Roxy walked in silence, glancing at Rudeus's back now and then, trying to catch at least a hint of an explanation for his ability.
She couldn't shake the thought that he was only six years old — children that age could barely connect letters into words.
She remembered how he pronounced the spell's words and understood that the mana responded to his voice without any delay. That was confusing, because a spell didn't work thanks to the phrase, but thanks to holding and directing power until the very end.
If words alone decided everything, every other imbecile would become a mage by the age of ten. Roxy frowned. Searching for an explanation, she found nothing that even remotely connected him to ordinary students.
Roxy stole a glance at the boy walking ahead and again tried to link what she'd seen with the familiar laws of magic.
If Rudeus hadn't even started training yet, then he couldn't possibly cast a combat spell without preparation. She knew a skill like that required long practice, because controlling mana was always built on deliberate effort, not on a sudden burst.
But what then explained his result?
She went through her thoughts in order and allowed that it might have been an instinctive action, though the idea itself sounded almost implausible. Perhaps she was exaggerating, but if not, their training path could turn in a completely different direction!
Her initial irritation about being sent to the village dissolved without a trace, replaced by a faint tremor of anticipation. She felt that something lay ahead of them — something worth all her doubts.
Passing through the inner yard, Rudeus pushed the door open and stepped inside the house, not noticing her gaze. Inside, it smelled of bread and burnt onions, and warm air drifted from the kitchen.
"Someone's here," Rudeus said without turning around.
A woman's voice came from the kitchen:
"Who?"
"I hope it's not Laws…" added a lazy male voice.
Roxy walked further in and stopped on the kitchen's threshold.
On the right stood a fair-haired woman with her hand raised, about to stir something. On the left a man, bare-chested with a towel around his neck, stared at the guest with the same surprise as his wife.
"Mmm… hello," she said, folding her arms. "I think you've been expecting me. Of course, I'm a bit late. But it's nothing serious… I hope…"
The man, not expecting such an introduction, stared at her blankly for a few seconds but quickly pulled himself together.
"You're… the teacher?"
"Roxy from Sharia. Duke Boreas said that his nephew's son needed a teacher…" She shifted her gaze to the boy. "To be honest, I didn't expect him to be so… small."
"Says the one to talk," Rudeus muttered under his breath.
Roxy ignored the comment and turned her attention to the fair-haired woman who spoke up.
"We're glad you came," she said with a smile. "I hope you'll be comfortable here. I'm Zenith, and this is my husband, Paul."
At that moment another woman entered the kitchen.
"And this is Lilia," Zenith introduced her.
One look was enough to understand that this Lilia was not a simple servant. It showed in everything: her posture, her confidence in every step. Her movements were smooth and precise, like those of an experienced fighter.
And if one looked closely, one could notice a considerable number of small scars and calluses on her hands.
A swordswoman? Most likely.
"Rudy, you can go outside to the yard. Mistress Roxy will come soon."
He nodded, eyes lighting up, and in one quick motion slipped out of sight, heading into the yard. Zenith watched him go.
"He's wanted this for a long time. He's always reaching for books. Always trying something. We just didn't have anyone who could guide him."
Roxy lifted her chin with straightforward confidence.
"I'm the best teacher you could have found!"
A hint of boldness appeared in her voice, and she spoke as if she were doing them a favor. But almost at once she caught how Zenith and Paul exchanged an all-too-honest look. They didn't believe her, and it was so clear it felt as if their doubt had been spoken aloud.
"So, Mistress Roxy. You're from the Mage Guild, right?"
"Right. Varin rank," she nodded.
Zenith noticeably perked up. Real curiosity appeared in her gaze as she looked Roxy over carefully, comparing what she heard with what she saw. Paul set his mug on the table, the quiet thud echoing through the kitchen. His gaze slid across Roxy, lingering for a moment longer than usual.
"You're really Varin?"
Roxy twitched an eyebrow, not hiding a trace of irritation.
"Yes. I literally just said that."
She wanted to add something sharp — like asking if he had hearing problems — but restrained herself. Snapping at them on the first meeting made no sense, even if the question sounded unnecessary.
Roxy felt irritation rising from their attentive looks. She wasn't tall and far too often ran into such evaluations. And no matter how much she pretended it didn't bother her, the feeling still remained. It annoyed her.
