"I want to become a mage."
There was no hesitation in her words. No bold declaration either. Just quiet resolve, shaped like something that had long waited for air.
Cellione raised an eyebrow, setting her cup down with a soft clink.
"Magic?"
She asked, tone neutral, not challenging—just prompting.
Serineth nodded.
"Yes."
The fire popped in the hearth.
She didn't explain herself immediately. Instead, her eyes turned toward the glow of the flames, as if the words she needed were written there. When she finally spoke again, her voice was low, yet clear.
"I was the only daughter of a fading house. Our debts had spread like rot—quiet, then all-consuming. My mother was ill. My father… he would have begged at the gates of nobles if it had bought us another season."
Her fingers tightened slightly, but her expression remained composed.
"I offered myself instead. It wasn't an easy thing, but it was the only path left. I made the choice."
She looked up then, meeting Alaric's gaze. Her eyes were calm—steady in a way that made the air feel still around her.
"I don't regret it. But that doesn't mean I want to remain defined by it."
There was no need to explain what she meant. The silence respected her.
"To wield magic,"
She continued,
"is to reshape the world with one's will. Even if only a little. That… that is something I would like to learn. Something that's mine."
Alaric nodded slowly, not looking away.
"Do you know the process?"
He asked.
"The runes that must be drawn, the sequence to create your magic circle?"
Serineth shook her head once.
"Only fragments from books. I never had a proper tutor. And after I was sold…"
She trailed off, then simply added,
"Dreams had to wait."
At that, Cellione set her cup down with a quiet finality.
"Then I'll teach you,"
She said.
"From the beginning. When you're ready."
A flicker of surprise passed through Serineth's expression—so brief, so subtle, but not missed by either of them.
She looked between them both, and something unreadable softened behind her eyes.
"Thank you,"
She said softly.
Her voice held no trembling, but something about it felt like the quiet after a long-held breath.
There was a kind of grace in her — not fragile, but forged — the kind that made you instinctively speak more gently in her presence.
She didn't ask what magic would cost, nor what it would demand of her. She had already given more than most ever would.
And in the flickering firelight, Alaric saw it — a girl reclaiming her name, one piece at a time.
***
Later that evening, after the meal was cleared and the hearth burned lower, Alaric moved a few stools aside to make space on the worn wooden floor. The room had grown quiet, the kind of stillness that invited thought.
Cellione knelt first, smoothing the hem of her robe behind her. Her long fingers reached for a small pouch at her side, from which she drew a piece of white chalk etched faintly with silver lines—something simple, but steady. A teaching tool.
Serineth watched from beside her, seated now on the floor, knees tucked in close. Her posture was calm, but there was a subtle tightness to her shoulders—a silent weight, not of fear, but of the moment's gravity.
"Before anything else,"
Cellione began, her voice low and even,
"you must learn to draw the first rune not with your hands, but with your breath. Magic doesn't respond to shape alone—it listens to intent."
She made a small circle on the floor, then three sharp lines through it—measured, clean. The symbol glowed faintly for a heartbeat, then faded.
"This is Thalae. It means "Perceive" it Enhances sensitivity to mana and emotion in the surroundings. Required to manipulate external mana."
Serineth leaned forward, observing every stroke, her eyes quietly wide—not with wonder, but with reverence.
Cellione handed her the chalk.
"Try."
Serineth took it with both hands. The chalk trembled faintly between her fingers—not from fear, but from something deeper. Her lips were pressed together, her brows furrowed in silent focus.
She drew slowly, carefully—mimicking each stroke as she'd seen it. The circle was imperfect, the lines slightly uneven. But her hand steadied with each movement, and when the last mark was set, the rune glowed.
Not brightly. Not for long. But it glowed.
A faint breath escaped her lips. Her shoulders lowered.
Cellione didn't praise or correct her immediately. She simply studied the rune, then gave a slow nod.
"You have potential,"
She said.
"The real work begins tomorrow."
Serineth stared at the symbol, still faintly aglow, as though it was the first thing she had ever created that truly belonged to her.
