Chapter 4
Nasir woke slowly. The world returned in soft layers of sound and warmth. He was back in his oversized bed. The familiar golden constellations on the ceiling swam into focus above him. His body felt heavy and strange, like it had been wrung out and left to dry. Every muscle ached in a dull, distant way, and his head throbbed with a faint echo of the sharp pain he remembered from the moment everything went dark.
He blinked a few times, trying to piece together what had happened. The last thing he recalled was the warm knot behind his sternum turning sharp and the floor rushing up to meet him. Now he lay here, safe under the heavy blankets, with the morning light filtering through the tall windows and painting the marble floor in soft golden patches.
From somewhere close by he could hear voices. His mother's soft, worried tone mixed with a deeper, calmer one he did not recognize. The words drifted over to him clearly, as if the speaker stood just outside the bedroom door or perhaps right beside the bed.
"Most likely tried to awaken his core on his own," the deeper voice said. "The mana backlash was mild, but for a child his age it was enough to knock him out. He is lucky it was not worse."
His mother's breath caught sharply. "Awaken his core? He is only three. How could he even know about such things?"
The confusion in her voice was plain. She turned then, the rustle of her dress soft against the stone floor, and her eyes met Nasir's open ones. For a long moment she simply stared, realizing he had been listening to the entire conversation. Her expression shifted from worry to something gentler, almost amused, though the concern never fully left her eyes.
She studied his face carefully, noting the way his gaze flicked toward the floor where the book still lay open.
"Nasir," she said quietly, her voice steady but laced with gentle surprise, "were you trying to awaken your core?"
He did not speak. Instead he lifted one small arm, his movement slow and careful because his body still felt unsteady, and pointed toward the mana primer still lying open on the floor where it had fallen when he collapsed. He gave a single, solemn nod, his round toddler face serious.
His mother rose from the chair beside the bed and walked over to the book. She picked it up with both hands, glossed over the pages filled with diagrams and simple instructions, and her eyes widened slightly as understanding settled in. She could see the traced lines where his small finger had followed the arrows, the open section on circulation, and the basic exercises laid out step by step. She set the book down carefully on the bedside table, then leaned over and pulled him into a warm hug. One hand patted the top of his head, gentle and reassuring, her fingers brushing through his dark curls.
"I understand you are curious, little one," she murmured against his hair. "But your body is not ready for a core yet. Once you and your sister reach the age of five, we will get you both a proper tutor to teach you safely. Until then, no more experiments. Promise me."
Nasir nodded again against her shoulder, the motion small and obedient. He did not dwell on the failed attempt or the pain that had followed. He let himself relax into the hug, the familiar scent of his mother's perfume and the steady beat of her heart helping the last traces of discomfort fade from his limbs.
Two years passed in a quiet blur of books and careful patience.
He and his sister had finally turned five. Since he had not been able to awaken his core in those two years, he had focused on studying instead. His sister had seen him at it constantly and started doing the same.
By now he had a good grasp of this world's language and could speak pretty fluently, although his pronunciation was still hindered by his five-year-old tongue. The words came out clear enough in his thoughts, but when he spoke them aloud they sometimes sounded softer or slightly rounded at the edges, the way a child's voice naturally shaped them.
He had spent countless hours in the library and in his room, tracing letters, sounding out sentences, and repeating phrases until they felt natural. The picture books had given way to thicker volumes with longer paragraphs, and he had worked through them methodically, building vocabulary one page at a time.
His sister had watched him with wide eyes at first, then joined in, sitting beside him on the cushioned window seat and pointing at the same illustrations, copying his quiet repetitions. The two of them had turned the quiet corners of the estate into their own small classroom, trading words and practicing together until the servants began to comment on how quickly the young heirs were growing in their studies.
The days had blended together in a steady rhythm.
Mornings were for language practice, afternoons for simple games that still let him test his coordination without drawing attention, and evenings for lying awake and reviewing what he had learned. He never rushed or complained about the wait. There was no point in dwelling on what he could not change. The rules of this world were clear, and he had already mapped out the next steps in his mind. When the time came, he would be ready.
Today was the day they would finally meet their new tutor.
Alaric stepped down from the carriage. The wheels crunched softly on the gravel drive leading up to the Vace estate. He adjusted the strap of his heavy bag on his shoulder. The bag held all his most important books and research notes.
The morning air was crisp and carried the faint scent of blooming flowers from the manicured gardens that stretched out on either side of the path.
Tall hedges lined the long walkway, trimmed with perfect precision, and in the distance the grand stone walls of the estate rose like a fortress. Alaric took a slow breath and let it out.
He was a mage with a Blue core at the Adept rank and a Grade four mage.
While that did not make him one of the strongest mages in the empire, it did mean he was very powerful in his own right and far above most others who practiced the art.
Someone of his caliber teaching a pair of five-year-olds was unusual to say the least. Yet here he was, walking toward the grand entrance of the estate with a sigh on his lips.
The reason he took this job was simple. The pay was very very high. The request had come directly from Duke Hans von Vace, one of the three dukes of the Holy Empire and one of the most powerful and influential people on the continent. There was no way in hell Alaric could decline such an offer. The agreement had been generous from the start. He would have a private suite for sleeping. All his basic needs would be met by the estate staff. He would have full access to the Vace library for his own research. On top of that came the hefty pay, enough to fund years of personal study once this position ended. He had accepted without hesitation, even if it meant setting aside more advanced work for a while.