"Forgive us… but you look younger than we expected."
Roxy tilted her head slightly.
"With mages, age isn't always obvious."
"Of course," Zenith nodded, though caution crept into her voice. "It's just… hard to believe right away that you're the person…"
"I understand. But a face doesn't define magic."
The room fell quiet for a moment. Paul frowned, intending to add something, but thought better of it.
"It's important to us that he's in reliable hands," Zenith said.
"I won't take him unless I'm sure I can give him something. But doubting because of looks is a weak position."
Roxy looked straight at them, openly challenging.
"Duke Boreas said you needed a mage who wouldn't ask unnecessary questions and wouldn't blab about anything," she shifted her gaze to the door where the boy had disappeared. "I take it… it's about him?"
"You're right about that."
Paul snorted, leaning forward.
"You probably saw the scar on his arm…"
"Hard not to notice," Roxy said. "Wind Sickle."
"Right… That's the reason. He took my old grimoire and managed to repeat the spell written in it."
"You do understand how that sounds…"
Roxy still couldn't believe what she heard.
Magic wasn't something so simple that any other kid could do it. Especially a five-year-old… Five years old. What had she been doing at that age? Certainly not creating combat spells.
Zenith nodded, lowering her gaze.
"We don't know how he did it," she said quietly. "And we don't want others to know."
"That's why we looked for someone who can keep quiet," Paul added. "Even if something strange happens in the house…"
A pause hung in the room, and the tension became almost palpable.
"Don't worry. I'm not the type who talks when silence is an option."
"Good. Lilia will show you your room. I hope you'll be comfortable here…"
***
Roxy of Sharia.
That's how the girl introduced herself. I immediately remembered the book I'd read recently. The Migurds… It said they were short, with youthful faces and blue hair. Since then, I'd been catching myself in paranoia more and more often, noticing danger even where there was none.
What if some passerby turned out to be a telepath? Or worse — one of my parents? No, that way madness lies. Now I understood why the Migurds weren't liked — if one written record made me think like this, what was it like living next to a real one?
This girl really was short, but her hair was a light shade. Maybe she dyed it? Though were there even hair dyes here? And why would a Migurd be in Asura anyway? That was the other end of the world.
The book said they rarely left their homeland. Someone from the Demon Continent showing up in human lands… impossible.
"I'll introduce myself properly first. Roxy of Sharia. Mage of Varin rank."
"Varin? What does that mean?"
"A rank in the Mage Guild. It's given for special merit." She folded her arms and lifted her head proudly. "Just know that I'm very impressive."
Confident. Still, I had doubts about her competence. But considering how many races and cultures there were here, maybe I was being too biased.
"Let's go step by step. You're six, but your magic first manifested at five. You never learned the magic language, yet you were able to create a spell…" Roxy frowned, as if she didn't believe herself.
"Yes. That's right."
"I see… I see…" She sighed heavily, took out some notes and began flipping through them. "That's unusual…"
"Not many people my age can do that?"
"Your age?" She looked me over. "I've never heard of anyone at five years old creating a combat spell, and without knowing the language at that…"
My heart skipped a beat. Something strange lit up inside my chest. Joy? Pride? Hearing that felt good. Maybe I really did have a talent for magic like no one else before me?
Wait… then I'm…
"So that means I'm a genius!"
Thud!
The staff hit me right in the forehead.
"Don't get full of yourself too early!" she muttered, pulling the staff back. "You're not a genius yet, just raw material I still have to shape. But don't worry, I'm good at working with material."
I rubbed my bruised forehead, glaring at her.
Raw material, huh? Well, thanks. Good to know I'm not a complete nobody in her eyes. Fine, whatever.
"At least can you read? Ordinary—"
"I learned to read when I was three!" I cut her off, for some reason wanting to surprise her even more, and I didn't miss the chance.
"Not bad. I was four." She shivered slightly, as if recalling something unpleasant. "One problem less."
Digging through her papers, she crumpled one of the sheets.
"…all my prep work for the training program just went to waste. Fine. Tell me what you know about magic."
"Well… It uses another language?"
Though I'd studied healing magic and the church language, I couldn't reveal that.
"Basically, yes." Roxy snorted. "Magic is divided into two systems, but one is enough for you: there's mana, you feel it, you form it and direct it. You can't do it without the language. And without understanding, even less so."