Alaric, watching from nearby, didn't speak. But the faint smile that tugged at his lips was gentle. Not warm with pride, but quiet with understanding.
For Serineth, born a noble's daughter, sold as a sacrifice, now learning to etch the shape of her future on the floor of an orphan's cottage—this was not just magic.
It was the first step toward becoming someone who would never be owned again.
*****
✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢
✶ I Reincarnated as an Extra ✶
✧ in a Reverse Harem World ✧
⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰
✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢
*****
The next day, Serineth and Cellione stood in front of a blackboard that Alaric had bought the day before. Chalk dust clung faintly to its surface, glinting softly in the morning light filtering through the windows.
A few paces away, Alaric and Aurevia sat comfortably on wooden chairs, legs dangling, a modest plate of snacks between them. They munched in silence, their eyes following the lesson.
Cellione picked up a piece of chalk, her expression serene but focused, as she began drawing on the board with elegant strokes.
A series of intricate symbols soon appeared—nine distinct runes, each glowing faintly with residual mana from her fingers.
"These runes,"
Cellione began, her tone steady yet gentle,
"are engraved into the inner Mana canvas between the twin rings. They form the foundational logic and resonance of a [1st-Circle] mage within our system."
She gestured toward the first rune.
"1. Thalae – 'Perceive' – Enhances sensitivity to mana and emotion in the surroundings. It is required to manipulate external mana effectively."
Her hand flowed to the next symbol.
"2. Ineris – 'Thread' – This allows the creation of mana strands and the weaving of spell structures. Like threads in a tapestry, they are what give form to your spellwork."
"3. Valen – 'Anchor' – It stabilizes the orbiting rings, ensuring the circle doesn't collapse under internal mana pressure."
"4. Saern – 'Bind' – This rune binds the effects of the other runes to the mage's intention and heart, preventing dangerous spell backlash."
"5. Nyrel – 'Resonate' – Harmonizes your internal mana with that of the environment, allowing more fluent control."
"6. Elarion – 'Awaken' – Named after our very continent, it awakens one's magical affinity and attunement to the arcane."
"7. Quessa – 'Silence' – A defensive mental rune. It shields your mind from intrusive or probing spells."
"8. Viren – 'Flow' – Governs the smooth passage of mana within the body, avoiding any clog or stutter during casting."
"9. Lumeth – 'Will' – The signature of your individuality. It encodes your spirit, your conviction, and intent into your Circle."
"These nine runes,"
She said as she turned back to Serineth with a knowing smile,
"are the minimum required to form a complete [1st-Circle] around the heart. They are the breath and bones of a mage's future path. From this ring, every spell and every higher circle will grow."
She paused, letting her words sink in.
"The First Circle,"
She continued,
"is the foundation upon which the entire edifice of magic stands. It must be solid. Every rune must be etched with care. Every curve of the canvas drawn with precision. If the circle is weak or lopsided, one may never be able to form another. At worst, the canvas may break altogether."
Then, her smile softened as she added warmly,
"But we are fortunate. We can try again and again until we get it right. So there's no shame in failure—only the need for patience."
"Magic is complicated, isn't it?"
Aurevia said suddenly to Alaric in a quiet voice, still facing the the directionwhere Cellioneand Serinethwas, arms folded.
Alaric blinked, then smiled faintly.
"But it looks easy to me."
Aurevia turned her head at last, one brow raised.
"At first, it does. The basics are easy to memorize. But when it comes time to actually build the Circle—that's when things get real."
"Have you tried magic before?"
Alaric asked curiously, tilting his head.
She nodded, gaze turning distant.
"I did. I even wanted to become a mage. But after experiencing how hard it was, I gave up."
"Why?"
He asked, genuinely confused. To him, Aurevia seemed more than capable. A [Rank-3] at fifteen was no small feat.
"It was fine until the canvas part,"
She explained. "But after that, you have to rotate the circle continuously. You gather atmospheric Mana and draw it into your heart… over and over again, until you can't anymore.
