Thamuz was still panting, clutching his chest from the shock of what he had just seen inside Jace's body.
Then Jace broke the silence.
"Oh… Gramps Jaden?" he said casually. "Yeah, he's my grandfather. We've been living in the Frozen Forest for years."
The room went still.
The magical light flickered.
Thamuz froze—literally didn't blink. Then, slowly, like his mind couldn't compute what he'd just heard, he leaned forward and said, "Come again…?"
"I said, Jaden's my grandpa," Jace repeated, scratching his head. "I didn't know he was that famous though."
BANG!
Thamuz slammed his own forehead against the ground so hard the dust from old scrolls flew into the air.
"No... no no no no...!" he muttered. "This can't be real. I must still be hallucinating! There's no way! There's just no—!"
"W-What do you mean?" Talia asked, completely stunned. "Jaden—the Jaden the Healer—he's your grandfather?!"
Jace nodded. "Yeah. We lived in the edge zone of the Frozen Forest. Just me and him. He's the one who trained me. I only left after…"
He stopped himself.
Talia stepped forward, her expression shifting from shock to deep curiosity. "Wait—why would someone like him be living in the Frozen Forest? That place is practically suicide to enter. And why did you come here, to the Amiha Kingdom?"
Thamuz suddenly cut her off, voice sharp. "No, no—wait. That's not what's bothering me."
He pointed a shaking finger at Jace, his voice rising. "You said you came here—to Amiha. But the only route leading here from the Frozen Forest is through the Lipines Kingdom. And that path is sealed, blocked, and monitored. No one has crossed it since the war!"
Jace shrugged. "I didn't pass through Lipines. I came straight here."
"That's impossible," Thamuz muttered. "I would've known. Your grandfather—he told me himself before he disappeared. He said, 'One day, someone may come. They'll carry a sealed scroll only I could enchant.'"
Thamuz stared hard at the scroll laid out on the table, frowning deeply.
"This isn't Jaden's seal," he muttered.
Jace nodded. "No, it's not. It's from Professor Kael—a scientist from the Amiha Kingdom. He's the one who sent me here."
"Kael… that stubborn old alchemist still breathing?" Thamuz scoffed. "Figures he'd get involved with something like this."
Talia leaned in slightly, curious. "But what about Jaden's scroll? Didn't he leave one behind?"
Jace's expression darkened. "He did. But it's still in the Lipines Kingdom, held by the principal. The problem is… it was taken by the wrong person. The scroll wasn't meant for him."
"What do you mean?" Talia asked.
Jace looked up. "Jaden raised me. I'm his real grandson—even if not by blood. But when we got separated, his original blood grandson claimed the scroll and his name."
Thamuz's eyes widened. "That… makes no sense. Jaden told me years ago that if someone worthy came looking for him, they'd carry his sealed scroll. I waited—but no one ever arrived."
"I was supposed to," Jace said. "But after what happened with Talia... I was forced to leave Lipines and go to the Amiha Kingdom instead."
Talia blinked. "You were that boy? The one who got involved in my incident?"
Jace nodded slowly. "I tried to stop it. I didn't think it would change everything."
Thamuz looked between them, face tense. "So let me get this straight... You're the real heir to Jaden's legacy. The scroll meant for you is in the wrong hands. You got exiled from Lipines after a political mess involving Talia. And now you're here—carrying a monster in your chest—and the scroll you have is from Kael of Amiha?"
Jace sighed. "Exactly."
Thamuz ran a hand through his hair and groaned. "This is going to be a long damn week."
Talia sat in stunned silence, her thoughts spiraling.
She replayed everything—the encounter at the city gate, the sudden bump from a boy who looked like he didn't even know how to walk in crowds properly. She remembered her frustration then… and how that single moment triggered a misunderstanding that changed his path.
"All of this… because of a bump?"
Meanwhile, Thamuz had fallen eerily quiet.
Jace rubbed the back of his neck, glancing between them. "Uh… I'll look around, if that's okay?"
"Go ahead," Thamuz muttered. "Everything in this chamber was meant for you anyway. Jaden made sure of that."
With a nod, Jace stepped away into the depths of the archive. The scent of old parchment filled the air as he passed books glowing faintly with sealed enchantments. Each title seemed heavier than the last—tomes of battle magic, forbidden rituals, monster biology, healing arts. It was a treasure trove of lost knowledge… and all of it, somehow, was tied to him.
Talia sat still, fists clenched over her lap.
She hadn't meant for this.
She hadn't known anything.
Thamuz suddenly sprang to his feet, a burst of urgency in his movements. "We need to get to Lipines Magic Academy right away!"
Jace looked up, startled. "Now?"
"Yes, now! The principal needs to know. Kael must see this for himself!" Thamuz was already half turned toward the door before Jace called out—
"Wait! It's the weekend."
Thamuz froze. "...What?"
"It's the weekend," Jace repeated, blinking. "The academy's closed."
Talia stifled a small laugh. "They don't accept unexpected visitors during break, Professor. You'd just be yelling at locked gates."
Thamuz stared into space for a second, utterly baffled. Then, with a heavy sigh, he scratched his bald head and slumped back into his chair. "Damn… forgot what day it was."
