Riven had long forgotten about time.

He had no idea how long he had been sitting cross-legged in silence, immersed in the current of mana flowing through his body. His breathing was steady, his pores open, his mind focused solely on one thing: merging with the rhythm of the flow.

He absorbed mana slowly through the surface of his skin, letting the current seep in before guiding it throughout his body—through muscles, bones, blood vessels, even the invisible crevices within. The rough mana he calmed, shaping it little by little so it became smoother, gentler, until he could gather it bit by bit at the center of his body, just around his navel. That point now served as a small vessel, a place to store all that he managed to absorb.

Everything had to be done at once.

He could not focus only on absorption. He could not focus only on circulation. He could not just calm the mana, nor only gather it. All of it had to happen in a single breath, in a single will.

His body still convulsed from time to time when the current struck a path not yet fully open. But he endured. He met the sting with composure. Gradually, his body seemed to accept it. His sensitivity sharpened, his senses expanding outward.

He could hear his own heartbeat. He could feel every brush of the night wind against his skin. Even the crackling of the campfire sounded like a slow melody, aligning with the current inside him.

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

But just then, a soft scent like warm dried roses touched his nose. A warm breath brushed against his ear. And with it came a cold yet pleasing whisper,

“Good. You can already do it on your own.”

In an instant, Riven’s focus collapsed.

His mana flow broke apart. The channels he had formed trembled. The once-calm mana grew wild, thrashing inside his body. His whole frame shuddered, eyes snapping wide open. A quiet groan of frustration slipped out of him.

He turned to the side, his sharp gaze fixed on the woman behind him who had just disrupted his practice.

But before he could protest, Ashtoria met his eyes with a neutral expression, as if she felt no guilt whatsoever.

“Why did you stop?” she asked casually. The night wind toyed with her long red hair, making it sway gently. “You no longer need my help.”

She stepped closer, studying Riven from the side with crimson eyes that seemed to pierce through his skin and into his thoughts.

“What you must do now is maintain that state. Not only when you’re training,” she continued. “But also when you’re walking, eating, fighting… even when you sleep. Mana must never stop.”

Riven was silent. His lips parted as if to argue, but no sound came. He had thought what he had just done was enough. He thought being able to absorb and circulate mana was already an achievement.

But it turned out to be only the beginning.

Far from finished.

Ashtoria spoke again, her voice calmer yet still sharp.

“If your progress remains consistent… even without discovering your affinity, you can still become a runemaster. That path does not rely on affinity, but on understanding, intelligence, and hard work.”

“Runemaster?” Riven finally spoke, his voice quiet, yet laced with genuine interest. He had heard the term before, but knew little: they were rare, and their magic was different.

“Yes,” Ashtoria replied. “Those who write and understand the language of mana. Who create magical effects through symbols and structure. Not by releasing raw power, but by shaping it.”

She lifted her gaze toward the clear night sky, the breeze brushing against her red hair.

“But it is a long and dangerous road. Only those truly serious can endure it. If your mind isn’t sharp enough or if you fail to grasp the incantation you weave, your brain might melt from the weight of the circuits.”

Riven swallowed hard. The image of his brain melting was far from pleasant.

He glanced sideways.

Melly was still seated cross-legged, her breath heavy yet steady, sweat dripping from her chin. The young girl was struggling to control the flow of mana within her body. Ashtoria’s guiding hand was no longer on her back. Just like him, Melly no longer needed help.

‘And I thought I was talented,’ Riven mocked himself bitterly.

“Your sister just succeeded,” Ashtoria said suddenly. Her tone was calm, yet sincere. “You both are gifted. Ordinary noble children usually need half a day to master this.”

Riven gave a sidelong glance, then exhaled softly. For some reason, the praise didn’t make him proud. He didn’t want to be compared to ordinary nobles. If he sought strength, his benchmark had to be far higher. He had no intention of being ordinary.

After a moment of silence, Riven asked, his tone casual but edged with curiosity,

“By the way… may I know what your affinity is? And… how did you discover it?”

Ashtoria didn’t answer right away. She seemed to be thinking, the air around them growing tense with her silence. Slowly, she spoke, her voice flat yet heavy,

“My affinity… is destruction.”

Her expression shifted slightly. Not dramatic, but noticeable.

Riven froze. His memory instantly pulled him back to the intruder from Arkham he had killed. The man’s dying words echoed in his mind: “She’s the REINCARNATION OF DESTRUCTION! She’s a madwoman… a bloodthirsty monster… who revels in suffering! The world will burn if she is allowed to live…”

And now, she had admitted it herself.

“Destruction?” Riven repeated, his voice soft. Not out of fear, but curiosity.

Ashtoria met his gaze, studying his face. There was no fear. No trembling. Only honest curiosity.

Strangely, that brought her a sense of relief. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly.

She gave a small nod.

Riven wanted to ask more, about the power of destruction was like. But he held back. Everyone had the right to keep their power secret.

Instead, he asked carefully,

“How did you know… that your affinity was destruction?”

Ashtoria looked beyond the fire, now reduced to glowing embers. Her eyes grew distant for a moment, then dimly glowed.

When she spoke, her voice was soft, yet heavy with meaning.

“I knew… when I wished for this world to be destroyed.”

Riven held his breath. There was something in the way she said it that made his skin prickle. Not out of fear, but from sensing the wound hidden behind her words.

And then, a memory stirred within Ashtoria, a memory of the moment she first discovered her affinity.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep