After Horace dismissed his clan members, he vanished from the room. No one could tell if he had teleported or simply moved with extraordinary speed and silence. Nevertheless, his sudden disappearances were a familiar occurrence, and the clan members had grown accustomed to Horace leaving without a trace.
Lars Zemof walked toward his parents, greeting them with a proud smile. His father, Gerban, ruffled his son's hair, sharing the same smile, while his mother, Zilda, looked on with approval and gave Lars a thumbs-up.
"We received a letter from the Arcana Institute, Lars," Zilda announced. "You passed the exam for the first batch of students in the Prestige class. The last hurdle is the interview."
Gerban added, "I won't lie, son. I was nervous the whole time for your results, especially after that blunder last time. But you did a great job today in your meeting with the Patriarch. I'm sure you'll pass the interviews as long as you show the same grit and passion to the interviewer."
"I definitely am nervous," Lars admitted. "It would be a lie to say otherwise. Getting into the top twenty students in the whole republic at my age was something I always aimed for. But after the exam at Aeternia, I saw a bunch of teenagers my age who could beat me anytime."
"Hey, don't say that," Gerban replied jokingly. "You're the most talented Zemof since the Patriarch. Have some confidence in yourself, like how you stood up and suggested that idiotic idea to Lord Horace last meeting. Besides, if you passed the main exam, the interview is just a formality."
"Dad, that's not funny. I almost pissed my pants when he bared his full mana presence in front of me. I thought I was facing a titan from the legends. The pressure of being the best genius in the Zemof family really got to my head. It's a good thing that the Patriarch put me in my place." Lars waved his hands animatedly, recalling the past blunder.
"Speaking of the Patriarch, there are rumors of him taking on a disciple," Lars added.
Phoebe, a voluptuous woman in her early twenties with hair a mix of red and silver, interjected, "You're kinda late on the news, Lars. Even people beyond the lands of Ziront have heard about that. On the MagiWeb, people are talking about it and guessing which genius he picked up. As of now, even the people closest to him don't know who his disciple is. There are rumors that he's a long-lost prince from an ancient kingdom."
"Long-lost prince from an ancient kingdom? How many years has it been since there were monarchies in Aicras? That's a stupid rumor. Besides, Phoebe, shouldn't you be focusing on contacting the Pyrus family? Why are you here with us?" Lars bombarded Phoebe with questions.
"Lars, be polite with your cousin. It's been some time since you had dinner with us, dear. Why don't you come over and eat dinner later? Also, send my regards to my sister." Zilda admonished her son, smiling gracefully at her niece.
"Aunt Zilda, mother is fine in Pyrus. They're a simple bunch on my father's side, and there's little to no politics there. Just some guys punching each other's faces when disagreements arise and drowning each other in alcohol after the fight."
"Must be fun living without worries, cuz," Lars commented.
"Worries? They have their own problems too. Just because they don't seem like the usual urban people with posh lifestyles doesn't mean they're stupid. There's a reason their civilization is one of the oldest and still thriving today." Phoebe poked Lars' sides, tickling him as a punishment for his judgmental attitude toward the people of Pyrus. "Anyway, I wish you luck in your interview. I saw the post on MagiWeb of the top twenty students that qualified for the Prestige class. Go get 'em, cuz."
Phoebe gestured a farewell towards the family as she walked away towards her diplomatic team specializing in relations with the state of Pyrus.
"What do you think of master's disciple, mom?"
——
In the skies above the main Zemof estate, far beyond where clouds and magical beasts could fly, Kyrian sat in a meditative position on the platform with his eyes closed. His presence was serene, exuding an atmosphere of gentleness and warmth.
Meanwhile, Mister Lars, the steel puppet butler, busied himself with preparing the next set of meals rich in mana. Each dish was meticulously crafted to boost his young master's energy and enhance his training. The butler also arranged the platform with a relaxing scent, designed to help Kyrian achieve greater focus during his meditative sessions.
As he arranged the meals, the butler couldn't help but wonder about the phenomenon that had occurred earlier. He had tried contacting his master, but the signal seemed to be blocked even after the phenomenon happened. Mister Lars had encountered a being far beyond the power of the material plane he had known. The voice he heard from Kyrian was an ancient power that should not have existed in Gaia. As a puppet made by the greatest inventor, he had the computing ability to consume all knowledge in the MagiWeb and extrapolate data from his findings, but he still couldn't figure out what had happened.
Mister Lars focused on his work, checking the safety devices in place, and let his thoughts wander, determining that he wouldn't be able to do anything about it at the moment. The height of their ascent should have brought strong, buffeting winds that could disrupt their activities. However, the various magitech devices in place created a barrier, nullifying the environmental hazards and ensuring a tranquil space for Kyrian to concentrate.
'Light hasn't been so kind to me. The rays of Lumina shone upon my face when mother died, as if mocking my grief with its gentle but unfeeling embrace. It was the same light that awoke me from my slumber when I overloaded my mana using [Limit Break]. But this light was also the same light that guided me towards the surface when I was drowning in the rivers of Theria where master saved me.'
'Anyway, reflecting on these thoughts won't help me in making mobility spells at the moment. Although mother never told me about the Lumenhart, she vaguely taught me how to use light magic.'
Kyrian used his innate mana to manifest light magic in a spherical shape surrounding his body. He slowly wielded the light to be smaller until it followed the shape of his body. His eyes glowed as he used his [Eyes of Divinity] to see the intricacies of the mana, searching for ways to fuse with the light magic he had manifested to turn himself into light.
Time seemed to slow down as he focused intensely, willing the mana to move through his pathways to follow his intent precisely. The moment it touched his skin, the light elements dissipated, and the mana he had been controlling was severed.
'What's wrong? I definitely should have been able to fuse with the mana and make myself light itself.'
"Young master Kyrian, I noticed that you were attempting to fuse your body with light magic, correct?" Mister Lars inquired; his mechanical voice tinged with curiosity.
"Yeah, I figured that if I fused with light elements, I would gain the attributes of light and be fast."
"You are on the right track, but it's premature for you to fuse with mana since you do not have a developed mana core to perform a light magic transformation. Only those who have reached rank 4 will be able to do that due to the properties of a mana core affecting the body, transforming it to be more conducive to mana. As you grow in power, it will be easier to turn a part of your body into mana itself. You are two ranks away from doing that, young master."
"If I coat my body with light magic, will that work?" Kyrian asked, eager for any possible solution.
"Mana coating is exclusive to rank 3, young master." Mister Lars realized his mistake and quickly added, "Who am I kidding? You have a mana core at rank 2; with your mysterious talents, it might be possible," the butler acknowledged. Aaa