"I feel like I'll be able to do it today."
Sophia raised her tiny fists, her bright eyes alight with that fragile mixture of determination and hope that often precedes greatness.
Juan, standing a few steps away, studied her expression closely. He had seen countless students over his decades of teaching, prodigies and failures alike—but this girl, this little five-year-old with the calm eyes of someone far older, was different. Every morning she came to him with that same quiet resolve, forcing courage into her voice as though she could bend fate itself with sheer will.
He knew she was trying to motivate herself, not him.
Over the past two months, Juan had taught her everything that could be taught at this stage: the ancient rune language, the elemental principles of magic, and even the first sequences of multi-attribute spell construction. She absorbed it all like a sponge left too long in the rain. What others needed months to memorize, Sophia could recall after a single demonstration—each rune, each stroke of mana etched into her memory with uncanny precision. Her thought process was sharper than her years allowed, organized and deliberate, almost frighteningly so.
A genius, yes. But even genius met its limits at the threshold of creation—the 1st Circle.
If only she could the magic circle near her Mana Core. That one spark would ignite her future. With her natural aptitude, Juan was certain she could reach the Fourth Circle by the time she joined Stelle Academy.
Juan himself was a 7th Circle Mage. The Duke had personally briefed him on Sophia's training schedule and the expectations that shadowed it. The Verdant heir was not to be mocked or dismissed among the young elites of the Academy. His task was to ensure that Sophia's name commanded respect before she even stepped onto the Academy's marble floors.
And yet, progress had been slow.
Thomas, the Sword Sage—a warrior, not even a mage—was already showing visible results in his student's swordsmanship. Juan could only sigh at the irony that steel seemed to advance faster than spellcraft.
He straightened his back and exhaled softly. "Alright," he said at last, voice calm but threaded with tension. "Let's start. I will observe as you proceed with etching the rune language."
The same problem always arose—the same fragile wall between triumph and catastrophe. The mana Sophia gathered would not condense enough. If the density fell short, the circle would collapse upon itself, detonating in a violent burst of energy. Juan had prevented such explosions more times than he cared to count—hundreds, at least. His reflexes were honed to the edge of paranoia. A single lapse, one second of hesitation, and the blast could strike near the heart. A wound like that would not merely scar; it would kill.
Sophia sat down in the lotus position at the center of the etched study circle.
The study itself glowed faintly from residual mana—the floor carved with geometric grooves that shimmered under the flicker of crystal lamps. The air hummed softly, heavy with tension and ozone. Juan felt his heartbeat match the rhythmic surge of the ambient mana around them.
Sophia inhaled. The little girl closed her eyes, her lashes trembling once before stilling.
Then she began.
She gathered the mana in small, measured breaths, drawing it through her skin like threads of light. The invisible current wove through her twelve meridians, branching through a hundred and eight smaller channels, until it pooled gently at her Mana Core. Juan could almost see it—her mana flow was so pure that it resonated against his own perception.
Five minutes passed in silence. The refining process began, burning away impurities until only purified, translucent mana remained.
Then she moved to the next step: releasing the purified mana.
Juan's fingers twitched at his side. He remembered how many times this phase had gone wrong.
Sophia followed the method precisely as he'd taught—releasing small portions of the refined mana, guiding them from her core toward the heart. Slowly, delicately, she shaped the first outline of the magic circle. It appeared faintly—a ring of light drawn within the invisible space of her body, trembling under the strain of her control.
But it wasn't dense enough.
She frowned softly, her lips pressing into a line. Then, without hesitation, she began again—gathering, refining, releasing. Over and over, building density, layering the foundation like tempered glass.
Juan's eyes widened as he saw it take form. The weak, unstable outline that had so often collapsed before now seemed… steady. The circle pulsed faintly in rhythm with her heartbeat.
'It's holding,' he thought, a small surge of hope rising in his chest. 'She might actually do it today.'
Sweat rolled down Sophia's temple. 'I can add more mana,' she told herself. The words echoed through her mind, not in panic but conviction. Her consciousness was consumed by the process—gathering, refining, compressing, weaving. She was caught in that sacred trance only true mages entered: the state where mind and mana became one continuous flow.
