Two months have passed...

The tension in the air is thick enough to choke on. Obinai clenches his fists, nails biting into his palms as he feels the mana structure shatter—again. His chest heaves, frustration coursing through his veins like fire.

"No, no, no, NO!"

With a sharp exhale, he stomps the ground, sending a flurry of leaves scattering beneath his foot. “Dammit!” His voice rings through the trees, startling a few birds from their perches. They take off, their wings flapping wildly as they disappear into the canopy above.

Sweat drips from his temple, sliding down his face before falling onto the damp earth below. He bends over, bracing his hands on his knees, breath ragged, body aching. “What’s the point if it just keeps falling apart?!” The words leave his mouth like a snarl.

The only response is the whisper of the wind through the trees, the indifferent rustling of leaves. The forest doesn’t care. It never does.

He grits his teeth, eyes narrowing as he kicks a loose stone. It skips across the clearing, bouncing off a tree before vanishing into the undergrowth. “This is fucking ridiculous!” He throws his hands up, pacing furiously. “Every time I think I’ve got it, it just slips away! What kind of bullshit is this?!”

A soft chuckle drifts through the air.

Vale, sitting on a tree stump, sips his tea, completely unbothered by the outburst. He swirls the cup lazily, watching the liquid shift inside before raising an amused brow at his struggling pupil. “No need to curse the woods down, Obinai,” he remarks, his voice carrying that ever-infuriating calm.

Obinai glares at him, then exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “This is stupid.” His voice is quieter now, though no less irritated. His body aches, his brain feels like mush, and the worst part? He doesn’t feel any closer than when he started.

"Two months and still nothing."

He wipes the sweat off his forehead, and an idea sparks. With a small breath, he holds his hands close to his face and mutters, "[Cleanse]."

The change is instant. The damp, sticky sensation vanishes from his skin and clothes, replaced by a light, crisp feeling. A subtle, fresh scent—like morning air after rainfall—lingers in the air. Obinai exhales in satisfaction before turning to Vale, scowling.

“How do I actually do it properly? The essence I gather keeps spilling over like I’m trying to hold water in my hands.”

Vale places his cup down and meets Obinai’s gaze with that same unreadable expression...

“There’s no shortcut, Obinai,” he says. “Forming a second mana circle requires not only more essence but also refined control. Right now, your power leaks because your will isn’t precise enough to hold it together. It’s like... trying to grip smoke. The more you panic, the more it slips through your fingers.”

Obinai crosses his arms, looking away. He hates when Vale makes sense.

“But…” Vale stands up, stretching. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. That’s enough for today with the mana circles. Let’s shift gears. Show me what you’ve learned.”

Obinai exhales. His shoulders sag slightly in relief—partly because he doesn’t have to keep beating his head against a wall, partly because he actually wants to show off.

Straightening, he raises a hand, palm facing upward. His mind focuses, wrapping itself around the incantation, shaping the essence just as he was taught. “[Luminate].”

A soft glow blossoms from his hand, illuminating the space around him. The light is steady but flickers slightly at the edges, like a flame uncertain if it should stay or fade. He watches it dance, feeling the warmth spread through his fingers.

He glances at Vale, voice steady but carrying the faintest trace of pride. “This is a Tier One spell. Basic illumination. Good for dark areas, searches... or making sure I don’t trip over my own damn feet.”

Vale smirks, nodding approvingly. “Good. Now, what else...”

Obinai exhales slowly, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the tension. His confidence flickers, but he clings to it, riding the momentum of his small successes. He stretches his arm forward, palm aimed at a nearby tree, and steadies his breathing.

"Alright… focus. Pull it together."

“[Magic Missile].”

The moment he invokes the spell, the air around his hand shifts. The essence gathers sluggishly at first, like rippling water struggling to coalesce into a wave. A dim, white orb flickers to life, hovering unsteadily above his palm. It wavers, unstable, as if unsure of itself. Like him. His breath is uneven, his mind scrambling to hold the shape.

“This is the main attack—” he starts, but the glow in his palm flickers violently, and the entire structure destabilizes. Shit, shit, hold it together—

The orb flickers out of existence with a weak pop.

