The number of mages in the world was small. Out of billions of humans, fewer than 100,000 were true mages, and including apprentices, the total magical population barely reached 300,000. Most were Gray Robe Mages—the lowest rank, still mastering the basics. Above them were White Robe Mages, rare enough that commoners might never see one. Higher still were Purple Robe Mages, powerhouses who could make kings bow. At the top stood Legendary Mages, living myths whose words could shape nations.
"Some say there are even older beings," Im told Leon, Dahlia, and Flower, his voice low with wonder. "Creatures who survived the millennia of magic's history. But I've only heard rumors—no proof."
He leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "Starting today, I'll teach you the Meditation Technique. If you can sense the Mana Tide and generate mana during meditation, you'll be official mage apprentices. But don't think this is enough. What's the most important thing for a mage?"
"Knowledge!" Dahlia blurted, sitting up straight.
"Good," Im said, then added dryly, "Shame your math skills don't match your insight."
Leon suppressed a smile. "You told us this yesterday, Master. Right before class ended—you said meditation was just the start, and knowledge always comes first."
Im cleared his throat, changing the subject. "Back to meditation. The key is focus: empty your mind but stay alert. When you do, you'll feel the Mana Tide—vibrations in the magical energy around every living thing. Then, you'll touch those magical elements, try to catch and move them. When you can control them freely, I'll teach you to absorb them into your body and make your own mana."
Class ended with Im's order: "Dahlia, your math is still failing. Leon, stay and help her."
Dahlia groaned, her eyes glistening. "Why do we need math? We're mages! Can't we skip it?"
"A mage who can't do math is just a show-off," Im snapped before leaving.
Leon patted her shoulder. "It's not that bad. You'll catch up quickly—you're smarter than you think."
In truth, Dahlia wasn't slow. She was just overshadowed by Leon, who'd secretly studied high school-level math and science from his former life. His "accidental" brilliance had pushed Im to teach advanced material early, leaving Dahlia and Flower (seven years older but less focused) struggling. Now, Leon often ended up tutoring them while Im worked on his research paper—something Im called "deepening your own learning by teaching others."
That night, Leon tried meditation. He sat cross-legged on his bed, then tried lying down, kneeling, even leaning against the wall. Nothing worked. Finally, he tried the full lotus position—legs crossed on opposite thighs, a pose he remembered from Earth's Buddhism. He'd hoped it would help, but after an hour, his legs went numb, tingling so badly he couldn't stand.
"Good grief," he muttered, collapsing onto the bed and rubbing his legs. The sensation was like sitting on a toilet too long—tingly, weak, and utterly useless for meditation.
He gave up, practiced tai chi at dawn, and headed to the manor with breakfast, determined to ask Im for help.