After Kael and Draxion’s fight, the sparring matches continued for almost two more hours. One by one, students stepped into the arena—fighting, making mistakes, and trying to show everything they’d learned over the past month. Instructor Ardran watched each match with his usual stern focus, taking notes and assigning marks, yet not a single bout matched the storm of excitement Kael had stirred.

  Even by the end of the lesson, people were still talking about him. Whispers, retellings, guesses—the entire hall buzzed with his name.

  When the class finally ended, the students were in no hurry to leave.

  Many surrounded Kael, bombarding him with questions: how he trained, where he’d learned that technique, and what that strange stance had been.

  He listened with a faint, almost weary smile but offered no explanation.

  “Sorry. I have to go,” Kael said simply, and after a brief farewell, headed for the exit.

  The corridors of the Academy greeted him with their familiar hum, though after the clamor of sparring, they felt almost quiet. His footsteps echoed against the stone walls, and a gentle warmth grew in his chest. He smiled, feeling a light yet steady surge of motivation.

  “Maybe I lost to Draxion, but I beat my former self.”

  He recalled the moment he had held back his opponent’s strike—when body and mind had finally worked together in perfect sync.

  “That fight was amazing,” he thought, clenching his fist.

  “I just need to get better at controlling the leftover mana… I’m still too clumsy at it, and I keep forgetting that mana actually runs out.”

  The thought drew a soft chuckle from him. He kept walking, feeling this day had been a turning point—not in outcome, but in meaning. Now he was certain that if he trained even harder, he’d grow much stronger.

  Lost in thought, Kael didn’t head toward the academy's exit as he usually did after practical lessons.

  His steps carried him toward another wing—the one housing the parallel class. The same one where Lissandra and Roselle studied.

  “No one’s watching me inside the Academy, so this should be fine…” he thought, considering what he was about to do.

  Reaching the right door, he stopped. He paused for a few seconds, listening to the murmur of voices beyond the wall, then gently pushed the door open a crack to peek inside.

  The classroom buzzed with its usual energy—some students laughed, others argued, retelling the details of the morning’s sparring matches.

  Only one corner seemed cut off from the noise.

  At the last desk by the window, her eyes fixed on the table, sat Lissandra.

  Silent and still, as if trying to make herself invisible. Her long green hair fell over her shoulders, veiling her face—yet from the tension in her fingers gripping the edge of the desk, Kael could tell she was struggling not to let her emotions show.

  No one paid her any attention.

  Her classmates were caught up in their chatter—laughing, arguing, trading stories about victories and losses—while she sat apart, as if sealed off by an invisible wall.

  “She reminds me of who I used to be…” thought Kael, watching her through the crack of the door.

  Something familiar stirred in his chest—that same feeling he’d carried through his former life.

  “She must’ve embarrassed herself during the sparring matches. Gods, how well I understand her…”

  At that moment, as if sensing a gaze upon her, Lissandra’s shoulders twitched slightly. She turned her head slowly, uncertain, a trace of apprehension flickering in her eyes—and froze.

  Kael stood at the doorway.

  He met her eyes calmly, without a hint of mockery. He simply nodded and raised a hand in a small gesture, as if to say without words, “Get up. Come with me.”

  Lissandra blinked, not immediately comprehending what was happening. Her thoughts tangled, and her heart thudded hard in her chest.

  “That’s… Kael? He’s calling me? But why?” she thought in confusion, clenching her fingers into fists.

  Her breathing faltered, and a familiar tide of doubt rose inside.

  “I know last time he just wanted to help… to comfort me. But what if he really can awaken my mana? After all, he awakened his own.”

  Lissandra bit her lip nervously. She didn’t believe in miracles—or rather, she never allowed herself to. Nothing in her life had ever given her a reason to believe in miracles.

  For a moment, she withdrew into herself. Doubt, fear, and a fragile flicker of hope swirled through her mind, drowning out the world around her. She didn’t move, staring down at her desk while her heart pounded furiously.

  After a few seconds, she finally noticed Kael still waiting—motioning to her again, his brow starting to furrow. The realization jolted her, and she cried out inwardly:

  “What am I doing?! I have to go to him right now, or he’ll think I’m ignoring him! What if he gets offended?!”

  She quietly rose, careful not to make a sound.

  Her face stayed calm—even serene—but her fingers nervously twisted at her sleeves. Step by step, she moved toward the door—outwardly composed, yet inside she felt as if she were walking a tightrope.