Minutes blurred.
The circle grew brighter, denser, filled with shimmering energy that pressed against the edges of her control. It quivered, threatening to burst.
Sophia didn't waver. Instead, she began etching the runes—minute inscriptions of thought, will, and intent, each one burning into the circle like a sacred vow. The excess mana that once threatened to explode was now being devoured by the runes, feeding their glow.
The air in the study thickened. Juan took a cautious step forward. "Steady," he whispered, though she couldn't hear him. "Steady…"
Then, in an instant—
The circle blazed once and vanished, absorbed into her body like a key turning in a hidden lock.
The world fell silent.
Juan's eyes widened in horror. "No… no, no, not like this—!"
He knew exactly what it meant. The circle had linked directly to her Mana Core. The circuit was complete—but the surge of energy that came with it could tear a fragile mind apart. Her consciousness wasn't yet strong enough. A five-year-old simply couldn't endure the storm that followed circle creation. Even most adult initiates fainted during the process.
Juan's instincts screamed. He raised his hand, muttering the incantation to anchor her mind before it shattered—
But a sudden flash of gold erupted before him. A barrier formed, gleaming with divine radiance. It shimmered with patterns that no mortal mage could have drawn. His spell collided with it and dissolved harmlessly.
"What the—?" His voice cracked. "This—what the hell is this?"
He tried again, conjuring a lightning spear strong enough to pierce reinforced steel. The spear struck the barrier and fizzled out, as if swallowed by light. The air smelled faintly of ozone and divinity.
Juan froze. His instincts as a mage told him not to move. The magic was ancient—older than human civilization. Whatever had wrapped itself around Sophia wasn't ordinary magic.
He could only watch as the light folded inward, cocooning her entirely.
-Sophia-
"What the—"
The word died in my throat as I opened my eyes.
The study room was gone. So was the smell of ink and stone, the hum of mana around me. In its place stretched a world so serene it hurt to breathe.
I stood in the middle of a vast meadow, its grass glowing faintly with silvery dew. Behind me, a forest whispered with unseen life. Ahead, mountains rose like sleeping giants beneath a crimson sun. The air shimmered gold, and the wind carried a melody that felt almost… familiar.
I looked down. My body was there, but it felt light—weightless, almost translucent. My feet didn't quite touch the ground.
"Seen enough?"
The voice came from behind me, calm and rich, like sunlight breaking through a storm.
I turned sharply. My first thought was that I'd been kidnapped, but that idea faltered when I saw him.
A man stood there—no, not merely a man. His golden eyes reflected the sky, his wavy blond hair caught the light like spun glass, and a faint halo shimmered above his head. His white tunic was embroidered with golden symbols that pulsed with meaning I couldn't decipher.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Why did you bring me here?"
He smiled—the kind of smile that felt older than time. "You already know who I am."
My stomach twisted. I did. I'd heard his voice once before, in the moment of my rebirth.
"You're… the God who brought me to this world."
"Correct," he said, settling down gracefully. With a snap of his fingers, two chairs and a table appeared between us as though the air had simply remembered them into existence.
"Why did you bring me here?" I asked again, sitting down slowly, still wary.
"To talk," he said, pouring tea into delicate glass cups that hadn't existed a heartbeat ago. "And to warn you."
"Warn me?"
He nodded. "Your path, Sophia… it will not be as simple as growth and mastery. You are walking toward something that draws the gaze of beings far beyond mortal measure."
"Beings?" I echoed, gripping the cup he handed me. The tea was warm, golden, and smelled faintly of honey.
"Certain entities," he continued, his voice smooth yet grave, "that thrive on the balance between creation and destruction. They will not take kindly to the imbalance your existence may cause."
I frowned. "Then what am I supposed to do? Stop growing stronger?"
He laughed softly. "Would you?"
I shook my head. "No. I… I can't. I want to explore this world. To live freely. Power is the only way to do that."
"Good," he said simply. "But remember this—power alone is not enough. When the time comes, you will need more than strength. You will need connections."
"Connections?"
