Third Person's POV

A sharp gasp escaped Aurelia's lips, and before she could stop herself, her body jumped out of the seat she was sitting on, nearly knocking the table over in her shock. Her eyes locked on his hand, wide with disbelief. "What... how..." she whispered, barely able to process what she had just witnessed.

Alaric’s eyes snapped open at the sound.

The fireball wasn’t large—about the size of a ball used for catch—but the fact it existed at all was enough to send a jolt of disbelief through both of them. Alaric’s own expression mirrored hers—wide-eyed, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"I did it?" His voice trembled with a mix of wonder and disbelief. Then, louder, more excited, "I did it! I really did it!"

Before Aurelia could respond, Alaric shot up from his chair, bouncing around like a child—he IS a child—who had just been given a new toy. His face lit with pure excitement, completely forgetting the volatile nature of what floated in his palm.

But his victory dance didn’t last long.

With one over-enthusiastic hop, the fireball slipped from his hand, sailing through the air. Both of them watched, frozen, as it careened toward the chair across the room.

Time seemed to slow down. Aurelia’s face was still locked in shock, her eyes following the ball’s trajectory. Alaric’s joyful expression morphed into sheer terror.

The fireball landed with a soft whoosh on the wooden chair. A flicker of orange spread across the fabric, and in seconds, a small flame ignited.

Alaric let out a shriek of panic, darting toward the chair, flailing his arms wildly at the growing flames, trying to extinguish it with desperate pats. "No, no, no! Stop!"

Aurelia, still stunned, watched him for a moment—his ridiculous dabbing, blowing helplessly on the flames, like a scene from a farcical play. It would’ve been comical, if it weren’t for the growing fire hazard.

With a flick of her wrist, Aurelia summoned a few water orbs from thin air and sent them soaring toward the chair. They burst over the fire, dousing the flames in a series of sizzling splashes.

The fire was out. But the chair—now sporting a large, charred patch—looked far worse for wear.

Aurelia strode over, hands on her hips, surveying the damage with a critical eye. "What were you thinking?" She glanced at the damp floor, then back at Alaric, who sheepishly mimicked her, looking down at the scorched chair and then back up at her.

He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, I wasn’t...?"

Aurelia sighed and crouched down beside the puddle. "There," she muttered, her fingertip glowing with soft, white light. She pressed it to the floor, and the light spread across the water, vanishing as it absorbed the moisture in an instant.

Alaric’s eyes went wide, his earlier embarrassment replaced with wonder. "Woah! How did you do that?" he asked, his face lighting up with childish curiosity as he leaned in, his nose practically brushing hers in excitement.

Aurelia chuckled at his proximity. "It’s called a ‘Cleansing Spell,’ youngling. Handy, don’t you think? Especially for a beautiful lady like me." She winked, and Alaric’s cheeks immediately flushed a deep red.

Flustered again, he jerked back, stammering. "I-I mean... yeah, totally! Uhm... definitely handy..."

Aurelia leaned in slightly, puckering her lips playfully and blowing a soft stream of air onto his burning face.

Alaric yelped and jumped even further back, his face now glowing crimson from his ears to his neck. "W-Why did you do that?!"

She laughed, the sound light and teasing. "Shouldn’t I be asking the questions here, my little prodigy?" she said, rising to her feet gracefully, smoothing out the creases in her gown as she strolled toward him. Taking his hand in hers, she tugged him gently, her fingers lingering just long enough to keep him flustered.

Alaric stood there, his lips quivering, his face still beet red, unable to form a coherent sentence. His brain struggled to process both her teasing and the fact that he had just successfully summoned a fireball—before nearly burning down the library.

Aurelia, satisfied with his reaction, smiled. In truth, she didn't mind spending her free days like this—tucked away in the library with books and Alaric, watching him squirm under her playful teasing.

It was becoming her favorite pastime.

Aurelia’s gaze flicked to Alaric’s scorched palm. Without a word, her fingers wrapped around his hand, the suddenness of it making him flinch.

"So Careless," Aurelia’s tongue clicked in disapproval, her ring flashing with a soft glow. In an instant, a vial of crimson liquid materialized in her grip. "Drink it, your hands are burnt." She didn’t bother offering the vial. With a quick flick, she uncorked it and pressed it to his lips, tipping it back before Alaric could protest. The liquid rushed down his throat, leaving no room for argument.

As the potion slid down his throat, a sharp heat bloomed on his tongue, spreading like wildfire down to his chest. Warmth seeped into his muscles, pulsing all the way to his core, chasing away the ache in his hands.

