Chapter 3 – The Spark of Curiosity

Aether's world was expanding.

Days turned into weeks, and while his body remained that of a child, his mind continued to sharpen. He had grasped the first traces of mana within himself, a faint ember that flickered beneath his awareness. Yet, he lacked the knowledge to stoke that ember into a flame.

His father, Calem Zephyrion, was a man of wisdom and strength, but he never spoke of magic in detail. His mother, Seraphina, carried a noble air, but she did not wield magic herself. If Aether wanted to learn more, he needed to observe those who did.

And so, he paid attention.

Whenever knights trained in the courtyard, he watched the way their bodies moved, how they controlled their breath, how the air around them seemed to hum with power. When scholars visited the estate, he listened closely to their discussions, filtering through what was mere politics and what was true knowledge.

Yet, despite his keen observations, true insight continued to elude him.

Until one evening changed everything.

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The sun had long since set, and the corridors of the estate were bathed in the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. Aether, clad in a simple tunic, wandered through the halls with quiet steps. He had grown accustomed to moving unnoticed, his small frame allowing him to slip past servants and guards with ease.

Tonight, his curiosity led him toward the estate's training grounds.

Through the gaps in the stone pillars, he spotted his father standing with another man—a figure unfamiliar yet imposing. The man wore a deep navy robe adorned with golden embroidery, his hands clasped behind his back. Strands of silver hair cascaded past his shoulders, and his eyes gleamed with an almost ethereal light.

A mage.

Aether's breath hitched as he pressed himself against the stone, straining to listen.

"...and the situation in the capital?" Calem's voice was steady, though there was a hint of concern beneath it.

The mage exhaled, his expression unreadable. "The council grows restless. There are whispers of movements beyond our borders, but as always, the royals keep their secrets close."

Calem scoffed. "Fools playing their endless games."

The mage chuckled. "And yet, we are bound to serve."

Aether listened intently, but his focus was not on their words—it was on the air itself.

The moment the mage had arrived, something had changed.

The atmosphere felt denser, charged with an unseen force. It was subtle yet undeniable, like standing at the edge of a storm before the first drop of rain.

Aether clenched his fists.

This was mana.

And this man—this mage—was its wielder.

His heart pounded in his chest. If he could just see it, witness it in action…

And as if the world had heard his silent plea, the mage raised his hand.

The air crackled. A faint shimmer coalesced in his palm, forming a swirling sphere of blue light. It was small, no larger than an apple, yet Aether could feel its power, the raw energy pulsing within it.

The light flickered as the mage flexed his fingers, the mana dispersing into the night air.

Aether's breath came in shallow gulps. He had read about magic, speculated about its nature, even sensed the faintest traces within himself.

But now, he had seen it.

A real spell.

The realization sent shivers down his spine.

He had taken his first step into this world's mysteries, but this was only the beginning.

He needed to learn more.

He would learn more.

No matter what it took.

Aether remained seated in quiet concentration, the flickering candle casting elongated shadows against the wooden walls of his study. The warmth of mana—so faint yet undeniable—had stirred something deep within him. It was unlike anything from his past life, yet the fundamental concept of control and discipline felt oddly familiar.

He flexed his fingers again, wondering if he could grasp it, command it like the warriors and mages described in the old texts. But the moment he tried to force it, the sensation slipped away, like mist dissolving under the morning sun.

'Not brute force… It has to be something else.'

If mana existed within him, then it should react to him, just like his own limbs. His approach needed to be different. He closed his eyes once more, this time shifting his focus not on capturing the warmth, but merely observing it—letting it flow naturally.

His breathing slowed.

The room faded into silence.

And then, there it was again—that faint pulse of energy. But this time, instead of chasing it, he let it move as it pleased.

Aether felt it swirl gently, as though it were an extension of himself. It was subtle, like the undercurrent of a river, but undeniably there. The key wasn't to seize control through force.

It was to understand.

The realization sent a shiver down his spine.

'Mana isn't something I take. It's something I guide.'

Aether's thoughts raced. If this was true, then mana was more than just raw energy—it was an extension of life itself. And just like life, it couldn't be chained or conquered, only nurtured and led.

His eyes fluttered open, gleaming with newfound understanding. He had taken the first step toward mana manipulation. But the path ahead was long, and his body was still weak.

For now, he had a goal—to strengthen his connection, to refine his perception, and eventually… to control mana completely.

Aether leaned back, exhaling softly. A smirk tugged at his lips.

This was only the beginning.