CHAPTER 4
'Okay, let's do this!' Sorayael said to herself, encouraging herself.
At the back of the Aethenroth estate, hidden behind the garden maze and beneath the shade of old, towering trees, Sorayael was seated on the grass with a circle of books scattered around her.
Some were open to diagrams of mana flow, others filled with dense text about physical conditioning.
In her hands was a slightly worn book titled "The Awakening Within: A Beginner's Guide to Manifesting Mana."
Her eyes narrowed in focus as she read a particular passage:
Mana is the soul's breath. It lies dormant in all living beings, sleeping in silence until stirred by will and discipline.
Begin by listening, not with your ears, but your being.
Close your eyes, sit still, and let the world's hum blend into your breath.
Only when your mind is quiet can the gate within you tremble open.
She closed the book and placed it on her lap.
Slowly, she sat cross-legged and shut her eyes, her fingers resting gently on her knees.
The wind rustled softly through the leaves, and the gentle chirping of birds faded into the background as she focused on the feeling of the earth beneath her and the rhythm of her own breathing.
She inhaled deeply, imagining the air sinking not into her lungs, but deeper into her very soul.
'I can do this... I have to,' she thought.
As she concentrated, small tingles crawled up her fingertips, like a thread of warmth trying to weave through her.
But then-
She opened one eye to see the young master standing a few feet away, arms crossed, a curious yet mocking expression on his face.
He scoffed. "Training your what? Mana? Even if you spent the whole day like that, you wouldn't get anywhere. Face it, some people are just born weak."
Her brow twitched.
'??'
Without opening her eyes, she reached to her side, grabbed the nearest book, and tossed it with surprising accuracy. It hit him squarely on the chest.
The young master caught the book before it fell to the ground, glared at her, but said nothing. For some reason, he didn't leave right away.
She closed her eyes once more, brushing off the interruption, and returned to stillness. Her breathing slowed, steady and deep, as she searched again for that subtle thread of warmth. The wind brushed against her cheeks, and she tried to match her rhythm to the quiet pulse of nature itself.
The young master let out a loud sigh, annoyed but strangely intrigued. He crouched down and picked up one of the books strewn beside her. Flipping through the pages lazily, he furrowed his brows.
Still, curiosity got the better of him. He flipped through the pages until he landed on a section about beginner drills. With a huff, he extended his hand and summoned a wooden sword from his inventory. The plain blade was smooth and balanced, perfect for practice.
He gripped it with both hands, testing the weight, and then began to mimic the stances and movements outlined in the guide. It's awkward at first, but slowly adjusting with each repetition.
And so, the two of them trained in silence.
Sorayael, still as a stone, reaches inward to awaken her dormant mana.
The young master, wooden sword in hand, moving through careful strikes and focused footwork.
For once, neither teased nor taunted. They simply trained-apart yet together not minding the wind, the time, or the world around them.
When Sorayael opened her eyes, she heard something beside her, a sound of a sword swinging. She looked beside her and found the young master training so hard, his sweat were all over his body.
Sorayael paused her training and turned to her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Well, nothing that bad... except for one thing."
She pointed her thumb toward the young master without even looking. "That one. His presence alone ruins the day."
He stopped mid-swing, slung his shirt over his shoulder, and strode toward them with an unbothered smirk.
Sorayael raised a brow, grinned, and flipped her hair dramatically. "And I'm far too elegant to be bothered by delusions, young master."
??_?? - young master
(? ?≧?Д?≦?) - Jezha (maid)
?(?￣?︶?￣?)? - Sorayael
The two continued their bickering, tossing words back and forth like pebbles in a pond, neither willing to lose the verbal sparring.
But their squabble was cut short by a thunderous bang that echoed through the estate, shaking the ground beneath their feet.
*BOOM!*
Her younger brother woke up, groggy. "Ate?"
Relief surged through her chest like a crashing wave. "You're okay..." she whispered, rushing to him and pulling him into a tight hug.
Still half-asleep and confused by the noise outside, Krios hugged her back. "Whatch iz going on?"
Before she could answer, Jezha burst into the room, pale and frantic. "My lady!"
She quickly shut the door behind her, bolting it and drawing the curtains. "We have to stay here for now. It's not safe."
Sorayael met Jezha's gaze and nodded, gripping her brother's hand tighter. For now, they would wait. But her heart told her that whatever had just begun outside was far from over.
Jezha's eyes shimmered faintly as she raised her hand, starlight tracing a symbol in the air. Threads of silver mana spiraled outward, weaving into a translucent screen that hovered like mist, revealing the scene outside. It was like a television.
The constellation that answered her was called Myrielle – an ancient star known only in forgotten books, whispered to grant the power to perceive through veil and distance. It was a constellation of quiet watchers, its light rarely seen but deeply knowing.
The courtyard flickered into view. The beast towered over shattered stone, its roar shaking the earth. Guards scrambled to defend, and at the front was the young master, sword in hand, reckless and determined.
Sorayael gripped her brother tighter, unable to tear her gaze away from the unfolding chaos.
Everyone was guarded. The beast, an Ur'zan, towered among the chaos, its bark-like hide gleaming with veins of golden sap and tendrils writhing from its back like hungry roots. It groaned, low and thunderous, as it began its assault on the soldiers of Aethenroth, crushing anything in its path.
The battle had begun.
Meanwhile, the young master stayed back, his eyes fixed not on its size, but on the thinnest spot beneath its chest-its weak point. He was waiting. Watching. Biding the right moment to strike.
'Tsk, how the hell do I stab that?' the young master gritted his teeth, eyes fixed on the monstrous beast towering over the battlefield.
Clashes of steel and roaring commands filled the air.
Following his orders, the soldiers lunged at the beast's legs, aiming to slow its movements.
But just as the young master prepared to strike, the creature's massive hand swatted him away like a fly.
His body crashed against a jagged boulder with a sickening thud, knocking the wind out of him.
His heart pounded.
'Is this it...? Is this how I die?' he thought bitterly, vision blurring. The beast stood before him, its maw stretching open, ready to devour him whole.
But then-
That voice... sharp, urgent, and full of life.
He blinked, and through the chaos, he saw Sorayael sprinting toward him, her eyes wide with fear and fury. For a brief moment, he smirked through the pain.
'At least I got to see that brat's worried face...' he thought faintly. 'Father...'
The beast lunged.
Without thinking, without understanding, her lips moved. A word surged from within her, it was not taught, not learned, but it was remembered from something ancient that pulsed in her blood.
The world stopped spinning.
The ground beneath them cracked. From the earth, from the air, from the stars themselves, luminous chains exploded outward, covered in glowing runes of a forgotten tongue.
They coiled around the beast, binding its limbs mid-strike.
It roared in fury, thrashing violently, but the chains only tightened, dragging it down.
Silence fell.
All eyes turned to Sorayael that was still trembling, arms outstretched, with her breath shallow.
Even the young master looked at her with disbelief, his voice caught in his throat.
'Sorayael... what are you...?'
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