"With others like you," he said, sipping his tea. "Gifted souls scattered across the continents. Some already know of the beings I speak of. They may stand with you when the storm comes—or not. Their aid is not guaranteed."
I furrowed my brows. "How am I supposed to contact them? There's a barrier between the continents."
"That will not matter once you reach the 8th Circle." He set his cup down with a quiet click. "Until then, remember my words. This world may test your resolve, but its beauty is still worth protecting."
There was a softness in his tone when he looked at me again. "I pitied what you endured in your past life. So I gave you another chance. Do not waste it."
I swallowed, feeling warmth in my chest that wasn't from the tea. "I won't. Thank you… for this life."
His expression softened further, almost human. "Good. Now, off you go."
"Wait!" I started, but the world was already fading, melting into darkness. "Wait—!!"
– Juan –
He had been pacing the study in circles, the floor now marked with faint footprints of ash from his boots. The barrier hadn't moved for what felt like an eternity. The golden dome remained, pulsing faintly as though alive.
Juan's mind was a storm. 'How am I supposed to tell the Duke that his daughter's trapped in divine magic?'
He tried to imagine the Duke's expression. The thought alone made him pale.
But then, a low hum filled the room. The golden light flickered, thinned, and finally shattered into harmless motes of light that drifted away like fireflies.
Juan froze.
"That was pretty rude," came a small, annoyed voice.
Sophia.
Her eyes fluttered open as she sat up on the floor, a faint glow still radiating from her chest. The light of the 1st Circle pulsed near her heart, perfectly formed.
"What happened?" Juan asked, rushing forward, gripping her shoulder gently. "You were forming the magic circle and then that barrier appeared—nothing could get through!"
"I… don't know," she lied, voice soft but steady. "There was… a vision, I think, but I don't remember it."
Juan's sharp gaze lingered for a moment. He could tell she was withholding something, but forcing her now could do more harm than good. After a long pause, he sighed. "Alright. Since you've formed the 1st Circle, we'll end here. Tomorrow, I'll guide you through channeling and practical deployment. You've earned your rest."
She nodded quietly. The circle near her heart gleamed once before fading from sight, though Juan could still sense its hum in the air.
– Sophia –
"Sigh…" I leaned against the corridor wall once Juan left, trying to steady my thoughts. "He definitely knows I'm lying."
Still, he hadn't pushed me. That was enough.
The hallway stretched silent, the afternoon light filtering through tall windows and scattering gold on the polished floor. The Verdant Estate was quiet now; servants passed by with respectful bows, the rhythm of their steps steady as clockwork.
By the time I reached my room, exhaustion hit me like a wave. I closed the door behind me and sank into my bed. The soft mattress sank beneath my weight, the familiar scent of linen grounding me.
I had done it. I'd finally placed the First Circle. I was officially an Initiate Mage.
A small smile tugged at my lips.
My thoughts wandered back to the God's words—connections, dangerous beings, the unseen forces waiting beyond the world's veil. It all sounded absurd, yet… in this world where monsters and mana existed, who was I to deny it?
For now, all that mattered was progress.
I crossed my legs again and closed my eyes, focusing on the mana around me. For the first time, I could see it—truly see it. It was beautiful. Threads of light drifted through the air, weaving colors that defied words. Earth shimmered brown and gold; water flowed blue and crystalline; fire flickered red; air danced in soft silver currents.
I reached out mentally, guiding the mana into a small pattern. The circle appeared above my palm, faint but precise, its runes glowing faintly in response to my will. A soft, cool sensation followed—then a small ball of water formed above my hand.
Perfectly spherical. Transparent as glass.
I watched it for what felt like minutes, mesmerized. Then, without warning, it flickered and vanished, leaving only a faint dampness on my palm.
Juan's lessons echoed in my mind: Mana alone cannot sustain itself. The Circle is your catalyst.
My Mana Core still lacked the depth to hold a spell for long. But that was fine. It was enough.
I smiled faintly, lying back on the bed. "It's okay," I whispered to myself. "I'll do much better with Juan's guidance tomorrow."
My eyelids grew heavy. Thoughts of spells—glittering, impossible spells—floated through my mind like dreams just out of reach.