Chapter 32

The moment Elliot uttered those words, Lucian's grin shifted—less amusement, more satisfaction. "Brave," he murmured, stepping forward. "But bravery without knowledge is just recklessness. Let's see if you're truly ready."

With a flick of his wrist, Lucian dissolved the blade he had summoned, the raw energy dispersing back into the surrounding void. Then, he raised his hand, and the space around them began to ripple.

Elliot felt a pressure building around him, like an unseen force pressing against his skin. The swirling energy that made up this realm responded to Lucian's will, forming intricate patterns in the air, glowing with an eerie light.

"This is magic at its core," Lucian explained, his voice calm. "It has no shape, no purpose until you impose one upon it. But if you lack control—"

He suddenly clenched his fist, and the glowing patterns exploded outward. The pressure in the air shifted violently, making Elliot stagger back.

"—it will consume you instead."

Elliot steadied himself. His heart pounded, but he wasn't about to back down now. He extended his hand, mimicking Lucian's movement. He could feel the energy swirling around him, like currents in an invisible ocean.

"Don't force it," Lucian advised. "Guide it. Like shaping clay, not hammering stone."

Elliot closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to sense the flow of energy rather than control it outright. When he opened them again, he focused on a single point in front of him—imagining, not commanding, the magic to take form.

The air shimmered. A small spark of light flickered to life, hovering inches above his palm. It was unstable, pulsing wildly, but it was his.

Lucian observed silently. Then, without warning, he lashed out with a wave of energy, sending a sharp gust toward Elliot's fragile creation. The spark wavered—

Elliot reacted instinctively, cupping his hand around it, shielding it from the disruption. The energy stabilized.

Lucian smirked. "Not bad."

Elliot exhaled slowly. That was the first time he had ever felt magic so directly, without a spell formula, without an incantation. Just pure, raw willpower.

"Again," Lucian instructed.

Elliot nodded.

For the next hour—if time even worked the same way in this place—he practiced. Each attempt refined his control, each mistake taught him something new.

By the time Lucian finally called for a pause, Elliot's breathing was heavy, sweat dripping down his face. But in his palm, a small, stable orb of energy floated, pulsing with a steady rhythm.

Lucian studied it, then chuckled. "Congratulations. You've taken your first real step into understanding magic."

Elliot stared at the orb, mesmerized. He wasn't just casting a spell—he was creating it.

And for the first time, he truly understood what Lucian had meant.

This wasn't just magic.

It was power.

Elliot watched the small orb of energy floating above his palm, its soft glow reflecting in his eyes. It was his—his creation, his power. And yet, it felt strangely delicate, as if the slightest mistake could make it vanish.

Lucian, standing a few feet away, studied him with a smirk. "Feels different, doesn't it?"

Elliot nodded. "Yeah… It's not just casting a spell. It's…" He struggled to find the right words. "It's like holding a piece of myself outside my body."

Lucian's grin widened. "Exactly. Magic, at its core, isn't just about force or formulas. It's willpower made manifest." He took a step closer, his eyes sharp. "Now, let's see if you can keep it while under pressure."

Before Elliot could react, Lucian flicked his wrist, and a surge of energy rushed toward him like a tidal wave.

Instinct kicked in. Elliot clenched his fist around the orb, trying to shield it from the incoming force. But Lucian's attack was relentless, pressing down on him like an invisible weight. His arms trembled, his knees buckled, and for a moment, he felt as if he was drowning in raw power.

The orb flickered.

Elliot gritted his teeth. No. Not yet.

He forced himself to focus—not on resisting, but on adapting. Instead of fighting Lucian's energy head-on, he adjusted his own, letting the flow guide him rather than overwhelm him.

And then—

The pressure vanished.

Elliot gasped, his heart pounding. He looked down. The orb was still there, stable, unshaken.

Lucian chuckled. "Not bad. You didn't just resist—you adjusted. That's the difference between brute force and true mastery."

Elliot exhaled, letting the tension drain from his body. His fingers tingled with residual energy, but he felt… lighter.

Lucian crossed his arms. "Alright. That's enough for today."

Elliot blinked. "What? That's it?"

Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Unless you want to collapse from exhaustion?"

Now that he mentioned it, Elliot could feel his body catching up to the strain. His legs felt like lead, and his arms ached from holding the orb for so long.

Lucian smirked at his silence. "Thought so." He turned, gesturing for Elliot to follow. "Come on. You need rest. Tomorrow, we push even further."

Elliot glanced one last time at the glowing orb before letting it fade. As they walked, he couldn't help but feel it—something had changed within him.

This wasn't just training anymore.

This was the beginning of something far greater.

Elliot lay in bed, staring at the ceiling of his small dorm room. Despite his exhaustion, sleep refused to come. His body ached from the training, but his mind was restless, replaying every moment, every flicker of magic, every surge of power.

What exactly am I becoming?

He exhaled sharply, sitting up. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the moon filtering through the window. A cold breeze seeped in, carrying the distant sounds of the academy—whispers of the night, footsteps of students sneaking about, and the occasional hoot of an owl.

Elliot's fingers twitched. The sensation of the energy orb still lingered, as if his body was trying to remember its weight. He raised his hand, concentrating. A faint shimmer sparked between his fingertips, but before it could take shape—

Knock. Knock.

Elliot tensed.

"Who is it?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

No answer.

Frowning, he swung his legs over the bed and padded toward the door. He hesitated, then slowly turned the handle.

Nothing.

The hallway was empty, stretching into eerie silence. A cold gust rushed past him, sending a shiver down his spine. Something didn't feel right.

Then, just as he was about to step back inside—

Tap.

A sound. Faint, almost imperceptible, like fingers trailing against the stone walls.

Elliot turned sharply. Down the hall, near the old staircase leading to the restricted archives, a shadow flickered.

Someone's there.

Heart pounding, he took a cautious step forward. The rational part of his mind screamed at him to turn back—whatever this was, it had nothing to do with him. And yet…

Move.

His feet carried him forward before he could think twice. The air grew colder with each step, the darkness seeming to thicken around him.

Then he saw it.

A figure, barely visible, standing at the end of the corridor. Cloaked in tattered robes, its face obscured by the hood. It wasn't moving, wasn't breathing. Just standing there.

Watching.

Elliot's mouth went dry.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, the figure spoke.

"You are not ready."

And just like that—

It vanished.

Elliot staggered back, his breath coming in sharp gasps. The air where the figure stood was heavy, tinged with something ancient, something unsettling.

He swallowed hard.

He didn't know who—or what—had just spoken to him.

But he had a feeling this was only the beginning.