HALF A YEAR HAD PASSED.
The quiet forest around CID cottage no longer saw him as a threat -- it saw him as a part of itself. The villagers that once kept its distance now welcomed him warmly, for CID had transformed.
In these months, CID had grown from a confused survivor into a gifted mage with remarkable control over four core elements which he used in daily works like:
🌪️ Wind Magic: Used to slice logs with precision, guide falling branches, and carry crates for elderly merchants.
🌊 Water Magic: Helped fill irrigation channels in dry soil, cool ovens at the bakery, and wash mud from paths after storms.
🔥 Fire Magic: Lit lanterns during power outages, warmed homes at night, and fueled forges without needing coal.
🌍 Earth Magic: Reinforced weak fences, reshaped farmland for better crop growth, and restored crumbling paths with firm stone.
His magic wasn't just powerful—it was helpful, and reliable. CID became a cornerstone of village life.
CID earned his living by cutting wood deep in the forest with controlled gusts of wind magic. He bundled logs with care, carved protective runes into the bark, and sold them in the marketplace. His firewood became the preferred choice—safe, clean, and enchanted to last longer than regular bundles.
The villagers paid him well. Not out of fear—but out of respect.
His bond with Alex deepened. They trained together, studied together, and shared quiet evenings beneath enchanted lanternlight. CID often caught himself watching Alex—not out of curiosity, but out of a promise only he knew:
"I'll protect him. Whatever comes."
The villagers saw it too. Their opinion of CID had changed—so had their view of Alex. Once mocked for his quiet nature and magic, Alex now walked the village with pride. With CID beside him, no one dared bully him again.
CID had mastered his mana control. Alex taught him everything he knew—and CID absorbed it like breath. But he didn't stop there.
He read every book Alex brought to him:
Spell scrolls Mana theory volumes Historical records of the nation.
and much more.....
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From beginner enchantments to elemental layering and advance magic, CID had climbed further than most adult mages ever had. In just six months, he became something rare—a mage of balance, restraint, and silent strength.
And yet, he knew:
"Even after six months, I've barely touched the edge of what magic truly is. I haven't reached the peak—I've only found the path."
It was a peaceful morning, just like any other.
The villagers smiled as they wandered into the woods, gathering blooms for the annual Festival of Flowers. Children ran with baskets, chasing petals on the breeze.
 Laughter filled the air—soft, innocent, warm.
Then the sky changed.
A glowing yellow light burst above them, like the heavens blinking awake. For a heartbeat, everything glowed golden.
And then—
Nothing.
Silence cracked.
Followed by screams.
Not fear. Not confusion.
Battle cries.
From the forest edge, shadows poured in—twisted forms snarling and surging forward. Goblins.
Not dozens. Not hundreds. Thousands.
Eyes blazing, mouths howling, blades dripping from the moment they appeared. Magic didn't slow them. Arrows snapped mid-air. Earth walls were shattered under claw. Fire fizzled on impact. Nothing worked.
CID turned—but too late.
The village was already dying.
People he'd saved, helped, grown close to—cut down in seconds. Blood on petals. Smoke in the garden.
He froze.
Then the giant arrived.
The Goblin King.
Three heads. Six arms. Armor black as scorched iron. Each step split the ground. Its blades dripped the blood of more than twenty villagers.
CID tried to cast—but his thoughts tangled in grief.
That's when Alex stepped forward.
"CID—MOVE!"
A claw lunged.
Alex shoved CID aside.
Steel pierced flesh.
Alex's body fell, broken… still.
Time stopped.
CID's breath caught—then shattered.
His rage didn't explode.
It bled.
The cry he let out wasn't human—it was a roar torn from the depths of grief. His mana flared, twisting into black and silver wind. The Goblin King stared with three sets of eyes.
CID looked once.
And the King fell to his knees.
He looked again—
The King's body exploded.
Rotten flesh, shattered bone, blown apart like a crushed fruit. The scream didn't last.
CID rose, covered in blood, eyes dark with something deeper than fury.
Then he moved. Trying to find someone alive from the village but there were none.....
The goblins turned to flee.
CID followed.
But there were no chants, no gestures. His spells didn't launch—they simply happened.
Blades of wind tore through metal like dried leaves. Fire didn't burn—it consumed, wrapping bodies in silence. The ground cracked open, swallowing those who tried to hide. Water spun midair before crashing down, boiling screams into vapor.
Then came the final breath.
CID stood at the center, arms slack, eyes hollow.
A pale light spiraled around him—his aura, raw and unstable, stretching into a vast barrier that wrapped the entire village.
The wind hushed.
The world paused.
And then—
It pulsed. Once.
Everything within the shield—beast, tree, broken home—disappeared. No bodies. No bones. Just air torn apart by grief.
Silence pressed down.
CID collapsed to his knees, drenched in the blood of the creatures he'd slaughtered… and the friends he couldn't save.
"Alex...?"
His voice echoed back emptily.
No footsteps.
No whispers.
The world was cold. Silent. Barely real.
CID lay amidst scorched earth, breath shallow, aura dimmed to a flickering pulse. His body, once brimming with unstoppable mana, now felt distant—numb.
Rustling.
Footsteps. Cloth shifting. Papers being sorted. Soft murmurs.
CID's eyes shot open.
Blinding white. Strange robes. A dozen figures surrounding him—scholars with glowing glyphs on their wrists, doctors with scanning crystals hovering over his chest. Their expressions were mixed: awe… concern… fear.
CID gasped.
"W–where…"
He tried to rise—but the pain surged. His vision blurred, muscles spasming from a mana overload that his body still hadn't recovered from.
A woman leaned closer, voice clipped and analytical.
"He reacted. Record the spike. Sedate gently—his core is unstable."
Before CID could speak again, before he could ask who they were or what they wanted—
His body gave in.
Darkness swallowed him once more.
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