Ronan's voice was low, and the weight of his words hung in the air. Frieren, affected by the sudden shift in his mood, opened her mouth, then hesitated. Her gaze fell to the floor for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. She raised her hand as if to say something, but then lowered it, sighing softly.
"Confidence is good," she began, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of concern. "But before you start, magic is based on imagination." She looked at him directly, as though weighing the depth of her advice. "Confidence is crucial. If you lose faith, if you can't imagine... then even the simplest spell, no matter how hard you try, won't work."
Ronan remained silent, the gravity of her words sinking in. Frieren's gaze softened as she turned towards the door. She walked barefoot across the wooden floor, each step light and graceful, almost ethereal. The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows on her face, giving her an air of mystery, as if she was more than just an elf from a village—perhaps someone touched by something ancient, something that Ronan couldn't quite understand.
She paused with her hand on the wooden handle of the door, glancing over her shoulder. "That's it. Look around. I have things to do. Food's in the first room on the left…" Her voice trailed off, almost like a whisper. "Don't cause too much trouble." With that, she opened the door just enough to slip through, and before Ronan could respond, Bang—the door closed behind her.
Ronan sat back down, his mind still swirling with the weight of her words. Magic based on imagination, confidence—those things weren't so unfamiliar. They had a way of interweaving with one another. Yet, he couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Frieren's demeanor as she spoke. She wasn't just a teacher of magic; there was something deeper about her, something not entirely visible.
With a shake of his head, he shifted his attention to the books scattered before him. The strange words from earlier still echoed in his mind, but his curiosity won out. He flipped open one of the books, half-expecting dense, cryptic text that would be beyond his understanding.
But to his surprise, the text wasn't incomprehensible.
"I can read this," he murmured, examining the cover and the paper—new and crisp. The quality of the materials suggested this wasn't some ancient artifact from a bygone era. He smiled slightly, noting that the elves weren't completely stuck in the past. The text seemed to have been translated for practical use. Without such translation, learning magic would have been far more difficult, almost impossible.
He leaned back in his chair, nodding to himself in satisfaction. His talent was indeed maxed out, but even that wasn't what surprised him. As he skimmed through the pages, he realized something else. Every time his eyes flicked over a line of text, the knowledge instantly imprinted itself into his mind. It was as if he had an uncanny ability to absorb everything with just a glance—an ability far beyond ordinary comprehension. He felt the knowledge settle inside him, a deep sense of understanding that made him smile.
His mind was absorbing magic as effortlessly as a sponge absorbing water. With each page he turned, the feeling grew stronger. His mana, too, surged steadily, building like a tide within him. He felt the energy pulse through his veins, a power he had only tasted before but now fully understood.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he had lost track of it entirely. The magic books, the theory, and the arcane formulas seemed to blur together. All that mattered was the steady increase in his power, the growing sense of control he had over something that had once been foreign to him. His connection to magic deepened, like a long-lost part of himself being reawakened.
But then...
Creak~
The door to the room opened slowly, and Frieren stepped in. Her eyes widened in shock as she took in the sight before her. Ronan was sitting at the table, but the air around him crackled with a raw, untamed energy. Mana flowed off him in visible waves, almost overwhelming the room. The very space seemed to hum, vibrating with power.
"Hey!" Frieren exclaimed, her voice sharp with surprise. "What are you doing?!" Her eyes darted around the room, scanning for anything that might be affected by Ronan's energy. "Don't do that in here! Can't you control your mana?" Her words were a mix of concern and disbelief.
Ronan looked up at her, his expression calm, almost nonchalant, as if the surge of mana was nothing more than a casual overflow. "Control, huh?" he mused. "I'm still getting used to it. It's more natural than I expected."
Frieren's eyes narrowed. "It's not supposed to be that natural." She stepped forward cautiously, wary of the mana pulsing around him. "If you don't learn to control it, you could end up hurting something. Or worse, someone."
Ronan raised an eyebrow, mildly intrigued by her concern. "Worse? Well, I'm not planning on making a mess of things. It's just a bit of energy."
"You don't get it." Frieren's voice softened, though there was an edge of frustration in it. "Mana is unpredictable. Especially when it's overpowered like this. You need to learn how to direct it, control it. If you don't, it could end up controlling you."
Ronan paused, considering her words. His smile faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful look. He had been so absorbed in his newfound abilities that he hadn't considered the consequences of letting his mana run wild.
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You can read advance chapters in my: p@treon.com/Veora
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