#11 Dual Affinity

Mirea: Dual affinity is born when there are two or more deeply rooted emotions present. That means inside you, emotions like anger, anxiety, hatred, and contempt are deeply entangled together at once.

Noah: (nods silently) Ah… I see.

Mirea: (softly smiling) Honestly, it's an incredible potential, but…

Mirea fiddles with her magic staff.

Mirea: Living with two such intense emotions inside you… it can be extremely dangerous. The psyche could collapse. And anger and fear, of all things… I've honestly never heard of that combination before.

Noah: (raising his hand cautiously) Um, I'm curious—how does magic actually work? I've heard emotions determine a Mana's attribute, but how exactly does each emotion connect with which element?

Mirea: (smiling) Oh, an analytical question! Good mindset. As for the emotional-attribute pairing…

Mirea counts off on her fingers as she explains.

Mirea: Right, starting with Mana-stone Mana-energy attributes—

Anger is fire. The force of heat and explosion.

Anxiety is ice. The power to freeze.

Hatred is earth. The solid strength of soil and stone.

Contempt is darkness. The power to disturb the mind and throw it into chaos. It's the most dangerous element to wield.

Erin: (surprised) What? There are way more emotions than that! You're saying there are only four?

Mirea: (lowering her voice slightly) Other emotional magics require Lustral-water. Not just Mana-energy, but what we call Lustral-energy.

Noah: (eyes widening) Oh? I thought you had to use a Mana-stone to cast magic… is there more to it?

Mirea pulls a Mana-stone and a flask of Lustral-water from her indigo mage robe's inner pocket—one in each hand.

Holding the opaque black Mana-stone—

Mirea: This is a Mana-stone.

Holding up the flask of blue, water-like liquid—

Mirea: And this is Lustral-water.

Noah: Blue Lustral-water?

There are only two known materials that allow for the use of magic—Mana-stones and Lustral-water. And the key is…

(crosses his hands) You can't use both at once. Mana only responds when one is in your possession.

Erin: So what about Lustral-water then? The emotions tied to it? You haven't mentioned any of my favorite feelings yet…

Mirea: Okay, for Lustral-water and its Lustral-energy type attributes—

Sorrow is water. The power of waves and flow.

Happiness is wind. The power of speed and sound.

Confidence is lightning. Flash and rigidity.

Serenity is light. It's mostly used to cleanse polluted minds.

Erin: Then maybe I'm on the Lustral-water side. Sorrow, maybe?

Noah: If there were an emotion called 'annoyance,' that would be you.

Erin smacks Noah's arm with a thud.

Erin: (narrowing her eyes) You… I'm contempting you right now.

Noah: (clutching his arm) Oof. So… when my hand froze the other day, was that because my anxiety spiked in that moment?

Mirea: (nodding) Exactly. In that instant, your emotion of anxiety surged explosively.

Noah: Fascinating… who made all this? Mana-stones and Lustral-water?

Mirea looks straight at Noah.

Mirea: There are two major religions on this continent that most people believe in.

One is the Church of Trooth. They create and distribute Mana-stones.

The other is the Church of Esca. They handle the Lustral-water.

Erin: That's so complicated! Can't they just merge the two and be done with it?

Mirea: (laughs) Both religions use 'tools of the divine' to control Mana-energy, but…

A pause.

Mirea: Trooth values power. Esca reveres purification. And even now… both still brand each other as heretics and cultists, hiding behind every war's shadow…

Mirea gestures toward the eastern treeline at the training yard.

Mirea: We train with Mana over there every evening as the sun sets. Let's see if you two can gradually learn how to use your powers.

Noah: (inhales deeply, serious) I'm truly grateful. I'll do my best.

Erin: (arms crossed, scoffing) Hey… you're really starting to act like a big deal, huh?

Lisha chuckles aloud at Erin's jab.

Watching from afar stands a man of enormous build, muscles weathered and scarred.

Roga.

Without a word, he picks up a wooden sword from the ground and tosses it to Noah.

Roga: Hey, newbie. Give it a swing. However you feel it.

Noah: (fumbles as he catches it) Huh? Right now?

Lisha: That's our mercenary company's vice captain, Roga. If you don't impress him, he might take it out on your shins. Hah!

Noah glances down at his right hand. The weight of the wood. A light vibration. The strange texture on his palm.

And then—

Something clicks.

A memory stirred. Sword forms he saw in the gray world. The form of those strikes that had once seemed so easy from afar.