Obinai frowns. “Wait, that was wrong.”

He shakes his head, resets his stance, and forces himself to focus. This time, he won't mess it up.

He grits his teeth, pulling the essence back into his palm, forcing it to mold into the shape he needs. The white orb reforms, a little brighter, a little more stable. “It’s basic but effective,” he mutters, this time with less hesitation.

With a thrust of his arm, the spell launches.

And it nearly takes him with it...

The force knocks him off his feet, sending him sprawling onto his back. The missile veers wildly, completely missing the tree and instead crashing into the dirt. A small explosion erupts where it lands, sending a burst of dust and debris into the air.

Obinai stares up at the canopy, blinking at the rustling leaves above him. The impact leaves a dull ache throbbing in his spine, but the only thing more bruised than his back is his pride. He groans, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Needs a bit more control,” he mutters, wincing.

From above, Vale paces around him, arms crossed in amusement. “Well, that was something.” He lets out a small chuckle, the sound grating on Obinai’s nerves. The younger man shoots him a glare, dusting off his clothes.

Vale raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “You do seem rather comfortable spouting all of this theory. Considering that all the spells you learned were originally written and spoken in a foreign tongue, how exactly did you bridge that gap?”

Obinai pauses mid-motion. He blinks, his brow furrowing. Huh. Oh...that…

He stands, albeit slower this time, still rubbing at his sore back. Then, pressing two fingers to his neck, he invokes, “[Translation].”

A faint shimmer of light traces his fingers before fading, leaving behind an odd sensation in his throat—like the aftertaste of something metallic. He clears his throat before answering, “With this spell, I can understand and read most of the world's languages as long as I’m focusing.”

Vale’s smirk soften.

Obinai brushes the last of the dust off his pants before turning back to Vale. His curiosity stirs, cutting through his lingering frustration. “But why can’t I understand all languages?”

Vale clasps his hands behind his back, tilting his head slightly. “Now that...” His tone shifts from amused to something darker flickering behind his gaze. He begins pacing again, his footsteps slow. “Language and magic have always been deeply intertwined. You see, before the Old Era collapsed, the way people used essence was... different. Less refined. More—” he gestures vaguely, “raw.”

Obinai listens intently.

Vale continues, voice slipping into that near-mystical cadence he always takes when discussing deeper lore. “The current languages of the world—the ones you can translate—are derivatives of the original tongue of the first mages or scholars. Over centuries, as magic became more structured and civilizations formed proper schools of thought, the languages evolved. They were standardized, polished, and simplified for ease of use.”

He pauses, looking at Obinai with something unreadable in his expression.

“But the ancient languages? The ones lost in time? Those were not just languages. They were power itself. Those words carried weight, commands etched directly into reality itself.**”

Obinai’s breath hitches. He doesn’t like where this is going.

“And some of those words? Some of those lost phrases? They weren’t just for spells, Obinai. They were for binding. For sealing. For erasing. Some things weren’t meant to be spoken again.”

Obinai swallows...

Vale looks up at the sky, as if watching something unseen. “That’s why your spell can only go so far. The further back you reach, the closer you get to something… beyond comprehension.**”

A silence lingers between them...

Obinai barely has time to register the shift in Vale’s posture before the older man raises his hand and utters, "[Magic Missile]."

A sudden pulse of energy ripples through the clearing, stirring the air like an unseen force had just been unleashed. In the blink of an eye, a luminous orb crackles into existence in Vale’s outstretched palm. The glow intensifies, swirling in tight spirals, its brightness blinding yet controlled. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he sends the spell hurtling forward.

The air hums as the missile rockets toward him...

Obinai’s body reacts before his mind does. Instinct kicks in, his arms shooting up as he shouts, "[Shield]!"

A shimmering barrier erupts in front of him, the air thickening into a translucent wall of force. The moment it materializes, the impact comes—

The missile slams into the shield...

At first, the barrier holds, warping slightly from the pressure. But then—it doesn’t stop.

