Glenn played with the enigmatic, humming object floating above his palm, lost in his thoughts. It was a miniature reflection of the thing he had first discovered with Redan in his Mana Heart. A delicate arrangement of ethereal gray runes forming a ring—no, Circle was a more correct way of calling it. That circle was spinning lazily around a gaseous sphere displaying a spectrum of rainbow hues. The whole contraption was barely the size of an apple.

After Redan accepted his sincere apology and his commitment to his magical education, he told him about this particular technique. It offered a means to create a projection of his Mana Heart outward, serving both as a training tool to sharpen his concentration and as a way to help him understand it. It could also serve as a way to prove one’s power level, even though it wasn’t necessary for higher-ranked individuals such as Redan or Giselle.

The technique was called Projection, a suitable moniker for its purpose.

Glenn's gaze remained locked onto the intricate runes, still trying to decipher their meanings and understand their purposes. He frowned, a headache echoing through his head as he concentrated a tad too intensely.

“...Phew…” Glenn shook his head and dismissed the Projection, rubbing his forehead, “...It feels like these runes don’t want me to understand them,” He muttered. Even Redan couldn’t explain what these runes signified. Apparently, they differed for each individual and had to be understood by their user.

The old man had also explained that the first three Circles were rather easy to obtain. The First Circle needed a Convergence, which was done with the machine at the Magic Identification Bureau or by a higher-leveled Magi. Then, the Second Circle required him to succeed in infusing his Mana Heart’s essence into his Mana. Sadly, his only spell—Magic Bullet—was attributeless. Redan's assessment of the spell had been frank: "Well, if ya put your back in it, it could evolve into a potent offensive spell with the right attribute— but for that, it needs more potency, versatility, and range. Its current state is... well, ya don't need me to say it, do ya?"

Thus far, Glenn had managed a maximum range of 15 meters with Magic Bullet, albeit constrained by its unalterable trajectory. No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't make the shot curve or follow a target. It always obediently followed the line it had been thrown onto, with the sole advantage of relative swiftness and penetration.

‘A noob’s spell,’ Diamanes resumed with a bored tone. Glenn’s eyelids twitched. Against adversaries under the third level, be it Mage or Aura users, the spell retained somewhat of an element of surprise. However, above this stage, it was common to see the flow of Mana with the naked eye, rendering invisible spells inefficient.

Consequently, most Mages opted for the utmost effectiveness over concealment, explaining why Magic Bullet was such a subpar spell in Redan's eyes. Glenn sighed and conjured his Mana Heart’s projection once more, wondering how he should apply its properties to his spell. The old man had affirmed that he could not help him understand this process and had to do this by himself. Yet, it had been more than an hour since he began maintaining the Projection, staring at it like a brainless monkey, and he still hadn’t managed to come up with a solution.

"Perhaps I should try again to combine the spell and ball?" he contemplated once again, questioning how exactly he was supposed to do that.

Diamanes groaned in exasperation, ‘Didn’t you try a hundred times already?’ He paused and suddenly mimicked a familiar voice, ‘Did I ever tell you what the definition of insanity is?’

Glenn blinked, before scoffing in disbelief, ‘Are you seriously quoting Far Cry?’

Diamanes, unperturbed, kept on going, ‘Insanity, is, doing the exact same fucking thing over and over again, expecting it to change.’

‘You’re aware I’m the one who played the game, right?’ Glenn said with an amused look. Diamanes sighed and resumed his usual attitude.

‘Admit that it was a good imitation, at least!’ Diamanes demanded proudly.

Glenn shook his head slowly, ‘It certainly was, Diamanes. Now, would you mind letting me concentrate so I can finally solve this problem?’

Diamanes groaned but remained silent, respecting his host’s wishes. Glenn stared at the gaseous sphere hovering above his palm with frustration. A bead of sweat pearled down his forehead as he focused his concentration, willing his Mana to move to create a Magic Bullet. He then tried to make the weird gaseous ball go into the Magic Bullet, but his spell dissipated in deep blue particles, failing to come to life.

Glenn sighed and rubbed his temples slowly. What was he doing wrong?

“I can’t even ask Redan for help, the geezer left me there for some mysterious business…” He muttered as he leaned back against a collapsed wall on the edge of his training area, even more frustrated than when he began learning magic. Even though it was horrible torture, he could feel the progression at least!

Similarly to Redan, many Black Heirs who typically frequented the main camp had also vanished, an air of change enveloping the area. Too bad that change wasn’t applied to the smell, though.

‘Perhaps the gears of war between the Black Heirs and the Thorn’s Church have started to turn! How exciting!’ Diamanes exclaimed with a wicked laugh. Glenn moistened his lips. Maybe that was indeed the case, or maybe something else was going on. He had no idea; sadly, no one seemed to deem him important enough to give him some basic information!

Glenn looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Sahro was steadily striding toward him, a scroll clenched in his right hand.

“...” Glenn crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Experiencing some difficulties?” The Black Heir inquired, his left hand resting on the hilt of a curved saber hanging off his waist.