  No one noticed her slip out; the classroom buzzed on with laughter and chatter. Only a pair of crimson eyes caught the movement.

  Roselle glanced up from her book, a faint frown crossing her face.

  “Lissandra… leaving during break? Is someone bothering her again?” she thought, slowly closing the cover.

  Two girls sat beside her, deep in cheerful discussion. Roselle occasionally chimed in, but now she fell silent.

  After a brief pause, she frowned, stood up, and said, “I’ll be right back.”

  “Let’s go together!” one of her friends offered.

  But Roselle only smiled faintly and shook her head.

  “No, I won’t be long. You two stay here.”

  Her friends nodded and quickly went back to their chatter, giving her words no more thought. Laughter, the rustle of paper, and animated chatter filled the room once more—as if nothing had happened.

  Roselle walked toward the exit. Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation tugging at the corners of her lips.

  “I don’t like her,” she thought, “but I hate even more when someone’s being picked on…”

  Reaching the threshold, she paused, listening to the low hum of voices behind her. But her thoughts drifted to a scene she couldn’t forget: Kael calmly washing dirt from Lissandra’s face—his steady voice, the gentle look in his eyes, the way he spoke to her—without contempt, but with quiet warmth.

  Roselle frowned, feeling something strange and contradictory swelling in her chest. Anger, stubbornness, resentment—and beneath it all, something softer, undefined, almost like pity.

  She didn’t want to admit it. But she couldn’t quite push it away.

  Yes, Lissandra was irritating—always hovering around Kael. But even so, Roselle didn’t believe the girl deserved to be anyone’s laughingstock.

  Roselle lifted her chin slightly, a trace of pride slipping into her voice.

  “If Kael helped her,” she murmured, “then I’ll help too.”

  She reached for the door, gripping the handle with determination. But the moment she opened it and peeked into the corridor—all that resolve shattered.

  Roselle froze.

  Out in the hallway, at the far end, familiar silhouettes appeared. Kael and Lissandra were walking side by side, turning the corner.

  Roselle’s face drained of color. Her lips trembled, and her fingers clenched around the door handle so tightly her knuckles turned white.

  “That little witch…” she hissed, feeling jealousy flare inside her—sharp and hot as molten lava.

  The door slammed shut with a sharp, angry crack. The noise tore through the hum of the classroom. A few students flinched, turning toward the sound, but Roselle was already gone. They hadn’t even realized what had just happened.

  “I promised Kael I’d stay away from him…” Roselle muttered, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion. “But I won’t let Lissandra get ahead of me!”

  She glanced up and down the corridor, making sure no one was watching.

  Once she was sure the hallway was empty, she moved forward—quick, silent steps that barely touched the floor, her heels whispering against the stone. She moved with the grace of a shadow.

  Jealousy, once hidden behind pride, now boiled inside her, driving her heartbeat faster and faster.

  “What if Kael… falls in love with her?” The thought flashed through her mind, sending a shiver down her spine. “What if they get married right away?!” Horror and fury fused into one searing emotion.

  She swallowed hard, quickening her pace.

  “We all turn sixteen this year… that means they could marry legally!”

  Roselle’s cheeks flushed, her hands curling into fists—her eyes now held no confusion, only panic and anger.

  “I even convinced Father to give me time!” she cried inwardly. “I told him I’d get stronger—that no one would dare hand me off to another family! But… if Kael builds his own household first… if he chooses her… it’s not fair!”

  Desperation surged through her again. She quickened her pace, almost running now, not thinking where this storm of emotion might lead—only that she couldn’t let them get too far ahead.

  ? ? ?

  At that moment, Kael and Lissandra had no idea they were being watched.

  They walked down a long corridor where light from the high windows fell in soft bands across the floor. The air was faintly scented with ink and parchment.

  Lissandra, walking a step behind, kept glancing at Kael—uncertain, as if afraid to speak at all. Finally, mustering her courage, she asked quietly, “You… you really think you can help me?”

  Kael slowed his pace and turned. His gaze was calm and warm—the kind of look an adult gives a child they can’t help but pity.

  “I promised you, didn’t I?” he said simply. “As you can see, I finally made it to Bronze Mage.”

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  Lissandra lowered her eyes and nodded, but her shoulders remained tense.

  “Just… don’t worry if nothing happens,” she added, trying to smile though her voice trembled. “I’m… talentless. Even your methods might not work on me.”

  The words struck Kael harder than he expected.

  He held his breath, something sharp twisting deep inside him.

  “Years of humiliation and restraint have left their mark…” he thought with a heavy sigh, watching her downcast eyes and clenched hands.

