Roman was back at the mansion where he had gotten the stone of power—as he called it. Roman wondered how he'd gotten here when he had made no plans of going back, especially after everything that had happened the last time he was here. He couldn't remember taking a journey towards this place. All he remembered was that he had just been at the Dacre estate, scribbling on some paper when suddenly he was here. He surveyed the whole building and cautiously scanned for any sign of an elemental. Moments passed and he saw no elementals forming from the debris. He breathed a sigh of relief and walked towards the gate, lifting the handle of the door bolt and pulling it to the side but soon realized that it wouldn't budge. He clicked his tongue and tried to climb the grated wall instead. He placed one foot on the edge of the low wall below the grates. His other foot followed suit. Then he held the top of the grates with both hands and hefted himself up.

He pressed one foot onto the grates as he pulled his body; his other leg did the same. Once he was at a considerable height, almost reaching the top; he lifted his right leg over the top of the grates. Then his other leg followed suit. He let go of the grates and dropped to the ground. He was now out. He turned around and… What? The cold air brushed on the hair of his skin, which gave him goosebumps. He slowly backed away only stopping when the cold metal grates hit the skin of his palms. Roman wheezed and his breathing narrowed while his eyes widened in shock. In the distance, he heard a few wolves howl under the light of the perfectly round moon. Before him, stood ever so eerily, the mansion from which he had decided to flee.

"What the heck is going on?"

If he had magic, he would have checked if he was under some sort of a trance. Instead, what he could do was slap himself back to his senses. But no matter how strong his slap was, he certainly was wide awake. He tried to climb the wall again but every time he dropped to the ground an old dilapidated mansion greeted him. Desperate, he tried to force the gate open, but no matter how hard he pulled, nothing budged. A strong manipulative sense pulled his attention towards the mansion. He didn't want to go in, but he felt that somehow the only way out was the opposite direction—inside. So he walked in trepidation towards the door of the mansion. He opened the door and went in; instants later, the door he had left open behind him closed shut, sending a wave of banging sound that jolted Roman from where he stood.

He looked back over his shoulder and clicked his tongue. He walked towards the door and tried to pry it open but it didn't knuckle under his yanking. It was official, he was stuck. Somehow, his decision to come inside became more and more ludicrous. Shouldn't have come in. It was too late, all he could do now was move forward. He checked the rooms on the first floor but he found nothing peculiar. He was hoping some portal would suddenly appear in one of the rooms that would get him out of this wretched place, but in truth that was impossible, portals never appeared willy-nilly. Once he scoured the whole first floor he went up. He immediately saw the door leading to the room where he had found the journal. He went to the door and held the door knob.

It pricked Roman's hands with coldness that touched the bones. And then Roman noticed that the door was ornamented when before it had been plain. The ornament was a picture sculpted to the door; it depicted a huge army of humans, elves, dwarves, and werebeasts, fighting an army of humanoid beings shrouded in a mysterious cloud. They weren't a species Roman was familiar with. The cloud had no color but Roman instinctively felt that the cloud was black. He turned the door knob and the door silently opened. He lifted his right foot and took a first step into the room. A gush of stale air greeted his face, combing his hair back on his head and brushing the hair of his skin into a goosebump. Something was different in this room as compared to the other he had entered. He creeped in and saw that the chairs that had been scattered everywhere the last time he was in here were now lined on either side forming a road leading to the study table.

He walked towards the study stable and stopped once he was in front of it. Strangely, the journal was now gone. He opened the table's drawers and found them empty. He crouched down and looked for the journal under the table but found nothing. He figured after five years, someone must have finally found the journal interesting enough to steal. Moments passed and it turned out there was nothing special about this room either. He turned around and walked towards the door. He felt a cold chill run down his spine. A slight whisper sounded from behind him. He figured it was the rats again and looked up. Nothing there. He looked around on either sides and saw no rats. Whoosh. That definitely sounded like something breathing heavily. He took a glance back and what he saw made his face contort into an indescribable shocked expression.

"AHHH!" He screamed.

He immediately turned the door knob and went out. He ran down the stairs and went to the first floor. He went into the living room and tried to open the door leading to the outside. Shockingly, the door opened. He stepped out. When he was out a stale air greeted his face, combing his hair back, and startling him out of nowhere. He stood straight and looked in front of him. He was back inside the peculiar room.

