"Yes! Mana and magic—having a substantial amount of it—is essential for growth and potential. With enough mana, one can conquer lands, kings, even beasts," the clergyman explained to Leornars with fervor.
Leornars tilted his head.
"I see. And what exactly is mana?" he asked, catching the entire room off guard.
"Uhmm..." the clergyman stuttered slightly, then collected himself.
"Mana is the fundamental source of all magic. It's the root, the essence. Without mana, magic cannot be projected. It's also used to enhance physical abilities like strength and agility—and in rare cases, speed."
A woman from behind the counter turned to face Leornars.
"Please place your hand on the crystal ahead of you. It will assess your mana capacity and magical affinity."
Leornars gave her a cold, unreadable glance, then silently walked to the crystal. He placed his hand upon it. The crystal instantly flared with a sequence of colors—black, then purple, and finally a luminous blue.
The room fell into stunned silence.
The woman quickly scribbled something onto a slip of paper and handed it to the clergyman.
"Incredible... simply incredible," he muttered in awe. "You possess an extremely rare potential for elemental magic."
Tucking the paper into his coat, he gestured for Leornars to follow. They led him into a separate room. The clergyman sighed deeply, a heavy weight behind his voice.
"I suppose the revolution has arrived," he said solemnly. "We enter a new era... a new light."
---
Leornars stood quietly in thought.
Magic and mana seem to play a critical role in this realm. My aptitude, as they claimed, is abnormally high. That clearly implies I'm different—special. I wonder how that will affect my everyday life.
Later, the clergyman summoned Leornars to the library, where he finally drew closer to the knowledge he'd been seeking. With eager eyes and a sharp mind, Leornars absorbed the pages before him.
So this world consists of many species... humans, beastfolk, dwarves, elves, spirits, wraiths... and even some that are rarely spoken of, like demons, he thought as he closed the book with a quiet thump.
The clergyman approached quietly.
"I wonder how the king will react once he discovers you're not human?"
Leornars met his gaze with cold, deathly eyes. The clergyman chuckled awkwardly, brushing it off as a joke. But the tension remained.
Suddenly, a loud creak echoed through the hallway. The clergyman turned to see a maid dash into the Pope's chambers. Alarmed, he moved swiftly. Without another word, he grabbed a pouch from a nearby hanger and stuffed it with two books—one on mana, one on magic—and another detailing historical records. He handed them to Leornars with a serious expression.
"Listen closely. In this kingdom—hell, this entire world—racism runs rampant. The king and nobles see humanity as superior and all other races as beneath them. They enslave, hunt, and kill non-humans without mercy. The Pope has likely already been informed of your race. You must run—now. I'll do what I can to buy you time."
Leornars didn't hesitate. He bolted from the room, the sound of distant yelling trailing behind him.
"HALT! In the name of the King!" the knights bellowed.
Leornars darted from corridor to corridor, twisting through narrow halls, but eventually found himself at a dead end. He turned—only to be struck unconscious by the hilt of a sword.
---
He awoke in a cold dungeon, frowning.
"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered. Footsteps echoed.
The King entered, accompanied by the Pope. Both examined Leornars with disdainful curiosity.
"He's an Avantalian... and a male one, no less," the King sneered.
"A rarity indeed," the Pope added.
"If we erase his memory and manipulate his mind, we could turn him into a weapon," the King proposed.
"I'll begin recruiting the Mages," the Pope said, exiting.
The King stepped closer to the bars. But before he could speak, Leornars lunged forward, grabbing him and slamming him against the wall—then again into the metal cage bars.
The King staggered back, face twisted in fury.
"You insolent fool! You dare lay your hands on me? I'll erase that arrogance from your soul," he snarled, then stormed off.
Leornars sat down calmly, hands on his lap, smirking.
As I've read... the foundation of magic lies in the mana core. Every living soul possesses one. If I can gather enough mana particles, I should be able to cast at least beginner-level magic. This understanding is coming easier than I expected.
His abdomen began to glow—first a soft red, then brighter. The fragments of mana stirred within him, coalescing.
Then, he heard a voice—feminine, mechanical, yet divine:
"Name: Leornars. Age: 17. Level: 1.
Skill: Swap (Level 1), Dark (Level 1).
Unique Skill: Touch of Decay – Locked."
Leornars blinked.
"...What was that?" he asked the silence.
The Pope returned—this time with an entourage of Mages. Leornars stood slowly, eyes gleaming.
A low red glow shimmered in his left eye as he grinned wickedly.
"Let's find out what these new skills can really do."
---