As the first light of dawn filtered through the cracks in the walls, the three of them—Renrou, Nicolas, and Garen—sat huddled together, their conversation never ceasing. The oppressive tension from before had lifted, replaced by the quiet relief of Renrou's return. They spoke in low voices, afraid to break the fragile peace, but also eager to understand what had happened.
Renrou's voice trembled as he described the experience of being trapped within the beast. "It was like I was in a dream, but I couldn't wake up. I could see… everything. I could feel myself hurting people, but I couldn't stop. It was like I was being drowned, buried beneath something dark."
Nicolas listened intently, occasionally glancing at Garen, who remained mostly silent. Garen's eyes never left his son, still unable to fully comprehend that Renrou was sitting there, safe and human once more.
"Did you ever feel… like you could fight back?" Nicolas asked quietly, his thoughts already turning over in his mind.
Renrou nodded slowly. "I think… I could feel you, Nicolas. You were there, pulling me out. If it wasn't for that… I don't know if I could've found my way back." His eyes flickered with gratitude, though they were also clouded with exhaustion.
They continued talking well into the morning, as Renrou recounted his experience trapped inside the Wesen's mind, how it felt to lose control of his own body and fight to reclaim it. His voice was thick with emotion, the pain of his ordeal still fresh.
Eventually, the weight of the night caught up with them, and exhaustion claimed them all. They slept for a couple of hours, bodies too weary to resist, but even in sleep, Nicolas's mind continued to race.
After barely two hours of rest, Nicolas woke up quietly and slipped out of the small room. The village was still eerily silent, the aftermath of the battle lingering like a shadow. He walked toward the hill behind the village, his thoughts heavy with the events of the night.
Sitting at the top of the hill, Nicolas gazed out over the landscape, the Blood Moon now a memory, replaced by the faint blue of early morning. His mind turned to the strange power he had used, the ability to connect with Renrou and help him fight back. What is this power? he wondered. Where did it come from?
He thought back to his conversation with Garen earlier. His uncle had revealed something surprising—Nicolas wasn't the first person to exhibit such abilities.
"my father told me once," Garen had said, his voice heavy with memory. "There was a person, long ago, who could move objects with his mind. I never thought much of it, dismissed it as a fairy tale. But now… seeing you, Nicolas, maybe it's the same power."
"Who was he?" Nicolas had asked, eager for answers, but Garen could only shake his head.
"I don't know. My father never mentioned his name. But he was real, at least according to him."
Now, sitting on the hill, Nicolas thought deeply about his uncle's words. If there were others like him, what did that mean? Could there be a whole world of people with these abilities? His thoughts drifted to the novels and movies he had consumed in his old world. In those stories, characters often trained their mental powers, using them to manipulate the world around them, to fight, and to protect.
Could this be a world of magic? Nicolas wondered. If there's magic here, maybe I can use it, too.
Without anyone to guide him, Nicolas decided to follow what he had learned from those stories. He would train himself. And the first step, as the stories always said, was to develop sensitivity to mana—the energy that fueled magic.
'If there's magic here, there has to be some kind of energy like mana in the atmosphere' he thought. 'And if I want to use it, I have to sense it first.'
He closed his eyes and began to focus, trying to clear his mind the way the characters in the stories did. Meditation, they called it. It was the key to unlocking magical potential. He imagined the air around him filled with a subtle, invisible energy, something he could reach out and touch if he just concentrated hard enough.
Hours passed. The sun had fully risen, casting warm rays over the hill, but Nicolas felt nothing. No mana, no energy. Just the quiet breeze against his skin and the steady beat of his heart. But he didn't give up. He couldn't.
As Nicolas sat on the hilltop, day after day, trying to connect with the hidden energy around him, he found himself reflecting on how magic might work in this world. The idea of mana had been a concept in the fantasy books he used to read back in his old world, but those were stories—here, it felt real, if only he could grasp it.
Each morning, before the village stirred, Nicolas would take his place on the grassy hill, cross his legs, and focus inward. He imagined magic as something that flowed through everything—through the air, the earth, even the blood in his veins. It had to be there, just beyond his reach. He could almost feel the pulse of the world, like a rhythm faintly beating beneath the surface of reality. He pictured it like a vast ocean of energy, invisible and ethereal, yet powerful, waiting for him to dive into it.
Some days, he imagined magic as threads of light, shimmering through the atmosphere, linking every living thing in an unseen web. Other times, he thought of it as a force, something primal and ancient, coursing through the earth and sky like the wind. Whatever form it took, he believed that if he could just open his mind enough, if he could quiet his thoughts, he would be able to sense it.
During the first week, the silence of the hill seemed overwhelming. His frustration mounted as each session ended with nothing but the sound of the wind and the rustling of leaves.
"What if there's no magic here?" the doubt would creep in, but each time, he pushed it aside, telling himself that it was only a matter of time.