Cire spent the whole night training and repeating the process, progressing step by step. Every time one particle entered Cire's heart, the excruciating pain and the struggle started once again, but the process was smoother each time, and the pain lessened. What took him a whole day the first time now was taking two hours. Cire felt refreshed, which to him was a contradiction; he hadn't rested, and trying to absorb Virtus was excruciatingly painful and draining to the mind. But every time he finished the process, he felt invigorated. His body felt strong and in better shape, but his mind struggled to keep up. Ultimately, Cire couldn't focus anymore, and the light of a new day made his mind give up.
He opened his eyes and looked at Praesul, who was now cleaning his bloodied hands. 'So, I guess he was protecting me during the process.' Cire couldn't help but start to see this strange man in a new light.
"Sir, excuse me, but my mind can't take it anymore. Can I rest for a bit?" Cire asked cautiously, his voice betraying his exhaustion. He braced himself, expecting a cutting response.
"Mmm, I see that the flow in your body is constant. You can rest for about ten minutes," Praesul replied with his usual strict and authoritative tone.
Cire nodded but hesitated, a question gnawing at him. Finally, he ventured, "Sir, may I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead," Praesul said flatly, "but I won't respond if I deem the answer unhelpful to your growth."
Encouraged, Cire took a deep breath. "If you will, sir, will you tell me more about Wish? I mean, about the Guardian of Desire—the Wishful One?"
Praesul grunted, dashing Cire's hopes with a single sound.
"At least you've learned to use some decorum, boy," he said dryly. "But no, I won't tell you anything about the Queen. It is her will. You will find your answers if you wish for them."
'It's the same response she gave me,' Cire thought, frustrated. 'Who is Praesul, and what connection does he have with Wish? If I wish for the answers… I don't comprehend the influences of wishes.' He pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the only thing within his control: getting stronger. To be a master of Virtus was the only way.
Training continued.
Cire repeated the process until nightfall, pain flaring with every cycle, yet progress spurred him on. He was interrupted by Praesul's commanding voice.
"That's enough. If you continue, you'll die of Virtus poisoning."
Cire froze, blinking at Praesul. "Virtus poisoning?" he repeated.
Praesul nodded. "If you push through your limits, you'll die—or, at best, you'll be crippled for life. Your body will lose the capacity to wield Virtus, and since it's accustomed to that energy, it will lose vitality faster."
Cire gulped, a chill running down his spine. "I… I understand."
"Good. You've accumulated enough Virtus. Now, I'll show you the basics," Praesul continued. "A Key Master needs energy within his body to enhance his physicality and senses. But too much energy will collapse your system, as I said. Sigils, on the other hand, rely entirely on Virtus. They are Virtus. If they burn through it, they'll die unless they kill another Virtus user to replenish themselves."
Cire tried to process this. "So… it's harder to see a Sigil manifest Virtus as a skill or ability than a Key Master?"
Praesul grunted in approval. "Yes, but when they do, their skills are far more dangerous. A Sigil doesn't need to cleanse Virtus like we do. Their abilities are raw, unfiltered power."
Cire's thoughts wandered to the massive wolf that had chased him. "The wolf that attacked me… it used that fireball because it had more to gain than lose by burning its Virtus?"
Praesul smacked the back of Cire's head, startling him. "That's right, and it was entirely your fault, boy. You were leaking Virtus."
Cire rubbed the back of his head, frowning. "But sir, I don't understand. How was I leaking Virtus? I wasn't even able to collect it in my heart."
Praesul stared at him for a moment, his gaze piercing. Cire shifted uncomfortably, certain another smack was coming. Instead, Praesul turned and started walking away.
"It doesn't matter. Just keep cultivating, and you'll stabilize. But there's a more pressing issue," Praesul said, tossing Cire a dagger. "I didn't plan to have a frail-looking boy keeping me company, so I didn't bring enough food. Go and hunt something. I'll be watching."
Cire caught the dagger and stared at it, dismayed. 'You're too trusting,' he scolded himself. 'Behind that mask, there's a demon. I'm sure of it. Blast!' He sighed and started walking, muttering curses under his breath.