Glenn shrugged dismissively, suppressing his frustration and concealing his struggle, “Nothing of concern to you. What do you want?”

Sahro looked at the rolled-up scroll and handed it to him, “From Dame Giselle.”

Glenn took the scroll curiously as he glanced at the Black Heir, “Giselle?” He scoffed, his frustration with his training poisoning his words,” So you’re the delivery boy, Sahro?”

Sahro’s expression darkened as Glenn’s fingers unrolled the parchment. Glenn cleared his throat and read aloud the document:

"To facilitate your training, Sahro shall accompany you as a sparring partner. Although possessing tremendous potential, he clings to stubborn notions and refuses to learn magic.

I trust this experience will enlighten you both, and that Sahro will be of tremendous help when he joins you on your mission. His entry into the city is arranged. Enjoy yourselves. P.S: Find my grandson, or you'll return to the damned hole you came from."

After reading the message out loud and shivering at the prison's thought, Glenn exhaled in dismay before vocalizing his sentiments, "Fantastic. Just perfect."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Glenn observed Sahro who was listening to him reading, discovering a similar incredulity on his face. It seemed like the Black Heir was completely unaware of the new obligations thrust upon him. A mischievous idea suddenly popped into Glenn's mind. He leaned back on the scroll, exclaiming in surprise.

“Oh wait, there’s another postscript!” He squinted as if trying to decrypt some ancient text, “...No way, Sahro, it’s written there that you have to do a hundred backflips to prove yourself. Wow, that’s crazy!” Glenn exclaimed with an exaggeratedly shocked expression. The Black Heirs paled, and without even taking a look at the scroll, started doing backflips as fast as he could.

Glenn paused, watching with a bemused look. He hadn’t expected Sahro to not even question the nonsensical order. He just did it. And wow, he was doing it perfectly. Glenn had never seen such perfect flips in his life. It almost made him feel bad. He crumpled the letter and threw it in a nearby campfire, to make sure Sahro didn’t discover that Giselle never ordered him to do such things. Glenn watched the Black Heir doing backflips for half an hour, grinning without restraints at the enjoyable show. Eventually, Sahro was done with his homework and stared at Glenn, barely out of breath.

"So I'm supposed to babysit you?" Sahro's tone oscillated between disbelief and annoyance. It almost made Glenn angry that he was as fine as before the hundred backflips. Life was unfair sometimes. Wait, could he try to do backflips now? He did have an abnormally strong body after all…

He dismissed that thought and smiled wryly, retorting, “Excuse me, isn't it the other way around? Who's keeping watch over whom? Didn’t you listen to the letter’s content? Stubborn, wasn’t that the word Giselle used to describe you?”

Sahro bit on his lower lip and kicked a stone out of his way. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, grumbling, “They force me to apologize to you, then designate me your guardian? What’s so exceptional about you, anyway?”

Glenn raised a pleasantly surprised eyebrow,” Oh, so they were forced excuses, then. Well, to answer your question, maybe I’m not exceptional at all and you’re simply that useless?”

The Black Heir clenched his fists, “...Do you wish to see if I am?” He hissed with a dark expression.

Glenn snorted and opened his arms in a challenging manner, “Come on, do you think I’d be scared of a prejudiced idiot? Come on, I’ll make you apologize for real this time!”

‘A good ol’ battle is the perfect start for the best bromances! Go, go, Glenn!’ Diamanes cheered happily. Glenn ignored him, his eyes glued to Sahro’s fists, which were shivering with a crimson Aura.

"Enough talk! Let's settle this with our fists!" Sahro yelled, pointing his Aura-covered finger at Glenn.

"You know what? No magic, no Aura. Deal?" The latter answered, confident. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, fueled by the past hour’s frustration. He needed to think about something else, and Redan wasn’t here to stop him anyway. Getting into a brawl probably wasn’t the way to solve his issues, but whatever.

"Don't come whimpering afterward, bastard!" Sahro roared as his Aura disappeared. He dashed in Glenn’s direction, swiftly crouching in a lower position, his lower body completely charged to deliver a punch. Subsequently, in a heartbeat, a kinetically charged fist collided with Glenn's chin. The world seemed to ripple in slow motion as the impact reverberated, and saliva mixed with a droplet of blood expelled from his mouth. Sahro's hand recoiled, a self-satisfied grin adorning his features.

"I've been craving this since I first laid eyes on you and your arrogant face. There is more where it came from," Sahro proclaimed, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"Very well, then. Let's begin," Glenn muttered, clutching his throbbing cheek. He charged the Black Heir, only for his fist to be effortlessly parried and countered. Glenn’s back hit the dirt once more. He pushed himself up and spat out the blood in his mouth. This was nothing. Compared to the pain he had been subjected to in prison, Sahro’s punches were as painful as mosquito bites. Annoying, but ultimately useless.