"AHHH!" He screamed on the top of his lungs.

Before him—at the study table—stood a faceless, clothesless figure. It had no genitals, and its limbs seemed as if they rippled like the waves of the sea. Roman picked up one of the chairs with both hands and threw it towards the figure but the chair simply phased through it; on second thought, it was the figure that phased through the chair. Roman panicked and began throwing chairs after chairs on the figure. When he grabbed the last chair, he was now so close to the figure that he could touch it. He slammed the chair on the figure's face but it only went through. The figure did nothing to dodge and Roman slammed it again and again. Some moments later, Roman swung the chair so hard that he lost his grip over it, sending it flying away towards the wall. He then stumbled to the floor with a thud and an expression of deep fear bubbled up in his face.

"Calm down," the figure finally spoke. "I mean you no harm."

Roman skittered back with his buttocks sliding on the floor. He stopped once his back hit the door.

"What are you?" Roman said in a voice that faltered and vibrated. "What are you?"

The figure did not answer, instead it opened its arms wide, they swirled as if they were made of liquid. "I'm here to help you," it said.

"With what?"

"I offer you strength."

"Strength, as in power?" Roman breathed in and out. He was still shaking but somehow he felt a little braver. Perhaps hearing the sound of the figure's voice appeased his nerves.

"No," the figure bowed its head and held its stomach. It gave Roman the impression that somehow the figure was laughing at him. "Intelligence."

Roman paused for a minute. He bent his knees and placed his chin on top of them. Roman pondered over it. The figure was talking bonkers. There was no way in all the schools of magic to augment intelligence. He knew it was impossible; besides, what would he do with intelligence? It wasn't something that cured his condition and he wasn't lacking in that area either. But still, some part of him was curious.

"How would I acquire it?"

"You must learn to utilize me."

"You?" Roman stood up, his back pressed on the door and his right hand holding the door knob. "I don't even know what you are, let alone how to use you. Tell me first what you are then maybe I can work something out."

"That's not possible," the figure walked towards him. His hands subconsciously turned the door knob; the figure stopped. "It isn't within my power to tell you so. You need to learn it for yourself."

"This conversation is going nowhere."

"And another thing," the figure began, not listening to Roman's complaints. "You need to be prepared. The time for their arrival is near."

"Who's coming?"

"Them."

"Who are they?"

"Error: cannot give full details. I have been bound to secrecy."

Out of a sudden the figure's body began to clump into a ball. Then it expanded and expanded until it filled the entire room. Moments after it burst into a puff of smoke. Roman coughed and stood up. Then the dream was cut off.

A beam of sunlight passed through Roman's windows, hitting him on the face. It brightly lit up the room, showing the papers he had plastered on his walls that had various unique runic inscriptions written all over them. He rolled on his back avoiding the sunlight. Moments later he opened his eyes and woke up. He was drenched in sweat. He sat on his bed and wiped a few tears from his eyes.

"Was it all a dream?" He said, sounding incredulous. "It felt so real."

Roman took a face towel folded on top of his study table just beside his bed. He wiped his face, then his neck, chest and finally his arms. He breathed heavily, he still couldn't take what had happened in his dream out of his mind; it all seemed so real. He stood up and breathed in and out. He stretched his body and then stared out into the windows. After a while he calmed down.

"Whew, it was all just a dream."

To relax himself he stared at the papers plastered on his wall. Excitement rose from within himself. He smiled.

Never mind that dream, he thought. At least my ward making skills are improving.

After a while, Roman slid into a very plain shirt and went down. Breakfast was calling and his rumbling stomach answered. Once down, he immediately went into the dining room. He saw only two plates, the other empty. Daera had probably eaten early and went to school without him, while Mother and Father were out busy in the field. As for Simon, well, he was barely home. Roman sat down and immediately dug into the food Maria had probably prepared for him.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

At the side, the door knob turned and Maria entered into the dining room.

"Seems you're up," she said. "I thought you'd never leave your room."

Roman scoffed.

Maria brought steak with her and placed it in front of Roman.

"Order up," she said, grinning. "Your steak, Young Master."

Roman gulped his food. His plate was already full of meat; he didn't need any more addition to them.

"No thanks," he said, piercing a piece of meat with a fork. "I already have enough."

