Chapter 4
It had been two days.
Two long, sleepless days.
I hadn't returned home, hadn't eaten, hadn't so much as closed my eyes.
My body was begging for rest, but my mind—it was on fire.
All I could think about was magic.
The thrill of unlocking secrets hidden in the very fabric of the world.
The rush of casting even the simplest spell and knowing I did that.
It consumed me.
I couldn't stop.
Thanks to my [Understanding] skill, I had done what most mages would consider impossible—I had learned all of the Basic-level Mana Spells and Enchantments.
Every single one.
I absorbed them like a sponge.
There were many spells categorized by elemental affinity—fire, water, wind, earth, lightning, and more.
But because I had no natural affinity, I was limited to pure Mana spells.
Some might think of that as a weakness.
They'd be wrong.
If anything, it was a gift.
The absence of affinity meant I could manipulate raw mana without elemental interference.
No extra cost.
No alignment problems.
Just pure, adaptable force.
Mana spells may lack the flash of fire or the destructive power of lightning, but they were versatile, elegant, and efficient.
I had learned every Basic Mana spell and even pushed into Intermediate-tier.
Although I could only manage about a third of the Intermediate-level spells so far, limited by the immense mana cost and mental strain, it was still impressive. [Understanding] helped, but even that didn't make things easy.
Just possible.
And if you're wondering what happened in that lecture two days ago… don't.
I tried touching elemental manipulation directly.
It was a reckless decision, but curiosity got the better of me.
The process of shaping elemental particles is dangerous—one small mistake with fire particles, and you'll burn from the inside out.
It demands absolute control, enormous mana reserves, and unwavering focus.
The old Lucas knew that.
He learned it the hard way when he played with elemental particles.
In My Office
The room trembled with mana.
Books, scrolls, pens, chairs—everything in my office floated, suspended mid-air by invisible threads of power.
I was using Telekinesis, holding it all aloft with nothing but my will.
Hundreds of objects drifted like stars in orbit, rotating in lazy patterns as I read through a thick, leather-bound tome.
Controlling this many things at once pushed the limits of my concentration.
But that was the point.
I was training—expanding my mental capacity and multitasking under pressure.
The spell I was reading about wasn't just complicated.
It was demanding.
Dangerous.
But I needed it.
Not later.
Now.
Every second counted.
I didn't have the luxury of time.
Power wasn't optional anymore—it was a necessity.
The spell's name was Clone.
It wasn't some cheap illusion or mind trick.
This was real duplication—splitting my consciousness and mana to create an autonomous copy of myself.
A second mind, a second body.
If mastered, it would double my effectiveness in both combat and research.
And with enough refinement… maybe even more than that.
I released the Telekinesis, letting everything drop.
Books slammed against the floor.
A chair toppled over.
The mess was immediate and awful.
But then a sharp sting pricked my pride.
[True Noble]
A ripple of compulsion passed through me, and I couldn't bear the chaos.
My body moved on instinct, and within seconds, I re-cast Telekinesis and tidied everything.
Books returned to their shelves in neat rows, furniture aligned itself, and the floor swept itself clean.
Ten minutes later, the room was immaculate again.
Only then did I return to the Clone spellbook, placing my hand on its worn cover.
[Understanding] activated.
My vision blurred slightly as information flooded in. Diagrams, instructions, theory, arcane flow routes—it all became clear.
Half my mana was consumed in the process, but it was worth it.
I sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, focusing on my breathing.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Slow.
Steady.
Mana in the air shimmered faintly as I began recovering what I had lost.
My core greedily drank it in, and at the same time, I cultivated—refining my mana, making it denser, sharper, cleaner.
These last two days of constant practice had brought me to the very edge of something great.
The peak of Tier 1: Novice Mage.
I felt it.
Then it happened.
A sharp pop echoed inside me—subtle, yet unmistakable.
Like a bubble bursting.
A rush of clarity surged through me.
My vision sharpened.
My thoughts quieted.
My muscles tightened slightly, gaining new strength.
Even my heartbeat sounded stronger.
I had advanced.
Tier 2: Adept Mage.
The quality and quantity of my mana had both risen.
But it wasn't just that.
My whole being felt... new.
Like I'd shed my skin and been reborn.
I wanted to keep going.
To press forward.
With continuous cultivation, I could reach Tier 3 within a week.
I knew it.
But I wasn't just chasing power for power's sake.
There was a goal.
I needed to fix this weak, fragile body.
That's why I'd begun studying the Knight Cultivation Systems.
I wanted to understand why Mages were unable—to walk both paths.