The spell lingers, pushing against the magical defense with a force far beyond what Obinai expected. His feet slide backward in the dirt, his body straining against the invisible weight of the assault. Every muscle tenses, his hands trembling as he desperately fights to reinforce the barrier.

But it's not enough.

A sharp crack splits the air—then another. Thin fractures spiderweb across the shield’s surface before it shatters completely. The missile punches through, striking Obinai directly in the chest.

The force lifts him off his feet...

For a brief, weightless moment, time slows. He’s airborne, the world a blur of green and gold as the sky tilts. Then, gravity slams him back down. He crashes into the dirt, pain radiating through his ribs as the impact knocks the breath from his lungs. A choking gasp escapes him, followed by coughing—harsh and violent.

Dust kicks up around him, settling in his throat, stinging his eyes. He squeezes them shut, rolling onto his side as he struggles to breathe. His chest burns.

"[Shield]," he wheezes between coughs. "It’s… a basic defensive technique meant to ward off simple spells."

He winces, still coughing. His ribs ache, his lungs feel like they’ve been squeezed, and a dull throb lingers where the spell had hit.

From somewhere above him, Vale hums thoughtfully. "Apparently, not good enough against whatever you're packing," Obinai mutters, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He flops onto his back, letting his limbs splay out and stares upward at the canopy. Damn it, that sucked.

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His breathing evens out slowly. The soreness in his chest is persistent, but not unbearable. He presses a hand over the spot where the spell hit, exhaling through his nose.

Then, hesitation...

His fingers tighten slightly over the area. Didn’t that damn fat scientist say I could heal from injuries? He frowns, his thoughts spinning. Why the hell do I still hurt this, then? His brows knit together. *So if I take a hit from Essence-based attacks, it still fucks me up? Guess that means no relying on fast healing, huh? That’s just great.

With a quiet tch, he mutters, "[Lesser Healing]."

A faint, green glow spreads from his fingertips, warm and soothing against his skin. It seeps into the ache, easing the tension in his muscles, dulling the residual sting of the impact. He lets out a slow sigh...

His gaze flicks toward Vale as he rubs his chest absently. "This spell..." He exhales, shaking his head. "It’s like an ointment. Just for minor wounds. Cuts, bruises. The most basic healing magic, but at least it works.**"

Vale watches him, his expression unreadable.

Obinai’s lips press into a thin line as he flexes his fingers. "But it’s not enough for major injuries." His voice lowers slightly. "If that spell had been stronger... I’d still be on the ground.**"

The thought bothers him more than it should.

He clenches his jaw. *I need to be stronger than this. I can't afford to be weak. Not again....wait...

The trees stand tall, their massive trunks stretching skyward, their leaves shifting like whispers of a forgotten age...

Vale stands motionless, arms crossed, his sharp gaze surveying the glade as though listening to something unseen. The quiet hum of Essence lingers in the air. "You know," he starts, his voice smooth, thoughtful. "I've been thinking—"

"Wait, wait, wait." Obinai interrupts, practically buzzing with excitement. He steps forward, unable to contain his grin. “I’ve been working on something.”

Vale raises an eyebrow, curiosity flickering across his face. “Oh?”

Obinai’s grin widens. The anticipation in his chest is electric, a barely contained pulse of energy that makes his fingers twitch. "I tweaked Magic Missile."

Vale's brow furrows slightly. "Tweaked it?" he repeats, skepticism laced in his tone. "How?"

Obinai bounces on his heels, running a hand through his locs. “Okay, so,” he starts, barely able to keep still, “I gather essence the same way we always do, right? But instead of letting the orb fully form, I cut it off just before it’s complete. Then—”

He spreads his hands dramatically. “I push it out.”

Vale narrows his eyes, intrigued. “And what happened?”

Obinai smirks. “Small explosion.” He snaps his fingers for emphasis. “Nothing too dramatic, but enough to disrupt anything in my immediate vicinity.”

Vale’s mind instantly runs through the implications. A forced detonation? Interesting… “That’s impressive,” he admits. “But how did you handle the recoil? A blast that close could easily backfire.”