"Nonsense," Maria said, sitting down beside Roman. "There's no such thing as enough meat."

Roman didn't answer. He gobbled a huge chunk into his mouth.

"So…" Maria began after a moment of silence. "I notice you've been down lately…. Is everything okay?"

"Of course," Roman said, after wiping his mouth with a tissue. "Everything's dandy."

"No, I'm quite perceptive; you've been acting really horrible lately."

"It's probably just in your head."

Maria shook her head. "I don't think so," she said.

Roman squinted his eyes, "What is this about?"

"It's about you, Young Master. Is there anything wrong with me worrying about you?"

"Well thanks for worrying but there's really nothing wrong."

Maria stared at Roman's eyes; he looked down, averting his gaze.

"Nothing's wrong, trust me."

"If you say so," Maria said, giving Roman a suspicious smile. "Just remember, when you need someone to talk to, I'll always be here."

"Thanks," Roman nodded.

A second later his hands slipped and his fork together with the meat on it fell down on his shirt, staining it red from the sauce. He started wiping the stain with his bare hands but it only scattered all over the surface of the shirt. Maria told Roman not to worry. She leaned forward and touched the stain with her fingers. She closed her eyes and seemed to be focusing deeply on something. Cleanulus, she whispered and the stain started to glow white, then the color started to fragment until it dissipated into thin air.

"Done," Maria put in, backing away and smirking at Roman. "Easy peasy."

"I thought you hated using your magic?" Roman said, picking the fork on the floor.

"Well, sometimes it becomes handy."

"You totally broke your rule."

"Rules aren't absolute, Young Master," Maria said, placing her left arm on top of the table. “There are times when you have to break them.”

"Well, alright, if you say so," Roman said, putting the fork and knife on the table. "Why do you even hate using your magic? Man, I'd give anything to be magic. I'd never hold back, not like what you're doing."

"Well, Young Master. Magic is a terrible thing. What you think is gold at the end of the rainbow might actually be a pit of fire. Maybe, you're better off without one."

"Better off?" Roman said, saddling his left elbow on the back of the chair. "I'm worse off without one."

"Not everything revolves around magic, Young Master," Maria said, standing up and stacking the plate with leftover meat over the empty plates. "Sometimes, magic does horrible things."

"Like what?"

"Change people."

"Into better people I suppose."

"Worse," Maria began, picking up the stacked plates with finesse. "Magic has a dark side you wouldn't want to be involved in."

Maria walked out of the room. Times like this made Roman wonder what exactly had happened in Maria's past. But she was always secretive, and no matter how much he prodded, she would never reveal anything to him. Well, it's not like he didn't have secrets himself that he hid from his family, let alone Maria, so he just figured it was better to respect her privacy than to pelt her with annoying questions.

Roman prepared for school, he brought his backpack and wore his school uniform, which was a gray polo on top a black shirt and a pair of khaki pants. He walked off towards the teleportation chamber, which was a room inside the mansion that contained a teleportation enchantment made by Enchanters, it was one of three other ways of teleporting. The room was etched with a thousand symbols forming a complex runic enchantment, something only Enchanters could achieve. Roman stood at its center where an activation relay was inscribed. He felt for his inner mana and let it flow into the activation relay. The relay glowed and sucked in outer mana from the surroundings and then the whole rune glowed.

Roman envisioned his destination and a blanket of white light swathed over him, suffice to say, his whole body seemed to be glowing. Seconds later, his whole body became translucent until he became invisible. He was then launched at the speed of light towards the south-east, the general direction of the academy. Physical walls did not stop him as he just phased through them. In an instant, Roman was standing in front of an arched gateway that had a signboard on its arch. It read: Brook Magic Academy of the Arcane Arts. The academy was situated in the city of Brook, the largest city of Mythos. Roman stepped through the gate. He would be spending another day as a second year. The glow on his body started to recede and he became more visible by the second.

