54 - Cheating
Darkness still lingered in the corners of Mariana’s mind—but unlike before, it no longer felt suffocating.
It pulsed. Soft. Rhythmic. Alive.
Days passed. Or perhaps weeks. Time inside the Magic Tower had a strange way of losing meaning.
There were no windows in the chambers Mariana stayed in. No sunrise. No sunset. Only the steady hum of mana that filled the air like an unseen ocean. At first, it had been overwhelming. Now—
“… I can feel it.” Mariana sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, her eyes closed. Her breathing steady.
Around her, threads of mana drifted like invisible currents. And for the first time, she wasn’t just sensing them. She was… understanding them. Not fully. But enough.
“… good.” The silver-haired Archmage stood a few steps away, arms crossed. Her violet eyes watched closely. “Again.”
Mariana exhaled softly. Then, she reached out—not physically, but with something deeper. Something instinctual. The mana responded. It gathered. Condensed. Formed.
A small flame flickered into existence above her palm. It wasn’t cast through an incantation. Nor drawn from a memorized spell circle. It was created.
“… successful,” the old Archmage murmured from behind, his staff tapping once against the ground.
Mariana opened her eyes slowly, staring at the flame hovering above her hand. “… I didn’t even say anything this time.”
Kael, lounging lazily against a pillar, grinned. “That’s because you’re cheating.”
“… I am not cheating.”
“You are,” he insisted. “You’re skipping the entire learning process and jumping straight to results.”
Mariana frowned slightly. “… isn’t that the point?”
“… not usually.”
The tattooed Archmage stepped forward, his gaze sharp. “Most mages spend years learning how to form even the simplest spell without failure.”
Mariana blinked. “… oh.”
Kael snorted. “You did it in, what? A few hours?”
“A day.” Mariana corrected.
“… same difference.”
It didn’t stop there. Every day, they gave her more. More tomes. More spells. More theories. Ancient books filled with knowledge that most mages would never even be allowed to touch.
Mariana read them all. Not perfectly. Not instantly. But faster than anyone thought possible. And every night, she practiced.
“… a barrier spell.” The silver-haired Archmage placed a heavy tome in front of her. “Defensive class. Intermediate level.”
Mariana flipped through the pages, scanning the runes. The formation. The structure. The mana flow. “Okay.”
Kael raised a brow. “You’re not even going to complain anymore?”
Mariana didn’t look up. “Complaining won’t help me go home faster.”
That shut him up—for about three seconds. “… fair point.”
She stood. Raised her hand. And the mana responded.
It gathered around her like a storm being pulled into form. The air vibrated slightly as the density increased. Then, a translucent barrier formed around her. Perfect. Stable. Flawless. Silence.
The old Archmage exhaled slowly. “… again.”
Mariana lowered the barrier, then raised it again. Just as stable. Just as precise.
The tattooed Archmage frowned. “… no fluctuation.”
The silver-haired Archmage narrowed her eyes. “… no inefficiency.”
Kael tilted his head, watching her with growing interest. “… no hesitation.”
Mariana dropped the barrier and looked at them. “… is something wrong?”
The five Archmages said nothing.
That… was the problem.
---
That night, they gathered again in the observatory chamber. The same obsidian table. The same dim glow of runes. But the atmosphere was heavier.
“… this is abnormal.” The tattooed Archmage spoke first, arms crossed tightly.
The old Archmage nodded slowly. “… far beyond abnormal.”
The silver-haired Archmage stood by the observatory sphere, watching the faint threads of mana swirl within it. “… her growth rate…”
“… is monstrous.” Kael finished, unusually serious.
Silence fell.
The old Archmage tapped his staff once. “… at this pace…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
The silver-haired Archmage did it for him. “… she will reach Archmage level.” A pause. “… soon.”
Another silence. Then, Kael leaned back in his chair, a slow grin forming. “… and after that?”
No one answered immediately. Because they all knew. The tattooed Archmage finally spoke, voice low. “… Demigod.”
The word lingered in the air. Heavy. Uncertain. Dangerous.
“… it’s too fast,” the old Archmage murmured. “No one progresses like this.”
The silver-haired Archmage’s gaze hardened slightly. “… which is exactly why she cannot leave yet.”
Kael sighed. “You’re starting to sound like jailers.”
Her eyes flicked toward him. “… and you’re starting to take this too lightly.”
He shrugged. “… I just don’t see the point in panicking.”
“… a Demigod candidate is not something to take lightly.”
Kael’s grin returned, faint but sharp. “… I’m not panicking.” His crimson eyes gleamed. “… I’m curious.”
---
Far away, Forebros had changed. The once warm and lively Grand Ducal estate now stood under a suffocating tension. Knights moved constantly. Messengers rode in and out. Servants whispered in hushed tones.
And at the center of it all, Grand Duke Maximus stood in the main hall, his expression darker than it had ever been. “… again.” His voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous.
A knight knelt before him, head bowed. “No trace, Your Excellency.”
Silence. Heavy.
“The roads?”
“Secured.”
“The borders?”
“Locked down.”
“The forests?”
“Being combed through as we speak.”
Maximus’s grip on the armrest tightened slightly. “… and still nothing.”
The knight said nothing. Because there was nothing to say. A girl had vanished. Not just any girl. His daughter. The Grand Princess of Forebros.
“… dispatch more units.” His voice dropped further. “… every inch of this territory is to be searched.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“… no one leaves.” His gaze darkened. “… no one enters.”
The knight bowed deeper. “Understood.”
Because this was no longer a search. It was a lockdown.
---
Elsewhere in the estate—
Grand Duchess Darelene stood in Mariana’s room. Silent. Still. Her gaze lingered on the untouched bed. The neatly folded dresses. The small things that still carried Mariana’s presence.
“… my child…” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
A maid stood behind her, trembling slightly. “… Your Grace…”
Darelene didn’t turn. “… she hates being alone...” she murmured softly.The maid’s eyes lowered.
“… she pretends she’s fine…” A faint, pained smile touched Darelene’s lips.
“… but she isn’t.” Her hand rested gently on the edge of the bed.
“… so wherever you are…” Her voice trembled, just slightly. “… you must be terrified.”
Silence filled the room.
And for the first time since the incident, the Grand Duchess allowed herself to close her eyes. Not as a noble. Not as a ruler. But as a mother.
---
Back in the Magic Tower—
Mariana stood alone in a training chamber. Her breathing steady. Her gaze focused. “… one more time,” she murmured to herself.
Mana gathered. Faster than before. Smoother than before. Stronger than before.
A spell formed—not from memory. Not from instruction. But from instinct. The air trembled. The runes on the walls flickered in response.
And somewhere, deep within her, something stirred. Not violently. Not uncontrollably. But undeniably. Mariana exhaled softly.
“… I’ll go home,” she whispered.
The mana around her pulsed in agreement. And far above, the five Archmages felt it. A shift. Small. But significant.
Kael’s grin slowly returned. “… yeah,” he muttered under his breath. “… she’s definitely becoming something terrifying.”