Areth was once again standing at the center of the arena, a place where no one else was ever allowed to enter. The devastation he had caused earlier had already been repaired, as if it had never existed at all. The craftsmen on the island were exceptionally good at their work.
The last time he had come here, he had learned how to shift into his dragon form. But now he needed to take a step further. He had to learn how magic actually worked in this world. Areth's main specialization was sorcery. Among the many sorcerer subclasses, he had chosen the Ancient Dragon Sorcerer, a class infamous for being weak in the early game but overwhelmingly powerful in the late game.
Of course, the game allowed players to switch to other classes and use their abilities as well. The drawback was that doing so reduced their effective level to less than 20 percent of their original sorcerer level. In other words, a level 100 sorcerer who chose to change classes could, for example, become only a level 80 paladin.
For now, Areth pushed the idea of class switching aside. Learning how to cast magic was urgent. He had thought about how to do it before, but now that it was time to put theory into practice, he found himself hesitating.
In Blood Banner, there were three methods of spellcasting. The first was magic granted by a character's innate abilities. Areth's storage space was an example of this. The second method involved casting spells through equipped or usable items. The armor he was currently wearing or consumable scrolls fell into this category. The third, and final, method was exclusive to sorcerer classes: mastery over spellcasting through the use of Mana.
Some classes used Mana bestowed by a god. Others gathered Mana from the surrounding air. And some passively generated Mana through the ancient blood flowing in their veins. As expected, Areth belonged to the last group, using the Mana produced by his ancient lineage. He could use ambient Mana as well, but gathering it took unnecessary time.
There was another important detail. The quality of ambient Mana was often inferior to the Mana he produced himself. Yes, in the craft of magic, Mana quality mattered. In the end, Mana was a form of energy, no different from oil or coal. If the person was the engine, then the energy they used was the fuel.
Areth closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Standing at the center of the arena, the cold of the stone floor seeped up through the soles of his feet and into his body. That sensation was the only reality anchoring him to the present moment.
"I need to feel the source first…"
The words slipped from his lips as a whisper barely loud enough to be heard.
Ancient dragon blood and divine blood flowed slowly through his veins with every beat of his heart. To a normal human, this would have been nothing more than the warmth of circulating blood. But to Areth, it was something else entirely. It was a silent storm moving within him.
Behind his closed eyes, an invisible world began to take shape.
It was as if there were an unseen core inside his body.
Like a sun.
It was there.
It existed.
It was simply waiting to awaken.
The moment Areth grasped the sensation circling that core, he instinctively held his breath.
It was not a muscle. Not an organ either. And yet it was undeniably there. Deep within his chest, slightly below his heart, it sat like an ancient seal hammered into the center of his very existence.
The Dragon Core.
In the game's descriptions, it was a superficial term. "Sorcerers of the ancient dragon lineage generate Mana internally," the text would say, and move on. But now Areth understood all too well that this sentence did not even come close to the truth.
Then his brows furrowed as he became aware of something else within his body.
That core was not alone.
The Dragon Core was dominant, yes. Louder. Heavier. Completely unashamed of making its presence known. Having used it countless times in the game, it naturally asserted itself more strongly within him. He had also connected to it when shifting into dragon form and when assimilating the dragon spirit into his own soul.
But now…
Deep within him, there was something far quieter.
Not below the Dragon Core. Not above it either.
Directly opposite it.
As if both existed at the same center, but on different layers.
Areth pushed his mind deeper.
And there, he felt a presence that was almost imperceptibly calm, yet utterly absolute.
It was not cold.
Nor was it warm.
It carried an indescribable weight.
The God Core.
The legacy of a fallen demigod.
If the Dragon Core was like a sun, this one was like a black star. It did not shine, shout, or call out. But it bent the space around it. It did not radiate Mana, but a sense of order. Rather than burning things away, it enforced how things were meant to be.
Areth's throat went dry.
"So you're here too…"
Throughout the game, the dragon lineage had always taken priority. Mechanically, it made sense. Dragon magic was direct, destructive, and delivered quick results. Divine power, on the other hand, was cumbersome and delicate. And since his party had someone highly skilled in divine magic, focusing on the dragon path had been the logical choice.
Since his reincarnation, he had never made contact with this core. In this new world he had reincarnated into, there was no strict party system. It could exist, but it was not mandatory. Perhaps this time, mastering both cores would be the wiser path. But for now, he chose to focus on the core he already knew and had used extensively in the game.
He did not deny the existence of the God Core, but merely feeling as though he had met its gaze was enough for now. It was there. Silent. And patient. Far too patient.
"Later," he thought. "You can wait a bit."
This was the point where he needed to figure out how to use his spells here, without the simple in-game console interface he had relied on before.
Areth slowly pulled his mind back.
The moment he returned his focus to the Dragon Core, the dominant presence responded immediately. It was as if a beast that had been waiting to speak for a long time had finally been given the floor. The warmth in his chest intensified, and the flow of Mana became more distinct. Unlike the absolute silence of the divine core, the dragon core was alive. Primal, instinctive, and deeply familiar.
Areth recognized this sensation.
He had reached this point countless times in the game.
"Interface…" he murmured.
Normally, a single click on his avatar would have been enough. A window would open in the corner of his screen, listing his skills along with their Mana costs and cooldowns. But this world was not a game in the literal sense. It had its own rules, yes, but the triggers were no longer a keyboard or a mouse.
Areth completed the thought in his mind.
Now, what triggered them was intent.
With that realization, he suppressed the reflexes born of habit. He did not imagine a window, nor did he picture a screen filled with text. Instead, he began to consider what the so-called "interface" had actually been.
It was not a spell.
It was a convenience.
An artificial translator designed to help players form a smoother connection between Mana and the world. It simplified commands, filtered intent, and smoothed out errors.
But now, that translator was gone.
And that did not necessarily have to be a disadvantage.
Rather than trying to select a spell like he would have in the game, he asked the fundamental question first.
"What is a spell, really?"
The answer was clear in his mind.
A spell was Mana being forced into a behavior.
At that, the Dragon Core reacted almost joyfully. Mana rippled and grew denser. It was raw and formless, but powerful.
Areth did not suppress it.
He observed it.
He noticed Mana's natural inclination. The Mana flowing from the Dragon Core wanted to spread, to generate heat, to expand, to burn, to destroy. This was the nature of dragon lineage.
"So this is the first step…"
In the game, spells appeared as a list, but in reality each one was simply a different pattern imposed on these behaviors. A fireball was Mana compressed into a point and forced to explode. Dragon breath was Mana released in a continuous, directed flow.
Then he should start with the simplest possible thing.
Not offense.
Not defense.
Just interaction.
Areth slowly raised his palm.
He did not whisper the name of a spell. He did not visualize a prepared formula. He simply willed the Mana overflowing from the Dragon Core to exist in his palm.
Intent.
At that moment, it felt as though an invisible veil had been drawn aside.
The Mana did not tear itself free from the core. It was not forced or summoned. It did not burst out of his veins. Instead, as if it had always been there, it simply condensed in his palm.
The air grew heavy.
Fine dust particles on the stone floor trembled beneath his hand. An almost imperceptible ripple rose between his fingers. There was no heat. No light. Only presence.
Areth raised an eyebrow slightly.
"This…"
In the game, beginner spells were always flashy. Flames, bursts of light, dramatic effects. But what he had just done was something the game had never taught him. Because the game showed the result, not the process.
"Maybe it's because I merged with the dragon spirit," he thought, "but… this is easier than I expected."