"How are you? Are you still feeling sick?" King Lucius IV asked, his voice brimming with concern.
"I'm fine," Caladros replied, shaking his hand and offering a small smile. "I've never felt so refreshed."
"I'm glad to hear that," the king grinned from ear to ear. "The recovery resources we used were worth every coin."
"Recovery resources?" Caladros raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," the king nodded. "They weren't cheap. And thankfully, the culprit didn't hit any vital organs, so your recovery was smooth."
Hearing this, Caladros realized that even though the demon god had aided his recuperation, the healing resources his father provided were critical to his near-miraculous recovery in just three hours.
"Then there were the healers," King Lucius added. "Before you arrived here, they cast sustained healing spells on you. It's because of them that you survived despite losing so much blood."
"Sounds like you spent a fortune just for me to recover from a wound on my back." Caladros chuckled lightly. He thought his father had gone overboard; ordinary recovery pills would have sufficed, albeit taking a hundred times longer.
"Of course I did," the king laughed earnestly. "You're my son, after all."
He patted Caladros on the shoulder, his laughter echoing warmly. Pride lit up his face, knowing he hadn't hesitated to save his son from the brink of death.
Caladros glanced at his personal maid, who immediately averted her gaze, looking visibly embarrassed. He couldn't recall her name. All he remembered was that she'd been serving him for seven months, ever since her predecessor retired to raise her children.
Lucius noticed his son's stare and smirked slightly. "Son, did you know Rose was the first to try reaching the Duchess' estate when she heard about what happened to you?"
"Really?" Caladros asked, visibly surprised. The maid—Rose, according to the king—turned as red as a tomato. He approached her and gently held her hand. "Thank you. I truly appreciate your concern."
"Ah! Umm… Y-you're w-welcome, Your Highness," Rose stammered, her voice trembling with nervousness.
Caladros nodded before withdrawing his hand and turning back to the king, his expression now serious. The light-hearted mood in the room dissipated instantly, and Lucius, sensing his son's shift in demeanor, straightened. He knew what was coming: a discussion about the attack.
Caladros smiled reassuringly at Rose, prompting her to curtsy before hurriedly leaving the room.
"Did Duchess Marianna survive?" Caladros asked, sitting by the desk and clasping his hands together, his gaze unwavering.
"Unfortunately, no," King Lucius replied somberly. "Not just her. Everyone at that meeting was killed—except for you."
"The assassin dared to not only target me but slaughter everyone else?" Caladros frowned, his brows knitting tightly. "The mastermind behind this is clearly plotting something bigger."
"That's precisely what we suspect," Lucius agreed. "But Cal, I don't want you involved in this matter."
"But I'm a victim too!" Caladros retorted, his voice rising. "How can I sit idly by, knowing the assassin who nearly killed me is still out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for another opportunity?"
"I know," Lucius replied helplessly. "But your brother and I will handle this. From now on, you won't attend any diplomatic meetings. You'll stay here, where it's safe."
"You're underestimating me!"
"Yes, I am!" Lucius snapped, guilt lacing his voice despite his harsh words. "You can't use magic. You're powerless against the forces behind this attack!"
To the king's surprise, Caladros smiled. Shrugging, he said, "Fine. As you wish, I'll stay here."
Lucius blinked, taken aback. He hadn't expected his son to comply so easily. "Y-you agree?"
"Yeah, whatever." Caladros rose from his seat. "I'm exhausted from the recovery process. Can you leave me to rest, Father?"
"Oh, of course." Lucius stood, still looking bewildered. "Do you want me to call Rose?"
"No," Caladros shook his head. "I'd prefer to be alone."
"Understood," Lucius said, his hand on the door handle. It was natural for his son to need solitude after such a traumatic ordeal. As he left, his thoughts burned with fury. Whoever had dared to harm his family would pay dearly.
Once the door clicked shut, Caladros ensured it was locked. Sitting back at his desk, he gazed out the window. It was already noon, and his stomach growled, but he ignored it. His mind was racing, formulating plans. Step by step, he would prepare for what lay ahead. Though he didn't fully understand the nature of his hidden enemies, he was determined to uncover the truth.
His greatest asset now was the gift Astaroth had given him: a restored magic core and the mysterious second core. Though he didn't yet understand the latter, he resolved to figure it out. But first, he needed to become a true mage by following the principle of magical progression.
This principle dictated how mages advanced tiers, starting with a red magical core. To progress, a mage had to absorb ambient mana and condense it into a sub-core. Forming ten sub-cores allowed a mage to break through to the Orange-tier, where mana was denser and spellcasting became more efficient.
While Caladros had a red core, he wasn't yet a proper Red-tier mage. He needed to form his first sub-core.
Touching his chin thoughtfully, Caladros closed his eyes and focused inward. He visualized the red core and the faint, nearly invisible dark core within him. Drawing mana from his surroundings, he began the process.
With a deep breath, he sat cross-legged, blocking out the physical world. Following his mentor Erik's teachings, he heightened his senses. He felt it: a formless, colorless energy enveloping him. Mana.
Activating his red core, he created a vortex that pulled the mana into his body. Ten minutes later, his core was brimming with energy, on the verge of bursting. He endured the pressure, recalling Erik's guidance. The core swirled clockwise, condensing the mana into a smaller, orbiting sphere.
Bang!
The sound echoed within him as his first sub-core formed. Delving into his consciousness, Caladros marveled at the smaller red sphere now orbiting his main core.
"Finally," he murmured, his voice filled with joy. He would remember this moment forever: the day he, Caladros Fenwynn Daelithor Amaranth, once magicless, became a mage.
Though it was only the first step, it fueled his determination. He vowed to surpass his peers and strike back at his enemies when the time came.
Exhausted yet content, Caladros drifted into a deep sleep, dreaming of the path ahead.