The road within the campus was lined with stalls of different kinds, they sold wands, animal parts—ingredients for alchemy—and various other magical trinkets. Roman walked up a flight of stairs then stopped before a classroom situated on the second floor. He opened the sliding door seamlessly. The arm-chairs were empty, it seemed like he was too early. He took a chair at the back at the right corner near the windows. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, idly looking into the distance. He watched down below what seemed to be a skirmish: a lady who looked like an elf seemed to have accidentally bumped a boy who seemed like Kaemon Phalanx. Kaemon retaliated and grabbed the girl's wrist, to which the girl responded by slapping him in the face. A big argument erupted and Roman could swear sparks of magic were building up around them. A crowd was also circling them by now. Well, everything about Kaemon screamed bad news, the girl shouldn't have slapped him, especially since he was a candidate for the hero choosing.

Minutes later the room started filling in with students. At nine-thirty the teacher came in holding a book and a box. Their first class for the day was basic spell casting. This subject taught them practical ways of spell casting as opposed to the pure theory in their first years. Roman usually found theory interesting and groaned at the practicals, after all, he couldn't cast….

"Today," the teacher began slamming his book and the box on the table. "We will finally begin casting a basic fire starting spell."

The whole class groaned. One student raised his hands.

"Why can't we start with a fireball?"

The teacher laughed.

"Unless you're some genius mage," he intoned, sitting down behind his desk. "You're starting with a fire starting spell."

"But that's boring."

"No buts," the teacher barked. "Take one of the twigs in this box and start casting."

Every student inside the room followed his order and stood up and took one twig from the box. They sat down after.

"Now, I need you to start envisioning the spell construct in your head and shape your inner mana accordingly. I'm assuming you already know how to do this since you should've been taught the theory about this in your first year."

This was the first time they'd actually be casting a spell, the last month was spent on inner mana circling exercises. Some of the students successfully caused a fire to appear on the tip of their twig, while some just burnt theirs. One student was even able to sustain the fire for eight minutes; he puffed his chest in pride. The teacher surveyed everyone and saw that they were relatively successful, then he saw Roman doing nothing. Of course, the teacher was aware of Roman's condition; actually, everyone knew.

"Roman!" The teacher called. Everyone in class looked his way. "Go on, try casting this spell. Maybe not all spells are impossible for you."

Roman at the request of the teacher decided to try it out. He envisioned the spell construct of the spell inside his head, then he focused on his inner mana and tried to shape it accordingly. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead as he tried to bend his inner mana that fought against his efforts. Seconds later his twig exploded.

Soot from the explosion all scattered in the air like a cloud, many of which attached itself to Roman's face. He breathed out and smoke came out of his mouth. He looked so foolish that everyone in class seemed to struggle to hold their laughter in. When the students had enough, they all burst out laughing. Roman blushed, but thankfully the soot covered up his blushing.

Ugh, he thought. I hate school.

The past few days weren't so favorable either, he managed to botch his inner mana circling exercises—which no one ever did—by causing stray mana to shoot out of his body and poking holes all over his uniform. His classmates laughed at him then too. There were countless occasions where he did many things wrong even in his first year. There was one time in his first year, where he was asked to summon a frog in his summoning class and he managed to destroy the summoning platform with his mana, causing cracks to slither through the whole platform. He would've been held back a year if he wasn't given an exemption by the headmaster. He was taking the runic engineering path anyway so it didn't matter if he wasn't magic.

He got out of that class feeling dejected. The next class was alchemy. It was horrible as well. They were tasked to brew a powerful sleeping potion made from heavenly apple and adarna's tears. He started squeezing the heavenly apple to get its juice and placed it inside a flask. Then he took a small vial of adarna's tears and poured a small drop into the apple's juice. As for the other ingredients, the teacher gave them the freedom to choose the correct herbs and animal parts to use. Ingredients may differ, the teacher said, but some ingredients were more correct to use than others, while some were just plainly wrong and stupid. Roman chose to add a phoenix’s tail feather for his concoction, putting it into the mixture, hoping that the heat produced by the tail feather would make the juice and the tear to mix better. He placed the whole thing over a low heat fire.

The teacher saw what Roman did and ran to his side but he was too late. The whole thing fizzed; bubbles started rising rapidly and the students as well as Roman and the teacher got out of the room. The bubbles multiplied and filled the whole room.

The teacher smacked Roman on the head.

"Stupid," he said. "Everyone knows phoenix's tail feathers cause heavenly apple's juice to bubble up. Idiot. Stupid. Nincompoop."

Roman could only blush in embarrassment. He got out of that class feeling worn out.

I'm bad, he thought. Even at alchemy.

