“Today, you will learn the next part of our gift. As you have learned to read emotions, so you will learn to control them.”
“Control them?”
They were in the Reading Room once more, and though Shaden couldn’t see anyone’s face clearly, he saw the figure speaking nod. The others were as still as statues.
“First, for yourself; then, for others,” Enen continued. “You know what it feels to have your emotions induced. You will learn to do the same.”
“Is it similar to what I was doing before? Willing myself to be something?”
“Similar, but not quite. You must learn how to touch emotions themselves.”
“How?”
“I will show you,” Nerr answered. “Hold my hand.”
He did. It usually would have been Eilae who’d shown him, but Nerr was seated next to him today along with Eyla. Eilae was sitting next to her younger sister. If he’d recognized something unsettling within Eilae, the others likely had as well. He wanted to ask badly, but she’d told him she was fine before.
“Focus,” Nerr spoke, placing his hand at the center of her chest. Her soft voice seemed to ease his worries. “I know you are good at sensing mana. What do you feel?”
“I see a few different emotions,” Shaden replied.
“Do you see sadness?”
“Yes.”
“Now, focus on it.”
The cloud of sadness grew bigger. Around it, he felt tiny streams of mana flowing into the cloud, adding to its intensity.
“It’s getting larger,” Shaden observed. “You’re increasing it with mana.”
“It is a special kind of mana. Do you think you can do it?”
Shaden nodded. He observed the steady stream and felt the flow with his mana. Raw emotion—that was his theory. The power of will. It was very similar to how he circulated to control his emotions, only more precise. If he’d been splashing paint all over a canvas before, now he was learning to hold the paintbrush.
He brushed the flow of mana in Nerr, making her flinch. “Sorry, did it hurt?”
“No. I didn’t expect it,” Nerr replied. “You’ve understood it already.”
Shaden monitored her mana more carefully. “May I?”
He felt her nod. Carefully, he sent his mana deeper into the clouds. Mana was everywhere, fueling every emotion. He remembered their words: To read mana was to read emotion. If then, emotions would be controlled by mana—and mana controlled by emotions.
Mana was the will of life itself, he remembered reading. Now he realized that the three were intertwined, each affecting the other, sometimes more, sometimes less—a trinity of sorts. Something clicked inside of his mind. He gripped a strand of Nerr’s mana and intensified it.
Nerr began to cry. Baffled, Shaden took his hand back.
“I’m so sorry,” he began, but Nerr touched his hand.
“That was splendid,” she told him, all trace of sadness gone. “But do it again. Now, you must learn how to guide emotions away.”
“How can I do that?”
“You must redirect the flow of mana. Find another emotion. But it is different from fueling another. You must change the flow, not add another one. Allow me to demonstrate the difference.”
With his permission, she touched his chest. Soon, an emotion grew within him—sadness. Then another arose—happiness. Then another—anger. Slowly, they rose together.
“Now, I will redirect them.”
As if a leak had formed in him, he felt his emotions exude away into apathy. Shaden relaxed. A state of calm enveloped him.
Nerr took her hand away. “Can you tell the difference?”
“Yes,” Shaden replied. “Redirecting the flow makes it more natural. Having multiple emotions at once is disorienting. It makes me anxious.”
“Very good,” Enen told him. “You will find it easier to experiment on yourself. We will finish here today. Lan, we must discuss something.”
“I was planning to train,” Lan snorted.
“It is related to the Bathars.”
“Make it short, then.”
The two men remained while everyone else left the room. Nerr closed the doors behind her and turned towards them.
“Let’s go get breakfast,” she said. “I’ve heard today’s dessert is berry pie.”
“Oh, let’s go!” Eyla giggled. Ailan also grinned broadly. Only Eilae’s expression remained blank.
“You okay?” Shaden whispered to her. She smiled back.
“Yes. I’m merely tired from the celebration,” she replied.