Noah cautiously lifts the practice sword… and mimics the motion.

Thack—, a stab.

Whoosh—, a horizontal slash.

A spin backward… then a forward charge.

Lisha: (raising an eyebrow, arms folded) Huh? Look at that. You sure you weren't from some noble house?

Noah: (shaking his head quickly) What? No! I was just a serf…

Lisha: (slapping her thigh) Ehh~? That's exactly what it looks like! Totally useless but real fancy noble swordplay. Looks great, does nothing.

Noah: (chuckling) Ah… I guess it does look that way. Ha…

Erin: (laughing) Haha! Fancy but useless swordplay! That's gold!

Noah glares at Erin.

Roga silently picks up another practice sword and tosses it to Erin.

Roga: You too.

Erin: (waving her hands) Me? I seriously… I don't know a thing about swords. This is my first time ever.

Roga: (slightly nods) Try. Your body might remember something.

Erin glances at Noah, then grips the sword.

Noah's clearly ready to scoff.

Erin recalls the way her father had taught her basic self-defense using farming tools. The way to brace a shovel, block with a hoe.

Whoosh— swish—

She strikes downward, then spins to block.

The motion is rough and unrefined, but it has balance.

Lisha: (eyes wide, clapping) Oh wow? She's way better! Hahaha!

Erin: (grinning suddenly) Right? I'm pretty good, huh? I've been doing stuff like this since I was little. You saw that, Noah?

Noah: (smiling) Yeah… I saw. You're good.

Roga: That's enough. Until your arm fully recovers, eat and rest well. Then comes training.

Thud— thud—

Before they can reply, Roga turns and walks off.

Watching from one side, Baren speaks in a heavy tone.

Baren: To survive… work hard and endure. Be someone who can pull their weight in this mercenary company. If you can do that… you'll survive anywhere.

Noah and Erin look down at the ground, still holding their wooden swords.

Noah: (nodding) …I'll become someone who's worth their meals. And beyond that… someone who truly helps others.

Erin: (eyes brightening) Me too! I've been working hard with Mana training… you'll see!

Mirea: (softly) And… remember, magic isn't something people often talk about in public. Emotion and magic—these are the most dangerous gifts the gods gave humankind.

(finger to lips) So please… be careful where you speak of it.

Noah: Yes! Thank you!

Lisha: (bumping Baren's arm) Well, if we don't want to fall behind our newbies, we better train too, huh?

(laughs) Ugh, looks like we've got some competition now—what a bother.

While everyone's focus turned toward growth with a shared spirit, elsewhere on the continent, an ominous pulse was beginning to stir.

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// Afternoon, Southern Caldenia. Brendel.

Skreeee— skreeee—

The cries of seagulls tore through the air like shredded sails.

Brendel's sea wind carried the sting of salt, the fishy scent of the far ocean, the sweetness of ripe fruit, and the musky tang of dried beast hides—whipping roughly through the crowd.

At the long wharf stretching along the coast, ships large and small docked one after another, and dockhands leapt from the decks, shouting.

Dockhand: (with a rough voice) Careful! That's high-grade Verdia beast hide!

Merchant: (waving) This way! Move it fast! We're late for market!

The clatter of carts, workers shouting as they dashed by in sweat-soaked shirts, the snorts of horses, the foreign tongues of overseas traders—

Brendel's harbor throbbed like a living heart—chaotic yet rhythmically alive.

The streets teemed with immigrants, merchants, and well-dressed envoys from the artisan guilds, a mosaic of chaos that somehow moved with the precision of a mirage.

At the southernmost tip of Aurelia, the city of Brendel, its back to the sea, remained the unceasing commercial heart of Caldenia.

───────ㅤ✤ㅤ───────

// Brendel. Inner Castle. Drawing Room.

Heavy silk curtains blocked the sunlight, and only the faint candlelight from candelabras dimly highlighted the gold-threaded wallpaper.

Thick, handwoven rugs lay over black marble floors, and the walls were lined with frames displaying the mounted horns of ancient beasts.

At the center—

A black leather chair by the hearth.

Duke Hermann de Regar sank into it, his fingers trembling silently.

On the table before him were maps detailing Brendel's entire trade network and stacks of statistics from foreign merchant groups.

Jewellike Mana-stones lay in silver trays, and beside them, bundles of sealed documents bearing the emblem of the Church of Trooth weighed heavily.

He inhaled slowly.

Unlike the bustling streets outside, this room held only stillness and gravity.