"It will take a few minutes to work, till then..."

"Follow me," Aurelia said, her hands clasped with Alaric. Alaric was in no state to argue or refuse he was walking before he even knew it.

Aurelia and Alaric walked down many hallways and before Alaric even knew it he was standing in front of a huge lavish wooden door and a very familiar face standing outside.

"Valen, is Master inside?"

"He is, is there something you need Miss Aurelia?" Valen asked.

Valen towered over them, his broad shoulders and powerful arms impossible to miss. Auburn hair framed his sharp features, and his brown eyes held a steady gaze.

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"Oh, nothing. Alaric has done something that shouldn't happen," Aurelia said. Valen looked at Alaric, whose gaze was unfocused, as though his mind had wandered far away, and chuckled knowingly.

"Something good or bad?"

"Good." Aurelia muttered while knocking on the door, "Aurelia here, I have to te- show you something interesting."

"Get in." Novius' voice came from inside and Alaric was dragged in by Aurelia.

When they entered, Elowen and Xironia were having tea while Novius was sitting with papers in front of him.

"What is it, Lia?" Xironia's eyes went to her son and her lips curled into a smirk. "Someone's having fun..." she murmured to herself, Elowen who heard it just chuckled lightly watching Alaric's face expressionless, his eyes out of focus, and his brain completely out of juice.

"Alaric can use [Fireball]."

Elowen, Xironia, and Novius all stopped whatever they were doing, even Valen’s hand froze on the door, his brow furrowing as if Aurelia had just uttered something forbidden.

The room was completely silent and Aurelia decided to let go of Alaric's hand, the moment she did Alaric's hand which was powerless dropped to his side and he regained his brain cells back.

Aurelia stepped back, giving Alaric the floor. "Go on, Al," she urged with a playful smirk, "show them."

Alaric held out his hand once more, the small flame flickering to life in his palm. The room fell into a hushed silence, every pair of eyes fixed on the conjured fireball. Even from the doorway, Valen peered in, unable to hide his surprise. Xironia leaned forward in her chair, her lips slightly parted, while Elowen’s usually calm expression broke with a raised brow. Novius, who rarely showed much reaction, let out a low chuckle.

“Impressive,” Novius muttered, his voice laced with amusement instead of disbelief like every other.

“Novius, don't act like it is normal.” Alarc's eyes flicked to his grandmother, “Channeling mana within one's body—it’s something that takes time. It took you a few months too. For Alaric to do this…" she trailed off, shaking her head before looking at Alaric, "This is impossible.”

"It should be..." Novius leaned back, a smug smile curling his lips as if he had been the one performing the impossible. "But then again, he is my son."

The room stared back at him with deadpan expressions, wooden-faced in their disbelief. But Novius seemed entirely unfazed, basking in his paternal right to boast.

Xironia’s gaze flicked toward Elowen, her lips parting ever so slightly as the room seemed to grow heavier with unspoken disbelief.

"Well," Xironia spoke, her voice light but tinged with curiosity, "How did you do it, darling?"

Alaric fidgeted with his fingers. “I don’t know, honestly. You know the part in the Rank-1 Skill books where they show you how to channel mana?”

"Yeah, every Rank-1 Skill book has those. It’s how cultivators learn the basics, even without a mentor."

Alaric shifted on his feet, the warmth of their scrutiny making him feel exposed. “Yeah, those. It had the steps to sense and use my core, but... when I tried, it wasn’t as hard or as long as it said. There's this... warmth in my sternum when I reach for the mana. The moment I channel it, it flows, like water. All I have to do is guide it."

Xironia tilted her head, curiosity sharpening in her gaze. “So, you did it on the first try? No issues, nothing?”

Alaric hesitated. “Well... it wasn’t completely smooth. I had to control the flow. But... yeah, it wasn’t that hard.”

A voice cut through from the doorway—Valen’s, no longer as steady as before. “You followed a book... and you could already perform [Fireball]?” He stepped closer, disbelief creasing his usually calm features.

Alaric chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is it... bad? Did I mess up?" The smile stayed plastered on his face, but a hint of worry flickered in his eyes.

"No, it’s just..." Novius’s voice took on a smug edge, his arms folding as if basking in some unspoken victory. "Learning to channel mana can take years for some. The skills themselves are often the easier part. Valen, for instance, took eight months just to get the basics down." He shot a sideways glance at Valen, whose sharp snort echoed his annoyance.

