CHAPTER 15
THE PAST, PRESENT AND THE BEGINNING
The dinner was exquisite, but Hans didn't take the time to savour it. He gobbled everything up quickly and rushed off to his chambers. Once there, he grabbed the book he had been reading and settled into his favourite armchair. As its name suggested, the book Limitless was a collection of spells for mages and the final blow to his dream of being a knight. He loved swordsmanship, but what could he do else give up his sword. Sad but stubborn as a mule he was, he decided to keep practising the sword.
With a heavy heart, he rose from his chair and snatched up his training sword. It was a comforting weight in his hand, a familiar extension of his body that he couldn't bear to be without.
He made his way to the backyard, the sword cutting through the air with a satisfying whoosh as he practised his forms. His mind drifted to thoughts of the future, of what lay ahead for him without his beloved weapon. It was a bleak and uncertain picture, one that filled him with anger and frustration.
In a fit of emotion, he pushed himself harder than he had in weeks. The sword danced in his hand, striking out with lightning-fast precision. The exertion left him exhausted and breathless, but also oddly exhilarated.
He stumbled back to his bedroom, the book he had been reading still clutched in his hand. He tried to focus on the words, but the weight of sleep was heavy upon him. With a sigh, he surrendered to the dream fairy, letting his eyelids drift shut as he drifted off into the dreamlands.
As she did every night, Sierra made her way to the boy's room, a smile on her lips and warmth in her heart. Hans was a remarkable child, with an insatiable thirst for knowledge and a deep love of books.
He lay there in bed, the book still clutched in his hand, lost in a world of magic and wonder. It was a common sight for Sierra, but it still filled her with a sense of awe. The boy was destined for greatness, of that much she was certain. His curiosity and thirst for answers were the prime qualities of a mage, and he possessed them in spades.
Sierra leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, then whispered a soft goodnight as she made her way to her own chambers.
> Get a grip, Captain.
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> No mercy for the damn elves.
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> These abominations must die today
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> You cannot succumb to these monsters, captain.
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> They are diseases to get rid of.
Hans found himself in a strange place, surrounded by unfamiliar faces all shouting at him. He couldn't make sense of what they were saying, but somehow his body knew what to do. As he moved through the crowd, he caught snippets of their words. They were encouraging him, urging him to be strong and to not waver.
He felt a surge of determination well up inside him. He may not have understood what was happening, but he knew that he had to keep moving forward. With each step, Hans felt his confidence grow. He was no longer lost and confused, but instead felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. The voices of the unknown people echoed in his mind, urging him on towards some unknown but vital goal.
As Hans looked down, his eyes fell upon the body of a male Elf. The creature's long black hair was matted with blood, and its once-beautiful features were now twisted in pain. With a heavy heart, Hans realised that he had been the one to deliver the killing blow. His hands trembled as he looked around at the other fallen Elves that littered the ground. The weight of their deaths was almost too much for him to bear. But then he saw the survivors, the remnants of the Elven army that had once stood against him. Their eyes burned with a mix of fear and hatred as they stared back at him.
Hans felt a surge of panic well up inside him. All he wanted was to get as far away from this place as possible. But no matter how hard he tried, his body refused to listen to him. Instead, he found himself moving forward, his sword raised high above his head. It was as if some invisible force was propelling him forward.
He finally laid his eyes on the growling elf at his feet, and the battered elf shouted in agony.
> We are the descendants of god, flee my people so we would have another chance to strike back… make sure that no human could walk the Gena…
Hans watched in horror as his sword sliced through the air and cut the man's head clean off his shoulders. The sound of metal meeting flesh echoed through the battlefield, drowning out the man's final, pitiful words. The sight of the decapitated body seemed to inspire the humans around him, their cheers and war cry growing louder with each passing moment. Hans felt a strange mixture of elation and disgust wash over him.
As he surveyed the carnage around him, Hans felt like an outsider in his own body. It was as if he was watching someone else carry out these brutal acts, someone else who was consumed by a desire for power and revenge.
But even as his mind recoiled from the violence he was inflicting, Hans could feel a sense of purpose taking hold of him. He was fulfilling his destiny, achieving the goal he had worked towards for years. The fall of each enemy only made him more determined to see the battle through to its bitter end.
With each swing of his sword, Hans felt a growing sense of power and control. He was the hero of this story, the one who would vanquish the enemy and save the day. And as the war cries of his fellow humans rose up around him, he knew that nothing could stop him from achieving his ultimate victory.
After the massacre, he looked towards the sky and mumbled with a voice different from his,
> if you are seeing this, then do not speak a word of it
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> Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
The words woke him, as he opened his eyes, he gasped for air, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. The dream he had just experienced felt more like a vivid hallucination, a distorted reality that was hard to shake off. He could still hear the man's voice echoing in his head, haunting him with every syllable.
He fumbled around his bedside table, searching for the glass of water that he kept there every night. As he took a sip, the cool liquid trickling down his throat brought him a sense of relief, but the images of the dream still lingered in his mind.
Hans's heart calmed a little but his body still trembled from the vivid dream. He knew it was not just a dream, but a warning from someone, or something, beyond his understanding. The voice that spoke to him was not his own, and the image of the violent execution was all too real.
