CHAPTER 7

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The morning was colder than usual. The forest floor was still damp from the night’s rain, and the air was thick with mist. I stood in the center of the clearing, my muscles tense and my mind focused on the task ahead. Today, I would finally test the limits of my magic—if there were any limits at all.

The hermit stood a few paces away, watching me in silence. His expression was unreadable, as always, but I could feel his gaze on me, sharp and scrutinizing. He had agreed to this test, though reluctantly. For weeks, I had been pushing myself, using the Aetheric Flow to manipulate fire, water, air, and earth, and not once had I felt the strain that other mages described. I had expected exhaustion, a draining of my mana pool, something to tell me I had reached my limit. But it never came.

Today, I would find out why.

“Are you ready?” the hermit asked, his voice steady but laced with caution.

I nodded, not bothering to hide the confidence in my eyes. “Let’s begin.”

The hermit raised his hand, and the ground beneath us shifted. Large rocks and boulders rose from the earth, forming targets at various distances around the clearing. The air crackled with the familiar energy of the Aetheric Flow, and I could feel it thrumming beneath my skin, waiting to be unleashed.

“This will be a test of endurance,” the hermit said. “You will keep casting until you reach your limit. Do not stop. No matter how tired you feel, no matter how heavy the magic becomes, you must keep going.”

I smirked. If only he knew.

Without waiting for his signal, I raised my hand and summoned a ball of fire, the flames roaring to life in my palm. I hurled it toward the nearest boulder, watching as the fire consumed the stone, reducing it to ash within moments. The power came easily, flowing through me like a natural extension of my body. There was no effort, no strain.

I moved on to the next target, this time summoning the wind. A gust tore through the clearing, lifting the boulder into the air before shattering it into a thousand pieces. Still, there was no fatigue, no sign that my mana was depleting.

The hermit watched me closely, his arms crossed. “Don’t hold back, Niv. Push further.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I extended my arms and drew from the Flow, summoning the power of the elements with ease. I could feel the earth beneath me responding, the ground shifting and cracking as I called forth jagged pillars of stone. I let the wind swirl around me, fanning the flames I had summoned moments ago into a raging inferno. Water rose from the nearby stream, forming a barrier of ice that encased another boulder, freezing it solid before I shattered it with a flick of my wrist.

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One by one, the targets crumbled before me, but I didn’t stop. I poured more and more magic into the air, testing the very limits of what I could do. The energy flowed through me endlessly, as if there was no bottom to the well I was drawing from. My heart pounded, adrenaline surging through my veins, but still, there was no exhaustion. No sign that I was nearing any kind of limit.

I caught the hermit’s gaze, my chest heaving from excitement, not from fatigue. His eyes narrowed, and I could see the realization dawn on him. I wasn’t like other mages. I wasn’t bound by the same rules. I had no limits.

“Enough,” the hermit said, his voice firm.

I lowered my hands, though the energy still crackled around me, waiting to be called again. The clearing was a mess—scorched earth, shattered stones, and swirling winds—but I felt nothing but exhilaration.

The hermit approached, his expression hard. “Do you feel it yet?” he asked.

I met his gaze, my confidence growing. “Feel what?”

“The strain. The fatigue. Surely, after casting that much magic, you must feel some drain on your mana.”

I shook my head. “Nothing. I don’t feel anything.”

The hermit’s brow furrowed, his eyes searching mine for any sign of deception. But there was none. I wasn’t hiding my exhaustion because there wasn’t any. I could keep going, casting spell after spell, without ever feeling the weight of it.

“Impossible,” he muttered under his breath, turning away from me. “No mage can cast indefinitely. There is always a limit.”

“Not for me,” I said, unable to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I told you—I’m different.”

The hermit’s silence stretched on for several moments as he stood there, his back to me. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, filled with something I couldn’t quite place. “Unlimited mana… I’ve heard of such things, but they’re stories, legends.”

“Well, now it’s real,” I said, stepping toward him. “And I’m just getting started.”

The hermit turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “This power, Niv… it’s dangerous. Unlimited mana means there’s nothing to stop you from casting beyond your capacity to control. You may not feel the strain now, but if you push too far, too fast—”

“I’m not afraid of losing control,” I interrupted, my voice cold. “This is what I’ve been waiting for. Power without limits. This is how I’ll kill the demon.”

The hermit’s eyes darkened, his gaze sharp. “And after that? What happens when you’ve exacted your revenge? What will this power turn you into?”

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. Why couldn’t he understand? This wasn’t just about revenge. It was about survival, about ensuring that nothing could ever take from me again. The demon had destroyed my family, my home. I would not let it—or anything else—take anything more from me.

“I don’t care what it turns me into,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “As long as I have the power to destroy my enemies, that’s all that matters.”

The hermit sighed, shaking his head. “You’re walking a dangerous path, Niv. Power without restraint… it will consume you.”

“Then let it,” I muttered under my breath, though I knew he heard me.

The rest of the day passed in silence. The hermit didn’t speak again, but I could feel his eyes on me, watching my every move. I didn’t care. I had learned what I needed to know—I had no limits. I could cast endlessly, drawing from the Flow without fear of exhaustion. And with each spell, I grew stronger, more confident in my abilities.

That night, as I lay by the fire, staring up at the stars, I thought about the hermit’s words. He had warned me about losing control, about the danger of power without limits. But what did he know? He was afraid. Afraid of what I could become. Afraid of the potential I had.

But I wasn’t afraid.

I was ready.