By the second week, Nicolas began to understand something. Magic, he reasoned, wasn't like the dramatic forces he'd read about. It didn't roar or crackle through the air. It wasn't something that would suddenly flood his senses in a blaze of light. No—magic, or mana, was quiet. Subtle. If he wanted to feel it, he had to stop looking for something loud and overwhelming, and instead, he had to listen to the quiet parts of the world.
He adjusted his focus. His breaths became slower, more controlled. He let go of the urge to 'find' magic, and instead, allowed himself to simply exist, to be a part of the hill, the sky, and the earth beneath him. He imagined himself as a tree, with roots deep in the ground, drawing in the energy of the world around him without force, without effort.
Then, on the fifteenth day, just as the sun crested the horizon, something shifted. Sitting on the hill with his eyes closed, Nicolas felt it—a faint tingling sensation at the edge of his awareness. At first, he thought it was a trick of his mind, another false hope after days of trying. But then it grew stronger, a soft hum beneath his skin, like the first breath of air after being underwater for too long.
His heart quickened, but he forced himself to stay calm, to not let his excitement break the fragile connection. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt. It was as if the air around him had come alive, shimmering with a subtle energy that he could just barely sense. It wasn't loud, and it wasn't visible, but it was there, like a pulse in the atmosphere. Mana.
He reached out with his mind, tentatively, not wanting to scare the feeling away. It responded, gently, like a leaf drifting into his hand. For the first time, Nicolas felt connected to the world around him in a way he never had before. The mana wasn't something external, something separate—it was part of him, part of everything.
His breaths deepened, and he imagined the mana flowing into him, like water being absorbed by dry soil. Slowly, he felt warmth spread through his body, not from the sun, but from within. It was soft, but steady, like a tiny flame beginning to burn.
This is it, Nicolas thought. This is mana.
In that moment, he understood. Mana was not something to be controlled or commanded—it was something to be in tune with, something to flow with. It wasn't about force; it was about harmony. And as the realization settled within him, Nicolas felt the mana settle too, no longer fleeting or faint, but present and waiting.
The journey had just begun, but for the first time, he knew with certainty that magic was real. And he was ready to learn its ways.
So without waisting anymore time, he started meditating. And started to absorb the mana all around him.
Nicolas didn't know , what type of affinity he had or how was his talent for magic was but without giving it a second thought he delve right into it.
According to stories in the novel or movies, talent and affinity is important for a magician or wizard. But for Nicolas it doesn't matter, what matters is that , he will definitely become mage or wizard one day. And no-one can stop him.
Nicolas sat still, his breathing calm and rhythmic as he focused inward. By the fifteenth day of his practice, he finally sensed the mana, a subtle energy moving around him, something he had to feel rather than see. The mana wasn't just in the air—it was in the earth beneath him, in the rustling leaves above, and in the soft breeze that kissed his skin. It was everywhere, in everything. It was not the bright, roaring force he had imagined, but rather a quiet hum, a soft current of energy.
The mana particles he observed were delicate, shimmering fragments, like tiny motes of light. They floated gently around him, translucent yet vibrant, with colors ranging from the deep blue of the night sky to the soft greens of a forest canopy. Some were gold, like sunlight breaking through clouds, while others were crimson, flickering like embers. Each particle had a life of its own, moving slowly and purposefully, as though waiting for something. Nicolas imagined them as pieces of the world's soul, fragments of the universe's energy that had broken off to drift freely. Slowly, painstakingly, these particles entered his body, melding with his own energy.
At first, absorbing them was difficult. His body, unused to this new connection, struggled to draw in the mana. One particle might take minutes to fully integrate, and the process was agonizingly slow. But Nicolas was patient. He sat for hours, his eyes closed, allowing the energy to trickle into him. He could feel each particle's essence merge with his, adding a tiny flicker to the growing fire within him.
---
Meanwhile, Renrou and his father, Garen, watched from a distance with growing concern. For over a month now, Nicolas had barely spoken to them. He spent every waking moment sitting in the same spot on the hill, his eyes closed, lost in some deep meditation. Renrou, young and impulsive, had tried approaching him a few times, but Nicolas had always seemed so distant, so far removed from the world.
"I'm starting to worry," Renrou muttered one evening as he stood at the window, watching Nicolas's silhouette against the setting sun. "He hasn't said a word to us in weeks. It's like… it's like he's forgotten we exist."
Garen, sitting nearby and sharpening a hunting knife, sighed deeply. "I've noticed. He's always been a bit odd, but this is… different." He paused, the blade sliding smoothly along the whetstone. "Do you think it has something to do with your transformation?"
Renrou stiffened at the mention of his Wesen form. A few weeks ago, his body had shifted unexpectedly, showing the animalistic side of his for the first time. He had feared what Nicolas would think of him after witnessing the change.
"You really think he's avoiding me because of that?" Renrou's voice was quiet, laced with worry. "I thought maybe… maybe he was just focused on his training. But now I'm not so sure."
Garen's eyes narrowed as he looked at his son. "I don't know. But whatever it is, it's keeping him away from us." They both fell silent, watching as the shadows deepened around Nicolas's still figure.
But they didn't disturb him. They respected his need for time, even if it hurt to be ignored. If only they knew how far off their assumptions were. If Nicolas had known that they thought he was avoiding them, he would have rushed to explain. But he was too absorbed in his practice to realize their concern.