“Well, time to get some rest today,” Shaden shrugged. “We’ve been too busy preparing for the party. Let’s have tea time. Or whatever you’d like.”
“I’d love to. But…I am still catching up on my studies. Maybe later?”
Shaden gave her a worried look. “Fine. But take this for now.”
He’d done it for her when she was asleep, and he did it again. He held up Eilae’s hand and cast restoration magic. The color of her face visibly brightened.
“Does that feel better?”
Eilae nodded. “Thank you, Shaden. Could I ask you to do it from time to time?”
“Whenever you wish,” Shaden promised.
He noticed the other three’s eyes on them. Eyla in particular looked annoyed.
“Eilae always gets special treatment,” she pouted. “That was magic, wasn’t it?”
“Just something to restore your energy,” Shaden said, patting Eyla’s head. “Here, I did it for you too. Would you two like it as well?”
“Please, go ahead,” Nerr said. Ailan nodded.
After casting magic on everyone (and being complimented for his abilities), he noticed Eilae smiling at him from behind. Any trace of the despair he’d sensed was gone from her now. Though relieved, he worried much for her.
Something was going on, and he didn’t know what it was. He would find out—he made a promise to himself.
The Eilae he knew—the one who’d relied on him, complained about the food, told him to dry her hair, stuck-up but honest; the one whose smile had been so bright, with little to hide; the one who was now covered in a veil of emotions that he didn’t know were true. He’d bring her out. He’d believed the Veurbois to be genuinely caring—but they could control emotions, even their own. Now, he didn’t know what was true.
It felt like he was sinking—he just didn’t know how or why. It was Eilae who had opened his eyes to that feeling. Something was off.
And he would get to the bottom of it.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
“Er…long time no see.”
Before him was a pretty girl wearing sunglasses. Or woman, but she certainly didn’t look old. Her silky blue hair and figure radiated an image of youth. However, her crossed arms and legs and her condescending expression said otherwise.
“Yes, long time,” she sighed. “And here I was, waiting for your message. It seems like you can teach magic to people.”
“Yeah…”
She’d asked him to give him a message once he learned how to teach magic. He’d completely forgotten about it. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t care much about celebrities. Besides, he’d had his hands full with problems with Edan, Davis…and the other world.
“Anyways, I’m here now,” Aia Laia said, taking off her sunglasses, “as your student. How do you feel?”
“I feel…fine?” Demund replied. “Why?”
Aia wrinkled her eyebrows. “Why?” She motioned to herself. “I’m here.”
“Yes.”
“You do know who I am?”
“You’re Aia Laia. Streamer and celebrity. We met at the Junior’s Advancement. You were into magic and occult things.”
“You don’t seem very excited.”
“Well, I had a long night.”
A very long night. A week, to be exact.
“Fine.” Aia brushed her hair aside. “What time are your lessons?”
“After lunch.”
“And when is lunch?”
“Kenna cooks the meals,” Demund said. “She’ll tell you through the speakers.” He looked at the time. “It should be soon.”
Aia exhaled deeply through her nose. Then she got up from the couch. “I’m skipping lunch. Call me when it’s time for lessons.”
Grabbing her suitcase, she walked away, soon disappearing into the halls. Demund heard a distant sound of a door opening and closing. He sighed once he saw that she was far enough to not hear him.
Yes, Aia Laia was a popular celebrity, and normally he would have been stunned to see her. But after seeing those such as the princesses of Melern, people didn’t seem to be so…glamorous anymore. Aia was attractive, but he wouldn’t lose his senses only because of attractiveness. Maybe it was a side effect of being Shaden too much.
And reading emotions. He’d seen how sickening people’s hearts could be. Now, he was doubting the people who were taking care of him. He rubbed his head. As Demund, he’d worry about Shaden’s problems later. He had schoolwork to finish and students to teach.
“Lunch is ready!”
The announcement came soon, and Demund shared another quiet meal with Kenna and Laveny. The young girl in particular always had her eyes glued to the screen, looking at information on technology, physics, chemistry, or the news. It was bad manners to focus on other things while they were seated together.
