The scabbard was black, threaded with fine cracks of white and faint impressions of roses, giving it a weathered, almost dreamlike elegance.
At the point where the blade met the sheath, subtle bumps pulsed with deep, ancient mana, small, yet dense with power.
The hilt was wrapped in fine white cloth, pristine and soft to the touch, while the pommel bloomed into the shape of a black rose.
The guard resembled an arrangement of overlapping black rose petals, delicately forged yet sharp with intent.
Hooked along the pommel, an endless ribbon of cloth flowed like memory given form.
This was Sotergramma in its full display.
Waves of mana poured from the blade, causing the air to thicken, as though the atmosphere itself bowed to its presence.
Mirabel took a step back and raised her sword. "Such a potent and wild force!"
I drew in a breath. "Allow me to carry out my victory."
At once, my blade devoured a massive surge of mana. I swung.
The force of the attack bent space itself, the world folding in defense as though to conceal the strike's true terror.
Mirabel's blade rose to meet it, only to shatter upon contact.
Her eyes widened as cuts and bruises bloomed across her arm like blooming thorns.
"Come on, Mirabel," I said. "Even you could have resisted that, or dodged it."
She lit up with red, rampaging mana, veins glowing like burning rivers.
"Maybe. But I thought I could match its power while holding back."
She stepped forward. A red blade materialized, pressing against my chest.
"I now realize I was completely wrong."
It took every ounce of strength I had to evade her strike, a desperate motion over a distance so insignificant it barely existed.
The cost forced my sword to rewrap itself in cloth, sealing its might.
The next moment, her foot dragged across my chest and sent me flying.
I crashed into the ground at a harsh diagonal, tumbling. Before I could even raise my blade, hers was pressed into my neck.
"You did well for your current level," she said, calm yet resolute. "Most people wouldn't even be able to damage me."
I glanced around and caught the stunned expressions of the others. I laughed. "Really? Then I'm still too weak."
I coughed, blood scattering across the ground in dull spatters.
Maybe against someone more equal, I could've done more. But her sheer mana alone made the gap insurmountable.
She dispelled her sword, the blade dissolving into faint mana particles, and then helped me to my feet.
Sansir approached with a healing scroll and pressed it gently against my shoulder, mending the smaller bruises.
"You should really steady yourself," he said. "If you keep pouring out mana like that, you won't last long in a real fight."
I chuckled.
Mirabel nodded. "Yes, not everyone is like me. My mana pool has no end."
She guided me back toward the castle while Sansir began slowly restoring the ruined training grounds behind us.
As my knees buckled, she let me fall softly against the wall facing the entrance to the grounds.
I let out a long sigh, blood dripping from my lips as I looked up at her. "Mirabel… would you be so kind as to gift me some mana?"
She leaned forward and pressed her delicate fingers to my chest. A warm surge of energy rushed through me, steadying my soul.
I used it to seal the cracks appearing across my skin.
My illness had worsened in that place, but suppressing it had grown easier.
I didn't think I would black out anymore.
Still, the strain of using my power was immense. Fighting someone stronger would be significantly harder for that reason alone.
But…
I looked down at my hands. "I'm far stronger than before."
Mirabel ran her fingers through my hair, sending strands flying in every direction. "You sure are."
While fighting Mirabel, I had noticed something strange. Though her power was overwhelming, her technique with the sword felt lacking.
Not that she was any worse than me, but if I had more speed, I could have exploited a few of her openings.
In fact, I probably could have landed a decisive strike if I had poured all my mana into boosting my physical attributes.
"Is there a reason you seem less skilled with the sword?" I asked, curiosity edging my voice.
[Nicholas was new to the world of power, and the concept she was about to reveal would shake his understanding of everything.]
"It's simple, really," she said.
"I've finally reached the eleventh wall. I'm already halfway to the twelfth. At this region of power, the gap becomes... everything. Infinite."
I gave her a confused look. "That's all? Why would gaining power lessen your skill?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Huh? Were you not taught this during your time at the academy?"
I thought back. I had only stayed at the academy until I was about thirteen. Most of what they taught was basic magic theory and history.
"No," I admitted, somewhat embarrassed.
Maybe the voice inside had warned me of this ignorance. I probably should have asked in a less clueless way.
She sighed and turned slightly as Sansir approached. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she spoke gently.
"Ask him to teach you about the future of your evolution."
Sansir stared down at me with a disappointed frown, like a teacher discovering just how little his student knew.
I truly was ignorant.
During my travels, I had studied rune magic, cosmology, and even advanced magical theory, but not once had I come across something like this.
I stood slowly as Mirabel flicked her hair back. "I have duties to attend to. I'll leave you with him."
She turned and walked away as Sansir nodded and looked at me calmly. "So, you know about the Twelve Walls within one's being, right?"
He stepped onto the training grounds, and I quickly followed. "Yeah, that much is clear."
[Nicholas had studied many concepts, but none had prepared him for what this might be.]
Sansir glanced around, then picked up a wooden spear and held it aloft.
"Can you see it? The lines between reality, the text, the information writing itself?"
I stared closely.
Infons: pure information. Memory, thought, mind, text, they record history into the framework of reality, give function to laws.
For him to ask if I could see "the writing" meant he was asking if I could perceive what the infons were composing, what they made.
Which, in this case, would be the spear itself.
"I think?" I answered, honestly unsure.
He didn't seem bothered. "The knowledge, the information you seek, already exists within me."
He lowered the spear, and suddenly I saw it.
The space around him warped, bending gently to his will.
"Mirabel is simply making it so that her being, her nature, is exactly what she wants it to be."
[Nicholas stared, the weight of understanding beginning to press in on his mind.]
"So she can control her intrinsic nature?" I asked. "But I still don't see how that makes her less skilled."
He turned to me, his eyes heavy with fatigue, and his tone completely flat.
"Regalia are transcendent over everything in this world. She's not swinging her sword anymore; she's abiding by her intrinsic nature."
I looked down and summoned my own Regalia.
Now that I thought about it, most people avoided summoning theirs openly. It made sense.
These artifacts stood so far above the world that damaging them even slightly would cause direct harm to the wielder.
"So... what's my Regalia's intrinsic nature?" I muttered, more to myself than to him.
He smiled then, a rare thing. "I don't tell this to many... but just this once, I'll reveal the name of mine."
I looked up at him in awe. His bronze eyes shimmered with hints of gold.
Wooden armor grew over his skin, translucent and blooming, then vanished as the earth around us surged with life.
His entire posture shifted, filled with vitality. His expression lit with a serene calm.
"King of Prosperity: Dalhans," he said softly.
I blinked. Completely and utterly confused. That Regalia didn't suit him at all.
Against all my better instincts, using every shred of mana I had to suppress the reaction I still couldn't hold back my laughter.