What Kai discovered in his experiments with Amyra wasn’t just groundbreaking. It was the kind of breakthrough that every Mage in his era, and countless ones before it, had spent lifetimes chasing. The ability resisted, absorbed and purified dead mana. It should’ve been impossible, unprecedented that even ancient archives of the Sorcerer’s Tower held only vague theories about it. Yet here it was. And Amyra was at the center of it.

Today’s test confirmed what he’d started to suspect: she wasn’t just a promising Mage. She might very well be the key to saving the world. Maybe even more than him. And that meant, there were so many other things he had to consider when it came to her.

Her control wasn’t perfect, not yet, but what she accomplished in the last few hours was more than enough to leave Kai in awe. She had managed to absorb and purify the dead mana from two and a half meters of the land—a small patch by most standards, but when it came to dead mana, any progress was monumental. In the grander scheme of things, it was just a fraction of what was needed, but Kai could already see the potential brimming beneath the surface.

He had no doubt her ability would grow stronger as she advanced in her circles, though it didn’t feel like a simple mana-based skill. If he had to guess, it was more akin to a mental discipline, like a spell that sharpened with practice. The purified mana she absorbed seemed to replenish her reserves, but it was the act of processing it—the mental strain of bending dead mana to her will—that seemed to take the real toll on her.

There were ways to help with that. Minor spells to ease mental fatigue. Potions that could soothe her frayed focus. But none of those were his real goal.

His true focus remained on unlocking the deeper mechanisms behind her ability. Understanding what made it work. And, if possible, finding a way to replicate it.

Because if Amyra could master this power—or, gods willing, teach it to others—they might just stand a chance against the creeping tide of death that threatened to swallow their world whole.

With Amyra being just one person, he knew the risks were immense. The moment Maleficia discovered her existence, they would focus on her with unrelenting ferocity. And that wasn’t just paranoia—it was calculated certainty.

He had his suspicions that Maleficia might have been behind the massacre of her clan. It was too convenient to think such a large, powerful bloodline had fallen by chance. But he still lacked hard evidence, just fragmented clues that pointed in too many directions. Until he had more, all he could do was protect Amyra with everything he had.

To that end, he’d already assigned Clement to shadow her, along with additional watchers keeping her under constant, albeit subtle, surveillance. He knew Clement wouldn’t fail him, and it was a consolance. It helped, but it didn’t ease his mind completely. He’d be much more at peace if he could discover a way to replicate her abilities—or at least gather more Mages like her. It would share the burden. Take some of the danger off her shoulders.

But again, danger was inevitable. That much was certain. And once again, he was left with the feeling that he should grow stronger. Especially now that there were so many depending on him.

With his daily duties as lord finally winding down, he made his way toward his quarters.

It was still early evening, which meant he had a few hours before his body would demand rest. A perfect window for cultivating his mana. Especially now that he could feel the next breakthrough, the elusive fourth circle, hovering just out of reach. Tonight, perhaps, he’d finally crack the barrier.

With that single hope in mind, he walked. He moved through the castle corridors that were shadowy but still alive with quiet activity. Maids moved here and there, carrying linen and trays. Guards patrolled the halls. And as he moved, they bowed in respect, but he barely acknowledged them, his mind already drifting to the familiar pull of mana refinement.

He was used to this routine by now.

But just as he reached the hall outside his room, he noticed someone lingering near the door.

Anya. Amara’s maid.

The young woman straightened the moment she spotted him and dipped into a deep bow, her hands neatly folded in front of her.

“Lord Arzan,” she greeted softly.

Kai slowed his steps, raising an eyebrow. “Anya. What are you doing here?”

She straightened. “Her Highness, Princess Amara, wished me to deliver a message.”

Kai’s expression didn’t change, though he could already guess where this was going. “And what message would that be?”

“The princess was wondering if you might join her for dinner this evening.”

Kai hesitated, unsure how to respond.

After the fief war, he hadn’t had much time for Amara—or for anyone, really. His responsibilities as someone who had conquered a large territory had consumed him entirely, and any free moments he could have spent with her were swallowed by paperwork, strategies, and inspections. Even his meals were taken in his office, often in the middle of signing documents or reviewing supply chain reports.

The few times they’d crossed paths in the hallways, Amara had tried to strike up conversations, every time being cheerful about it, but he’d always been too preoccupied to properly engage. His answers had been clipped, his mind elsewhere, and after a while, she’d stopped trying. He knew that she had waited.

But it seemed that patience had finally run out.

