CH3 • The First Circle

"Inaudible screaming—"

"AHHHHHHHH!"

The ritual had begun two weeks after I had made enough progress to handle the body-etching of pathways. Though I already possessed them, this process was merely a method of channeling runestones into my inner core, rapidly expanding and highlighting any potential affinities.

A single runestone cost as much as a hundred horses, and I was using them all night—each imbued with different attributes—all for the sake of finding an innate affinity within me.

"Motherf—! This is bulls—!"

The language I spoke was alien to the observers. I had regained the memories of a twenty-year-old from my past life, and Madam watched me with amusement while the rest wondered if I was uttering a demonic language. I thrashed around in pain, screaming as I drifted in and out of sanity. I begged for the ritual to stop, but my pleas were ignored.

As agony wracked my body, my face contorted with sheer willpower, a glare of hatred and vengeance forming in my expression. My mana responded instinctively, trying to push its way out. But Madam effortlessly suppressed me with a mere glare while the rest remained focused on the ritual.

For a month, I was fed meals while strapped down like a creature undergoing an exorcism. The ritual had calmed drastically compared to the start. I had stopped thrashing, but the murmurs around me carried astonishment. I had survived something historically known for its high rate of mental disability.

Apparently, my mental fortitude was extraordinarily high, my pain tolerance exceptional. To them, I was a child of remarkable gift and resilience.

Madam, for the first time, smiled genuinely as she noted her observations.

"You have all affirmed affinities… This is unprecedented. Our gamble was not a waste, but a boon of immeasurable merit. We have hit a golden opportunity. You're going to be under my wing."

She recalled my words from before—when I had doubted whether I had the wind to carry my wings.

"I will give you the gales to soar beyond your imagination."

—

By the end of the year, out of the thirty children in my birth cycle, all had successfully formed their first circle.

All except me.

I was a special case. My time was approaching.

Pain had been my greatest lesson. Why? Because I had ingrained the sensation into my very being, allowing me to perceive my mana flow unconsciously and constantly. It was no longer a challenge—I had learned to breathe.

Like riding a bicycle or knowing the hours of the day without a clock, I could now sense how my core accumulated mana, understanding its circulation throughout my body. Unlike before, where mana simply filled my form, I now had control over its flow—each fiber of my being infused with it, much like blood coursing through veins.

To other mages, this was instinctual. But to me? I had reached this stage in mere months, an incredibly advanced level of understanding thanks to the mental foundation of my past life.

To everyone else, I appeared naturally gifted—a fast learner. Even Madam assumed this. But I knew the truth:

Mana was fuel. And I was the vehicle.

—

A few days later, as I read in my room, Harriet dropped by, watching me intently.

"You can… read those books?"

"Yes?"

I no longer feared her, which seemed to annoy her. She knew my status had elevated. I was a "special" now.

"Today, you're going to attempt the hardest task—grasping your inner core and manifesting your first circle. You'll keep trying until you succeed. Expect this to take another four to five months."

I stood, closing my book.

"I'll be back soon."

She scoffed, as if doubting my words.

"I no longer need to waste time while my peers keep passing me. I understand the foundations now. I'm ready to get this over with so I can learn the real fundamentals."

She remained skeptical.

—

Arriving at the training grounds, I was briefed.

"When the core stabilizes and mana circulation becomes instinctual, the First Circle forms only when all three stages are steady. The first manifestation of spellcasting naturally triggers the process."

Lunara, a third-circle mage, explained. Unlike Madam, who was a fifth-circle mage, she would be overseeing my attempt.

I nodded and accepted the parchment listing tier-one spells. The first-circle spells.

I could choose any, but I wanted something simple.

Luminosity.

A basic spell—five seconds of brief glow. Perfect.

I aimed at a rock nearby, sitting down to study the passage. The spell's explanation was structured like poetic nonsense, trying to describe science.

I ignored it.

Instead, I relied on my own reasoning.

Mana channeling. Shaping. Output regulation—10%. Intent: shimmering.

With that, I aligned it to my will.

Mana outside the body was like a needle gliding through fabric, weaving imagination into reality.

As I cast the spell, a sigil disk appeared before my hands—an array of intricate symbols projected into existence. A universal alphabet of magic, readable by those who understood mana's language.

A mage skilled enough could decipher any spell simply by reading the sigil and sensing its environmental influence.

Madam, along with the others, watched closely.

I completed the casting—only to feel a sudden, overwhelming sensation in my chest.

Two jolts—one through my heart, the other through my stomach.

I closed my eyes and looked inward.

There, in my inner mind's core, I felt two wisps orbiting it like satellites around a planet.

Mana breathed freely within me, unshackled for the first time.

The wisps—were they my circles?

Panic struck. Had I jumped the process too quickly? Would this cause backlash?

Madam suddenly stood up, her expression unreadable—then, she smiled.

"Well, well, well… Astonishing results once again. Hmph."

The observers murmured in shock.

The rock before me glowed. And yet, I felt no backlash.

Madam explained, addressing the stunned onlookers.

"Normally, instances like these do happen. However, once again, he defies the odds. Of those who experience double awakenings—"

"70% suffer permanent, crippling pain, never able to recover."

"80% die instantly from the sheer shift in mana levels—their bodies exploding on the spot."

"The remaining 20% merely experience a stinging sensation and weakness, but survive with no ill effects—only advantages."

She smirked.

"You are the 37th double-awakened individual in our mage tower's history."

Her gaze locked onto me.

"Congratulations."