But this was the real world, not Exarria. It didn’t matter, especially because they weren’t family.
It…felt a little lonely, to be honest. He missed his friends.
“So, did you meet Aia yet?” Kenna asked while chewing. “I heard you two had prior ties.”
“Yeah,” Demund nodded. “She’s a little upset at me.”
“Why?”
“I was supposed to let her know. You know, that I can teach magic. But I forgot about it.”
“Ah.”
Another moment of silence. Kenna was a great caretaker, but she wasn’t much of a conversation person. Well, he’d gotten used to it. He returned to his food.
“Tell her to mind her own business.”
He looked up at Laveny whose eyes were still on the screen of her device. Without looking at him, she motioned with her spoon.
“All celebrities are self-centered. It’s a fact. The best thing you can do is ignore them.”
“I can’t really do that…since she’s here now?” Demund said.
“Hm. Gullible,” Laveny muttered. Demund threw Kenna a look.
“She’s worried that you’ll teach her less,” Kenna laughed, ruffling Laveny’s hair. The small girl merely frowned in annoyance without a reply. Slowly, she raised her eyes, and coincidently, met Demund’s.
“What?” she demanded. “I can’t have an ineffectual tutor.”
“You could be more honest,” Demund suggested. The girl proceeded to ignore him. He couldn’t help but think that the selfish one here was Laveny. But then again…she was eleven. He wouldn’t argue with a child. He smiled and nodded understandingly.
Laveny looked at him again, this time a glare. It was as if she’d detected his benevolence. Well, it didn’t matter. He continued to smile at her with kindness.
“What?”
“No, I understand,” Shaden said. “You don’t need to worry.”
He didn’t know if it was because he’d read emotions so much, but even as Demund, he could sense the girl’s confusion. Well, that was okay. People could be confused sometimes.
Muttering something too quiet to hear, Laveny brushed back her ghostly amethyst hair and returned her attention to her tablet. Whatever she said was funny to Kenna because the older lady was grinning broadly from ear to ear. She ruffled Laveny’s hair again. With a snuffle of annoyance, Laveny adjusted her hair and got up from her seat.
“I’m going to my room,” she announced and scampered away. Her oversized lab coat trailed behind her as she disappeared around a corner.
Demund exchanged a look with Kenna.
“Like you said, she isn’t honest,” Kenna smiled. “But she’s a good kid.”
“Where’s her family?” Demund asked, remembering his. He wanted to see them.
“Deion’s the only family she has.”
“Oh. Uh…accident?”
“Nothing gruesome as that. She never had parents.”
……How is that any less gruesome?
“She was an experiment subject, you see,” Kenna continued. “She lived the entirety of her life in a lab facility. That is until Deion came along.”
“Which was six years ago,” Demund calculated. “When she was five.”
“Yep. She’s been with him ever since. He’s been like a father to her.”
Shaden nodded understandingly. While it meant that Deion would have met Laveny when he was fourteen, the guy seemed capable of extraordinary things. He’d been jealous of him once when he’d been the captain of the MMA Club. Now, he realized that they lived in different worlds—and Deion had invited him into it.
He thanked Kenna and began to prepare for his magic lesson. After planning some extra details for Laveny, he went to the microphone and switched it on.
“Ehem. The magic lesson will begin in five minutes,” Demund announced. “Five minutes. Don’t be late.”
He switched the microphone off and sighed. Laveny was easy to teach, and Kenna was good at keeping up, but he didn’t know how well Aia Laia would perform. What if she made fun of him online? He could imagine a news heading: ‘Delusional Boy Tries To Defraud Aia Laia…’
He brushed the thought away. She likely wouldn’t care much. Getting his supplies, he moved to the large study room where the floor was cushioned. Laveny had already arrived.
She looked annoyed.
Demund ignored her and sat down in front of her. He could feel her eyes on him but didn’t react.