The next class was runic creation, his favorite subject so far. The last month was spent learning the theory of runes, now they would be practicing it for real. He entered the room. It seemed the whole room was already full. Everyone was already busy inscribing runes on a cubic stone. Roman looked at the front and saw that a hefty teacher stood there. His stomach bulged in front of him, and his long hair reached below his ears. He had silky black hair, while his face looked as if chiseled from a rock. The teacher stared at Roman.

"You're late."

"Yes sir," Roman replied. "I just made a small mistake in my previous class and I had to clean it up."

"Alright, take one of these stones and sit down. Make me a ward of any kind. Make sure it works."

Roman followed his order and took a cubic stone from the desk in front and then sat down. He looked at the stone. He was going to make a ward, which was very fascinating. Wards were the only class of spells whose spell constructs could be turned into a rune.

Math, he remembered, was the only thing it needed to cast, not the will and conscious mind of a mage. He had always admired them, after all they were the only magic thing he could do as pure runes were not considered magic. Albeit, all he could do was keep someone or something away from another by enforcing some punishments or rules, or by programming a thing to act in a certain way as to evade when about to be touched, or enclose someone or something in a field that enforced certain rules. He began inscribing on the stone. He drew shapes like circles, squares and pentagons, then connected them with intricate lines. An hour later the other students passed their creation and as they left the classroom the teacher momentarily glanced at their products and placed them in a box.

"Shabby," he muttered.

Roman finished last and he walked towards the teacher and gave his stone. The teacher looked at it but he took his time. He looked at the stone from all sides; he was inspecting it more thoroughly than the others.

"Do you know my name, boy?" The teacher asked.

"Yes, Sir," Roman replied. "Aubach."

"No," the teacher intoned, shaking the stone in his hand. "I mean do you know what the magician community calls me?"

"Oh that. I'm afraid I don't know sir."

"They call me a runic genius because I have advanced runic technology to five generations ahead of the present time."

"That's incredible Sir."

"Yes it is. But my point is. I know another genius when I see one."

Roman was taken aback.

"Come again Sir?"

"Roman," Aubach said, "Can I call you Roman?"

"Of course Sir."

"This ward you've made. It's almost perfect. I see that it is so efficient that there'd be no leakage of noise once it activates. I know few people who can do that and they are all experts, whereas you are just a fifteen year old boy in a classroom."

"You exaggerate, Sir," Roman let out, shaking his head. "It's not as amazing as it looks."

Aubach then poured his inner mana into the activation relay and it glowed. The whole rune began sucking outer mana and it glowed brilliantly in blue.

"Stand back."

Roman made a few steps back and Aubach threw the stone in the air. The stone floated in midair and it enveloped Aubach in an invisible field, but the invisible blanket around Aubach sometimes distorted the view through it. Aubach spoke something inside the field but no sound ever came out. Aubach was only opening his mouth and closing it without producing even a single syllable. The silencing ward worked, it absorbed all sound within the field, making it a perfect ward for having secret conversations. Roman felt proud of his creation. After a moment Aubach turned off the ward.

"Do you see my point?"

"That my ward works. Yes, Sir."

"No," Aubach said, placing the stone on the table. "That your ward is excellent. There is not a leakage of sound, isn't there?"

In comparison, Aubach took one of the runes made by the other students and tried activating it. It enveloped him in the same distorting blanket. But this time whenever he spoke inside, a few words, sentences and syllables passed through the blanket. Aubach turned it off.

"You get what I'm saying? The others made shabby runes, whereas yours is near perfect. Something no fifteen year old boy is capable of."

Roman didn't know what to say.

Aubach looked up and pondered for a bit.

"Maybe you can help me with something," Aubach said, he took a stack of papers from his desk and leafed through them. When he had found what he was looking for, he took it out and gave it to Roman. The paper was a bit folded but it wasn't damaged. Roman read it.

"An expedition?" Roman said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Aubach answered. "You're going to help me with studying runes of an ancient ruin. I've been looking for a student assistant for a while and found no one that fit my liking"

Roman looked at Aubach.

"Are you sure you need me?"

"Of course, having another genius around would greatly help."

"But I'm not…"

Before Roman could finish his sentence, Aubach quickly strode to the door.

"I'm expecting much from you. Goodbye, boy." And he left.