This was not the first time he had experienced such a sensation, but this time, the vision was clearer, filled with gore and bloodshed. As he lay in bed, trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed, he couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to this than just a simple dream.
The world outside was still cloaked in thick darkness as if the night had decided to linger longer than it should have. And the weather had its own opinion on the matter too. It was pouring outside.
With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, letting the sound of the rain lull him back to sleep. The rhythm of the droplets hitting against the glass seemed almost like a lullaby, soothing him into a deep, peaceful slumber.
SOMEWHERE COLD AND UNREACHABLE
The piercing, crimson-orbed eyes opened slowly, taking in the world around her. With a barely audible murmur, the black-haired elf whispered the prophetic words,
So it has begun.
IN HANS’S ROOM
The first light of dawn crept through the windows, casting long shadows across the room. It was a new day, but there was something different about it. Rudolf, the usual morning rouser, was nowhere to be found. Instead, it was Hans who roamed the house, his mind still haunted by a strange and unsettling dream.
As he moved silently about, he couldn't help but dwell on the images from the dream - the piles of corpses, the sense of guilt that weighed heavy on his mind. His favourite spot on the doorsill beckoned him, despite Sierra's warnings of ill fortune but the rain made him sit in front of the fireplace.
The man from the dream had been powerful, Hans realised. Strong enough to rival even Rudolf, the greatest knight he knew. The man's words echoed in his mind, tempting him to dwell on the dream, but he knew he had to push it aside. He had other things to focus on - his studies, his duties.
Reaching for his book, he buried himself in its pages, letting the words take him to another world far from his troubled thoughts. The warmth of the fireplace bathed him in a soft glow, and he lay on his stomach, the book propped up in front of him. For a while, he forgot all about the strange dream and the worries that came with it.
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> PAGE 6
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> I believe the first experiment has given you trouble, so let’s begin with our second experiment, which is ‘planting a seed'.
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Hans furrowed his brow, his mind clouded with scepticism as he scanned the text before him once more. But alas, the words remained unaltered, just as he had read them before. With a deep breath, he pushed aside his doubts and ventured forth.
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> It's highly probable that you may have witnessed treants conjuring plants seemingly out of thin air. This remarkable observation has led me to believe that the Wood mana property, as named by the elves in ancient Elven text, is a more accurate representation of this phenomenon than the human designation.
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Life mana? Ancient Elven Text? Hans got more curious and continued.
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> I borrowed the ancient text from Clandor, of course, without asking them. I planned to return it to them before long, but it sure created the havoc in Clandor and the Elven Council were searching it like madmen. Seeing them in trouble was a pleasing sight for Elanor and Reina, both were royals but had very little influence on Clandor because of the Council.
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A smirk crept onto Hans' face, his mind's eye conjuring images of a group of devious elders in a state of utter perplexity upon realizing their prized possession had gone missing. The mere thought of Samson's audacity in robbing the protected text right under the noses of the Elves amused the young lad to no end. With a chuckle, he delved deeper into the text.
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> I have included some translations from the ancient text in the next book, named THE SOLAR MAGE. I'll disclose its location at the end of this book. This is the second and the last book you must have. So where were we? Ah yes, put a seed inside an empty pot without giving it any soil, sunshine, and water. You need to supply mana from outside into the seed, like controlling the flow of it. Be cautious if you give it in huge amounts, it might break it.
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> To achieve this, you must learn the treant’s way of manipulating mana regularly. If my hypothesis is right, as it should be. It's my hypothesis after all, you will learn their way quickly.
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> This experiment will become the foundation for you to manipulate nature’s mana, and how much you take control from nature in one go will determine the scale of your spell. Because the spell we will develop here does not contain circles like others, it can be as grand as the seventh circle or as small as the first circle. There is no restriction. It solely depends on you, imagine yourself at the front of the well (nature), the well contains unlimited water and you have a bucket which can draw water (mana) from the well, it depends on your own strength how big of the bucket you can pull from it.
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> You need to keep doing two things: first, increase the size of the bucket by honing the method of tapping in nature’s mana, and the second one to increase your control over it. Good luck with this experiment. I believe you will be successful in these trials. It might take a lot of time, but if you build a solid foundation here, you will have fast progress in upcoming spell creations.
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Hans closed the book, grinning ear to ear. Since Treants have taken a liking to him, he could just ask them to teach their way. But it was not the sole reason for his grin. The title of the second book, "The solar mage," was piquing his curiosity.
All he knew about mana attributes were Elementals like fire, water, earth, and wind. For advanced attributes such as magma, Wood, ice, and thunder. Dark and light were rare. That's all there was to it, but Sam mentioned Solar, which was not even in the unrecorded family of mana. He wanted to ask about this from the elders, but sadly, they were currently asleep.
Another thing that grabbed his interest is that Samson, a knight by trade would teach spells. It was hard to believe, as knights were more often associated with swords and shields than the intricate workings of magic. Yet, something told him that these spells could be the key to turning the tides of many battles he was going to face.
He was giggling, lying on the floor, oblivious to the world around him, he failed to notice a pair of piercing eyes fixated on him from the shadows.
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