“Do we have to wait for Aia?” she muttered. “She’ll slow things.”
“It was Deion who invited her here,” Demund answered. He glanced at her. The girl looked frustrated. He nearly laughed.
“Don’t worry. I planned extra for you.” He reached out and patted Laveny on the head. Now she looked shocked.
“Hey! That’s not allowed!” she complained, holding her head. “I didn’t give you permission!”
Demund raised his hands. “Sorry, sorry. It was instinctive.”
Laveny scowled, but it didn’t look threatening. He wanted to pat her again just to see her reaction.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“How do I get permission?”
“You can’t!” Laveny protested. “Don’t do it.”
“Just one more time?”
“No. I will take your leg away.”
“Okay, I surrender,” Demund said.
Laveny glared at him, then crossed her arms. “Well then? Are we starting?”
“Kenna and Aia aren't here yet.”
“We can begin without them,” Laveny muttered. “Kenna wouldn’t mind.”
“But I would mind.”
Something opened. They looked towards the source of the sound. Aia Laia had arrived—and she was wearing something new: a tight, white T-shirt that was a little short, and short pants that would have been unthinkable for ladies to wear in Exarria. Demund lost his words for a moment.
Aia glanced at him and winked. “I was a little grumpy this morning, wasn’t I?” she smiled, sitting down next to him. “I think I was jetlagged. Now, we’re ready! Where do we begin?”
“Kenna’s not here yet,” Laveny argued.
“Oh, you’re cute as usual.” With one smooth motion, Aia pinched Laveny’s cheek, making the girl yelp. “So, teacher. What will you teach us today?”
“For you, light magic,” Demund said. “Given your ability, I’m sure it will be easy.”
“And the girl?”
“She was learning how to create fire.”
Aia brushed her hair behind her ear. “I will learn that as well.”
“Are you sure? It’s difficult without knowing the basics first.”
“I’ve seen your videos,” Aia told him. “I practiced everything you can do with light. I doubt more practice will be beneficial.”
Demund shrugged. “If you say so.”
“It won’t be as easy as you think,” Laveny mumbled, rubbing her cheek. She’d moved away from Aia to sit closer to him. She looked at Demund.
Don’t worry, Demund mouthed. He gave her a thumbs up. Laveny merely quietly exhaled through her nose.
Kenna arrived soon after, so Demund stretched his fingers to start the lesson. Three people. He could handle three.
“We were on the topic of fire yesterday,” Demund began, “so let’s continue where we left off. But first, the basics. Aia—if I may call you that?”
She nodded. “Of course, teacher.”
“O…kay. Aia, do you know how to sense mana?”
“If you’re talking about the breezy feeling when I’m using my ability, yes,” she said.
“Let’s compare that to this. Could I have your hand?”
“Oh. You want to hold it?”
“.........”
Laveny scowled.
With a playful laugh, Aia stretched her hand out. He held it—well, because he had to—and began to thread his mana through her hand. Then, on the tip of her finger, a small ball of light appeared. Aia gasped.
“Oh, that’s different,” she observed, moving closer. “I can feel something. It feels—how should I put it—clearer.”
“Do you think you can replicate it?”
“Hmm. I don’t know,” Aia said. “The feeling is too similar to my ability.”
“Let’s move straight on to fire then,” Demund said, letting go of Aia’s hand. The ball of light immediately vanished. “Making light is the easiest of spells. Fire is similar to light…but with more substance.”
“You explained it already,” Laveny said, holding his hand. “Can we begin?”
Her eyes looked very pleading. Demund turned to Aia. “You said you watched all of the videos. Did you see the one with fire?”
“I did, but I could use a refresher—”
Before she finished her sentence, a robot appeared behind them. It offered a tablet with a video playing on it to Aia Laia.
“.........”
“.........”
There seemed to be a silent argument happening between the girls. Demund decided not to interfere. Thankfully, Kenna was the one to speak.
