Ashen spun, searching the riverbank like a hound who'd lost a scent. She was here a moment ago.
His eyes darted left—nothing. Right—only the treeline. No footprints. No sound.
"...Did she run off?" he muttered aloud.
But the words fell flat, even to him.
His gaze lowered to the rock in the river's center, still faintly shimmering where the current split around it. Her presence lingered like warmth in a chair just vacated. And then—
"That's for you to think."
The sentence echoed in his mind again.
A test. No guidance. No hints. Just that rock… and this river.
She's probably watching me, he thought, a lump forming in his throat. Judging every move. Seeing if I'm worth her time… or just garbage.
His jaw tightened. I can't waste this opportunity to join the Whisper's Light.
He looked to the rock again.
Can I swim to the rock? Maybe. But one look at the river's fury—how it churned and foamed like boiling oil—killed the thought fast. And the rock? Ten, maybe twelve feet tall.
If I swim, I'll be dragged under. And even if I reach it… how do I climb it soaking wet?
In the canopy above, Katrina crouched silently on the upper branch of a cedar, half-cloaked by leaves.
Her hands rested lightly on the bark, her breath steady but her shoulders tensed.
> "There's only one way he could reach that rock. Only one."
Ashen stood at the river's edge, brows furrowed, sweat trailing down his temple. The roar of the current drowned his thoughts.
"What do I do?"
His eyes scanned the distance between the bank and the rock again.
"Can I jump that far?"
He bent his knees, adjusting into a stance—not to leap, but to measure.
He held it.
Just for a moment.
But even in that brief stance, Katrina's fingers twitched, ready to move.
From her perch above, she watched like a hawk. Every muscle ready. If he did something reckless—if he dove or jumped—she'd have to intercept.
But he didn't.
Ashen slowly stood upright again, shaking his head.
"I can't jump that far. That's suicide."
"There has to be a realistic way. Something possible… for me."
Then his eyes narrowed, and he exhaled.
Long and slow.
Like wind easing from a storm.
"What did she do… exactly?"
He shut his eyes.
The river faded. The trees dulled. His ears no longer heard the outside world—only echoes in his mind. The memory of her stance. The stillness. The invisible pressure that radiated from her like a living boundary.
He replayed it.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
And then—he moved.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He shifted his feet shoulder-width apart. Lowered his center of gravity. Arms relaxed, spine straight, chin tucked.
He entered that same calm, unmoving pose as Katrina.
But he was on the ground.
Not the rock.
Yet something had changed.
Up in the tree, Katrina's lips parted slightly, her gaze sharpening.
"No way…" she whispered.
Because she knew that stance.
It wasn't just mimicry.
It wasn't play-acting.
It was a deeper understanding.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
Then two.
Three.
But, Ashen didn't move.
Not a twitch.
Katrina shifted once in the tree, only to resettle—her amber eyes locked on him.
He was still there. That same stance. Unmoving. Unshaking.
No technique. No flow. Just… stillness.
But beneath that stillness, something stirred.
The air began to grow denser around him. The tiniest shimmer, like heat rising off stone, warped the space near his shoulders.
By the fourth hour—
It appeared.
A faint glow. Yellowish. Not golden, not blinding—translucent. A soft field pulsed around his frame like a second skin of light. Like sun-filtered mist. Gentle. Hesitant. But undeniably there.
Katrina's breath hitched.
> "He… manifested it."
She couldn't help but smile—just a little.
> "First time using mana… and it only took him four hours."
Most took weeks to feel it. A month to control it. Many never managed at all.
And this boy—this red-haired, wide-eyed storm of chaos—had done it by sheer force of will. On day one.
His field was smaller than hers, of course. Quieter. Less imposing. It didn't distort the world like hers had.
But it shimmered.
And it held.
Ashen's eyes opened slowly, as if peeling away from a dream.
He was breathing calmly.
His focus was absolute.
His gaze didn't shift.
He didn't smile. Didn't shake. Didn't even blink.
> "…I did it," he whispered, his voice almost inaudible beneath the hum of the river.
The only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
He looked down at the rushing current.
His mind spoke clearly now, razor sharp in its simplicity:
> If water obeys mana…
> Then if I focus my mana into the soles of my feet…
> I might be able to walk across.
It was a hunch.
A stupid one.
A reckless one.
But it was the only way forward he could imagine.
Katrina, still hidden above, stared down at him with a stunned expression.
> "He's right…" she murmured. "He figured it out."
> "On his first day."
She had told herself if he cracked even the theory in five days, she'd start teaching him.
He had done it in four hours.
But the test wasn't over.
The rock still waited.
The river still raged.
And now… Ashen would have to walk.