Goodbyes

Five years had passed since the festival. A few days ago, Lindarion had celebrated his eleventh birthday.

"Time is but a thread."

He murmured the old saying as he stared into the mirror. A striking young boy gazed back—tall, poised, and undeniably handsome.

His height had already reached 178 centimeters, and his silver-gold hair flowed freely down to the middle of his back.

His once-soft features had sharpened over time, sculpted into something fit for a fairy tale prince.

Then again, he was a prince.

'But when will he arrive…?'

Lindarion's father had informed him days ago that Thalorin would be coming for him today, taking him to the place where he would train until the academy began.

His mother had opposed the idea at first, but after hours of pleading—and a well-timed use of his best doe-eyed expression—she finally relented.

He slid a golden bracelet onto his wrist, the metal cool against his skin. Its intricate design mirrored the one his mother always wore—a silent tether between them.

'It tracks my vital signs.'

The moment it fastened, a faint pulse of mana resonated against his skin, syncing with his body's natural flow.

He flexed his fingers, watching the metal shift seamlessly against his movements. It was a small price to pay.

Dressed in a sleek ensemble of silver and white, he stood ready, his belongings packed and waiting for Thalorin's arrival.

'I shouldn't keep the old man waiting.'

For five years, Thalorin hadn't contacted him once—except to inform his father that he would be coming soon.

"He was probably busy…"

Lindarion exhaled and opened his Status Window.

[STATUS WINDOW]

—[INFO]—

—[ATTRIBUTES]—

—[TECHNIQUES]—

Serpent's Flow (Unique) Sovereign's Veil (Legendary) Mana Thread Manipulation (Mythic) Mana Perception (Common) Flow (Epic) Insight (Legendary)

—[SKILLS]—

Accelerated Regeneration Mana Shot Pure Mana Shield Phantom Step (★ ★ ★ ★)

—[BLESSINGS]—

Blessed By Mana Blessings of Ouroboros (Passive abilities)

'Sovereign's Veil.'

After years of training, Lindarion had finally grasped its purpose. It cloaked his Mana Core, masking his true strength.

A pointless technique—until the day it would prove to be useful.

Power was a dangerous thing. Best to hide the fangs until the right moment.

He clenched his fist, feeling the energy humming beneath his skin.

He had reached the threshold. He could feel it.

Grabbing his bags, he slung them over his shoulder.

'Time to say goodbye.'

The golden halls of the palace stretched before him, the soft scent of jasmine and polished oak filling the air.

Every step echoed against the marble floors, a quiet reminder of the home he was leaving behind.

The maids paused as he passed. Some teared up.

"Our young prince…"

"Please be safe, and return soon, Your Highness!"

Lindarion chuckled under his breath.

'They're adorable.'

At last, he reached his father's office. The door opened with a quiet creak.

Inside, the people who mattered most awaited him—his mother, his father, and Seraphine.

He turned to Seraphine first, his voice steady.

"Look after my parents while I'm gone."

She did something unexpected. Rising to her feet, she embraced him.

Her first time ever doing so.

The warmth of her arms caught him off guard, sending an odd flush of heat through his face.

He coughed awkwardly and stepped back.

"Take care of yourself, my prince," she murmured, bowing deeply.

Then came his mother.

Tears already glistened in her eyes.

She lunged forward before he could react, pulling him into her arms.

Even though he towered over her now, her embrace still felt the same. Warm. Safe.

"I'll be back, Mother."

"You better be."

She sniffled, brushing away her tears before smoothing his hair one last time.

At last, his father stepped forward.

Lindarion straightened, meeting his gaze.

"Father."

He studied him, then nodded.

"You're ready. But never be arrogant, and never turn your back on an opponent unless you're certain they're finished."

His words were carved from iron—a lesson Lindarion would never forget.

His mother scowled and shot his father a glare, the expression so fiendish that his father coughed and swiftly changed the subject.

"It's time to go. Be careful. We will see each other again."

His hands settled on Lindarion's shoulders for a brief moment—a rare, unspoken display of affection.

Lindarion nodded once. "I will, Father."

With one last glance at them all, he stepped away—leaving behind his family, his home, and his childhood.

The palace gates loomed ahead.

As he approached, space itself tore apart—a jagged rift forming in the air.

'So flashy… was this really necessary?'

A familiar figure stepped through the breach, stroking his silvered beard.

His presence settled over the landscape like a heavy fog. Even without doing anything, his mana pressed down on the world around him—ancient, vast, and unyielding.

His smirk was knowing, amused.

"Are you ready, Lindarion?"

Thalorin's voice carried the weight of certainty. As if Lindarion's answer had already been decided.

He met Thalorin's smirk with one of his own.

"Yes."

With one final glance behind him, he stepped forward—into the void.

The world lurched violently.

A crushing force pressed against his chest—then suddenly, he landed flat on his ass.

Meanwhile, Thalorin stood completely unbothered, landing gracefully on his feet.

His mouth twitched.

'Not funny, old man…'

Lindarion pushed himself up and took in his surroundings.

Nothing.

Just an endless expanse of windblown grasslands. The only structures in sight were a well and a dark cave entrance leading deep underground.

He frowned. "And this is…?"

Thalorin waved lazily.

"The well restores stamina, the fields are for training, and the cave… well, that's where you'll find the monsters."

Lindarion exhaled slowly, flexing his fingers.

"Got it."

"Let's start with your Mana Core. You're close to breaking through again, aren't you?"

"You could say that, I'm pretty close."

His voice wasn't as confident as before.

"Then we'll begin with that. But this breakthrough will be different. This time, your affinities will manifest within your Core—and by extension, within your mana itself. The process is extremely painful, depending on how many affinities you can attune to. You have to pull the affinities in yourself."

"So, I have to draw them in myself. I see."

Lindarion nodded, signaling his understanding.

"In short, it's going to hurt," he muttered before lowering himself onto the ground. With a quick motion, he removed the upper half of his armor, letting it fall beside him.

For an eleven-year-old, his physique was already impressive—his stomach lined with defined muscles, a product of relentless training.

"I guess we should begin," he said, rolling his shoulders before settling into a lotus position.

Thalorin stepped behind him, his presence as steady as ever. Lindarion heard him shift as he took a seat, the weight of his experience pressing against the air itself.

A chill ran down his spine as Thalorin's cold hand met his bare back. The evening breeze whispered across his skin, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth.

Then his voice came—deep, commanding, and absolute, resonating in Lindarion's ears like a bell tolling in the night.

"Let us begin."