“You’re being especially selfish today, Laveny,” she said in a low voice. “What would Deion think of this?”
“I’m doing this because he told me to,” Laveny complained. “I never heard that she was going to come.”
“She’s here because Deion invited her,” Kenna continued. “You know what that means.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“Laveny! You know better than this.”
It was the first time Kenna had raised her voice against Laveny. Demund wanted to move away. Even watching people getting scolded gave him soldier PTSD. Laveny thought the same, because—
“I don’t want to know! I said I don’t want to know!”
Abruptly, she got up and ran away before anyone had a chance to stop her. The robot made a surprised gesture and scurried after the little girl.
“Laveny!”
With a disapproving grunt, Kenna got up and followed. When her footsteps faded in the distant halls, Demund wondered if he should leave as well. He glanced at Aia Laia. She was crossing her arms with a hesitant look on her face.
“Was I too mean?” she asked.
Demund shook his head. “Not at all. Maybe the pinch?”
“But she’s just too cute,” Aia sighed. “It’s not my first time here. But whenever I come, she doesn’t seem to take me well.”
“Did…something happen?”
“Not really. Nothing, really.” Aia hugged her knees. “It’s likely that she’s jealous of me because of Deion.”
“Ah. Have you known him long?”
“We’re childhood friends.”
“Really?”
“It’s a long story,” Aia smiled. “How about you?”
“I only knew him for a year before he graduated,” Demund told her. “We weren’t that close. I never thought I’d see him again. Now I’m here.”
His eyes met Aia’s. Hers was glowing with the color of the ocean. She seemed to peer into him.
“He has a talent for finding special people,” she said. “Never had I heard of magic being taught—then Deion told me about you. I didn’t believe him, but here you are.”
Her eyes continued to observe him. Demund tried hard not to become flustered.
“I’m not as special as anyone here,” he shrugged, getting up. “Anyway, we can’t begin the lesson with half of us gone.”
“You could give me a private lesson,” Aia suggested.
“Er—maybe later. Class is postponed for now.”
Aia muttered something, but Demund’s head was too full to hear it. He still had a promise to keep with Laveny, after all. Walking through the hall, he saw Kenna coming towards him with a hand on her forehead as if she had a headache.
“Ah, Demund,” she said, her face lighting up. “Laveny’s locked herself in her room.”
“Well—anything I can do?”
“There is, actually,” Kenna nodded. “Can you convince her to come out?”
Demund scratched his cheek. “I can try.”
“Perfect. She won’t talk to me. I’ll go talk to Aia if she’s still there.”
“She is. But I postponed the class.”
“You did? You didn't want to have a one-on-one lesson?”
“I mean, not with everyone here. It’d be unfair to Laveny, I think.”
“Huh! You’re quite responsible for a boy your age.”
“Thank you…?”
She slapped him on the back with a heavy hand. “I have a feeling you’ll be a good example to Laveny,” Kenna grinned. “Now, get on with it.”
Demund winced but managed to do a pleasant salute. “Leave it to me,” he stated.
Kenna nodded with satisfaction and headed down the hall once more. She’d been doing that a lot, trying to make him handle Laveny more. The other day, she’d told him to make Laveny run a few extra laps while she went to prepare breakfast…
Oh well. He shrugged and began to navigate to Laveny’s room. It was the same room he’d received his leg in, and the second time he’d go there. Eventually, he reached the large steel doors that were tightly shut.
He knocked once. There was no response.
“Laveny?”
He heard a faint whirling sound. A camera had focused on him. He raised his hands.
“Hey, I think I might know what you feel,” he said, looking at the camera. “You want to talk about it?”
“Sorry, but Laveny is unavailable,” the speakers announced. “Please go away.”
“I’m not here to scold you or anything,” Demund said. “I promised, remember?”
The camera buzzed. “State your promise.”
“That I’d teach you extra. To not worry.”
“.........”
“I postponed the lesson.”
“Kenna asked you to talk to me, didn’t she.”
Demund scratched his cheek. “You were watching. But I was still going to talk to you.”
“Why would you care?”
“I don’t know. You remind me of people I care about.”
He’d had worse students than Laveny. She was fun to teach compared to normal people…well, she was a genius, after all. She reminded him of Prem—the beastman kid. He’d also been eleven when they’d first met.
They’d sent him away alone into the north.
Demund cringed at the memory of Eilae berating and beating the boy and him telling Prem that he deserved it for being a wuss. That had been after the kid had almost killed himself from depression.
Why had he done such a thing? A part of him had been annoyed. The beastman brothers, Ronar and Prem, had interrupted his time with Lytha and Eilae. But they hadn’t that much.
He’d been selfish.
He’d wanted to forget about the two.
Demund recalled a memory—the bodies of beastmen that had been piled up, the uncomfortable heat and the sickly smell of burnt flesh—
CLUNK.
The sound of the door unlocking made him return to his senses. With a pshh, the door slid open. Cool air blew into his face.
“Come in.”
Demund stepped inside, and the door closed behind him, locking itself once more. He peered into the dark room. Laveny was curled up in her chair. The numerous screens around her emitted a faint, blue glow.
“Oh, peaceful,” he whistled. He hadn’t felt it the first time, but the room was beyond cozy. A bit dark, but in a calming way.
Laveny looked up from her knees. She had a blank expression.
“I remind you of people you care about,” she repeated. “Who?”
“Maybe my sister.”
“You don’t have a sister.”
Demund froze. He’d been thinking of the other world.
“My friend’s sister,” he corrected. “Who is basically like my sister.”
“And what would you say is similar?”
“Your selfishness, maybe.”
Laveny frowned.
“And being pleasant to teach,” Demund added. That much was true. “I’ve never had a better student than you.”
“Naturally,” Laveny muttered. She twiddled her fingers. “But things here happen out of necessity. Do you know why you’re here?”
“To test my limits with magic and change the world?”
“To teach me,” Laveny answered. “Everything here is for me. You know there’s going to be an outbreak soon, right?”
“The thing Deion mentioned.”
“No one can fully control it,” Laveny continued. “But by learning from you, I can begin to unravel it. After all, it’s an event caused by SAP.”
“So you’re learning magic…to control SAP.”
“Yes. If I fail…the world will end.”
Her face was deadly serious. Demund motioned with his hand. “Explain.”
With a humph, she rotated her chair to place her hands on the control board. The screens began to change, and a moment later, a diagram appeared. He recognized it—the Preliminary Islands.
“Have you ever wondered where the name of the Preliminary Islands came from?” Laveny asked.
“It’s because it’s where you go before registering as a superhero,” Demund answered. “Well, before registering as anything superpowered. So that people don’t abuse their powers and know how to control them.”
“Actually, that meaning was added later,” Laveny corrected. “It all began 89 years ago—when an experiment went wrong.”
The image shifted. It was one he recognized—a laboratory of sorts.
“A revolutionary experiment was done by some brilliant people. They died,” Laveny informed, “but the accident left something behind.”
Demund observed the footage of the explosion with a finger on his chin. The camera blurred out, but something about the footage wasn’t unfamiliar. After all, he’d been experimenting with it for a while now.
Realization struck Demund. “They opened a portal.”
Laveny raised an eyebrow. “You seem to know.”
“Obviously, that looks like a portal,” Demund said, pointing to the glowing white outline of a circle.
Laveny shrugged. “The point is, it’s still unknown where the portal leads to. And no one can close it. So, what do you think the governments of the world did?”
“Er…they unified?”
“Right. That’s the official history,” Laveny sighed. “Well, at first, it was chaos. Everyone who lived on the Islands died.”
“Oh.”
“And it was spreading. So the world unified to stop it. There wasn’t much they could do. That is—until people began to acclimatize.”
Demund could guess what that meant. “They gained powers.”
“Smart, aren’t you?” complimented the little girl. Demund raised an eyebrow.