I could manage a full rotation every 15 minutes. Even with royal mage assistance and beginner elixirs, it still took me an entire day to engrave just one rune.
But that isn't even the main issue here you need to memorize complex incantations to even use magic. And you can't do that before you complete the circle fully and then starte to store mana within it."
She paused, looking down at her hands.
"In aura cultivation, I could feel myself getting stronger. Every breath mattered. But in magic… nothing felt real. I lost the sense of progress. So I walked away."
Alaric blinked. He hadn't expected such honesty from her.
"You must've been quite the impatient person."
"...Yes."
Aurevia looked away, slightly embarrassed.
Then they fell into silence once more, watching Serineth and Cellione work.
***
After few days of learning about runes and their drawing process, Serineth felt ready and wanted to try creating th [1st-Circle]
The room had grown utterly still.
Serineth sat in perfect silence, hands resting lightly on her knees, breathing shallow and slow. The moment had arrived.
Golden-white light—soft and steady—flowed from Alaric into her heart, like a sacred stream.It was invisible to others because he was doing so with the threads, now like a thin wire that connected them.
After doing it a few times, he now can do it while eating and doing other things without problem.He didn't force it, merely offered it. His Divine Energy, refined into extremely pure Mana, wrapped around her like a second heartbeat, gentle and ever-present.
Serineth opened her inner sight.
With the help of the mana and Celliones guidance, she drew strand of the extremely pure Mana and created the first ring. After that the second but smaller one.
After doing so she made sure that the two rings didn't collided with each other and established a mana plain where the runes will be engraved. It was because of this that it was called a mana canvas.
Cellione's voice, warm and steady, echoed in her memory.
"Begin with Thalae—the Rune of Perception. Let your soul feel."
Serineth's will extended, and Pure mana flowed from her core into the first rune. She didn't shape it with brute force, but with understanding—recalling the symbol as drawn by Cellione, and more importantly, what it represented.
Perception. Empathy. Awareness.
The rune began to take form—not drawn, but etched into the fabric of her mana rings. It shimmered faintly, like dew catching dawn.
She exhaled softly. Her vision blurred—but her focus held.
Next: Ineris, the Thread.
Mana coiled like strands of silk, drawing across the inner circle. She wove it carefully, tenderly, not rushing the strokes. The rune responded, settling into orbit like a crafted constellation.
Alaric watched quietly, maintaining the flow. He could feel it—her spirit opening like a flower, layer by layer. No fear. Just trust.
One by one, the runes joined:
Valen, the Anchor—solid and heavy, it stilled the trembling rings.
Saern, the Bind—her intent locking into the structure, making it hers.
Nyrel, the Resonate—The pure Mana in her heat and hers harmonized through it, resonating like twin harps.
Time passed unnoticed. Sweat dripped down Serineth's chin, but her hands didn't tremble. Her heart was alight, burning not with strain, but with purpose.
Elarion, the Awaken—her affinity unfurled, responding with a warmth she hadn't felt before. It didn't hurt. It sang.
Quessa, the Silence—her mind stilled, cutting off the distractions, even the gentle thrum of Alaric's mana.
Viren, the Flow—the golden-white light moved easier now, as if sliding down polished glass.
And at last, the final rune.
Lumeth, the Will.
This one... did not form easily. It resisted, not from her weakness, but from her hesitation. Her breath hitched. For this rune, it wasn't enough to understand. She had to believe. To declare.
Her intent.
Her future.
Who she was—and who she wished to become.
She opened her eyes. Her gaze met Alaric's across the room.
And softly, but clearly, she whispered,
"I want to walk forward. With all of you. Not be left behind again."
The room answered.
The mana surged—not wildly, but in reverence. Lumeth etched itself in radiant light, bright enough that even Cellione instinctively shielded her eyes. The nine runes spun together now, synchronized, resonant, unified.
A full [1st-Circle]—stable, complete, and alive—hovered around her heart.
She had done it.
And when Serineth finally opened her eyes again, her violet pupils shimmered with magic, with pride, and with the light of a promise fulfilled.
-To Be Continued