*Chapter 3: Beyond the Baptism*

As we reached our mansion, my mother, Princess Sofia, tried to put me to sleep, her soothing voice and gentle touch a comforting familiarity. But I was wide awake, my mind still reeling from the events of the day.

"Come, Kaidën, it's time for bed," she cooed, leading me to my room. "You've had a big day, and you need to rest."

But I was too restless, my thoughts racing with questions and doubts. I nodded obediently, but as soon as my mother left my room, I slipped out into the hallway, determined to uncover more secrets.

My father, Duke Arin, had gone to his study, the door slightly ajar. I crept closer, listening to the sound of papers rustling and my father's muttered curses.

I pushed open the door, and my father looked up, startled. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the tension between us palpable.

"Kaidën, what are you doing here?" my father asked, his voice gruff. "You should be in bed."

But I didn't back down. I walked into the study, my eyes scanning the shelves lined with books and the scattered papers on the desk.

"I want to know more about mana," I said, my voice firm. "I want to understand why I have colorless mana."

My father's expression softened, and he nodded, gesturing for me to sit down. For the next few hours, we pored over books and papers, searching for answers.

And then, I snuck into the family library through the secret passage I had discovered a month ago. The musty smell of old books and the faint glow of luminescent orbs greeted me as I made my way through the narrow aisles. The library was a treasure trove of knowledge, with thousands of books lining the shelves, each one meticulously arranged and well-maintained.

As I wandered through the aisles, my fingers trailed over the spines of the books, feeling the raised letters and intricate designs. I had always been fascinated by the library, and I spent hours exploring its depths, uncovering hidden gems and forgotten knowledge.

My mission tonight was to learn more about mana and magic. I had so many questions swirling in my mind since my baptism. What was mana, exactly? Why did I have colorless mana, and what did it mean for my future?

I spent hours browsing through the shelves, scanning the titles and authors, searching for any book that might hold the answers I sought. The silence was broken only by the occasional creak of the old wooden shelves or the soft whisper of pages turning.

As I searched, I stumbled upon ancient tomes bound in worn leather, adorned with strange symbols and markings. I delicately opened one of the books, and the pages crackled with age as I began to read. The text was written in an archaic language, but I managed to decipher the words, learning about the history of magic and the different mana elements.

After three hours of searching, I finally found a small, leather-bound book tucked away in a corner. The title, "The Essence of Mana," was embossed in intricate silver lettering. I opened the book, and the pages crackled with age as I began to read.

According to the book, mana was a form of essence that people possessed from birth. It was activated during baptism, and its color determined the user's magical affinity. I learned about the different mana elements, each associated with a specific color.

Red mana was the strongest, tied to the element of fire, which was feared for its destructive power. Fire magic was capable of unleashing devastating flames, reducing entire cities to ashes. Its users were revered and feared, their abilities making them formidable opponents on the battlefield.

Light magic, with its whitish-yellow color, ranked second, prized for its ability to counter dark magic and heal injuries. Light magic was capable of purifying corrupted energies, driving back the shadows, and restoring balance to the world. Its users were sought after for their ability to heal wounds and protect against evil.

Lightning magic, with its deep purple hue, was another powerful element, capable of unleashing bolts of electricity and shattering stone. Its users were known for their agility and quick reflexes, dodging attacks with ease and striking with precision.

Black magic, with its dark, foreboding color, was feared for its ability to manipulate shadows and darkness. Its users were often shunned and ostracized, their abilities seen as evil and malevolent.

Wind magic, with its pure white color, was associated with the element of air, capable of manipulating the winds and skies. Its users were known for their agility and speed, able to dodge attacks with ease and strike from unexpected angles.

Water magic, with its soothing blue color, was tied to the element of water, capable of manipulating the oceans and tides. Its users were known for their calming presence, able to heal wounds and soothe troubled minds.

And then, there was colorless mana – the weakest of all. It was described as indecisive, unable to commit to a specific element. Users of colorless mana could perform basic magic from all elements, but their abilities were limited, making them poor magicians.

As I finished reading, the library grew darker, the luminescent orbs dimming as night began to fall. I knew I had to return to my room before I was discovered. I carefully replaced the book on the shelf and made my way back through the secret passage.

As I approached my room, I heard muffled voices coming from my parents' chambers. I crept closer, curiosity getting the better of me. That's when I saw my father, Duke Arin, sitting on the bed, his face buried in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

My mother, Princess Sofia, sat beside him, trying to comfort him. But my father's words cut through the air, filled with anguish and regret.

"It's my fault," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I'm a commoner, with no mana. I knew it was a risk, marrying into the royal family. And now, my talentlessness has been passed down to our son."

As I watched my father, Duke Arin, sitting on the bed, his face buried in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably, my heart ached with a deep sadness.

I felt a surge of determination course through my veins, remembering the struggles I had faced in my past life. I had never known my father, who had passed away before I was born, leaving my mother to raise me alone. She had been my rock, my guiding light, but fate had been cruel. When I was 16, she was diagnosed with late-stage cancer, and I had to watch her wither away, powerless to stop the inevitable. She had passed away on my 17th birthday, leaving me alone in the world.

The pain of that loss still lingered, a scar that would never fully heal. But in this new life, I had been given a second chance, a chance to experience the love and support of a family. And now, seeing my father cry, I knew I had to make the most of this opportunity. I would not let my family's legacy define me. I would strive for a better future, no matter what it takes.