Grand Arcanum Academy – Afternoon
The sun hung high in the sky, casting golden light over the academy grounds. Most students were either in the training fields or gathering in study halls, refining their combat techniques or practicing their mana control. The air was filled with distant sounds of clashing weapons, the hum of spellcraft, and the occasional heated argument between rivals.
But Alistair Vaelthorne ignored all of it.
Instead of heading to the training grounds like most students, he made his way toward his dormitory.
He had no time to waste on sparring matches or meaningless competitions. He had a far greater challenge ahead—mastering Bloodshadow Manifestation.
And for that, he needed understanding, not brute force.
His pace was steady as he walked through the quiet halls of the Tower Dormitory. Compared to the more active areas of the academy, the dorms were peaceful in the afternoons. Most students only returned here late at night after training, leaving the corridors nearly empty.
Alistair reached his room, unlocking the door with a flick of his wrist.
The moment he stepped inside—
A soft pulse of warmth spread across his collarbone, where his Spirit Mark resided.
Then—
A golden light flickered in the air before him.
And suddenly—
She appeared.
****
Sera
The small silver-haired girl materialized in front of him, standing unsteadily on tiny feet. Her golden eyes, wide and bright, blinked up at him with sleepy curiosity.
Alistair barely reacted. He had expected this.
Ever since her awakening, his spirit—Sera—had started manifesting on her own, completely ignoring the fact that she was supposed to rest inside the Spirit Mark unless summoned.
She wobbled slightly, her balance still unsteady.
Then, without warning—
She took a slow, awkward step forward.
Then another.
Then—
Plop.
She fell onto her hands and knees.
Silence.
Then—she looked up at him.
"…Owie," she mumbled.
Alistair stared at her.
Then let out a quiet sigh.
"You keep doing this to yourself," he muttered, walking past her toward his desk.
She ignored him.
Instead, she slowly pushed herself back up with tiny, determined hands.
She wobbled.
Then—she took another step.
This time, she didn't fall.
Instead, she giggled softly—clearly pleased with herself—before immediately setting off to explore the dormitory.
****
The dorm room wasn't large, but for a three-year-old spirit-child, it was a vast new world.
She wandered toward the bookshelf first, tiny hands brushing against the spines of ancient tomes, off lowest selfs. Her golden eyes shimmered as if she could somehow sense the knowledge within them—even if she couldn't read a single word.
Then, she moved toward the kitchenette, reaching out toward the countertop—only to realize it was too high for her tiny frame.
She pouted.
Then, she turned and spotted the bed.
She waddled over to it and—after a moment of staring—grabbed the sheets and tried to climb up.
She failed.
She tried again.
And failed.
Then—she turned back toward Alistair, who was now sitting at his desk, flipping through the pages of the book Professor Selvaris had given him.
She blinked.
Then—
"Up," she demanded.
Alistair didn't even look up from his book.
"You can do it yourself," he said flatly.
Silence.
Then—
"Up," she repeated, a little more insistent.
Alistair sighed and finally glanced at her.
Her golden eyes were locked onto his with an intensity far beyond her age.
Small.
Fragile.
Yet completely unshaken.
Alistair sighed again.
He didn't know why he bothered resisting.
Without another word, he reached down and effortlessly lifted her, placing her on the bed.
The moment she settled onto the soft blankets, she let out a tiny, victorious hum and immediately curled up, content.
Alistair shook his head before turning back to his book.
"You're troublesome," he muttered.
From the bed, she simply blinked at him before reaching for the pillow and hugging it.
****
Finally able to focus, Alistair flipped through the first few pages of the tome Selvaris had given him.
The text was written in flowing Abyssal Script, a language that felt more like a whisper than ink on paper.
Unlike normal spellbooks, which relied on structured formulas and equations, this book felt alive—as if the very letters were shifting subtly whenever he glanced away.
The first chapter detailed Abyssal Flow—the way Abyssal Energy interacted with mana and physical matter.
"Unlike elemental magic, Abyssal Energy does not exist as a force of nature—it exists as a contradiction."
"It is both tangible and intangible. Both consuming and formless."
"It cannot be wielded in the same way as fire, wind, or earth. Instead, it must be bound, tamed, and understood as an extension of one's own existence."
Alistair's eyes narrowed.
This was the problem.
He had been treating Abyssal Energy like any other magic—like something external.
But it wasn't.
It was alive.
It was part of him.
He let out a slow breath and closed his eyes.
He could feel it—the faint pulse of Abyssal Power coursing beneath his skin.
It wasn't raw mana.
It wasn't a tangible element.
It was something else.
Something deeper.
Something that did not obey the natural laws of magic.
If he wanted to master Bloodshadow Manifestation, he needed to understand this first.
He exhaled, turning the page.
And so, as the afternoon sun filtered through the window, Alistair read.
****
The dorm remained silent.
Sera had curled up on the bed sleeping, her tiny body rising and falling with each soft breath.
Alistair, seated at his desk, continued reading, his mind absorbing every word, every concept.
Hours passed.
The sounds of the academy—sparring students, echoing footsteps, distant voices—faded into the background.
And for the first time in a long time—
He was simply learning.
Step by step.
Word by word.
The path forward was finally becoming clear.
(To Be Continued…)
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