"Well, this is going to take some getting used to." Magnus stared down at his own body, his expression a mix of curiosity and disbelief, as though he was looking at something completely alien. After an hour had passed, just as Basker recommended, and without any noticeable side effects, Magnus used the Command Console to implement a semi-automatic process in his mind. He no longer needed to breathe for oxygen. His body's respiratory system was now self-contained, constantly replenishing oxygen in his blood. He could visualize the process clearly, thanks to the magical artifice embedded in his chest.
The only drawback was the semi-automatic nature of the process. The Command Console had to continuously retrieve the latest record of his body from the artifice's memory bank each time he wanted to revert his blood from deoxygenated to oxygenated. Without the artifice providing real-time updates, the system wouldn’t work. Still, the benefits were undeniable.
Magnus could already feel the changes. If someone paid close attention, they might notice his chest wasn’t rising or falling like a normal person’s. A moment later, however, it did, as he instinctively took a breath. It wasn’t necessary, but after years of breathing as second nature, suppressing the habit entirely was easier said than done.
Guess a lifetime of breathing doesn't just disappear overnight, he thought.
Over the next twenty to thirty minutes, Magnus experimented further, testing the limits of his new capabilities. The most striking discovery was that he couldn’t run out of breath anymore. No matter how much he pushed his body, his muscles always had a steady, abundant supply of oxygen to meet the exertion. It didn’t mean he was immune to fatigue—there were other factors that caused tiredness—but the days of panting or gasping for air after prolonged exertion were officially behind him.
"Wow," he muttered, impressed.
"I could probably run a couple of marathons like this, as long as I don’t overdo it." He grabbed the rag Mia had brought him and dipped it into the wooden basin. But as he wiped his face, something struck him. His hands stilled, his gaze shifting to the water in the basin.
"Wait a second..." Narrowing his eyes, he began to count aloud.
"One, two, three, four, five..." His voice continued steadily, quickly reaching double digits, then hundreds. Even after that, he didn’t feel the need to pause. Without the necessity of stopping for breath, he realized he could talk—or count—for far longer than usual. Not forever, of course; the air in his lungs wasn’t infinite. But compared to others, Magnus was confident he could outlast anyone in a verbal endurance contest.
I mean, it’s not exactly a life-changing ability, but it’s still kind of cool, right, Basker?
[If you say so, Master.]
That response left an awkward silence in Magnus's mind. After he finished wiping down, he set the rag back on the edge of the wooden basin before picking the basin up and placing it on the floor. As he stood back up, his gaze flicked toward the curtain-covered window, and he noticed it was dark outside. The last time he’d looked, it had been sunny, but now the night had fully descended. The only light filtering through the curtains came from the countless bright stars and the glow of the strange orbiting moons in this world.
Oh, wow. I haven’t eaten anything in a while, have I?
He realized it had been two days since he arrived in the valley—one spent traveling and helping out, and the other recovering after nearly drowning. In all that time, he hadn’t stopped to eat. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, the emptiness in his stomach made itself known.
Well, it’s not like I can come up with a plan to deal with that snake on an empty stomach. Though, now that I’ve solved the drowning issue, maybe I should work on removing the need to eat too.
The idea lingered for a moment, but his hunger quickly brought him back to reality.
Alright, one biological flaw at a time. Besides, I doubt I could figure out a way to eliminate the need to eat without some extreme edits. That’d require precision beyond the micrometer level.
With that idea stored away, Magnus headed toward the heavy wooden door leading to the staircase. It creaked as he opened it, the sound echoing faintly off the stone. He stepped through, and the door clanked shut behind him. The spiral staircase wound downward, though not for long. When he reached the bottom, he found himself in a narrow hallway. Torches lined the stone walls, their flames casting a dim but steady glow. The shadows they created were long and sharp, contrasting with the softer light filtering from the world outside.
Magnus started down the hallway, his footsteps the only sound breaking the silence. Occasionally, he glanced out of the small slits that acted as windows carved into the stone walls, catching glimpses of the familiar courtyard outside.
