Chapter 4 – A New Body, A New Self
The first light of dawn began to tear through the mist that veiled the academy island. A white sheet of fog stretched over the lake like a shroud, slowly unraveling as the wind whispered across the water. The echo of students' footsteps on the stone paths cut through the morning stillness.
For three months, this place had been nothing but a stage for my humiliation — but today, it felt different.
Because I was not the same person anymore.
My steps were lighter, my breath steadier. When I stood before the mirror, I still couldn't quite believe the reflection staring back at me. My silver hair shimmered faintly under the pale light, and my amber eyes — once dull with hopelessness — now burned with determination. The bloated, shapeless body that had weighed me down was gone, replaced by a leaner, more balanced frame. The useless third son, the disgrace of the Daskal family… had vanished.
"Is this… really me?" I whispered.
All that remained of my former self was a shadow.
I arrived at the morning lectures on time — a rare event in itself.
The first class was Professor Arelis' Theory of Magic, a class I hadn't been able to attend for three months. Without a mana core, there was no reason for me to be there. But now, things were different.
The moment I opened the door, the chatter inside died. More than twenty students turned to stare at me.
"Is that Daskal?"
"What happened to him?"
"I almost didn't recognize him…"
I ignored them and focused on the old man at the front of the room. Arelis peered over the rim of his spectacles at me for a brief moment before turning back to the lesson.
"Magic," he said, his voice firm but measured, "is not words. Magic is direction — the will that guides the flow."
With a piece of chalk, he drew a spiral on the board.
"Your mana core provides the flow. The spiral — Δ — initiates it. The μ line guides it. Intention makes it real. Once you have a core, the question is no longer if you can use magic, but how you will shape it."
A student raised a hand. "Professor, how do we control our intention?"
"You don't control it," Arelis replied. "You train it. Mind, breath, body — all three must be aligned. If even one falters, the spell is stillborn."
I wrote down every word.
Δ-spiral. μ line. Intention.
As I repeated them in my mind, I felt a faint stirring within me — weak, but present. Mana was beginning to move.
When class ended and most of the students left, I stayed behind in the empty hall. Closing my eyes, I steadied my breath. I pictured the Δ-spiral in my mind, then the μ line. I raised my hands.
Dust particles swirled around my feet. A faint breeze stirred — small, but real.
Then I brought my fingers together. Deep breath… intention… timing.
A soft crack. A tiny spark flickered between them.
A smile tugged at my lips. It was small, insignificant even — but it was a start.
In the afternoon, I headed to the library. Magic formulas alone wouldn't be enough; if I was to survive, I needed more. As I wandered between the towering shelves, a particular book caught my eye:
"High Beast Hearts and Resonance Rituals."
It wasn't technically banned, but few dared to read it. Rituals were considered "dishonorable," beneath the dignity of a noble mage. Most who mocked them had no idea how powerful they truly were. My heart raced as I flipped through the pages.
Methods for expanding mana channels… techniques for adapting to beast essence… cycles of physical enhancement…
Each sentence was a piece of a larger plan.
A few students passed by and must have seen the title. Whispers began to ripple behind me.
"What's he doing with that book?"
"Is he… planning a ritual?"
"Daskal's going to disgrace himself…"
I ignored them, but deep inside, something stirred.
Yes — they could scorn this path all they wanted. But for me, it was the only path.
By late afternoon, I was back at the training grounds. Standing at the edge of the arena was a familiar figure: Alaric von Daskal.
His silver hair was perfectly groomed, his steel-gray eyes scanning me from head to toe.
"It seems a miracle has occurred, cousin," he said.
"Or maybe I just woke up," I replied.
"Not from sleep… from desperation. Are the rumors true? That you're dabbling in forbidden texts?"
"Studying isn't a crime."
"For those without pride, perhaps," he sneered. "But for someone bearing the Daskal name, it is."
"If carrying that name means dying powerless, then I'll try every method I can."
A smirk tugged at his lips. "That path might keep you alive, but it won't make you worthy. And remember — without honor, power is just fear."
I didn't reply. Because he was right… and wrong. Fear was still a tool — and tools were meant to be used.
As I left the training ground, the sky was darkening. My steps echoed softly along the lake's edge, but the whispers followed me wherever I went.
"Did you hear? That Daskal boy is studying rituals."
"Seriously? Then he's no better than a beast."
"Watch your back if you fight beside him."
Those whispers would grow louder in time. But that was fine. Being feared was still better than being invisible.
When I finally closed the door to my room, I sat at my desk and wrote a single sentence in my notebook:
"Their fear will be my path."
And for the first time in a lon
g time, a quiet voice echoed in the back of my mind:
"Prepare yourself. This is only the beginning."