For the next few days, my entire focus shifted to recovery. The meals provided were both nutritious and easily digestible, tailored to aid my healing process. I adhered strictly to the advice to remain confined to my room, allowing my body the opportunity to mend at its own pace.
Each day, the priest made his rounds to check on my progress, inquiring about any recollections or dreams from my distant past. Unfortunately, my responses remained consistently negative. Sleep for me seemed like a mere blink of an eye, devoid of any dreams or glimpses into my past.
Without fail, each day saw the arrival of the same nun, attending to my needs with unwavering dedication. Mayra, as she introduced herself, became a familiar presence in my daily routine, bringing meals, refreshing water, and tending to the comforting fragrance of incense that lingered in the room.
As evening descended, she would delicately extinguish the candles, casting the room into the soothing embrace of darkness, before bidding me goodnight and retreating to her own quarters.
Through our conversations, I gleaned insights into the village's history. The population had dwindled significantly following a tragedy that befell the village two decades ago—a monstrous wave that left an indelible mark on its inhabitants.
Despite the alert sent to the Knights, the outskirts of the estate remained on the fringes of concern. The devastation wrought upon one or two villages, though significant in their own right, did not register as substantial damage in the eyes of the estate officials. Consequently, no provisions were made for the village's recovery efforts.
In the absence of official aid, the role of the pope emerged as a beacon of hope for the villagers. His tireless efforts and unwavering commitment saved countless lives during the aftermath of the devastating wave. He provided essential services, rescued children from the clutches of corrupted energy, and facilitated the resettlement of nearby villages into what is now known as River Town.
As the monastery ceased to receive funds from the Sanctum of Dunes Estate, the responsibility of managing finances fell to the hands of the priest. Despite the lack of financial support, the priest demonstrated noble intentions in his administration of resources, a fact acknowledged and appreciated by the nuns.
However, unbeknownst to many, the priest harboured skills in the arcane arts, a talent that did not escape the notice of the estate's governance. Despite his humble appearance, he commanded a substantial income, only a fraction of which found its way to the monastery's coffers.
The monastery offered free education to the children of the village, though the curriculum was basic, covering core subjects such as history, language, and literature. However, the educational landscape changed when a new nun arrived at the monastery two months prior.
Serene, as Mayra informed me, possessed a fervent thirst for knowledge despite her humble origins in the village.
Serene's arrival marked a turning point in the quality of education provided. Her proficiency in various subjects far surpassed the standard curriculum, and she dedicated herself to imparting this knowledge to the students of the monastery. It was Serene and Mayra who discovered me unconscious in the forest.
I struggled to stabilize the chaotic energy surging within me, grappling with the relentless pressure exerted by my energy core.
Despite the overwhelming turmoil, my regenerative abilities gradually began to kick in once more, a reassuring sign of my resilience. The circumstances surrounding my arrival in this village in such a dire condition remained shrouded in mystery, yet one thing remained certain: my regenerative powers had played a crucial role in my survival.
The dark aura lingering within me hindered the effectiveness of my regenerative abilities, impeding their efficacy. However, they proved adept at healing my internal injuries, leaving no visible wounds on the surface. It was this intricate interplay between my inherent powers and the malevolent energy within me that defined my precarious state of existence.
Despite enduring excruciating pain, I persisted in exerting pressure on my body, engaging in exercises to push my muscles to their limits within the confines of my room. Over the course of two weeks, I adhered to this rigorous routine without faltering.
Today, however, I made the decision to venture outside. Though the pain still persisted throughout my body, it had become somewhat more bearable, no longer hindering my movements to a significant extent.
I adjusted the sleeves of my white cotton T-shirt and stepped out of the room, greeted by the chilly morning breeze against my skin. The sun had yet to rise, and my restless nights had left me yearning for fresh air and movement.
The monastery comprised two dormitories: one occupied by the children and nuns, and the other, largely vacant. Ten children and four nuns shared their routines, offering assistance to those in need from the village. As for me, I planned to explore the gardens, opting for a change of scenery from the confines of my room.
Though I appreciated the care I received, the thought of not being able to reciprocate left me feeling uneasy. While I understood their perspective—that I was in need of assistance—I couldn't shake the feeling that I was burdening the residents in some way.
Despite the possibility of receiving odd stares from those encountering me for the first time, none unsettled me quite like the gaze of that bird perched upon the branch. For the past two weeks, its unblinking stare followed me relentlessly, even when I couldn't see or sense its presence.
Initially, I dismissed it as a meticulously carved statue, part of the natural scenery. However, it soon became apparent that this bird possessed a will of its own, unaffected by any magic or influence. Its unwavering gaze seemed to penetrate to the depths of my soul, leaving me with an uneasy feeling that lingered long after it flew out of sight.