“How long did it take you?” Alaric’s curiosity flared, his head swiveling toward Novius.

Novius waved dismissively, but the gleam in his eye betrayed a hint of pride. "Thirty-five, maybe forty days. You can ask Mother—she tracked every grueling second of it."

Alaric’s eyes snapped toward Elowen, practically burning for answers. She met his gaze, her expression composed, though a trace of something unreadable danced in her eyes. "Thirty-two days," she confirmed. "The earliest I’d seen... until today."

A slow grin crept onto Alaric’s face. "And Mother?" His voice edged with excitement as he turned toward Xironia.

She offered a small, amused smile. "Three months."

Alaric’s excitement was far from spent. "And you, Granny?" he asked, his tone teasing but curious.

Elowen calmly sipped her tea, her fingers tightening around the delicate cup. "A year, just like most."

Novius, still relishing his earlier comment, let out a soft snort. His smugness lingered like a shadow. "You were so slow," he teased.

Elowen's eyes narrowed slightly, her calmness unshaken, but her gaze had sharpened in silent warning. "You only managed because I was teaching you, you overgrown brat," she muttered.

Alaric, still absorbing everything, caught the playful tension between them, chuckling softly. "Granny, you were the one who taught Father?"

Novius gestured toward Elowen. "You’ve got the best teacher right here."

The fireball flickered in Alaric's palm, and without a second thought, he tossed it out the window. His mischievous grin returned as he vanished, reappearing right beside Elowen. He didn't really vanish, everyone saw him move but they were still surprised.

Elowen felt a sudden tug on her dress and looked down to see his wide, pleading eyes.

"Granny, teach me too." His voice was soft, innocent, yet laced with a charm that melted any resolve she was about to create instantly.

Elowen sighed, her stern demeanor already crumbling. "F-Fine," she relented, trying and failing to keep her composure.

"Yay!" Alaric cheered, bouncing on his feet before sauntering over to his mother. Xironia welcomed him onto her lap, wrapping him in a warm embrace as he snuggled against her.

Aurelia's voice cut through the tender moment, the playful edge gone from her tone. "But are we really going to ignore the fact that Alaric has done something even Master couldn’t?"

The room stilled, all eyes briefly landing on Novius, who shrugged nonchalantly.

"Well, seeing his core formation..." Elowen trailed off, her gaze drifting between Alaric and Novius. Something unspoken passed between them before she turned back to Aurelia. "It’s not surprising that he’s different."

Aurelia leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

Elowen sighed, motioning toward Alaric. "Think back to the core formation. What was the strangest part?"

Aurelia opened her mouth, hesitating. "Uh... he had a bo—"

"Other than that," Elowen interjected, her tone gently reprimanding.

Aurelia paused, then exhaled softly. "...Everything fragile in the room cracked."

Elowen nodded, her expression grim. "Yes. Core formation occurs in two ways. There’s the standard one, like what most of us have. But then there’s another—a larger core. Both Novius and Xironia possess it."

Her voice took on a more thoughtful tone as she continued. "Forming a core is usually smooth. Sometimes, it’s so gentle that cultivators don’t realize it’s happened until they’re suddenly too strong for their surroundings. But the larger cores... their formation is different. No one fully understands why, but just before the core is complete, the mana around their body ripples—then dissipates."

Aurelia’s brows furrowed, still not quite following. "But what’s so strange about that?"

Before Elowen could answer, Xironia, who had been silently observing, spoke up. "The dissipating mana is usually as soft as a breeze, nothing more than a gust blowing leaves." She smiled slightly, her eyes never leaving Alaric. "Cracked windowpanes? That’s unheard of."

Aurelia frowned. "So that’s why it felt... off."

Novius leaned back in his chair, letting out a soft chuckle. "Can’t blame Lia for being confused. She’s only ever witnessed two of these breakthroughs."

"Two?" Alaric blinked. "Who’s the other one?"

*Knock!*

Eirlys tapped lightly on the doorframe, her voice cutting through the room's quiet chatter. "Dinner is ready. Please join us in the dining hall." Her gaze flicked to Alaric, and before anyone could react, she was by his side in a heartbeat.

"Miss Xironia, the young master needs to freshen up," she declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. Alaric didn’t even have time to protest as Eirlys wrapped her fingers around his wrist, guiding him out with swift efficiency. Her movements were practiced, deliberate—nothing more than a dutiful maid ensuring her charge was properly cared for.

Before anyone could say anything, Eirlys had taken Alaric away.