Morning sunlight spilled faintly over the small, frosted yard. The cold air bit against Merlin's cheeks as he stood beside his father and brother, moving through the morning exercises. The air was damp, and the ground was still slick from last night's rain—typical of mornings here.
Ivory was the furthest village on the eastern edges of the Aerion Kingdom. There was nothing but endless ocean beyond this. Winter ruled the place most of the year, bringing biting winds, relentless rain, and snow that fell whenever it pleased.
People mainly survived by fishing, raising livestock, and growing whatever hardy crops could endure the frost. The harsh weather didn't allow much else.
Few outsiders ever came this far. The nearest city was nearly a week's travel by carriage, and for most, the journey wasn't worth the effort. Those who were born here stayed. Those who left rarely came back.
His family, though, could be said to be well-off compared to most of the families in the village. His father was the captain of the village guards, second only to the village head himself. He earned ample wages, and there was always warm food on the table.
This was to be expected, to be honest. His parents were retired adventurers. His father was a knight—a title given to those whose combat skills reached a certain milestone—and his mother was a healer, an exceptionally rare class of mage.
Together, they could have lived comfortably anywhere in the kingdom. Nobles would've paid fortunes for their skills. Yet, for some reason he could never quite understand, they'd chosen this remote, frozen corner of the world to settle down.
"Didn't sleep last night?" his father asked suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts. Merlin gave him a questioning look while still stretching.
"You've got dark circles under your eyes."
Before Merlin could answer, Ralph let out a laugh. "Probably stayed up reading those dusty books from Mother's study again."
Merlin completely ignored him, focused on his breathing.
He hadn't slept much last night. His other self had simply skimmed through the last part of Magical Theory and gone off to practice charms, leaving the task of pondering its contents entirely to him. In the end, he barely managed two hours of sleep.
And unlike his other self, he couldn't sleep in. His elder brother was creative in the ways he woke people up—Merlin had learned that the hard way.
So, he endured.
After finishing his morning exercises, he excused himself and went inside the house. It wasn't that he didn't want to see his father wipe the floor with his brother; it was just that the time for his lesson with his mother was approaching.
...
Merlin sat across from his mother at the dining table, barely concealing his anticipation.
If he were to tell the truth, since the day he discovered the extraordinary nature of this world and the existence of magic, he'd been eager to learn it himself.
He still remembered how he couldn't stop pestering his mother to teach him every chance he got. But no matter how much he asked, she always refused, saying only that she would teach him when he was old enough.
After a few dozen tries, he realized there was no moving her. So he stopped asking and instead began sneaking into her study whenever she was out, hoping to learn something on his own.
It, of course, yielded no results. His reincarnation buffs didn't work, and he didn't find a single book explaining how magic worked.
He did find some interesting books, though—one of which stood out in particular. It was a journal of a battle mage named Trevor that described his travels across the Gisa Continent, his encounters with magical beasts, bandits, and other mages.
There were vivid accounts of battles and descriptions of strange lands Merlin had never heard of. To someone who had never stepped out of the confines of Ivory Village, the book was like opening a window to another world, and he was immersed in its contents for months. It further fueled his desire to learn magic.
That was why yesterday, his father's words had thrilled him so much. It was like his childhood wish was about to be fulfilled.
Hogwarts' acceptance had come rather suddenly, but it also opened new possibilities for both of his selves. The way magic was taught in both worlds was undoubtedly different as he had never seen his mother use a tool like a wand when casting spells.
He saw an opportunity here. If he could study both magical systems and combine their strengths, then... The idea made his mind wander.
Just as he was lost in thought, his mother's voice rang in his ears, followed by a sigh.
"To be honest, Merlin, I still think it's too early for you to start learning magic."
Merlin looked at his mother with a dumbfounded expression. Those words were... just too familiar!
"As a mage myself," his mother continued, "I know how dangerous even small mistakes while casting spells can be. A single misstep can have serious consequences—especially for young mages who don't yet have proper control over their magic power and get too eager to cast spells. Most children only begin learning after they turn thirteen."
She paused, her tone softening. "But your father seems to think you're more mature and intelligent than kids your age. He believes learning early will give you a head start. And I think his words hold some truth."
Merlin watched quietly as a hesitant expression appeared on her face.
"Even so," she said, "as your mother, I can't bring myself to risk your safety just for that."
Merlin could sense her worry, which made his heart warm. He lowered his gaze and asked, "Then why did you agree?"
"I agreed on one condition," she said. "For the first year, you're not to attempt any spells. I'll only teach you theory—and how to properly control your magic power: channeling and shaping it, to be more precise."
"Control magic power?" Merlin repeated, surprised. The content he had read last night was still fresh in his memory. If his mother was talking about the same thing, then control over magic power improved through practice—but how was he supposed to practice if he wasn't allowed to cast any spells?