As I reclined beneath the canopy of the tree, the sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention. Raising my gaze, I beheld a nun making her way toward me, her countenance unfamiliar—distinct from Mayra, who had been my sole companion during my time here.
"You should be resting in your room," she remarked, her tone more questioning than authoritative, prompting me to consider why I had chosen to venture outside.
"The confinement was becoming stifling," I replied honestly, expressing the restlessness that had driven me to seek solace amidst nature.
In the subdued light of the early morning, I observed her features more closely. Her hair, a radiant shade of white reminiscent of freshly fallen snow, and her eyes possessed a subtle crimson hue, imbuing her with a captivating allure that set her apart from the villagers I had encountered thus far.
"I apologize; I should have asked first," I acknowledged, realizing my oversight in considering the presence of others in the dorms before venturing out.
"That is perfectly fine. Are you feeling better now?" she inquired, her voice carrying genuine concern.
"A lot better," I affirmed, grateful for the improvement in my condition.
"Oh, I should introduce myself. My name is Serene," she offered with a slight bow, her demeanor serene indeed.
"I've heard about you from Mayra," I mentioned, recalling the conversations shared with the other nun.
"Her nature is certainly talkative, isn't it?" Serene remarked with a gentle smile.
"Are you aiming to be a magician?" I queried, noticing the book of basic spells clasped in her hands. While it contained fundamental knowledge, its contents lacked the depth of true magical mastery.
"Not exactly, but I'm interested in learning magic. Whenever I witness the pope or priest perform their arts, it appears truly magnificent. Besides, mastering magic could also serve as a means of self-defence," she explained.
"You will easily be able to grasp the concept," I encouraged, hoping to instil confidence in her abilities.
"That's just you being considerate, but I've tried using magic, and I don't seem to have any affinity for it," she responded, her tone tinged with a hint of disappointment. However, I could discern the presence of open veins and an unborn core inside her body, indicating that she indeed possessed an affinity for magic, albeit without the proper guidance.
"My words are not intended to console you; I am merely stating the facts," I clarified, wanting her to understand the truth of her potential.
"Do you know magic?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued by our conversation.
"I know bits of it,"
"Well, isn't that suspicious? You recall knowledge of magic but not your own identity," she remarked, her tone laced with scepticism.
"I have recollection of memory that is not situated with any emotional content, except that I don't recall anything," I replied, attempting to clarify my situation.
After a silence of a few minutes, she nodded, indicating that she understood my condition, and then she asked, "You say you know bits of magic?"
"That is true," I nodded in confirmation.
"Then can you teach me magic?" she inquired eagerly.
Teaching her wouldn't be a difficult task, especially considering her affinity for it. Guiding her in the magical arts could also be a way for me to repay the care I had received during my recovery.
"I can definitely guide you," I replied.
"So let's start," her excitement was palpable in her expressions.
"Right now?" I asked to confirm.
"Yes, no time like the present," she responded eagerly.
"Very well," I agreed
"You must be familiar with the basics, the theories you've studied?" I inquired, stepping away from the support of the tree and walking toward her.
"Yes," her response was affirmative.
"Then you understand the concepts of affinities and elements?" I asked, taking the book from her hands.
"I do. A person can have an affinity toward one element. And if we're discussing prodigies, they may possess affinity for multiple elements," she replied.
"That's correct. Are you familiar with all ten elements?" I queried.
"Yes, wind, water, land, ice, fire, thunder, space, blood, darkness, and divinity," she affirmed.
"Perfect. Then you must also be familiar with the concept of the energy pool," I continued.
"Yes, the energy pool is a conventional and intangible reservoir within one's being that stores purified energy from the surroundings. Magical spells draw upon this energy and manifest power based on a person's affinity toward a particular element," she explained.
"That's the traditional magical art that utilizes purified energy from nature. However, one needs to meditate to replenish their energy after using a spell," I elaborated.
"This traditional magic has been practiced for decades and comes with many limitations. Learning it demands considerable time and effort, and it often diverts one's focus inward rather than enhancing strength," I explained.
"I'm willing to learn, even if mastering just the basics or the epilogue requires significant effort. I'm ready," she affirmed, her determination shining through.
"There's no need to be all worked up. What I will teach you is not the traditional arts, but impurified energy arts," I stated.
"Impurified energy arts?" she echoed, clearly puzzled.
"It doesn't have an official name, but essentially, it involves manipulating the impurified energy of nature directly through your core to conjure spells," I explained.
"I've never heard of such arts before," she admitted.
"That's because I never published a book on it," I replied with a hint of amusement.
