It was late afternoon when Knight, who was going for a walk across the market district saw Amber in a bookstore carrying a bag full of bulky books.
After getting a short glimpse at the leather covers, he noticed that they were magic manuals as Amber was the mage in their party.
His curiosity of the magic system in this world and his own capabilities reemerged.
From across the street, he hurried over to Amber's side while striking up a conversation
"..Yo do you have some spare time?"
Clearly surprised to see him at that hour she replied
"Uhh.. sure? Why ask?"
Knights eyes sparkled with curiosity and ambition
"I was wondering if you can teach me some magic"
Amber tilted her head slightly, eyebrows raised in that way she always did when Knight surprised her. She adjusted the weight of the books in her arms, then nodded toward the far end of the street. "Alright. My place isn't far. I have extra practice wands and some parchment."
Knight followed her through the winding streets, passing rows of fruit stands, the smell of roasted nuts, and the distant clang of a smith's hammer. The light of the afternoon had softened to a golden hue, and he found himself oddly at ease. Maybe it was the quiet hum of the market, or maybe it was the idea of spending time with Amber, just the two of them.
They reached a narrow building tucked between a flower shop and a tailor's. After walking up a small flight of stairs to the second floor, she twisted a key on the door located on the far left side form the staircase. Amber's place was small but clean—books stacked in every corner, windows wide open to let in the breeze. A cozy-looking desk faced a low bookshelf filled with crystal vials and ink bottles. Knight stood awkwardly near the doorway while Amber set the manuals down with a heavy thump.
"Alright," she said, pulling her hair into a loose tie and grabbing two slim wands from a drawer. "Let's start with the basics. What spells do you already know?"
Knight scratched his head. "Uh… the basic fire spark. And a weak barrier spell Titus made me learn."
Amber handed him a wand. "That's a start. Focus on the wand, not your hand. Mana's channeled through intent, not muscle. Don't force it—guide it."
Knight gripped the wand and nodded. "Right."
Amber cleared space on her desk and lit a few candles.
He glanced down at the wand in his hand. It felt strange. Too light.
"Do I really need this?" he asked.
Amber glanced over while opening a thick manual. "Technically? No. But it helps. Wands are like… tuning forks. They help shape the spell, stabilize the form, amplify if they're well-made. Most people don't need one, but almost everyone uses one."
Knight turned the wand slowly in his fingers. "So it helps aim. Got it."
Amber flipped to a marked page and handed him a parchment. "We'll start simple. Fire orb. You've tried this one before, right?"
Knight nodded. "Nope, its basically my first time using magic"
"Then we'll do it properly this time. Start with the incantation. Incants don't power the spell—they help your body time the release. Helps you sync your mana with the structure of the spell. Especially important when you're just starting."
Knight took a breath and followed the guide.
"Kindle flame, heed my call—ignite."
The moment he said the last word, the wand flared. A burst of raw heat surged through it—and a massive orb of fire exploded to life above his palm, far too large, hissing with unstable energy. Knight flinched back instinctively, and Amber's eyes went wide.
She immediately raised her hand, casting a quick containment spell. The fire orb snuffed out with a quiet pop of displaced air.
They both stared at each other.
"…Was that supposed to happen?" Knight asked, voice flat.
Amber blinked. "No. No it was absolutely not supposed to happen."
Knight frowned at the wand. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No. That was a decent enough casting form. But that kind of output usually takes weeks to build up—" She stopped, narrowed her eyes, then gestured toward him. "Hold out your hand."
Knight obeyed. Amber closed her eyes and focused, casting a simple mana-sensing spell. Her brow furrowed. Then it deepened. Her eyes snapped open.
"Knight," she said slowly, "how much mana do you think you have?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. Normal? Maybe below average. I'm not a mage."
Amber stared. "You've got more mana than most full-time court wizards."
"…What."
Of course he was confused as in desperate situations where he was about to die, he never had a cool awakening moment or abnormally enhanced abilities
"You're like a leaking cauldron. It's everywhere. I've never sensed anything like this from someone not trained as a mage."
Knight sat back, stunned. "I never even noticed it"
Amber chuckled softly. "You were trying to pour a river through a cup."
The wand in his hand suddenly felt less silly. More… necessary.
Amber handed him another page, her expression now focused. "Okay. Forget pacing this out slowly. You've got too much power for beginner tricks to teach you control. We'll go straight to dual-phase shaping."
Knight blinked. "That sounds complicated."
"It is. But if we don't start now, you're going to accidentally set your cloak on fire next time you sneeze."
He chuckled then nodded.
She muttered. "Alright. Let's teach you to walk without burning down the house."
They worked for hours. Amber taught him how to shape mana before it reached the wand—how to layer intention into each movement, how to will a spell into the right size, the right direction, the right intensity.