Kai glanced at Anya, whose steady, neutral expression betrayed none of her own thoughts. He sighed internally, realizing that as much as he might want to, he couldn’t give Amara the time she deserved tonight. Not with everything weighing on him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I have to work on my mana circles tonight.”

Disappointment flickered in Anya’s eyes, but before she could reply, he added, “Tell her I’d love to join her for breakfast tomorrow morning instead.”

At that, Anya’s face brightened just a little, and she nodded. “I’ll let her know, my lord.”

Without wasting any more time, she dipped into another bow and quietly left, her footsteps fading down the hallway.

Kai stood there for a moment, watching her leave, before exhaling softly and turning toward his door. He’d deal with the rest later. For now, he needed to focus.

The door closed behind him with a soft click as he entered his room. Striding across the familiar space, he shrugged off his outer cloak and let it fall onto the nearby chair before lowering himself onto the floor in a familiar cross-legged position.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and let his body relax as he prepared to cultivate. But before that, he needed to ground himself. With all the thoughts that occupied his mind like restless shadows vying for attention, he had to get his focus straight.

His responsibilities as lord. The endless reports were still waiting on his desk. The need to test more people for mana organs. Amyra. Maleficia. The Elder Tree.

Each thought surfaced and lingered for a moment before slipping away, replaced by the next. But as he slowly began to swirl his mana within his core, each worry faded, one by one, until his mind was silent, empty of everything except the steady flow of energy coursing through him.

His focus narrowed, sharpening as he directed his attention inward, toward the Mana heart at the center of his core. Three glowing circles spun within it, bright and steady, each one representing the culmination of countless hours of cultivation.

Now, his goal was clear: to forge the fourth circle.

He concentrated, guiding the swirling mana into the familiar channels within his body. It flowed through his veins like familiar liquid fire. Slowly, steadily, he began to push it toward the edges of his core, where the barrier to the next circle lay, waiting to be broken.

It wasn’t just about power—it never had been. This was about control. Refinement. A delicate balance between pushing the limits and holding steady. One wrong move, and the entire process could backfire, destabilizing his Mana heart.

But he didn’t rush. He knew better. He could lose all the abilities to wield his powers if he rushed, if something broke. He took it easy.

As the mana surged and swirled, he lost track of time, his breathing slowing to a deep, rhythmic cadence. The room around him faded, and the only thing that remained was the mana, the circles, and the silent, unyielding barrier standing between him and his next breakthrough.

He knew he was close. He had been for a while now, but that invisible wall, that maddening barrier, refused to budge. It mocked him like a silent challenge, daring him to break through.

It wasn’t the first time he had felt this frustration.

In his previous life, reaching the fourth circle had been a grueling, torturous process. It had taken him three times longer to achieve than the first three circles combined. He’d spent years clawing his way past it, frustrated at every failed attempt, every wasted night of cultivation.

Now, he was in an era where mana was abundant, so thick in the air that you could practically taste it. And unlike before, his techniques were refined, sharpened by experience, and vastly more efficient. His progress had been extraordinary so far. Even so, he knew that none of it mattered unless he could cross this threshold.

Because the real power of a Mage didn’t begin until the fourth circle.

This was the gateway to true strength, the step right before earning the title of Magus. It was also the point where a Mage began to transform, refining their body to be something far more than just human—a being of mana and flesh, with both working in tandem.

But to reach that stage, he first had to surmount this wall.

And right now, it felt like a mountain.

He gritted his teeth and kept swirling his mana inside his core, drawing in more of the ambient mana around him. Slowly, he guided it toward the walls of his astral core, the intangible space within him where his mana circles spun like glowing rings of energy. Each circle burned bright, marking his progress—and the fourth one hovered at the edge of formation, flickering like an incomplete rune waiting to be etched.

To create more circles, his astral core needed to expand. And expanding it wasn’t as simple as just adding more mana.

It was pressure.

Unrelenting pressure that pushed against the boundaries of his core, forcing it to stretch, to grow, to make room for more. It wasn’t a physical core—it wasn’t something you could see or touch—but the process felt real enough. The burning ache deep inside him, the tight, almost suffocating sensation as his astral core expanded bit by bit—it was excruciating.

Not as bad as becoming an Enforcer, perhaps. But still painful enough that it threatened to shatter his concentration with every breath.

He didn’t let it.

He focused.

Bit by bit, he targeted specific areas of his core, gently expanding them with each pulse of mana. It wasn’t a process that could be rushed—if he pushed too hard, the entire core could destabilize, undoing everything.

