Night.
Roxy sat at the table, a small flame flickering quietly beside her, created just before she opened her journal. The flame held steady and lit the room because she maintained it with her mana.
Thin lines and runes ran across the journal's cover. They trembled at her every movement, confirming the protection was active. Without the command only Roxy knew, the pages would remain blank, and no one would be able to read what she wrote.
Roxy ran her finger along the edge of the cover, took a slow breath, and opened the journal. The paper greeted her with its familiar emptiness.
She leaned closer and whispered a barely audible call-sign.
Ink appeared at once, as if someone had drawn it with a quill, and began forming words. Roxy looked at the first line and held her breath, trying to gather her thoughts.
She felt the day's tension pulling at her temples and rubbed her forehead. Then she took the quill and made the first mark.
It was well past midnight, but she had no intention of sleeping. Her hand rested on the pages:
"So... where should I start?"
Roxy drew the quill across the page, then pressed it to her lips, gently biting the lacquered wood before continuing.
"I've been here for about three weeks now... Not much has changed in that time; after all, it's a village. What could change? Time moves slowly here, and there's surprisingly little danger in the village or its surroundings. You'd never guess this is a border region near the Wildlands. That's thanks to Paul and Laws.
Laws is an elf. Exchanged a few words with him. Judging by his habits and his manner of speaking, he's probably from some clan. His tattoos say as much too—he hides them under his clothes, but I managed to catch a glimpse. Can't say for sure, I didn't see them fully.
It was surprising to learn that in this village, aside from me, there's another non-human. Actually, more than one. Lia, Laws' wife, is a beastwoman. Their daughter is an elf girl—not sure of her name. A mix? Or is Lia not her biological mother? Doesn't matter."
She paused and narrowed her eyes. Then continued:
"What's far more important is my new student. Out of all four, this one is probably the most abnormal. Damn! Four of them, for crying out loud! And I still haven't been accepted as a professor at the University of Sharia. What is the mage guild even doing?!"
Roxy stopped for a moment, and her thoughts drifted somewhere else entirely.
"Jinas! This is all because of that bastard! Who could've known my former 'master' was such a bastard! A talentless hack, a plagiarist, and an idiot! I hate him! Somehow he became the vice director, and now because of him they won't let me teach at the university! I'll show them all!"
Grrr... Irritated and angry, she even growled a little. But then she calmed down, imagining Jinas's face when she finally achieved her goal and got her position.
"Heh-heh..."
Imagining his twisted expression brought her satisfaction.
"So then... Rudeus, my student. I can describe him with only one word—an anomaly. I've never in my life seen such a monstrous talent. And I've traveled half the world, studied at a university full of brilliant mages who surpassed even me. But he... this just isn't normal!"
She stopped and recalled the recent incident.
"A few days ago, while practicing a basic control spell, Rudeus created a vortex. I can cast that spell myself, but the problem is—it's a combat spell. Seriously! His magic leans toward destruction. And he did it without words! He didn't even mean to! What was he even thinking while practicing? The flow of his mana inside him is unnatural, which confirms my guess about instinctive mana flow. But what's more important—his concentration..."
She hesitated, thinking how to phrase it, and once again began nibbling on the edge of her quill.
"Any mage needs to maintain concentration so the spell doesn't disappear, fail, or send the mana off-course. That's why the magical language was created. It helps preserve a spell's form and takes part of the load, making the process easier. Even experienced mages use it, because otherwise their mana scatters.
But Rudeus... Even after getting hit by a shard and bleeding, he didn't break concentration. For him it's as if it's not a problem at all. What is this..."
Roxy's eyes widened. A troubling thought appeared, and her hand froze above the page.
She needed to check something. She remembered her student's stories about his first manifestation of mana and lifted her head from the journal.
The thought was too alarming to leave until morning.
Roxy stood up, quietly closed the journal, and extinguished the flame, leaving only a faint residue of light that lingered before fading.
Since it was night, she moved twice as silently, careful not to brush against anything.
The hallway was completely dark. She opened the door without a sound, stepped outside, and closed it just as quietly behind her.
Passing by Paul and Zenith's room, she noticed a thin strip of light under the door. So they were awake too? Not important. She paused for a second, then continued.
The stairs to the attic greeted her with damp air, but not a single step creaked.
She knew how to move silently. Yes, she could probably have made a fine assassin, but Roxy shook her head. What would she need that for? Foolish thoughts—her goal was to become a professor.
Professor Roxy... Professor Roxy... Heh-heh... How nice that would sound.
Roxy reached the top and found herself before the door she had never opened.
She tried the handle, but it was locked. Tch. Apparently Rudeus's parents locked it after that incident.
Roxy exhaled through her nose and raised her hand.
A strip of earth materialized silently before her. She quickly strengthened it and guided it into the keyhole. Two more seconds, and the earth pressed into the shape of the mechanism.
Click. The door yielded softly, opening the way into the attic.
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The attic was dark, and only moonlight slipped through the cracks of the shuttered window.
Roxy raised her hand and created a small flame that hovered near her shoulder and lit the space.
Now she could see everything clearly.
She leaned down and traced the chaotic lines left by the "Wind Scythe" spell. The places where the boards had been sliced open still held traces of dried blood they hadn't managed to clean completely.
The thought came immediately:
"Who taught him? There was no one. He shaped the spell on his own, the mana moves in him by itself, his control is abnormal, his talent isn't of this world..."
Everything in her mind aligned into one conclusion.
"Laplace's Mark..."
Ha! She even shuddered at her own words.
But the pieces all fit. And the fact that his parents wanted a mage who knew how to keep quiet. And that they didn't send him to Sharia wasn't just about money. She was sure that for a child like him they would have found the means. It was because of this.
The Marked.
Those in whom, according to legend, the Dead God is meant to incarnate and devour the world. Theories were already spinning in Roxy's head. The boy wasn't just talented, not just intelligent for his age. She remembered herself at that age and knew what early talent could look like.
But now... now his unusual mind didn't seem simple at all.
What if it was already... No. She shook her head. Ridiculous. Laplace had been a god. The last one anyone could call that.
And he certainly wouldn't behave... how? "Normally"? "Childishly"? "Clumsily"? She didn't know.
A smile appeared on her lips—the kind that surfaces on abnormal mages when they find something exceptional.
The Marked were usually either killed by the Church or didn't survive to a sensible age. But then what could a child with a fragment of a God achieve? What heights could he reach? What secrets of magic could he unravel?
An uncontrollable shiver of excitement ran through her body.
With these thoughts, she went back downstairs and headed to her room. As she walked past Zenith and Paul's door, she had almost passed it when a sound reached her, cutting off her train of thought.
"...ha-a... Ah! YES-YES-YESAaah!"
Loud cries and moans of pleasure came from behind the door, along with creaking. Tch. Of course. What else would they be doing at night?
Roxy shook her head and went into her room, closing the door.
"Faster! YES! COME ON!"
A couple of minutes passed, but the moans didn't stop. Roxy slowly opened her door and stepped out, activating the runes on her clothes beforehand—the distraction spell made her steps weightless, and her body, unless someone focused, almost invisible in the shimmer.
She slipped toward their room and cracked the door open just slightly, peeking through the narrow gap.
Her hand moved down on its own.