Why couldn't we strengthen both mind and body?
Why were some born without Mana Cores at all?
Questions upon questions.
Mysteries waiting to be unraveled.
But they would have to wait.
My mana had finally returned to full capacity.
I stood.
It was time.
I raised my hand, focused my mind, and spoke the spell.
[Mana Spell: Clone]
Clone – A Mirror of the Mind
The spell was simple in theory.
Clone—the act of dividing one's own mana into halves or more, to manifest a duplicate made entirely from that energy.
The clone would share your shape, your voice, your face.
Even your thoughts, to some extent.
But the problem was never just creating it.
It was controlling it.
You weren't just using mana—you were asking your mind to operate two bodies at once.
Two limbs to move.
Two perspectives to manage.
Two sets of sensory input to filter in real time.
For most mages, it was impossible to maintain for more than a few minutes without suffering intense mental fatigue, or worse—losing control of both bodies and falling into a coma.
But for me?
It was almost comfortable.
The only issue was... I hadn't rested in three days.
My body was aching from the inside out.
My thoughts, though sharp, carried the tremble of exhaustion.
I stared at the other me—the clone.
It looked exactly like me.
From the kempt strands of hair to the slightly tattered clothes, every detail was perfect.
It even smirked like I did.
I blinked.
And deactivated the spell.
The mana clone shimmered and then dispersed into faint trails of glowing mist before fading entirely.
I needed rest, not more strain.
I sat down for a moment, allowing my breathing to stabilize.
Three days of constant learning, constant channeling, constant casting.
I was nearing the limit.
But even in this state, my mind refused to quiet down.
There was something else gnawing at the edges of my consciousness: the idea of creating new spells.
Only five Intermediate Mana Spells had ever been invented—most by geniuses long dead.
No one had created a new one in decades, maybe even a century.
But that didn't mean it was impossible.
And unlike learning an existing spell, creating one required a different kind of talent.
Imagination.
Experimentation.
Precision.
I had the theory, and I had ideas—dozens of them.
I just needed time to flesh them out.
I also had a personal theory I was working on.
A dangerous one.
But it would have to wait until I was at 100%.
No distractions.
No weakness.
With a sigh, I stood and placed the spellbook back on the shelf.
The moment my fingers left the leather-bound spine, I felt it—a presence—right outside my door.
I froze.
Someone was there.
I didn't recognize the life signature, but they weren't trying to hide.
My body moved on instinct, and my hand raised slightly, fingers already forming the start of a powerful Mana Spell.
I was prepared to fire and escape through the window if necessary.
Seconds passed.
Then, a knock.
My nerves settled slightly, but my caution didn't drop.
I extended my will and used Telekinesis to open the door from a distance.
To my surprise, it was Leo.
My butler.
I knew his name not because he introduced himself, but because I had researched everyone who worked in my manor.
Thoroughly.
With Mike's help, and some contacts I still had in the underworld, I'd compiled background checks on every servant, guard, and visitor.
Leo was no ordinary man—he was a Tier 3 Knight, and I knew exactly which noble house he used to serve before being reassigned to us.
My guard remained sky-high.
Leo saw this. I knew he did.
But he stood still, composed, and bowed slightly.
"What brings you here?" I asked flatly.
He exhaled lightly before answering, "I could sense your advancement to Tier 2. Congratulations, Young Master."
I didn't reply.
He continued, "The lady asked me to come check on you."
My eyes narrowed, and my voice turned cold. "Why would someone who hates me send someone to check on me?"
Leo's expression faltered—just for a split second.
Then he said, calmly but firmly, "The young lady doesn't hate you, Young Master."
I studied him.
There was no deception in his tone.
Only professionalism... and maybe a hint of concern.
I could use this.
Lowering my shoulders slightly and softening my voice, I feigned a more casual tone.
"Then, can you ask her to come with me to buy something for her birthday? It's in two days."
Leo nodded. "I will inform her, Young Master."
He paused.
"But she also sent me with another message."
I knew it.
My eyes narrowed. "What is it?"
Leo folded his hands behind his back. "Tomorrow is the dinner party celebrating the birth of your First Older Brother's son. She asked if the two of you would be attending."
I let out a short breath. "Family, huh…"
There was no question in his tone—just a reminder.
A royal suggestion.
In truth, it was a command.
One I couldn't ignore.
My father wouldn't take kindly to any absence.
Refusing would be... costly.
I sighed. "Fine. If you're here, then that means the car is waiting below, right?"
Leo nodded.
I gave him a slight glance and said, "Then let's go home."