So he moved carefully, almost surgically. Slowly, he expanded the boundaries while simultaneously guiding the swirling mana to form the fourth circle.

The mana crackled within him, like a storm waiting to be unleashed, but he held it in check, guiding it, shaping it, forcing it into submission. And all the while, the pressure mounted, pressing down on him like the weight of the world, threatening to crush him beneath it.

Both tasks—expanding the core and forming the fourth circle—demanded intense focus, but Kai had long mastered the art of multitasking under pressure.

Every half hour, he allowed himself a brief respite. Just five minutes. He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t shift from his position, but he loosened the tight hold on his mana and let his body relax. The tension in his shoulders, the slight ache in his back from sitting upright, the strain in his core—they eased during those moments.

Getting back on track after each break was difficult, like forcing himself to jump into icy water after warming up. But he knew better than to push through nonstop. This wasn’t a battle where brute force would win the day.

One wrong move could cripple him permanently.

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But that wasn’t why he was taking it so seriously. No, there was much more at stake.

Advancing to the fourth circle would change everything.

Once he broke through, his Mana heart would expand, granting him a vastly larger mana pool and the ability to control it with greater finesse. His body would also undergo subtle, but profound changes.

Mana resistance was one of the most critical ones.

Right now, lower-circle spells could still affect him. Not easily—he had training, enchanted gear, a tougher Enforcer body and sheer combat experience—but they could. Once he reached the fourth circle, that would change. His body would be so saturated with mana that first-circle spells would barely scratch him. Even second-circle magic would have a hard time breaking through his defenses unless it was cast by someone powerful.

And that was just the beginning.

Higher-circle Mages weren’t just stronger because they had more mana. They were stronger because they lived on a different level. Their spells hit harder, yes, but more importantly, they became almost immune to lower-circle attacks.

It was why, in a duel between a fourth-circle Mage and a second-circle one, the outcome was almost always predetermined. Power level wasn’t the only issue—there was an inherent, almost biological gap that magic couldn’t easily bridge.

And that gap widened with each circle.

Kai knew that reaching the fourth circle would give him a much-needed edge. Against Maleficia, against rival nobles, and against the inevitable dangers that would come his way.

It would also extend his lifespan significantly. That was one of the most understated, but critical, benefits of advancing in mana circles. His body would age slower, his cells sustained by the constant flow of magic.

That, too, was why so many powerful Mages seemed to remain at their prime for decades longer than normal people.

And why Kai was giving this everything he had.

His path to the third circle had been relatively easy, by comparison. The first three circles mostly involved increasing one’s mana capacity and control—challenging, but straightforward.

The fourth circle, however, was a different beast entirely.

Here, it was about transformation and not just accumulating more mana. Expanding his astral core, weaving the new circle, and pushing his body to adapt to the higher concentration of energy flowing through it.

And it hurts.

The pressure kept building, like an invisible weight pressing down on him as more and more ambient mana gathered around his body, drawn in by his cultivation technique. He could feel it like a gentle, but persistent, current brushing against his skin, soaking into his pores, filling him from the inside out.

He breathed through his nose, slow and steady, guiding the flow.

One breath in. One breath out.

Again. One breath in. One breath out.

And again. One breath in. One breath out.

Bit by bit, the fourth circle was forming, and the boundaries of his astral core were slowly, painstakingly stretching to make room for it.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t easy.

But it was progress.

The circle inside Kai’s body was a swirling vortex of condensed mana—a chaotic spiral that was supposed to smooth into perfection. But it wasn’t there yet.

Frowning internally, he shifted his focus, channeling more mana into those missing sections to fill the gaps. He knew that, under normal circumstances, he should have been done by now. Yet, something felt off.

The circle wasn’t stabilizing.

Instead, it kept devouring more and more mana.

By now, he had poured more energy into this one formation than he’d needed for his fourth circle in his previous life. And it still wasn’t enough.

He clenched his jaw, frustration simmering beneath the surface, but there was no time to dwell on it. The increasing density of mana meant that his astral boundaries—already stretched beyond what he’d anticipated—would have to expand even more.

And that… was a serious problem.

His breathing grew ragged as exhaustion crept in. The constant push and pull of mana left him drained, and despite his best efforts, the boundaries kept stretching without a sign of stopping.

It was like trying to fill an endless void.

A low groan escaped his lips as the pressure built to unbearable levels. His chest tightened, his limbs trembled, and sweat trickled down his face in rivulets. He was at his limit.

And he knew it.

If he kept this up any longer, he’d risk collapsing his entire core.

