The path wound between dripping trees, the world still silver from dawn.
They had been walking for days—following the forest line north, toward the human capital, Cendru.
The city lay far ahead yet, beyond three valleys and the edge of the mist plains.
For now, there was only rain-soaked earth and the faint promise of roofs somewhere beyond the horizon.
They would rest there, find Elira a spare blade, and move again toward the Phantasmal Sanctum.
But that was still a journey away.
Mira walked in front, her pace brisk but her shoulders stiff.
Kael followed close behind, pretending to check the straps of his gauntlets.
Elira said nothing—half because of the silence between them, half because she was thinking of the blade that no longer answered.
Behind them, Nakea stretched her arms lazily.
"One wrong door and you three forget how to breathe," she said.
Mira turned scarlet. "We're not talking about that."
Kael sighed. "I already apologized—"
"Knock next time," Mira snapped.
"Move," Haco said from the back, and that ended it.
By noon, the forest opened into a quiet streamside clearing. Haco knelt, drawing lines in the dirt with a stick.
"This world runs on two different tables," he began. "Two systems that overlap but never quite meet."
Elira tilted her head. "Tables?"
"Cycles," Mira corrected, crouching beside him. "He means elemental tables. Like those old diagrams from the guild."
Haco smiled faintly. "Not wrong. One belongs to magic—the twelve elements. The other to matter—the physical world.
Magic shapes mana. Matter shapes everything else. They're both rulesets—but not the same language."
Kael leaned closer. "Then how do they mix?"
"They don't," Haco replied. "They touch, occasionally. But that touch is what we call creation."
He drew two circles, one glowing faintly blue, the other brown. The colors pulsed where the lines met.
Mira whistled softly. "So the border between them… that's what we're actually controlling when we cast?"
"Exactly," Haco said. "A mage isn't someone who changes the world—just someone who convinces it to listen for a second."
They gathered closer, watching the faint glow fade.
"There are twelve attributes," Haco continued. "No absolutes. No perfect counters. Only state and proportion."
He tapped each symbol he drew into the ground.
"Water endures and extends—it fills gaps, finds paths.
Fire devours, but from its ashes, new strength grows.
Ice halts and defines, giving shape to chaos.
Lightning answers—it's the world's reaction, never the first move.
Wind acts—it moves before the world does, sharp and clear.
Grass restores, feeds, heals.
Earth resists—it holds, endures, bears.
Light purifies. Dark conceals.
Sound connects—or severs.
Phantom blurs illusion with reality.
And Void…" His voice lowered slightly. "Void does whatever the world requires next."
Nakea chuckled under her breath. "When creation gets cornered, it cheats. That's Void."
Kael blinked. "You sound like you've seen it happen."
She smirked. "I was there the last time the world needed saving."
No one quite knew if she was joking.
They walked on. The forest began to thin, light filtering through in shifting gold.
After a while, Elira spoke. "Back in Dust Ruin, our eyes could see abilities—labels. But not what you're describing."
"Correct," Haco said. "That sight measures potential, not the current itself. What I mean is the magic aura—mana alive around a being."
"Can we see it?" Mira asked.
"With practice. Draw mana to your eyes—behind the iris. Gently."
They obeyed.
For a moment, nothing. Then colors bled into the air around them.
Mira's aura twisted red, blue, and white like shifting fire.
Kael's glowed gold with sparks along its edge.
Elira's shimmered soft green and blue with threads of light inside.
Kael blinked. "So this is it?"
"Your true field," Haco said. "Now—three warnings."
He raised three fingers.
"One, red aura—that's Demolic, forbidden killers.
Two, none at all, or one that feels wrong to your instinct— strong beings can hide or distort it.
Three, a perfect sphere—normal aura flows and breathes.
If you see a sphere, leave. It means purity beyond reason."
Mira swallowed. "Ever seen one?"
Haco's eyes drifted toward the mist ahead. "Yes. Once."
Elira tried to read his aura—and gasped. There was nothing to read.
It was not darkness, but absence, as if the world refused to draw him.
Kael muttered, "That's cheating."
Haco's mouth curved. "Good."
By evening they rested under a leaning pine.
Mira rolled her twin rings over her fingers. "And circles? They're not another element?"
"No," Haco said. "They're grammar—mana's sentence structure."
He drew a loop in the dirt. "Marks decide flow. Miss one, and healing turns to harm."
Nakea laughed softly. "Which is why humans hide behind crystals now."
"I don't make mistakes," Mira said.
Kael arched a brow. "You burned half my sleeve."
"You moved."
"Both of you stop," Haco said. "Save the fire for something that fights back."
A faint laugh passed through them. For a moment, the road felt lighter.
Later, as twilight pooled beneath the trees, Elira walked beside Haco.
"Lumeveil still won't respond," she said quietly.
"I know."
"It feels like it's watching me—waiting for me to fail again."
"Then prove it wrong," he said. "Don't beg your weapon. Earn its trust."
She nodded, silent.
The wind died. Even insects stopped.
"Wait," Mira whispered. "The fog's thickening."
Kael's voice dropped. "Lightning sense—dead."
Haco's tone hardened. "Eyes open. Mana to the iris."
They did—and saw it.
A gray sphere hung ahead between the trunks.
Perfect. Still. Without shimmer.
Elira's breath hitched. "Is that—"
"Don't speak," Haco said.
The fog parted.
A figure stepped through—silver hair, black-edged robes, eyes like smoke behind glass.
The ground bent faintly beneath his steps.
Vaelis.
"You follow their path," he said softly. "They bled for you to forget it. And yet, here you are."
Mira's rings spun. "So that's him. In his true form. "
Kael's stance tightened. "Then we end this."
Elira whispered, "Didn't Haco say run when saw one? "
Vaelis smiled faintly. "Then your fox kept his true self well."
Haco's jaw set. "You talk too much."
"I came to see if you could see," Vaelis murmured. "You carry a silence where a name should be."
Behind him, the perfect sphere floated, unbroken.
Elira whispered, "Haco… that's the one?"
He didn't blink. "Well. That makes it twice."
The mist drew tighter.
Nakea's hand touched her sword; Haco's weight shifted barely forward.
Vaelis smiled. "Good. Keep your eyes open."
The fog rippled—
and the world flashed white.