With incantations, Knight could create spells almost effortlessly. Fire, wind, even early water shaping. Without incants, the power still surged up—but it felt wild. Slippery and dangerous.
By evening, sweat dripped from his brow and his hands were trembling—but he had made progress. At least he was able to control his mana enough to the point of not blowing up an entire building trying to shoot a small fireball.
"You're good at this," Amber said at last, pouring them both a cup of cool water.
Knight shook his head. "I'm just following directions."
"No," she said, "you're adapting. You're learning. Most people blow up three bookshelves and faint the first time they learn about mana pressure."
Knight blinked. "Wait, is that why your curtains are burned?"
Amber pouted. "Shut up."
They drank water in silence, the warm candlelight flickering between them. Knight's arm was sore from holding the wand. His thoughts, for once, weren't spiraling.
"…Thanks," he said. "For this."
Amber smiled. "It's no problem. I like teaching. And honestly?" She nudged his arm gently. "It's kind of exciting. I've never trained someone with a mana pool this stupid before."
Knight huffed a laugh. "Glad I'm providing a public service."
Amber laughed too.
Knight nodded slowly, eyes shut. He inhaled. Then exhaled.
And in that quiet room, for a moment, the magic inside him responded.
Not with fire. Not with force.
But with presence.
Amber felt it too. Like the room had grown still, charged, aware.
When he opened his eyes again, she was watching him with something unreadable in her expression.
"You've got a lot buried in there," she said softly. "Not just magic."
Knight didn't look away. "I know."
They were quiet for a long moment, the fading light washing through the windows.
Then Amber stood and offered her hand. "Enough magic for today. I need dinner. Want to help cook?"
Knight stood too, taking her hand without hesitation.
"Yeah," he said. "I'd like that."
Amber stood, stretching her arms above her head, then glanced at the window. The sky outside was dusky violet, and the candles were starting to flicker low.
"You hungry?" she asked, brushing her bangs back. "I was gonna throw something together."
Knight blinked. "You cook?"
Amber gave him a half-smile. "What, did you think elves live on air and aesthetics?"
"…Kinda."
She rolled her eyes and moved toward the tiny kitchen alcove near the back wall. "Get over here. If you're gonna be my student, you're helping."
Knight hesitated, then stood up slowly, his muscles still aching faintly from training—and magic. The scent of herbs hit him immediately as Amber pulled open a cupboard: dried rosemary, cracked pepper, red spice blends he didn't recognize.
Amber pulled out some root vegetables and set a pan on the small iron stove. "I was gonna make stew. But I've got eggs and some cured meat too. You in?"
Knight gave a small nod. "Just tell me what to chop."
"Brave words," she said, tossing him a worn wooden cutting board and a knife.
The two of them worked in the cozy kitchen space, standing shoulder-to-shoulder, bumping elbows every so often. Knight fumbled with the knife at first. His cuts were uneven, jagged—but Amber didn't tease him for it.
Instead, she guided his hands once, gently. "Thumb behind the blade. See?"
Her hands were warm. Knight nodded stiffly and adjusted.
Without even noticing, his heart stated to thump heavily and quickly.
The pan started sizzling soon after—onions and meat hitting the surface with a loud hiss, steam curling upward, sharp and savory. Amber stirred with practiced grace, sprinkling spices in without measuring, just by feel.
Knight added the chopped carrots and potatoes. Amber gave him an approving look.
"Not bad, Knight Muetsukashi. I was expecting you to try and dice your own hand."
"I considered it."
She snorted.
"I'm improving," he said dryly, watching the stew bubble.
They ate at the tiny round table under the dim candlelight—just two bowls, steam curling up into the quiet. The food was simple but hearty: rich broth, soft vegetables, seared meat with just enough spice to warm the tongue.
Amber took a long spoonful and sighed in satisfaction. "Nothing beats this after a long day."
Knight nodded, chewing quietly. "It's good."
"You always eat like you're rationing."
"It's a habit."
Amber leaned back slightly, gazing at him over the rim of her bowl. "You never talk about where you're from."
Knight didn't look up. "There's nothing to talk about."
"Everyone has something."
"…It's not a place I can go back to."
Amber hesitated. Her voice softened. "Then it's not just your helmet you're hiding behind."
Knight finally looked up—and found her watching him, not with pity, but with quiet understanding.
The moment lingered.
Then she looked away, her ears flushing faintly. "Sorry. That was too serious. I just—"
"No," Knight said. "It's okay."
They finished eating in comfortable silence. When Amber stood to clean up, Knight silently helped her, drying the dishes while she scrubbed them. Their hands bumped again once or twice, but neither pulled away this time.
As they finished, Amber glanced at him, her voice quieter now. "You can come by again. If you want more lessons. Or just food. Or both."
Knight gave a slow nod. "I'd like that."
A small smile bloomed on Amber's face .
"Cool," she said.