Obinai nods quickly, his excitement practically radiating off him. “Exactly what I thought! So, I combined it with Grease and Shield. The Grease spell makes my footing nearly frictionless—kinda like gliding. Then, the Shield absorbs the impact, protecting me while I move.”

Vale’s expression shifts, his eyes gleaming with something dangerously close to pride. "So you basically created a defensive explosion that also serves as an escape technique? That’s... quite clever."

Obinai shrugs, but the pride in his eyes betrays his attempt at nonchalance. “Took some practice. The only issue is after I cast it.”

Vale crosses his arms, tilting his head slightly. "What do you mean, 'the only issue is after'?"

Obinai lets out a frustrated groan, rubbing the back of his neck. "I lose concentration. Keeping all three spells going at once is... *hard."

Vale nods, motioning for him to demonstrate. "Show me."

Obinai inhales deeply, rolling his shoulders. Alright. Focus. He positions himself a few feet away, clearing his mind, willing the Essence around him to respond.

"[Shield.]"

A faint, silver glow wraps around his midsection and back, the air thickening slightly with protective force. Obinai feels the weight of it settle against his skin—firm, but flexible.

"[Grease.]"

No immediate change, but he can feel it—his footing loosening, the invisible slick spreading beneath him. The second he moves, he knows it’ll send him skidding forward.

Vale watches, arms crossed. "And now?"

Obinai grins. "Now, the fun part."

He extends his palm outward facing away from himself. "[Magic Missile.]"

Essence flares, twisting into a glowing orb, hovering just inches from his skin. Obinai tightens his focus, stops it from fully forming, then—

Boom...

A controlled burst erupts from his hand. The shockwave propels him forward, his body a blur as he rockets across the clearing. Wind howls in his ears, whipping against his face as the world around him streaks into motion.

The trees blur. The ground rushes beneath him...

It's working.

A sharp thrill runs through him. Holy shit. I did it!

Vale calls out behind him, voice distant but clear. "Obinai! Be careful!"

Obinai barely hears him. He’s too caught up in the rush.

The trees rush past in a whirl of green and brown, the wind tearing through his hair, the shield keeping him insulated from the brunt of the force. His boots barely touch the ground as he glides effortlessly, almost weightless.

This—this is insane...

He laughs—actually laughs. "This is amazing!"

But then—

Something shifts...

The strain of maintaining the spells starts to claw at his focus. The Grease spell flickers first, vanishing from beneath his feet. His body jerks...

Shit.

Then, his Shield falters.

The sudden loss of protection sends a jolt of panic through him. The wind becomes sharper, harsher. He’s moving too fast— too fast without control.

"Stay with it," he growls, gritting his teeth. But his vision blurs, and the world tilts—

"Obinai! Watch out!" Vale’s voice cuts through the chaos.

He turns—too late.

Crack...

His body slams into a low-hanging branch, the impact jarring his ribs, sending him spinning backward. His back collides with the earth, his momentum dragging him several feet before finally stopping.

Pain. Immediate and everywhere...

A dull throbbing in his ribs, a sharp sting on his cheek. He groans, blinking dazedly, his chest heaving. The taste of copper lingers in his mouth, and when he reaches up to touch his face, his fingers come away slick with blood.

Fuck.

Footsteps approach fast, the sound of Vale rushing toward him. "Obinai!" His voice is sharp with concern. "Are you alright?"

Obinai lets out a weak chuckle, pushing himself into a sitting position. "Yeah... just peachy." He winces as he rubs his ribs. "That... didn’t go exactly as planned."

Vale kneels beside him, eyes scanning over his injuries. “You took quite a hit," he says, tilting his head. "Come here real quick.”

Obinai groans but props himself up on his elbows. His ribs ache, but it’s a dull pain, already fading. Vale extends a hand toward his face, his palm glowing with a soft, green light. But before he can even say anything, the wound on Obinai’s nose seals itself. The sting that had been there seconds ago simply… vanishes.

Vale blinks, then chuckles. “Well,” he muses, “I guess you don’t need much help after all.”