  For a moment, he saw his old self—the boy who had once believed he was worthless.

  Kael exhaled softly, then, as if wanting to ease her tension, reached out and gently patted her head.

  The gesture came naturally—calm, almost fatherly.

  “Come on,” he said with a faint smile. “We’re almost there.”

  Lissandra nodded, not daring to answer. They turned the corner and stepped into the academy's inner courtyard—the place where they’d first met.

  The soft rustle of leaves, the shimmer of light upon the pond—everything here breathed of peace. Kael led her down a narrow stone path toward the garden’s heart, where ancient trees wove their branches together, shielding them from prying eyes.

  Stopping by the water, he turned to face her.

  Lissandra stood a few steps behind, tense, worry shadowing her face.

  “What should I do?” she asked quietly, fingers laced together.

  Kael didn’t answer right away.

  He slowly raised his hand, and above his palm a rolled sheet of paper shimmered into view—but it was no ordinary parchment. It was thick, slightly rough, its surface shimmering faintly with gold, as if soaked in some alchemical oil.

  “That’s… a magic parchment?” Lissandra gasped, eyes widening.

  Kael nodded, a small smile touching his lips.

  “Not just any magic parchment. It carries a special circle—one meant to link with the source of a person’s soul. The ink is dormant for now—it awakens only when infused with energy.”

  At his words, Lissandra instinctively stepped back, pressing her hands to her chest.

  “B-but…” she whispered, then stumbled over her words, her voice rising with panic, “Those sheets are really expensive! If you’re using one to help me, I… I can’t pay you back. Please, don’t waste it on me…”

  Her expression said it all—she wanted to accept so badly, yet years of humiliation had taught her otherwise. She simply couldn’t believe she was worthy of someone’s kindness.

  Kael lifted a brow, his steady gaze carrying a hint of reproach.

  “First of all, I’m not asking for payment,” he said evenly. “And second—you’re a descendant of one of the Three Families. How could something like this possibly be expensive for you?”

  Lissandra froze, embarrassment flickering through every movement. Moisture glistened on her lashes, and her lips quivered.

  “To my family… I’m garbage,” she said almost in a whisper. “They don’t give me much allowance.”

  Her words hung in the air—fragile, like the faint crack of glass in the still garden air.

  Kael tensed almost imperceptibly, his fingers trembling as they crumpled one corner of the parchment. He averted his gaze, his voice quiet and awkward, “Sorry. That was a poor joke. I didn’t mean to offend you…”

  Lissandra shook her head, wiping the corners of her eyes.

  “It’s all right,” she replied softly, trying to smile. “I understand why you thought that. The other children from the Three Families never need anything.”

  Kael said nothing, and for a moment a fragile silence hung between them.

  But he didn’t let that heavy pause take root.

  He smiled faintly, his tone turning gentle.

  “Stand still and lift your head.”

  Lissandra obeyed, straightening, her fingers still clenched, her breath uneven. When she lifted her gaze, Kael stepped closer—until only a breath of space separated them.

  Before she could ask anything, he pressed the parchment gently to her forehead.

  “It won’t hurt,” he said calmly. “Just wait.”

  A thin thread of mana flowed from his fingers. The parchment flared with golden script, a soft light blooming in the air between them. The lines shimmered and joined together, forming an intricate circle filled with countless runes and patterns.

  The ink began to glow, then stirred—alive—drawing toward his fingers in a slow, viscous stream. It coalesced into a pulsing, glimmering blot that shifted in color. Within moments, a green hue began to surface from within, pushing back the golden light.

  Kael frowned, watching the change.

  “Interesting…” he murmured under his breath, eyes fixed on the parchment.

  The glow gradually dimmed, the lines trembled, then settled into shape. When the light finally faded completely, Kael withdrew his hand and lowered the parchment.

  He unrolled it, studying the image that had surfaced on its surface.

  Dense green ink shaped itself into an elegant circle of swirling clouds. At its center was a creature with a long, serpentine body covered in patterned scales, its broad, webbed wings slicing through the ring of clouds.

  “Hmm… I see,” he murmured, studying the image. “Now it makes sense why none of the Canons of Magic in Lasthold suited you.”

  Lissandra blinked at him in confusion, still not understanding what he had done. Taking a hesitant step closer, she whispered, “What… what is it?”

  Kael turned the parchment around for her to see.

  “Here. Look. This is your Soul Form—the Venomous Basilisk.”