Sahro bounced left and right, grinning widely. He suddenly disappeared from Glenn’s sight. Instinctively, the latter lowered his position and blocked in front of him, barely intercepting a powerful kick aimed at his chest. He rolled back, only to be forced to dodge the sight once more, Sahro trying to punch him once more.

Glenn drew a short breath and steeled himself. Sahro dashed forward once more, his fist hitting Glenn perfectly in the waist. Glenn coughed but clenched Sahro’s arm, grinning wickedly, his gums bleeding from the beating. Sahro frowned and tried to get away, but Glenn’s abnormal strength held him into place.

“No running away, now!” Glenn warned with a vicious smile as he grabbed Sahro’s other hand and headbutted him powerfully. Sahro recoiled back, dizzy, but Glenn wasn’t done. He headbutted him again, and again until Sahro finally managed to kick him away, pulling out of Glenn’s embrace.

“Spit—Shit!” Sahro held his bloody nose and spat on the side, looking at Glenn with renewed wariness. Glenn took a deep breath and mimicked Sahro’s previous relaxed appearance, bouncing left and right.

“Well, not what you expected?” He laughed madly. Sahro’s expression darkened and suddenly, he disappeared. Glenn tensed up, only to be swept off his feet. The world turned over as Sahro threw him above his shoulder, before punching him in his chest’s dead center. Glenn's lungs were empty of air, forcing him to kneel and catch his breath.

You're taking quite a beating, Glenn. Want some help?'

'How could you help? You're a talking ha—fuck!' Glenn cursed as Sahro’s foot made contact with his chin, kicking him a few meters away. His vision blurred and his ears rang. A trickle of blood escaped from his mouth, as he stumbled on wobbly legs and landed in a half-collapsed cabin, some rotten planks falling on him. The second the Black Heir had gotten serious, it had been impossible for him to follow his movements.

‘Listen,’ Diamanes’ suave voice dispelled the haze that was slowly taking over Glenn’s mind, ‘...just do what I tell you when I tell you to. If you do, you can strike back.’

“...Shit…” Glenn coughed as he pushed away the planks and made his way out of the collapsed cabin. Should he thank the Thorn’s Church for giving him a reinforced spine, or curse them? Probably a question for a later time.

"Want more? Come and take it, you filthy human!" Sahro taunted, his eyes bloodshot. Glenn wiped the blood off his mouth as he stared at the damned Black Heir.

“...I’ll make sure you get a taste of that filthy fist, then!” Glenn roared as he dashed forward. His body, altered by the incredible amount of Beast Blood he had ingested, held strength he had no clue how to utilize. Fighting in such a messy, brutal way felt great, somehow. With each hit he was enduring, Glenn was understanding how strong he had become thanks to that accursed Blood. Now, he just had to find a way to use this body efficiently.

‘Step to the right now,’ Diamanes commanded. Glenn sidestepped, watching in surprise as Sahro’s vertical kick missed him. Confusion flickered in Sahro’s eyes.

“...How?” He muttered, before resuming his attacks. Diamanes issued new orders, guiding Glenn’s actions like a marionette.

'Crouch. Evade left. Step forward. Jump. Straight hook now!'

Diamanes' instructions reshaped the fight's dynamic, creating a more balanced exchange. While Diamanes consistently ordered a straight hook aimed at Sahro's right chin, Sahro deftly evaded every attempt.

'It's not working; any other ideas?' Glenn gritted his teeth, barely blocking an uppercut with both of his hands.

'Don't worry, trust me. Persistence is your greatest asset against someone like him,’ Diamanes assured confidently. Slowly but surely, the tide of the fight began to shift against Sahro, with Glenn taking most of the opportunities and improving at a visible rate.

"Can't you see the right hook isn't working? You've tried it so many times," Sahro attempted to taunt, his confidence wavering.

Glenn remained focused, his attention on Diamanes' guidance.

'Alright, now that he's doubting, feint a right hook and trip him.'

Glenn nodded in agreement, evading another of Sahro's attacks before executing the maneuver. A fake right hook set Sahro off balance, and Glenn's true blow landed, a powerful kick in his legs. His opponent was swept off his feet, falling to the ground. The Black Heir gasped as he brought both his arms together to block the incoming punch.

'Now, the real right hook!' Glenn's fist clenched with determination. “DODGE THIS!” He roared as his fist connected with Sahro’s jaw, punching down and projecting him onto the ground. The dirt rose from the small shockwave, the Black Heir was completely knocked out. Glenn heaved with difficulty, closing his eyes in satisfaction. Oh yeah, that felt great.

Hands on his knees, Glenn looked proudly at the outcome of the fight. Collapsing backward, he caught his breath as sweat dripped from his hair and back. His stamina was greater than in his days on Earth, yet he remained utterly exhausted. Phew. That was satisfying...

A chill suddenly crawled down his spine, abruptly gripping him. He urgently sat up, focusing back on his opponent. Sahro rose slowly, his hand pressed against his chin. A predatory gleam flickered in his eyes, worsened by the trickle of blood flowing from his mouth.

“Time for round two, bastard.”