Obinai touches his nose absently, feeling smooth, unbroken skin where there should have been a bruise or at least some lingering soreness. His brows furrow. "No, I did need healing before,” he mutters, more to himself than to Vale. “But I think… that Sin you mentioned before—Beelzebub, right? That name’s been sticking in my head.”

Vale nods slowly, watching him intently.

Obinai hesitates, shifting where he sits, trying to find the right words for the wrong feeling curling in his gut. “It’s like… my body is weird. Like it fixes itself even when I don’t tell it to. But only if it’s not Essence-inflicted.” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Anything with Essence? Yeah, I still feel that shit.”

Vale taps his chin, thoughtful. “Fascinating.”

Obinai scowls at him. “It’s creepy.”

Vale’s lips twitch. “That too.” Then his expression shifts back to something more serious. “But don’t take that ability for granted, Obinai.” He places a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You should still learn proper healing spells. If it ever fails you, you’ll need them.”

Obinai exhales, gaze dropping to his hands. “Right,” he mutters. “That’s… probably a good idea.”

Vale studies him for a moment longer, then straightens. "So far, concentrating on intent has been what’s propelling you forward, but you lack true understanding of how spells work. You have raw potential, but no knowledge of their structures—their components. If you want stronger, more efficient magic, you need to understand them, not just cast them on instinct."

Obinai nods, a little grudgingly. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

Vale arches a brow. “What did I tell you about your mana circle?”

Obinai sighs, tilting his head back against the dirt, staring up at the canopy above trying to see through the tangle of leaves. His limbs are heavy, his mind even more so. “It’s like a muscle,” he mutters, reciting the words Vale drilled into his head. “The more I use it, the stronger it gets. So I have to keep track of how much mana I have and how much each spell drains from me.”

His jaw tightens as another thought creeps in. Because if I run out, I’m basically useless. The idea unsettles him more than he wants to admit...

Vale smiles faintly, nodding in approval. “Good. You’ve picked up a lot. I’m proud of the progress you’ve made.”

Obinai rolls his eyes but doesn’t hide the small smirk tugging at his lips. “You sound like a parent.”

Vale shrugs.“You need someone to keep you from blowing yourself up.”

Obinai huffs a laugh, but his mind is already racing back to the earlier failure. He drags a hand down his face, feeling the last remnants of exhaustion clinging to his bones. “That spell… the explosion technique,” he starts, voice quieter now. "It was sloppy. Too unstable."

Vale tilts his head slightly, waiting.

Obinai exhales. “I need to refine it, make it more manageable.” His fingers flex unconsciously, like he can still feel the burst of Essence in his palm, the raw power just out of reach. "I get it now. Just because something works doesn't mean it's the best way to do it."

Vale smirks, the light catching in his eyes. "Now you're learning."

Obinai lays against the cool earth, his heartbeat slowing, breath settling as the ache in his limbs lingers...

That was rough.

Vale paces a few feet away, the rhythmic crunch of his boots against the soft earth filling the silence. There’s something off about the way he moves—measured, his gaze distant. Finally, he stops, sighing, then speaks in a tone far heavier than before...

“But, sadly, Obinai… I have to tell you something.” His voice is quiet but firm. "You cannot stay here for long."

Obinai stiffens, the words snapping him out of his sluggish daze. “What?” The word comes out more as a breath than a question. His tired mind struggles to process it. Why now? Why say this now? His fingers dig into the dirt beside him, grounding himself. "Why?" he mutters, barely audible.

Vale turns to him, and for the first time, there’s something readable in his gaze. A quiet sadness, deep-set behind his usual composure. "There’s a whole world out there, Obinai," he says. Then, after a pause, he adds, "Also, I don't mean right now. But I want you to keep it at the back of your mind. Maybe even let it push some urgency into your studies."

Obinai narrows his eyes. He sits up fully now, the weight of his own exhaustion forgotten in the face of this sudden, ominous shift. "Why do I need to leave at all?" he asks. But then, before Vale can even answer, it clicks...

Memories rush in. The wall. The dream. The city. The screams.

His expression darkens. Right.