Hmm, this must be built in the space between the walls.
It made sense. From what he’d observed, many of the outpost’s buildings were built up against—or directly into—the walls themselves. At first, he thought the soldiers constantly had to cross the courtyard to move between buildings, which was odd since he never saw anything like that. But now it was more clear why that was. They were using these internal hallways, hidden between the walls, to navigate. Most of the buildings are connected to these passages, providing easy access without the need to step outside.
Now, where do I go to get food? The storage building, right?
He walked past several doors, assuming they led to various parts of the outpost. He cracked a few open and peeked inside but didn’t find the storage room. So, he kept moving, glancing out the slits to orient himself. His wandering took him around most of the outpost’s perimeter. Along the way, he passed a few soldiers on patrol. They gave him brief nods but didn’t stop, continuing their rounds.
Eventually, Magnus spotted his room from a distance, realizing it was located in the lower half of the watchtower at the vertex of the outpost’s triangular layout. The lower half housed his room and the stairwell leading into the wall passages he was in now, while the upper half of the watchtower was accessible by two ladders on either side, connecting to the wall’s walkways where soldiers patrolled.
As he walked, his attention drifted to the watchtower. Through one of the windows, he noticed something—or rather, someone. A familiar figure was climbing one of the ladders to the top of the tower.
Mia?
The watchtower stood as the highest point of the outpost and, since the outpost was also perched on such a large hill, it was also the tallest structure in the entire valley. Like most of the outpost, it was constructed primarily of stone, though its floors were wooden. Inside the observation platform, the soft crackling of torches blended with the distant hum of the valley—mostly the rhythmic chirping of insects. Two soldiers stood at their posts, each scanning the dark expanse beyond the outpost walls with narrowed eyes. The night was quiet, broken only by the occasional breeze and the faint sounds of the natural world.
One of the soldiers stretched, letting out a long yawn.
"Feeling tired?" The sudden voice startled the soldier mid-yawn. Both he and his partner whipped their heads around to see Mia standing behind them. Her light leather armor gleamed faintly in the torch and moonlight, its metallic plates catching the light. Instantly, their postures straightened, and they snapped into a salute.
"Ca-Captain!"
"Forgive me, I didn’t mean to-" The yawning soldier began to stammer out an apology, but Mia raised a hand, cutting him off.
"At ease," she said.
"I know it’s hard to stay sharp at night, especially when stuck in the same spot staring at the same scenery. How about I dismiss you two for the rest of the night?" The soldiers exchanged uncertain glances before one hesitantly spoke.
"But... Captain, it’s not time for rotation yet."
"You don’t need to worry about that," Mia replied.
"I’ve already talked to the ones you're supposed to rotate out with. I’ll stay here and keep watch until morning." Her tone was calm but firm. The soldiers exchanged another look, clearly conflicted. They didn’t understand why their captain was offering this, but before they could question her further, Mia spoke again, her expression softening.
"I didn’t realize we had such dedicated soldiers. If you truly want to stay here for another four hours, I won’t stop you." That seemed to do the trick. The soldiers quickly shook their heads, speaking almost in unison.
"Uh, no!"
"Yes, thank you, Captain. We’ll gladly accept." With that, they wasted no time heading for the ladder, their pace hinting that they worried she might change her mind. Mia watched them leave with a faint smile until they disappeared from sight.
Once alone, she turned her attention back to the world beyond the walls. Walking slowly to the stone wall of the observation platform, she climbed up onto the ledge. Dangling her legs over the side, she let the cool valley wind wash over her. Her unbound hair caught the breeze, dark strands flowing like silk against the night sky.
Her gaze swept over the shadowed landscape, taking in the hill terrain and the faint glimmers of starlight. Reaching for the bow slung across her back, Mia brought it into her lap. Among what she had on her, the bow was by far the best maintained. Her armor showed signs of wear and neglect, but the bow, despite a few scratches and nicks, was immaculate. Its polished frame was free of dirt, every detail carefully preserved.