  Lissandra leaned closer, her gaze unsteady. On the parchment, the winged serpent seemed to stir—the ink shimmered in shades of green, giving the illusion of life.

  “What… does it mean?” she asked faintly.

  Kael answered evenly, without a trace of mockery.

  “It means your magic is attuned to poison. A very useful affinity—if you ever decide to become an assassin… or an alchemist.”

  Lissandra flinched, her shoulders tightening as if his words carried a dangerous chill. She looked away, unsure how to respond, her lips parting in confusion.

  Kael lowered his gaze to the parchment and let out a quiet breath.

  “There are no suitable Canons in Lasthold for mages with this kind of soul…” he thought, tracing a finger along the parchment’s edge, a flicker of doubt passing through his mind. “But since I promised, I have to help her to the end.”

  With that thought, he closed his eyes and sank into the vast halls of his boundless memory.

  Lissandra noticed him lower his lids and, not daring to break the silence, held her breath.

  She felt something shift around him—his aura had changed. For a heartbeat, a gentle warmth spread through her chest, and Kael seemed less a stranger and more an older brother. Not the kind she had—the ones who called her worthless—but the kind she had always wished for.

  “Who is he, really?” she thought, unconsciously parting her lips.

  Kael had already retreated deep into himself. His mind drifted through endless layers of memory—through the shapes and sigils of the Canons of Magic he had once studied in the Divine Library.

  Thousands of pages, hundreds of structures, formulas, and descriptions of schools and disciplines—all flashed before his inner sight.

  “So… Venomous Basilisk. A being of dual essence—destruction and purification, poison and antidote… That means balance is the key…”

  His thoughts flowed steady, precise, and cold—like a river beneath ice.

  “I need something suitable for Lasthold’s level, but not too powerful…” he thought.

  “No matter how much I want to help, I can’t risk sharing techniques that shouldn’t exist in the Human Dimension at all. It has to be something fundamental, yet with strong potential for growth. A Canon that could easily guide her to the rank of Spirit Mage…”

  He frowned, sifting through mental pages—formulas, diagrams, the intricate geometry of magical seals.

  “If someone like her were to someday join the Council of Elders—that wouldn’t be a bad thing. Someone who knows humiliation firsthand would make sure others never have to endure the same fate…”

  His fingers twitched faintly, as if his skin could still sense the energy pulsing within the parchment.

  ? ? ?

  At that very moment, behind the thick trunk of an old tree, almost merging with its shadow, Roselle hid in silence.

  Her crimson eyes burned in the half-light of the garden like twin embers. She didn’t take her gaze off Kael and Lissandra, watching their every movement.

  When Kael pressed the parchment to Lissandra’s forehead, Roselle nearly gave herself away. Her fingers dug into the bark as her breath caught in her throat.

  But when the parchment began to glow, her anger faltered, giving way to confusion. She realized she didn’t fully understand what was happening—and that it would be foolish to jump to conclusions.

  Recalling everything she’d seen, and seeing Kael now stand frozen, she murmured inwardly, “He said Lissandra could become an assassin or an alchemist… Could it be that Kael truly found a way to awaken mana in others?”

  Roselle clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. Tears glimmered faintly in her eyes.

  “We’ve known each other for so long…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Wouldn’t he want to know what my soul looks like?”

  The words caught in her throat, her shoulders trembling.

  But the thought never fully formed—because suddenly Kael opened his eyes.

  A sharp, deliberate gaze—like that of someone returning from a distant place—cut through the space between him and Lissandra.

  Roselle’s whole body went rigid.

  At that moment, Kael leaned close to Lissandra’s ear. Roselle drew in a sharp breath, clutching the bark so hard it creaked beneath her nails—a splinter broke free and stuck to her palm.

  Lissandra froze. For a heartbeat, her breath stopped—her chest motionless, lashes trembling.

  She didn’t understand what was happening, but Kael’s nearness—his calm assurance and that quiet, whispering voice—seemed to dissolve the world around them.

  “I’m going to teach you a mantra,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear. His voice was calm, yet carried an inner strength that demanded complete attention.

  “Remember it word for word. I can’t risk writing it down.”

  He paused briefly, as if to make sure she was ready. Then added:

  “Afterward, I’ll prepare a note for you—with instructions. It’ll explain how to channel mana through your body and what emotions you must evoke within yourself. Ideally, memorize it… then burn it right away.”

  Lissandra stood rigid but nodded nonetheless. The seriousness in Kael’s tone filled her with fragile resolve.