Vale sees the realization dawn on him and nods. "Correct. You told me before—I have to find out what's really going on." His voice remains steady. "You need to find out why the wall of Avaros City—or as you all called it, Nurikabe—came to be. Why you were experimented on. Why a Sin—Beelzebub—inhabits your body."

Obinai’s jaw tightens. It all comes clawing at the back of his mind. He thought he'd put some distance between himself and those thoughts, but Vale drags them back, forcing him to confront them again.

"And another thing…" Vale continues. "You also told me about a dream you had."

Obinai sighs, raking a hand through his messy, sweat-damp locs. "Yeah," he mutters. "The one with the apocalypse."

Vale nods. "Right. A little tidbit that surprised me was that your father had knowledge of the outside. You told me he called those white figures Heralds."

Obinai's stomach twists. He hadn’t even thought about that in weeks. "Yeah..." His voice is quieter now.

Vale crosses his arms. "Heralds haven’t been seen or talked about since the Third Epoch," he says. "They were the soldiers of the gods—beings sent to cleanse, to reshape, to wage war. Back then, the gods themselves raged across realms and dimensions alike, bending causality, rewriting fate, distorting the very fabric of reality. And their Heralds were the enforcers of that war."

Obinai’s throat feels dry. Soldiers of the gods?

The words feel too big in his mind. Like something meant to be spoken only in myths, not tied to the horrors that shaped his own life...

Vale watches him closely before speaking again. "This requires more investigation."

Obinai swallows hard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Vale's gaze sharpens. "You need to find out how the reason soldiers of the gods could have been sent to exterminate the humans. And I feel the answer lies within the Church."

Obinai instinctively rubs the back of his neck, his mind spiraling...The Wall. The dream. The Church. He always knew—deep down—that his father had been hiding something. But now? Now, it felt like he was on the precipice of something far worse than he ever imagined...

The Church.

Of course, it's the Church.

He exhales sharply, then looks at Vale. "Why can’t you come with me?"

Vale sighs, rubbing his temples, as if exhausted by the very idea of explaining. "Because my presence would disrupt too much," he says simply. "There are things I can’t explain to you yet. This isn’t about now, but later. Once you've reached the Second Circle."

Obinai frowns. "Wait. I thought you were getting me to the Third Circle?"

Vale hesitates, his shoulders dropping slightly. A small, almost wistful smile plays on his lips, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. "Time," he says simply. Then, quieter, "I… miscalculated. Regretfully so."

Obinai doesn't like the sound of that...

"Miscalculated?" he echoes, suspicion creeping into his voice. "What the hell does that mean?"

Vale shakes his head. "I’ll tell you when you’re ready."

Obinai exhales harshly, shaking his head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "And what if I’m never ready?"

Vale smiles at that. "Then I’ve wasted my time training you," he says lightly. But then, his expression turns serious again. "For now, focus. Master the Second Circle. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do."

Obinai looks away, staring at the dirt beneath his hands, fingers curling into the earth. This is insane. He doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to be looking for, let alone how he’s supposed to deal with Heralds and Church conspiracies.

"It's just..." He exhales sharply. "It’s a lot to take in." His voice is waning again. "I was in a kingdom for a day. One damn day. And I don’t want to experience that again."

Vale sighs. "I know it’s daunting. But this is your chance to grow—to become the person you’re meant to be." His voice is calm but full of conviction. "You’ve already shown incredible potential. Now it’s time to see where that potential takes you."

Obinai looks up at him, something churning deep inside his chest. Fear? Maybe. But something else, too. Resolve. A silent understanding that, no matter how much he wished things were different, this was the path he was walking now...

He nods. "I trust you, Vale," he murmurs. Then, with a dry chuckle, "I just wish I knew more."

Vale gives his shoulder a final squeeze before pulling away. "And you will," he says, voice low. "In time."

Obinai watches him, sensing something else beneath those words. Something left unsaid.

Something final.

Then, Vale turns, his gaze slipping to the the crystal above them. For the briefest moment, a flicker of something dark crosses his features.

Regret.

If my intervention has changed nothing… then I have doomed everything beneath the heavens...