As Brendel's ruler—the city's beating heart—even the lightest decision could send shockwaves.

Hermann: So… we're facing trade disruption due to a shortage of beast byproducts?

Guild Leader: That's correct. Specifically, beast hides and bones are in high demand.

(glancing around nervously) Especially with mercenary bands in Arquevon, the capital, going all-out on beast hunts, there's massive demand for powerful weapons. It's… unfortunate for us.

Bang—

Hermann: (slams the table) Then why are the beasts scarce? In Ruscavel they've got surplus! Why not here?!

Guild Leader: Well… they have an abundance of Mana-stones. For us, securing those stones in this next negotiation is vital. Otherwise, we'll fall behind in the coming "Era of Beasts."

(seriously) And soon, even the Beltlad Federation might jump into beast harvesting. If that happens—

Hermann raises his left hand to cut him off.

Hermann: (grimacing) Enough. I get it…

He broods for a while.

The red velvet hem of his coat trails to the floor, his gaze fixed beyond the door.

Then, a voice from outside.

Guard: Lord Hermann, High Apostle Molech of the Church of Trooth has arrived.

At once, the atmosphere thickens. The door opens—and a massive figure in a cloak of black steps slowly inside.

A chalk-white mask hides his entire face.

His movements are slow, yet each step seems to weigh down the very floor.

The scent of incense wafts from his waist pouch, gradually filling the space.

High Apostle Molech Lucien of the Church of Trooth.

Those who know him do not speak his name. They whisper—the Inquisitor of Trooth. The Silent Judgment.

Hermann leaps to his feet and bows deeply.

Hermann: You honor us, Molech. It's… truly a privilege to have you here.

Guild Leader: Honored to meet you, Apostle Molech…

Their voices tremble, stripped of their usual fluency.

After a brief hesitation, Hermann gestures toward the high seat.

Hermann: Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable.

The guild leader bows and hurriedly exits the room.

Without a word, Molech gently sets down the "Hammer of Soul Judgment" he carries.

As if planting a tombstone.

Then, slowly, he takes his seat.

Chaaaang…

A soft bell chimes from the iron charm tied to the hammer's handle. A cold, heavy resonance blankets the room.

Molech: It's been a while… Duke Hermann de Regar.

His voice, muffled from within the mask, reverberates like a deep echo from afar.

Emotionless—yet laced with ruthless patience and calculating chill.

Hermann: (forcing a smile) Indeed. I should've visited you sooner, but… circumstances…

Molech silently stares at him. The mask's carved smile never changes, but Hermann knows.

Chaaaang…

Another faint chime.

Molech: …I am disappointed, Lord Hermann. The great voice of our god, Trooth, is not being shared with enough souls here in Brendel, is it?

Molech's gaze lifts toward the ceiling.

Molech: Weak humans overrun the world. This is not the will of our god.

To cull them… to shape them into new vessels of belief… that is your duty.

Hermann rubs his hands together.

Hermann: Of course, I understand. However…

A flicker of unease in his eyes.

Hermann: Lately… there's troubling movement from Arquevon, the capital of Caldenia.

It seems the king himself is observing our Church of Trooth's temple here in Brendel.

Molech: (tilting his head slowly) He watches God?

Hermann: (rushing) So… to respond appropriately, we'll need more funds.

Warning people of disaster is no longer enough to spread God's will.

He raises his head, palms still rubbing.

Hermann: Please… open a loan on Mana-stones. With those, we could make use of the dungeons, the blessings of Trooth, around Brendel—

Molech lifts his head.

The mask's smile somehow grows darker.

Molech: Are you… trading in divine power, Lord Hermann?

Sweat beads down Hermann's neck. His mouth moves, but no sound comes out.

Molech: Purification is not a transaction.

Faith demands the price of flesh, blood… and soul.

Chaaaang…

He flicks the hammer's handle with his fingertip.

Molech: But… I may turn a blind eye to your complacency. Soon… even the royal path shall break. If you wish to stand with us, your task is but one.

Hermann: …Name it. Anything.

Molech: Children.

Hermann's eyes widen in shock.

Molech: We need many… many children. The main church seeks to purify more Mana-stones. Soiled souls cannot become vessels of God.

Hermann turns pale instantly.

Hermann: Isn't that… too direct? The people's reaction—

Molech: (cutting him off) Who said they were people, Lord Hermann?

Chaaaang…

Molech: This is the Church's pasture. And humans are merely assets.

Beyond the mask's empty expression, Hermann feels a chill,

as if his own heart were being read.