She lowered her voice a bit:
"There's also the church system — different story. Same principles, but wrapped in religion. You don't need that. And you won't learn it anywhere except their temples."
"And next you'll say there are ten more subtypes and everything depends on the moon?"
"No. On the brain." Roxy smirked. "And on your hands. Magic doesn't like stupidity."
She leaned in slightly.
"Simply put: there's energy, and you're a filter that passes it through yourself. Inside, it turns into mana. You give it direction, form it, and release it. If you do everything right, the spell works. If not — there'll be a flare. Or overload. Or a hole in your chest. Depends on your creativity and carelessness."
A sigh.
"What?" she looked at me.
Too much information. Even though Roxy tried to explain things clearly, I didn't understand half of it.
"Maybe we should move on to practice? I learn better that way…"
"Fine," Roxy shifted her staff slightly and studied me. "I've already seen that you can cast a spell. But the question is different — how well do you understand it…"
She extended her hand.
"There are three ways to pronounce a spell… The first is full incantation."
Roxy spoke calmly and clearly:
"Water. Rise from mana. Obey my will. Become a stream. Follow my call."
The air in front of her thickened, and from nothing a small trickle of water appeared, flowing gently into her palm. She closed her fingers, and the water fell onto the grass.
"This is the simplest method. Here we fully articulate the key words, giving magic precise instructions. Available to any mage, even a beginner, but it requires time and concentration."
She continued. This time the words were shorter:
"Water. Emerge. Become a stream. Obey."
At that moment a water sphere tore out of the air. It hovered for a second and then fell, bursting into droplets.
"The second method is shortened incantation."
I frowned.
"What's the difference?"
"Saving time." She drew symbols again. "Mages who know spells well can remove unnecessary words. In battle, speed and efficiency matter more than beautiful phrasing."
She raised her palm and simply said:
"Water."
And again, water appeared out of thin air, but this time instantly.
"The more experienced the mage, the fewer words they need. Ideally, only the spell's name remains."
"So eventually you can reduce everything to a single word?"
"Exactly. But there's also a third method."
This time she didn't say a sound. She just looked at me.
And then…
The air flashed with a soft blue light. Water wove itself from nothing, hovered, and then gently settled to the ground.
I blinked.
"What… how?"
"Silent magic."
Roxy clasped her hands behind her back, watching me.
"The most difficult and rarest level of magical mastery. It's not enough to just know a spell — you must understand it perfectly. Silent mages can control mana with thought alone, without words or gestures."
I nodded slowly, taking it all in.
"And you can use it?" I asked, looking at her with slight doubt.
Roxy put her hands behind her back, tilting her shoulders a bit.
"Yes, but not perfectly. In battle I can rarely use complex spells without words, but basic ones aren't a problem."
I stared at her, processing it. Magic without words. Just thought. It felt unreachable.
"So the strongest mages don't need words at all?"
"Exactly."
I thought about it. It all sounded far away, like the peak of a mountain I hadn't even begun to climb. Though somewhere inside I felt like I was already standing at its foot and just didn't know where to take the first step.
"Aura — is that magic too?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Paul once said warriors have 'battle aura'. That it's not magic but something else. But it sounds similar."
She nodded.
"In a sense it's also mana, but mixed with life force. When you form mana, you let it out. Through formulas, language, structure. That's the mage's path."
Roxy paused for a moment, then went on:
"Battle aura is a different path. They channel it through muscles, skin, senses — for reinforcement."
She tilted her head a bit closer.
"Warriors use aura: it's faster and more reliable. It doesn't require formulas or understanding the elements. Only a body trained enough to hold the flow inside."
I remembered how Paul moved when he trained. The ease of his steps, the weight of his strikes. As if something was always boiling inside him but never spilled out.
"Is it hard?"
Roxy nodded.
"Aura doesn't appear on its own. It demands long and intense physical training. First you work for a long time, repetitively, almost without results. Then you begin to feel it. How it soaks into muscles, into tendons, becomes part of you. And only after that, how your body responds before you even have time to think."
I looked at my hands.
"And could I do that?"
"I came here to teach you magic, not aura," she said calmly but not dismissively. "If you want, train. I won't stop you. But in your place I'd choose one path. And since I'm already here, the choice seems obvious."
I nodded silently.