His mother smiled faintly. "Don't think you'll be wasting time. Have you heard of the Kirion?"
"Kirion Academy of Magic? Of course" Merlin said. "It's the only place that officially teaches magic in the kingdom. Father mentioned it once when talking about the Knight Academy. He said both academies were founded by the royal family and only accept children from noble houses."
"Exactly. Then you know how prestigious it is."
Merlin nodded. How could he not know?Just the fact that nobles were willing to send their children there instead of hiring private tutors said enough about its quality.
"Even at Kirion," his mother said, "new students don't learn spells right away. The first six months are devoted entirely to shaping magic power. Only after that do they start casting.
"The better your shaping skills," she added, "the easier it'll be to cast spells later on."
He hesitated for a moment before finally asking what he was curious about. "Mother, how do you know so much about Kirion?"
His mother replied in a flat tone, "Because I studied there and graduated as a healer."
"You… are a noble?" Merlin's eyes widened in shock. Why had he never heard of this before?
"I was," she said, with a faint, unreadable smile. "Until I was disowned."
Merlin sensed it wasn't something she wanted to talk about, so he decisively reined in his curiosity and let the topic drop. Instead, he asked, "Then… how do I practice the so-called shaping?"
She extended her hand toward the empty bowl on the table. Without a sound, it rose into the air, floating between them. Merlin didn't show much surprise, having seen her do it countless times.
"This," she said calmly, "is unstructured magic. It's different from normal spellcasting. There's no spell construct or incantation—just raw shaping of magic to produce an effect."
She lowered the bowl back to the table.
"It has lots of limitations and disadvantages compared to structured magic, which is the mainstream among mages on the Gisa Continent. But it's the best way to practice one's shaping skills. Some also call them shaping exercises. That's what I'll be teaching you."
Merlin listened attentively, digesting the various unfamiliar terms he'd just heard. He leaned forward, eagerly asking, "Then how do I do it?"
She gave him a knowing look. "Before that, what do you think magic is?"
"It's an energy innate to mages," he said.
"Then how do you know you're a mage?"
"Because you told me," he said, confused.
She chuckled softly and explained with gentle eyes, "Exactly. You only know it because someone told you. The first step is to feel it yourself. You have to perceive your own magic power before you can channel it. Only then will you be able to learn magic shaping."
Merlin nodded. It made sense. "Then how do I do that?"
"Follow my instructions carefully, and you'll eventually be able to do it. Let's not waste time and start right away. Close your eyes and raise your right arm."
Merlin agreed with his mother's approach of not wasting time and did as she instructed.
"I'll try to channel my magic from my hand to yours," she continued. "Try to sense it."
The next moment, he felt her fingers wrap gently around his hands. Her palm was soft and smooth, unlike his own, which had grown rough and calloused from months of sword training. Moreover, it was warm—and that warmth seemed to flow from her hand into his.
Wait—the heat was really moving! Merlin's mind stirred slightly, and just as he was about to focus on the sensation, it suddenly vanished.
"Did you feel it?" his mother asked.
He nodded. "Yeah… it felt like warm ants crawling up my arm. But it disappeared suddenly."
"You lost focus." Her voice was gentle and patient. "Let's try again. Remember, don't let your thoughts wander. Focus only on perceiving the feeling."
They repeated the process. This time, since he knew what he was dealing with, Merlin was able to sense her magic power for a long time without losing focus. He held onto it, tracing it up his arm until he could almost tell where it stopped—earning an approving nod from his mother.
"Good. You caught on faster than I expected," she said, letting go of his hand.
"Now, remember that feeling and try to sense your own magic. Close your eyes and focus inwardly."
Merlin nodded slowly, emptied his mind of any other thought, and focused inwardly as she told him. Minutes slipped by—five, then ten—but he wasn't able to sense a single trace of similar warmth in his body.
After nearly half an hour, he finally exhaled in frustration, opening his eyes. "Nothing… I can't feel anything."
His mother didn't look disappointed. If anything, she seemed unsurprised.
"It's not as easy as you think, dear," she said gently. "When I was channeling magic power into you, that energy wasn't yours—it was foreign. It moved differently, so you could feel it right away. Your own magic power, on the other hand, is quiet, scattered, and still. It's been inside you since the day you were born, so you're used to its presence."
She paused, letting that sink in.
"Besides, you're still young. You have very little magic power compared to adult mages, and that makes it even harder to detect. Most people take a week to a month to feel their magic power for the first time. So don't rush. The more you force it, the harder it'll become. Just keep trying, and you'll get it eventually."
Merlin nodded, closing his eyes again. He drew a deep breath to calm his thoughts and focused once more.
For the next hour, he kept trying, but the result remained the same—he couldn't sense any magic power.
His mother once again reminded him to be patient before going off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, leaving Merlin alone to ponder.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up as an idea occurred to him.
'This might work.'