Life presents moments where words fail us. Novan found himself in precisely such a predicament.
What response could possibly be appropriate? Should he apologize for inheriting blood from those who had slaughtered Keorn's family? These were distant relatives he'd never encountered. Yet dismissing any connection seemed callous—his formidable magical abilities stemmed directly from that lineage.
The silence stretched uncomfortably until Keorn finally broke it with a firm pat on Novan's shoulder.
"Don't look so troubled! You weren't even born when that war happened."
Though Novan noticed Keorn's expression remained strained, he simply nodded.
"It's pointless for the young to bear the burdens of previous generations. Perpetual vengeance only ensures endless conflict, with ordinary people suffering most."
"Do you regret it?" Novan asked quietly.
"What exactly?"
"Encouraging me to leave the hill."
If Novan pursued his destiny, he would inevitably join House Zahar—the bitter enemies of Keorn's former house. Only those sharing bloodline traits could become core members of noble houses.
Keorn shook his head. "I trust your character. Your kindness toward a stranger and willingness to reveal your hidden abilities to help me speak volumes. If someone like you joined House Zahar and eventually rose to leadership, perhaps such devastating conflicts could be prevented."
Novan felt unworthy of such praise. He'd treated Keorn well because his mother had taught him hospitality, and because he craved non-hostile conversation. He had intervened during the crisis merely to protect someone with whom he'd shared pleasant exchanges.
"No need for such serious contemplation," Keorn added. "You haven't committed to joining House Zahar."
"True enough."
In reality, Novan felt more drawn to the wandering life—hunting monsters across the land like Keorn. He preferred freedom and experiencing the world over allegiance to any house, especially one that already stirred vague antipathy within him.
"I'll remain here until you heal. There's time to consider my path."
"These minor scratches hardly qualify as wounds!" Keorn laughed.
During Keorn's recovery, Novan seized the opportunity to learn proper magical knowledge from him. Having wielded power intuitively without formal training, there was much to understand.
"Mana is commonly called the key to omnipotence," Keorn explained.
"The key to omnipotence..."
"Though not truly all-powerful as the name suggests. More accurately, it requires appropriate mana as payment for desired effects, as you've undoubtedly experienced."
"What determines appropriate mana cost?" Novan asked, voicing a question that had long puzzled him.
Keorn raised three fingers. "Magical difficulty depends on three primary factors: bloodline, personality, and causality."
Novan committed these words to memory.
"Bloodline involves innate magical affinities. For instance, you find healing difficult, correct?"
"Yes."
"The Labitas bloodline from the southwestern continent, known as Healers, naturally wield restorative magic without training. Their strongest members can reattach limbs and cure diseases. Other bloodlines find such abilities nearly impossible to master regardless of effort."
Hearing this, Novan thought painfully of his mother. Had he possessed healing abilities, her illness might not have claimed her. Recognizing the futility of such thoughts, he pushed them aside.
"What about personality?"
"Also termed proficiency—wizards more easily perform tasks they prefer or regularly practice. Those who frequently wield swords more readily create ethereal blades, while those who enjoy swimming move through water with greater magical efficiency."
"Like my slinging fire as though it were a stone?"
"Precisely! Had you projected fire conventionally, it wouldn't have possessed such velocity and impact."
Keorn's approval faded to concentration as he continued, "The third factor, causality, is most crucial yet complex. Even I don't fully comprehend it. It involves the principle that more 'natural' occurrences happen more readily."
After pondering his explanation, he asked, "What would happen if you attempted to use mana to kill me directly?"
"My head would likely throb and nothing would occur," Novan replied, recalling his experience with the beast.
"Exactly—that's causality at work. When proper cause for your desired outcome is absent, or when the desired outcome is exceptionally difficult, mana encounters resistance."
"I believe I understand. Rather than vaguely willing someone's death, creating and launching fire provides a natural cause of death. It's more 'natural' to create and project fire than directly ignite a target?"
Keorn clapped appreciatively. "Excellent! You grasp concepts quickly. Establishing proper causality dramatically reduces mana requirements."
"Why can I freely affect ordinary animals while beasts require this consideration?"