A servant waited at the entrance, dressed in the crisp green and gold livery of House Vace. The man bowed politely and took one of Alaric's smaller cases.
"Master Alaric, welcome," the servant said. "I have been instructed to escort you to the children. The duke and duchess send their regards and ask that you make yourself at home. Your rooms are prepared, and the library is yours to use as you wish."
Alaric nodded once and followed the servant through the towering doors. They walked down a wide marble hallway lined with portraits of stern ancestors. The servant led him straight to the library. When the heavy doors swung open, Alaric stopped for a moment and simply stared.
The library was massive. Shelves climbed at least three stories high and stretched so far back that the far walls seemed to fade into shadow. Ladders on rails ran along every level, and narrow balconies connected the floors like bridges in a small city of books.
Volumes of every size and color filled every inch of space. It could take decades for one person to go through all of them. The place looked damn near infinite.
Sunlight slanted through tall windows and caught on the gilded spines, turning the entire room into a sea of warm light and old paper. Alaric felt a quiet thrill run through him. Access to this collection alone made the job worth it. He could already picture himself spending late nights here, poring over rare tomes that no ordinary mage would ever see.
The servant guided him deeper into the children's section at the back. Two small figures sat patiently on a wide cushioned bench beside a low table stacked with picture books. Alaric took his first good look at them.
The girl was Nadia. She had long curly hair that fell in dark, glossy waves past her shoulders. Her skin was light and smooth, almost glowing in the soft light from the windows. Her gold eyes sparkled with a quiet radiance that made her look almost ethereal for a child so young. She sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap and her gaze lowered slightly, the picture of shy politeness.
Everything about her spoke of gentle refinement, from the way her curls framed her delicate face to the soft curve of her shoulders.
The boy was Nasir. He had a neat mini fro of tight dark curls that framed his face in a soft halo. His bright red eyes shone like two polished rubies. They caught the light in a way that made them seem to glow with inner fire.
They were twins, Alaric had been told, but they did not resemble each other much beyond a few shared features around the eyes and the shape of their chins. The girl looked delicate and gentle. The boy already carried himself with a quiet assurance that bordered on pompous for someone so small.
Both children sat very still and well behaved. When they noticed him approaching, they observed him for a few seconds in silence. Then the little girl spoke first, her voice timid and soft.
"Are you our tutor?"
Alaric nodded and offered a warm, professional smile. "Yes, I am. My name is Alaric. I will be teaching you both the basics of mana and the core system. It is a pleasure to meet you."
The girl dipped her head in a small, shy bow. "I am Nadia von Vace," she said quietly.
The boy straightened a little taller on the bench. His red eyes met Alaric's without hesitation. "I am Nasir von Vace," he said, his voice clear and carrying a faint note of confidence that sounded almost pompous coming from a five-year-old.
Alaric set his bag down beside the table and took a seat across from them. He kept his posture straight and his tone serious. He took this job very seriously, no matter how young his students were. Talent or not, these children deserved proper instruction from the start.
"Today we will begin with the very basics," he said. "No practice yet. Only understanding. The first thing you must learn is that every person has a core inside their chest. It is the source of all mana. Mana is the energy we use to strengthen our bodies, to cast spells, and to grow stronger over time."
He opened one of the simpler primers he had brought and placed it on the table so both children could see the colorful diagrams.
"The core colors run in a strict order," he continued. "Grey, Brown, Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, White, Black."
Nasir leaned forward slightly, his ruby-red eyes fixed on the page with clear interest. Nadia listened with her head tilted, her gold eyes wide and attentive, though she stayed quiet.
"Beside the colors are the ranks that measure control rather than raw power," Alaric went on. "Initiate, Adept, Expert, Master. You two are five years old. Most children at your age are still at the Brown core and Initiate rank, if they have awakened at all. We will not rush anything. We will build your foundation properly."
He turned the page and pointed to the simple drawings of mana pathways.
"The energy moves through channels in your body, arms, legs, spine, even your eyes. Humans divide themselves into two paths once they begin to use mana seriously. There are warriors and there are mages. Warriors use mana to perform body aura. This aura strengthens their body massively and gives them great strength, speed, and durability in combat. Mages can strengthen their bodies using mana as well, but they cannot perform body aura. Mages primarily use mana to cast spells that shape the world around them."
"So warriors fight with their bodies and mages fight with spells?" Nasir asked.
"Correct," Alaric said. "Humans categorize mages and warriors differently even though both draw from the same core.
Mages follow the ranking system of Grades which run from Grade nine down to Grade zero. Warriors follow the exact same ranking system. These Grades are based on the color of your core, your individual strength, and how powerful you actually are in practice. In theory, if one person had a Yellow core but could rival someone with a Blue core in strength, their Grade would rise to match.
Although such a case is nigh impossible and has never happened. It also gets harder and harder to raise your grade and your core color the higher you climb, so most people stay at a certain point for their whole lives."
Nadia spoke up softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Will we both start at the same place?"
Alaric smiled gently at her. "Yes you will."
He closed the primer and folded his hands on the table. "For the rest of today we will talk through the diagrams and the names of each color and rank until you can repeat them without looking. We will not attempt any circulation or awakening yet. That comes later, when your bodies are ready and you have my full guidance. Do you both understand?"
Both children nodded. Nasir's nod was firm and eager. Nadia's was smaller and more timid, but her gold eyes still shone with quiet determination.
Alaric leaned back slightly, satisfied. These two were clearly talented, even if their personalities differed. He would take the job seriously and teach them properly.
The duke's children deserved nothing less.