"You've been underground too long," Talia said with a grin, her earlier tension beginning to ease.
The old scholar grumbled. "Fine. In that case—Jace, stay here until the weekend's over. You're safer in this chamber than that uptight academy anyway."
"You sure?"
"I'll write to Kael," Thamuz said firmly. "He'll want to know you're alive. He's annoying, but he'll listen."
He grabbed a thick scroll and began scribbling with fast, messy strokes. "And don't worry about missing classes. That academy wouldn't know how to train you. You're a battle healer with a cursed mythical beast inside your soul. You think they have a curriculum for that?"
Jace chuckled awkwardly. "Guess not."
Thamuz's eyes glinted. "And you—" he turned to Talia "—will help him train."
"What?" she blinked.
Jace looked surprised too. "I thought I'd just study some books."
"No, no, no," Thamuz waved his hand. "Books won't prepare you for what's coming. You need sparring, instinct training, stress triggers. She'll be your combat partner."
Talia opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. She knew she owed him at least this much.
"Fine," she muttered. "But don't blame me if he ends up bruised."
"Bring it on," Jace replied, calm and confident.
The courtyard behind Thamuz's old stone manor shimmered under the golden light of the setting sun. Dust danced in the air with each gust of wind, and two figures faced off beneath the canopy of twilight.
"Don't expect me to go easy on you just because you look like a librarian," Talia warned, twirling her fingers as a faint swirl of mana gathered at her palm.
Jace held no sword. Just a wooden dagger, barely the length of his forearm—his movements sharp, but careful. He didn't attack. He didn't even posture.
He dodged.
A gust of wind magic exploded near his feet. Jace rolled to the side, sliding across the gravel with ease.
"You know, you're surprisingly nimble for someone who's supposed to be a healer," Talia said, narrowing her eyes. "But you're not using any magic. At all."
"That's because I don't have offensive magic," Jace replied, breath steady. "I'm a support-type. I heal."
She tilted her head, then raised her hand again. "Fine. Let's test how good your dodging is."
Another barrage came—this time with two layered wind strikes and a flash of light. Jace twisted his body just in time, using the wooden dagger to redirect a burst of mana. His footwork was clumsy in places, but his timing—his instincts—were too precise to ignore.
Talia clicked her tongue. "You really can't cast offensively, huh? But your body… it knows how to fight."
"I don't attack," Jace said, brushing dust off his clothes. "I react."
For several minutes they continued the strange match. Magic clashed against movement. Wind and pressure against reflexes and positioning. Until finally, both of them stopped at the same time—breathing heavily, but neither yielding.
"…A draw?" she asked.
Jace shrugged. "You tell me."
Talia stared at him for a long moment, then let out a short laugh. "You know how to fight, huh? So why didn't you show that at school?"
He glanced down at his wooden dagger. "Didn't feel like it."
Talia rolled her eyes. "Tch. Mysterious types are the worst."
---
Dusk That Day
After washing up, Talia packed her things and prepared to leave.
"I won't be back tomorrow," she said over her shoulder. "Sunday's church day."
Jace raised an eyebrow. "You? Church?"
"I'm still a noble. I'm expected to be pious at least once a week."
He smiled faintly. "Well, have fun pretending."
She turned at the doorway, pausing. "Don't burn this place down while I'm gone."
"No promises."
With that, she vanished into the coming dusk.
The manor's study was dark, save for the dim glow of mana-crystals buried under clutter. Jace couldn't sleep. Something pulled at him.
He wandered the room, brushing over old tomes until a faint glimmer caught his eye.
A single book pulsed—soft, golden light leaking from its edges. No title. Just a shifting arcane circle etched into the cover, reacting to his mana.
He pulled it free.
As soon as he opened it, the pages flipped wildly before stopping at one that was completely blank—until ink began to rise on its own.
"Reconstruction Theory: Circle Refractions for Non-Offensive Casters."
Jace's breath caught.
The diagrams made no sense at first glance. They weren't attack spells—they were augmentations, barriers, rewrites. He grabbed chalk, cleared space on the wooden floor, and began testing.
The first circle sputtered.
The second shocked his fingertips.
The third pulled too much mana and nearly knocked him out.
The fourth… glowed. Only briefly. But it was a sign.
He grinned. "Now we're getting somewhere."
He didn't stop until he collapse from exhaustion.
Morning came, but Jace barely noticed.
He ate dried bread while scribbling new glyphs. The book flipped its own pages when he was ready—like it was guiding him, sensing what he lacked.
By afternoon, he had drawn dozens of circles. Only a handful worked.
His arms trembled. His fingers blistered. His mana reserves were stretched thin. Still, he pushed.
Thamuz arrived just before sundown, staggering in with dirt on his coat and wildness in his eyes.
"I didn't drink," the man declared. "It was the mushrooms again. Whispered some nonsense about tomorrow being rough. You believe that?"
"You talk to mushrooms?"
"Don't they talk back?"
Thamuz dropped onto the couch and passed out almost immediately.
Jace just shook his head and returned to the circle glowing faintly before him.