"Creatures possessing mana develop resistance proportional to their mana quantity. However, contacting already-manifested magic significantly reduces this resistance. Of course, overwhelming disparities may render magic ineffective regardless."
This explained why Keorn's magic barely affected the undead while Novan's flames consumed it immediately.
After absorbing considerable theory, Novan massaged his temples. "Magic certainly isn't straightforward."
"Great wizards aren't made through mana alone. Understanding principles and possibilities matters, but utilizing your environment effectively proves equally important."
As Novan reviewed these lessons, a question emerged. "Does the Zahar bloodline possess special magical capabilities?"
Keorn had only mentioned enhanced smell, night vision, and projectile accuracy—none specifically magical.
"Indeed. Zahar wizards excel at concealment and tracking. Have you employed such abilities?"
"Tracking occasionally, never concealment."
Novan had used tracking magic to monitor his mother's safety and locate predators, including when finding Keorn during the crisis. Concealment had never been necessary in his isolated existence.
"Try it. While many wizards can achieve invisibility with proper aptitude, complete sensory evasion remains exclusive to the Zahar bloodline."
Novan concentrated immediately, envisioning himself undetectable—unseen, unheard, unsmelled.
His internal mana rapidly depleted, though his appearance remained unchanged to his eyes.
"Did it succeed?" he asked.
Rather than answering directly, Keorn gazed vaguely toward Novan's position. "You've vanished. Are you still present?"
Novan rose and circled the room, but Keorn continued staring at his original position. Even deliberate noise—stomping and finger-snapping—went unnoticed.
After confirming this, Novan released the flow of mana. Keorn's eyes widened before he exhaled deeply.
"It remains a frightening ability. During the war, Arabion's wizards dreaded nightfall. After a single night, those sleeping in barracks would often be discovered with slit throats."
"This seems unfairly powerful."
"It's not invincible. Certain magical devices can detect even Zahar's concealment, and methods like flooding areas with light to increase mana consumption or indiscriminate area attacks provide countermeasures. Still, the ability's potency elevated Zahar to greatness."
The primary limitation was substantial mana consumption, though hunting beasts could expand capacity, and familiarity would gradually reduce the cost.
"Enough theory. Let me teach you practical training methods..."
Over three days as Keorn healed, Novan learned far more than magic—world geography, noble house locations, and essential travel knowledge.
On the morning of departure, Novan packed preserved food, clothing, cooking implements, and his mother's mementos into a leather satchel.
Keorn, already outside enjoying the sunrise, observed, "You seem troubled."
"I'm leaving my lifelong home."
"Don't overthink it. If wandering dissatisfies you, you can always return."
Novan smiled ruefully and shook his head. No matter how the world might disappoint him, he wouldn't return to this desolate hill.
After descending together, Novan informed the village chief he would sell his remaining sheep.
"Leaving? Who will tend the flock?" the chief asked incredulously.
"That's your concern. I expect fair compensation. Otherwise, I'll release them all before departing—catching them would prove challenging."
Fortunately, rather than challenging Novan, the chief offered a reasonable price. The villagers knew Novan kept his promises—whether breaking arms or cracking heads.
As they left with jingling silver, Novan commented, "The village cheated you of your reward. Shall I retrieve it?"
"I never intended to collect it. The beast became undead, leaving no evidence. Besides, technically you eliminated it."
Keorn laughed despite the chief's dishonesty. His house's retirement fund likely provided ample support, and he had pursued the beast as voluntary service.
Continuing downhill, they eventually reached a fork in the road.
"We part here," Novan said softly.
"Indeed. You've chosen south—take the right path."
Though Novan hoped to accompany Keorn, the older wizard preferred solitary travel. Despite inner disappointment, Novan respected this choice.
"Farewell, Novan. May we meet again with smiles."
"Thank you for everything you've taught me."
After exchanging goodbyes, Keorn departed down the left path without glancing back.
Watching him go, Novan finally understood his discomfort with Keorn's formality. Despite his mother's abundant love, he had secretly yearned for a father figure—someone kind and wise to model his manhood after.
After Keorn's silhouette vanished northward, Novan slowly turned south. An unknown world awaited him.