As she held it, Mia began to test the drawstring with her fingers, pulling it lightly before adjusting the tension. She moved with practiced ease, tightening and loosening the string in a methodical rhythm. It was almost like watching a musician fine-tune an instrument, her focus unwavering as the breeze continued to swirl around her.
A few minutes passed as Mia continued adjusting her bow, the faint twang of the string the only sound accompanying the valley breeze. Then, she heard the faint creak of the ladder as someone began climbing up to the watchtower. Turning her head toward the noise, she watched until Magnus’s face appeared over the edge.
"Magnus? What are you doing here? I thought you’d be asleep," Mia said, her tone surprised but not unwelcoming. Magnus pulled himself onto the platform and stretched slightly before answering.
"Well, I realized I hadn’t eaten since I got here, so I was heading to the storage room to grab some food. That’s when I saw you up here and decided to drop by."
"Oh, right. I got so caught up with you bringing those supplies that it completely slipped my mind. I should’ve prepared something," Mia admitted with a small shake of her head.
"Eh, don’t worry about it. You’ve had enough on your plate, and honestly, I wasn’t thinking about it much either," Magnus replied with a casual wave of his hand. He walked over to the wall where Mia sat and leaned against it with his arms.
After a moment, he added with a smirk, "So, what are you doing up here? I saw two soldiers practically sprinting away. Did you scare them off or something?"
Mia chuckled, shaking her head.
"No, nothing like that. I just gave them the night off."
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
"Ah, that explains why they looked so eager to leave," Magnus said, earning another soft laugh from Mia as she went back to adjusting her bow.
Noticing her careful movements, Magnus watched for a moment before asking, "You fixing your bow or something?"
"Hmm?" Mia glanced up, then down at her hands before shaking her head.
"Oh, no. I just like keeping myself busy. Sitting idle on watch duty can make you nod off, especially on a quiet night like this under a full moon. Keeping your hands or mind busy helps you stay focused." As she spoke, her hands slowed, and her gaze settled on the bow resting in her lap. There was a softness to her expression that caught Magnus’s attention. It wasn’t just the bow she was looking at, but something tied to it—something she held close. He didn’t plan to pry, but after a brief silence, Mia broke it herself.
"My master, Rerzos, gave me this bow," she said, her voice quieter now. She glanced at Magnus as she continued.
"He’s the one who found me and recognized my talent as a spirit naturalist. He’s also one of the few war mages serving in the Batis Military." Magnus’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Your master is a war mage?" He echoed, unable to hide his astonishment.
A war mage… That means he graduated from one of the Ten Great Magic Academies and chose to serve in the Batis Military. A mage trained specifically for battle and destruction...
Mia noticed his reaction and let out a small sigh, though her smile didn’t fade.
"Yeah, I know. A lot of people react that way to the title," Mia said, her voice calm. "Honestly, it’s just a scaremongering tactic—and a pretty effective one. In reality, though, most war mages are decent people if you take the time to know them, and even better soldiers. You won’t find anyone more loyal to the kingdom than a war mage."
Magnus nodded as he listened. He wasn’t entirely convinced about them being nice, but he’d take her word for it. Their loyalty, though, was something he could believe. After all, the only institutions in the world with the resources, expertise, and reputation to train mages were the Ten Great Magic Academies.
Graduation from one of these academies signified reaching the Master-level. Once a mage reached that level, their paths were limited but prestigious. They could remain at the academy as a professor or staff member, establish or join a noble family, or enlist in the military. Military service offered fewer resources compared to the academy and less freedom compared to joining a mage family or sticking with the academy. However, the military—and by extension, the Royal Court—provided significant benefits to entice war mages into their ranks, much like the deal Magnus was working out with the major general.
Even so, for a mage to voluntarily join the military after experiencing the countless temptations and opportunities at the academy, they must either have a specific purpose in mind or an unwavering loyalty to the kingdom.