  “If this can help me become a mage…” she whispered, her voice trembling between fear and hope, “then I’ll carve these words into my memory and carry them to my grave.”

  Kael nodded. His face turned solemn—every trace of warmth gone. Then he began to recite the mantra, each word slow and deliberate, his voice clear and unyielding, as if engraving it directly into her mind:

  “Poison is neither foe nor ally—it is measure.”

  “It kills excess and heals the worthy.”

  “He who fears poison, fears life itself.”

  “For poison is neither evil nor good, but truth, distilled.”

  “The serpent does not hurry, nor does it judge.”

  “Its stillness is mercy; its bite, deliverance.”

  “In every drop of venom lives a choice—to destroy the flesh or cleanse the soul.”

  “He who becomes the serpent understands: life and death are a single breath, divided by intent.”

  As the final words faded, a faint pulse stirred in Lissandra’s chest. Her heartbeat faltered—uneven, as if echoing each phrase and carving it into her soul.

  The mantra sounded strange, yet alluring—awakening something that had long slept deep within her soul.

  A faint warmth spread beneath her skin, and her usually dull eyes began to clear. Something stirred deep within her heart as she silently repeated the words of the mantra. Her breath quivered on her lips, and—unable to find any other words—she whispered:

  “Kael… I—”

  He didn’t let her finish. He simply raised a hand, then calmly drew a small notebook and a piece of charcoal from his spatial ring.

  Kael’s voice remained steady, carrying a quiet note of command.

  “There’s no need to talk about it. Just do what you must—and forget this day ever happened.”

  He began to write quickly. The soft rasp of charcoal on paper sliced through the silence between them.

  Lissandra stood motionless, her fingers trembling slightly. Tears glimmered in her eyes, but she didn’t look away. Clasping her hands together, she exhaled:

  “I’ll never be able… to thank you enough…”

  Kael looked up from the page and smiled suddenly—a subtle, knowing curve to his lips.

  “You will,” he said evenly. “Want me to tell you how?”

  Lissandra lifted her head, her nose wrinkling with a restrained sob, but her voice rang clear, without hesitation:

  “How? I’ll do whatever you ask!”

  Behind the tree where Roselle hid, a twig cracked. She inhaled sharply, almost gasping aloud. Her heart plunged, and her head spun as jealousy crashed through her like a wave.

  Kael laughed softly—warmly, with a hint of teasing.

  “When you become a Jade Mage,” he said, meeting her gaze, “make sure no child in Lasthold is ever bullied again.”

  Lissandra froze. She had expected anything—a favor, a promise, a debt—but not that.

  Her eyes widened; her lips trembled.

  “A Jade Mage?… I… I could never…”

  Kael cut her off with a light gesture and that same sly smile.

  “No excuses. You owe me now—so you’ll fulfill my request, whatever it takes.”

  He finished writing, tore the page from the notebook, and handed it to her.

  “Start training,” he said simply. “When you’ve memorized everything—burn it.”

  Lissandra took the page carefully, then a moment later dropped to her knees, bowing her head to the ground. Her voice trembled, yet it rang with strength and sincerity:

  “Thank you, Kael!”

  Before she could say anything more, Kael crouched down abruptly, pulling her up by the shoulders.

  “What are you doing, you idiot?!” he hissed, glancing around. “People will think I’m making you grovel!”

  He scanned the garden quickly, making sure no one had seen them. His gaze darted between trees, shrubs, and pathways. He was just about to sigh in relief—when his expression froze.

  From behind a nearby tree, a pair of familiar crimson eyes stared straight at him.

  “Oh, for hell’s sake…” he muttered.

  Roselle jolted like a startled cat, eyes wide, face burning crimson.

  “Oh! Kael?! It’s you?!” she blurted with a nervous laugh. “I… I was just… walking by! Yes! Just came out for some fresh air!”

  Kael closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. A dull throb filled his head, as if someone were hammering from the inside.

  “Of course… exactly what I needed,” he muttered under his breath.

  Lissandra, still not fully understanding what was happening, sprang to her feet as well. Her eyes widened, her voice breaking with panic:

  “Roselle?! Ah… We weren’t doing anything weird, I swear!”

  Roselle opened her mouth, but no words came. Her face burned like fire, yet her eyes brimmed with hurt. She seemed completely lost—unsure of what to do, or even how to react.

  Kael dragged a tired hand down his face, looking between the two girls, and sighed softly—almost in resignation. He knew Roselle wasn’t his enemy—but this situation still needed to be brought under control.