She went on. “At this point, the whole world was going to turn into the Islands. That’s why the name Preliminary was given. Since…anyone who survived a visit to the Islands would survive the change. A lot of new advancements were made during this era, like detecting SAP. No SAP—”
Laveny tilted her head to the side lifelessly. “You died. Or…that would have been the case.”
A portrait of a woman popped up. It was no one he recognized. She looked rather normal.
“The first S class hero to be recorded,” Laveny told him. “She was a nobody, but one day she could open portals. She volunteered to close the portal.”
The screens all turned off at once. “She failed…and she died. More people tried. It slowed things down, but it’s never enough. The portal gets larger each year, and that’s with multiple people—all S and A class heroes—repressing it. All of the other ability users concentrated on the Islands help use up SAP before it spreads outwards. But SAP levels still rise.”
“My parents don’t have SAP, but they’re healthy,” Demund said.
“You have no idea how much filtering happens around the Islands,” Laveny snorted. “Magic might not exist, but geniuses like me still come up with alternatives.”
That’s why the air had felt different when he’d arrived. That brought up another question.
“How is Kenna alive?”
Laveny rolled her eyes. “Just because you don’t have an ability doesn’t mean your SAP tolerance is low. Abilities are considered separate from SAP—oh, it’s classified from here.”
“Everything until now wasn’t?”
“Not really,” Laveny said. “Heroes put their lives on the line, so they know. It’s included in the first-year classes. It's obvious that people won't put their lives on the line without knowing anything.”
“Right.”
Demund sat down on the floor. This conversation hadn’t been what he’d expected. He scratched his cheek. “So to summarize…I need to teach you magic so you can do something about the portal.”
“Correct.”
“And I’m guessing that if people learn to use magic, they’ll adjust to the change better.”
“Theoretically, yes. But that’s not important! The problem has to be solved at its source. That’s why you should be focusing on teaching me. Not anyone else! I guess Kenna is fine because she’s nice, but someone like Aia Laia is dead weight—”
“It’s not important if my parents die?”
“——!”
Demund blinked. “...sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…a lot to take in.”
He drooped his head down and stared at the dark floor. If he was Shaden, he could solve something like this with a snap. But he wasn’t. Changing the world, Deion had told him. Making it a better place where people didn’t need to rely on abilities. He was right about that—just not in the way he thought it would be.
He’d left his friends and family behind just to tutor a girl he knew little about. She’d become the savior, and he—forgotten. He felt a sense of betrayal towards Deion.
“.........”
He blinked. Since when had he cared about that? He’d come here to meet Enariss and Jothan, right? Was he not enjoying himself?
Demund got up. Had the truth unsettled him? Had his worry for his parents upset him, or had he been excited by the news of an interdimensional portal? He closed his eyes. The comfort of mana cleared his mind.
The room was unusually quiet now that he’d escaped from his thoughts. He glanced at Laveny. She was nowhere to be seen.
“Laveny?”
Silence. Even the screens had dulled into a grey glow. He hadn’t sensed her move.
He let his mana flow out from him. Vaguely, he felt someone’s presence a few steps away. Then he realized that Laveny’s chair had vanished as well.
“Laveny.”
He moved towards where the chair had been. He put a hand out and felt something cold and invisible.
“You’re in there, aren’t you?” Demund said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to argue.”
“.........”
Demund leaned his forehead against the invisible barrier. He felt a tremor of mana—not his own—softly strike his body. It wouldn’t have meant much weeks—maybe even days ago. But Shaden had been devoting his time to the art of emotions.
“You’re…burdened.”
Behind her childish attitude and selfish demeanor, he sensed unimaginable pressure, like a bubble about to pop. Yet, it was completely still—frozen in place, fully controlled.
“...of course I’m burdened.”
A small voice spoke out from the dark.
“I don’t feel like talking.”
Demund nodded. “You were talking before.”
“...talking never gets anywhere.”
