's messages. He read through the text—nothing he didn't already know.

Now, Magic, Spiritual Arts, or Combat—that was the question.

Arin hesitated only for a moment before uttering in his mind, I choose Magic.

The tab changed.

****

[The host has chosen Magic.]

[Rewards:

+10 affinity to natural elements.

Magical Awakening Opportunity ×1]

*****

"Awakening! How is that even possible?" Arin was baffled by the second reward.

This world had specific conditions for wielding power. All three major fields—Magic, Spiritual Arts, and Combat—required an awakening. An awakening that one could only attempt after reaching adulthood.

However, as far as Kaius knew, Arin was only 19—two years short of this world's maturity age.

If he could truly awaken before turning 20, it would be unprecedented.

Excitement surged through him, momentarily washing away the day's pain. But just as quickly, it was replaced by the weight of Bhavesh's condition.

*****

{Magic Tier Levels:}

1st Grade: Neophyte

2nd Grade: Acolyte

3rd Grade: Adept

4th Grade: Enchanter

5th Grade: Archmage

6th Grade: Grand Magus

7th Grade: Thaumaturge

Grade-Null: Origin

Each grade has three subgrades:

Initiate

Practiced

Savant