With a reluctant sigh, Kai let go of the flow, cutting off the mana supply to the circle and slowing the stretching process. He needed to stop—immediately.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

The sudden rush of light and sensation hit him like a wave, and before he could steady himself, his body gave out. He slumped forward, collapsing onto the cool stone floor with a dull thud.

His breath came in harsh gasps as he lay there, chest heaving, sweat pooling beneath him. Every muscle ached, and his head throbbed with the dull pain of overexertion.

That was too close, too fucking close.

After a few moments, he forced his shaky hand to rise and cast [Refresh] on himself. For a moment, he felt like even that small spell took so much of him. But it died when a rush of cool energy washed over his body, dulling the worst of his fatigue. It was still there, but just not as bad.

With a groan, he shifted onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he summoned a sliver of mana to inspect his Mana heart.

His astral core flickered into view, and he scanned it carefully, bracing for the worst.

To his immense relief, there was no damage. No cracks, no signs of instability. Just the swirling, incomplete fourth circle sitting at the center, waiting to be finished.

Good.

Still, something about the whole process didn’t sit right with him. He’d poured far more mana into this circle than he should have needed. Why?

Had he miscalculated? Was there something different about his current body—or his astral realm?

Questions after questions hit him.

He sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow as he sat up slowly. His limbs still felt like lead, but his mind was already working, running through the calculations again, trying to make sense of what had happened.

How much mana do I actually need to complete the fourth circle?

That was the question. And until he had an answer, he wouldn’t be attempting another breakthrough anytime soon.

Knock! Knock!

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair before staggering to his feet. His limbs still felt heavy, as though they were tied down by iron chains, but the knock at the door forced him to push through the exhaustion. He shuffled to the entrance, his steps uneven, and pulled the door open.

Standing before him was Princess Amara. She was wearing a bright smile, happier than ever just to… see him? Or was there something else?

“Lord Arzan,” she said, “I’m glad you’re still awake.”

Kai blinked, momentarily thrown off, but before he could respond, Amara’s eyes flicked downward, taking in his disheveled state—the damp shirt clinging to his chest, his tousled hair, and the tired lines etched into his face.

“Are you… all right?” she asked, her brows furrowing with concern.

Kai managed a small, weary smile. “I am. Just a bit of training,” he said lightly, though the understatement didn’t quite hide the exhaustion in his voice. “Did you have some work for me, Princess?”

Amara shook her head, a small, almost shy smile tugging at her lips. “No, it’s just… it’s been a while since we talked.” She paused, hesitating for a brief moment. “I know you said we could talk over breakfast tomorrow, but… I couldn’t sleep. And I thought you might be free by now.”

Kai didn’t know what to say to that. He stood there, momentarily at a loss for words, because even if he was free, he knew exactly what it would look like for a princess to visit him in the middle of the night.

There might not be any scandal, given that they were within his estate, but…

Amara wasn’t ignorant of such things. She knew what she was doing.

Clearing his throat, Kai looked at her, “Princess, I don’t think us meeting like this—at this hour—is appropriate.”

Amara lifted an eyebrow and tilted her head. Then, to his surprise, she smiled.

“Do we have to worry about that?” she asked. “I believe we’re both capable of thinking for ourselves. We don’t need to concern ourselves with the social implications of every little thing.” Amara took a step closer, closing some of the distance between them. “And if nothing else,” she added, “we can talk about magic. I’ve been meaning to ask you some questions.”

Kai exhaled quietly, wondering if he was really about to have this conversation at this hour. He could feel the intensity of her gaze, the quiet challenge in her words to reject her now.

He was about to reply, words forming on his lips, but he suddenly stopped, his mouth closing with a quiet click. His eyes shifted past her, narrowing slightly as he glanced back toward the window behind him.

“I don’t think I’d be able to do that,” he said quietly.

Amara frowned, tilting her head. “Why not?” she asked, her brows drawing together. Her lips parted in a low gasp. “Do you really not like—”

“It’s not that,” Kai interrupted. He held up a hand, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Listen closely.”

Amara blinked, confused, but she obeyed. At first, there was nothing but the soft rustle of the night breeze brushing against the windowpane. But then, faintly, shouts rang out. Men, women—he didn’t know. But there were shouts.

Her eyes widened as she looked back at him. “What is that?”

“I believe… We’re under attack.”

The words had barely left his mouth when an earth-shaking explosion rocked the entire estate. The walls shook hard, and the floor lurched like it had been hit by a giant hammer.

***

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