Demund closed his eyes and focused.
“It’s because people misunderstand you, right?”
A few seconds passed. The screens grew brighter.
“...yeah.”
“You know the best way to do things, but people won’t listen.”
He felt the invisible barrier shift. He guessed that it was Laveny’s chair.
“Yes. That’s right.”
“People tend to put their attention on the wrong things,” Demund said. “The world could be ending, but someone could be worrying about watering their plant.”
“And your point is?”
“I think it’s because we’re powerless. So we focus on the things we can do.”
Like how Prem had stolen for his brother. Like how Ronar had taken the blame instead for Prem. He could have changed the outcome…but he hadn’t cared for them.
“But I know what to do. I understand efficiency. Why won’t they listen?”
“We’re too shortsighted and untrustful.” Demund gripped a fist. “Because we think others won’t care enough for us.”
“Really?”
“It’s like how…you are doubting why Deion sent Aia here,” Demund shrugged. “Maybe because you’re smarter than him.”
“I am. But he’s different,” Laveny muttered. “Deion is…different.”
“Do you trust his decisions?”
“...yes.”
“Then maybe we should work something out,” Demund suggested. “You’re a genius, aren’t you? I’m sure you can come up with a plan that everyone can be satisfied with.”
“Mrmm….”
“Or you could ask Deion directly—”
“No,” Laveny cut him off. “He’s busy. I…I don’t want to make him think I’m…”
She trailed off.
“Incompetent?” Demund guessed.
“...yes. Incompetent,” Laveny agreed. “But it’s more than that.”
“You want to make him proud.”
With the sound of something sliding away, the top of the invisible pod began to appear and retract down. Laveny’s chair manifested before him, and with it, Laveny. She was hugging her knees. She looked up at him.
“Are you reading my mind?” she asked. “Is that magic too?”
She was quick to catch on. But she had no evidence. Demund shrugged.
“Who knows? Life is magic.”
“Huh?”
Laveny raised an eyebrow with a distasteful look.
“Would you like it if I could read your mind?” Demund asked.
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“Then I can’t,” Demund shrugged.
“Whaaat? You can’t do that.”
“I really can’t read minds,” Demund promised. “Even if I could, it would be too difficult for you to learn.”
“Haaah? I can learn anything you can learn.”
“You didn’t even succeed with fire yet.”
Laveny pouted. “Yes, I have.”
She held up a finger. There was a spark, and Demund felt heat. A small flame was dancing on the tip of her finger.
“I don’t forget things,” she proudly stated, “so I practiced with the feeling.”
“Wow. That’s amazing,” Demund whistled. “Can you control it like light?”
Laveny shook her head. “Well—it’s different. There’s more energy required. And I begin to feel nauseous if I increase the output too much.”
So she’d run into mana problems. He hadn’t tried it with his friends yet, but if it was Laveny, he was sure she’d grasp it quickly.
“I think it’s time to exercise our mana,” Demund said. “The nausea you’re feeling is due to not having enough mana. We’ll need to increase it through using it.”
“I guessed as much,” Laveny nodded. “So I need to use up as much mana as possible every day.”
“That works. But I can teach you something more efficient,” Demund smiled. “And just you for now. It’s quite difficult.”
Laveny’s eyes lit up. “Ah? What is it?”
“Circulating.”
“Circulating?”
She looked eager. Demund patted her on the head.
“Hey!” Laveny complained. “I told you not to do that!”
“Sorry, force of habit,” Demund laughed. “Well? It’s not magic, but it’s revolutionary. It takes some effort as well. Do you want to learn it?”
Laveny confidently crossed her arms.
“I told you,” she asserted, “There’s nothing I can’t learn.”
Demund thought back to the first time he’d circulated. He’d thrown up violently after forcing his mana to move too much. He looked at Laveny’s optimistic face.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing, just…”
Demund smiled.
“I’m sure you’ll do great.”
Laveny smiled.
“Of course I’ll do great!”