For the next few days, my entire focus shifted to recovery. The meals provided were both nutritious and easily digestible, tailored to aid my healing process. I adhered strictly to the advice to remain confined to my room, allowing my body the opportunity to mend at its own pace.
Each day, the priest made his rounds to check on my progress, inquiring about any recollections or dreams from my distant past. Unfortunately, my responses remained consistently negative. Sleep for me seemed like a mere blink of an eye, devoid of any dreams or glimpses into my past.
Without fail, each day saw the arrival of the same nun, attending to my needs with unwavering dedication. Mayra, as she introduced herself, became a familiar presence in my daily routine, bringing meals, refreshing water, and tending to the comforting fragrance of incense that lingered in the room.
As evening descended, she would delicately extinguish the candles, casting the room into the soothing embrace of darkness, before bidding me goodnight and retreating to her own quarters.
Through our conversations, I gleaned insights into the village's history. The population had dwindled significantly following a tragedy that befell the village two decades ago—a monstrous wave that left an indelible mark on its inhabitants.
Despite the alert sent to the Knights, the outskirts of the estate remained on the fringes of concern. The devastation wrought upon one or two villages, though significant in their own right, did not register as substantial damage in the eyes of the estate officials. Consequently, no provisions were made for the village's recovery efforts.
In the absence of official aid, the role of the pope emerged as a beacon of hope for the villagers. His tireless efforts and unwavering commitment saved countless lives during the aftermath of the devastating wave. He provided essential services, rescued children from the clutches of corrupted energy, and facilitated the resettlement of nearby villages into what is now known as River Town.
As the monastery ceased to receive funds from the Sanctum of Dunes Estate, the responsibility of managing finances fell to the hands of the priest. Despite the lack of financial support, the priest demonstrated noble intentions in his administration of resources, a fact acknowledged and appreciated by the nuns.
However, unbeknownst to many, the priest harboured skills in the arcane arts, a talent that did not escape the notice of the estate's governance. Despite his humble appearance, he commanded a substantial income, only a fraction of which found its way to the monastery's coffers.
The monastery offered free education to the children of the village, though the curriculum was basic, covering core subjects such as history, language, and literature. However, the educational landscape changed when a new nun arrived at the monastery two months prior.
Serene, as Mayra informed me, possessed a fervent thirst for knowledge despite her humble origins in the village.
Serene's arrival marked a turning point in the quality of education provided. Her proficiency in various subjects far surpassed the standard curriculum, and she dedicated herself to imparting this knowledge to the students of the monastery. It was Serene and Mayra who discovered me unconscious in the forest.
I struggled to stabilize the chaotic energy surging within me, grappling with the relentless pressure exerted by my energy core.
Despite the overwhelming turmoil, my regenerative abilities gradually began to kick in once more, a reassuring sign of my resilience. The circumstances surrounding my arrival in this village in such a dire condition remained shrouded in mystery, yet one thing remained certain: my regenerative powers had played a crucial role in my survival.
The dark aura lingering within me hindered the effectiveness of my regenerative abilities, impeding their efficacy. However, they proved adept at healing my internal injuries, leaving no visible wounds on the surface. It was this intricate interplay between my inherent powers and the malevolent energy within me that defined my precarious state of existence.
Despite enduring excruciating pain, I persisted in exerting pressure on my body, engaging in exercises to push my muscles to their limits within the confines of my room. Over the course of two weeks, I adhered to this rigorous routine without faltering.
Today, however, I made the decision to venture outside. Though the pain still persisted throughout my body, it had become somewhat more bearable, no longer hindering my movements to a significant extent.
I adjusted the sleeves of my white cotton T-shirt and stepped out of the room, greeted by the chilly morning breeze against my skin. The sun had yet to rise, and my restless nights had left me yearning for fresh air and movement.
The monastery comprised two dormitories: one occupied by the children and nuns, and the other, largely vacant. Ten children and four nuns shared their routines, offering assistance to those in need from the village. As for me, I planned to explore the gardens, opting for a change of scenery from the confines of my room.
Though I appreciated the care I received, the thought of not being able to reciprocate left me feeling uneasy. While I understood their perspective—that I was in need of assistance—I couldn't shake the feeling that I was burdening the residents in some way.
Despite the possibility of receiving odd stares from those encountering me for the first time, none unsettled me quite like the gaze of that bird perched upon the branch. For the past two weeks, its unblinking stare followed me relentlessly, even when I couldn't see or sense its presence.
Initially, I dismissed it as a meticulously carved statue, part of the natural scenery. However, it soon became apparent that this bird possessed a will of its own, unaffected by any magic or influence. Its unwavering gaze seemed to penetrate to the depths of my soul, leaving me with an uneasy feeling that lingered long after it flew out of sight.
As I reclined beneath the canopy of the tree, the sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention. Raising my gaze, I beheld a nun making her way toward me, her countenance unfamiliar—distinct from Mayra, who had been my sole companion during my time here.
"You should be resting in your room," she remarked, her tone more questioning than authoritative, prompting me to consider why I had chosen to venture outside.
"The confinement was becoming stifling," I replied honestly, expressing the restlessness that had driven me to seek solace amidst nature.
In the subdued light of the early morning, I observed her features more closely. Her hair, a radiant shade of white reminiscent of freshly fallen snow, and her eyes possessed a subtle crimson hue, imbuing her with a captivating allure that set her apart from the villagers I had encountered thus far.
"I apologize; I should have asked first," I acknowledged, realizing my oversight in considering the presence of others in the dorms before venturing out.
"That is perfectly fine. Are you feeling better now?" she inquired, her voice carrying genuine concern.
"A lot better," I affirmed, grateful for the improvement in my condition.
"Oh, I should introduce myself. My name is Serene," she offered with a slight bow, her demeanor serene indeed.
"I've heard about you from Mayra," I mentioned, recalling the conversations shared with the other nun.
"Her nature is certainly talkative, isn't it?" Serene remarked with a gentle smile.
"Are you aiming to be a magician?" I queried, noticing the book of basic spells clasped in her hands. While it contained fundamental knowledge, its contents lacked the depth of true magical mastery.
"Not exactly, but I'm interested in learning magic. Whenever I witness the pope or priest perform their arts, it appears truly magnificent. Besides, mastering magic could also serve as a means of self-defence," she explained.
"You will easily be able to grasp the concept," I encouraged, hoping to instil confidence in her abilities.
"That's just you being considerate, but I've tried using magic, and I don't seem to have any affinity for it," she responded, her tone tinged with a hint of disappointment. However, I could discern the presence of open veins and an unborn core inside her body, indicating that she indeed possessed an affinity for magic, albeit without the proper guidance.
"My words are not intended to console you; I am merely stating the facts," I clarified, wanting her to understand the truth of her potential.
"Do you know magic?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued by our conversation.
"I know bits of it,"
"Well, isn't that suspicious? You recall knowledge of magic but not your own identity," she remarked, her tone laced with scepticism.
"I have recollection of memory that is not situated with any emotional content, except that I don't recall anything," I replied, attempting to clarify my situation.
After a silence of a few minutes, she nodded, indicating that she understood my condition, and then she asked, "You say you know bits of magic?"
"That is true," I nodded in confirmation.
"Then can you teach me magic?" she inquired eagerly.
Teaching her wouldn't be a difficult task, especially considering her affinity for it. Guiding her in the magical arts could also be a way for me to repay the care I had received during my recovery.
"I can definitely guide you," I replied.
"So let's start," her excitement was palpable in her expressions.
"Right now?" I asked to confirm.
"Yes, no time like the present," she responded eagerly.
"Very well," I agreed
"You must be familiar with the basics, the theories you've studied?" I inquired, stepping away from the support of the tree and walking toward her.
"Yes," her response was affirmative.
"Then you understand the concepts of affinities and elements?" I asked, taking the book from her hands.
"I do. A person can have an affinity toward one element. And if we're discussing prodigies, they may possess affinity for multiple elements," she replied.
"That's correct. Are you familiar with all ten elements?" I queried.
"Yes, wind, water, land, ice, fire, thunder, space, blood, darkness, and divinity," she affirmed.
"Perfect. Then you must also be familiar with the concept of the energy pool," I continued.
"Yes, the energy pool is a conventional and intangible reservoir within one's being that stores purified energy from the surroundings. Magical spells draw upon this energy and manifest power based on a person's affinity toward a particular element," she explained.
"That's the traditional magical art that utilizes purified energy from nature. However, one needs to meditate to replenish their energy after using a spell," I elaborated.
"This traditional magic has been practiced for decades and comes with many limitations. Learning it demands considerable time and effort, and it often diverts one's focus inward rather than enhancing strength," I explained.
"I'm willing to learn, even if mastering just the basics or the epilogue requires significant effort. I'm ready," she affirmed, her determination shining through.
"There's no need to be all worked up. What I will teach you is not the traditional arts, but impurified energy arts," I stated.
"Impurified energy arts?" she echoed, clearly puzzled.
"It doesn't have an official name, but essentially, it involves manipulating the impurified energy of nature directly through your core to conjure spells," I explained.
"I've never heard of such arts before," she admitted.
"That's because I never published a book on it," I replied with a hint of amusement.