It makes me wonder what kind of person her master is.
That thought lingered in Magnus’s mind, accompanied by memories of what Marcos had told him. His gaze shifted to Mia, his expression softening. Her master was likely being the one who shaped her into the loyal person was now from a young age. Yet, Mia didn’t seem sad as she thought about him. Instead, her expression was thoughtful, perhaps even nostalgic.
"Actually, Mia, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask," Magnus said, breaking the silence.
"Hmm? What is it?" She replied, turning her attention to him.
"Well, you said you started your training when you were six, right?" Mia nodded.
"That’s right. Honestly, I’m surprised you remembered that."
"Yeah, well, I was just wondering... what about your parents? Didn’t they have any issues with their six-year-old daughter suddenly being taken in by the military?" The moment he finished speaking, Magnus noticed her expression freeze. It was fleeting—just a second—but enough to make him regret the question. The smile on Mia’s face faltered slightly as she looked away, her gaze settling on the moonlit valley.
"My parents... weren’t around by the time Master Rerzos found me," she said softly.
"He practically adopted and raised me." Her voice carried a melancholy note, quiet yet clear, like a veil draped over something much deeper. Magnus lowered his head.
"Oh. I- I didn’t know. I’m sorry." Sensing the shift in mood, Mia took a deep breath and forced a small smile back onto her face.
"It’s fine. It happened a long time ago. Honestly, I can’t even remember their faces or voices anymore. They’re more like... shadows in my memory."
"I see..." Magnus hesitated before continuing.
"Well, in that case, it just makes you all the more impressive, huh?" Mia blinked, caught off guard.
"What do you mean?"
"What do you mean, what do I mean?" Magnus replied, leaning slightly toward her.
"Not only are you a powerful spirit naturalist, but you’re also a captain in the Batis Military. On top of that, you’re a Master-level knight, and you’ve got two close friends who are also Master-level knights. If that’s not impressive, I don’t know what is." Mia went quiet, her expression thoughtful as she considered his words.
"Hmm... I never really thought about it like that," she said, a hint of humor in her voice.
"I guess it does sound nice when you put it like that." Magnus grinned and pointed at her.
"And see? Alongside everything else, you’ve managed to stay a genuinely nice person. Plus, you’re ridiculously strong-willed. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not a Champion-level knight yet." Mia stared at him for a moment, as though gauging his sincerity. Then, shaking her head, she let out a soft laugh.
"I'm not as nice as you think I am, Magnus," Mia said quietly.
"If you knew some of the things I've done... well, who knows? You might not even feel comfortable being alone with me like this. And as for being strong-willed, it’s not what you think." There was a sense of self-deprecation in her tone that Magnus had never heard from her before, and it made him frown.
"What are you talking about?" He asked, his brow furrowed.
"I mean, I know you're a soldier, so you've probably had to do some things that aren’t exactly... moral. But still, pretty much everyone I’ve met who knows you speaks highly of you. About how you’ve saved people, put your life on the line—hell, you saved me. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be dead in that forest. I wouldn’t have made it into Takerth Academy, grown as much as I have, or met the people I know now." Mia listened in silence, shaking her head slowly as he spoke.
"Magnus," she said at last, her voice steady, "I’m really not what you think I am. I’m not like Marcos or Gerald; I didn’t earn my way to becoming a Master-level knight. If you compare our wills, mine doesn’t even come close to theirs. I... cheated."
Her words left Magnus visibly confused, and Mia could see it in his face. She tilted her head back, looking at the night sky for a moment before letting out a deep sigh, followed by a short, humorless laugh.
"I never thought I’d end up telling you this," she admitted.
"But, oh well. Tell me, Magnus—while you were in Takerth Academy, did you ever come across the concept of oaths?" Magnus furrowed his brow, sifting through his memories before shaking his head.
"No, I don’t think so."
Mia nodded softly.
"Makes sense. They’re an outdated form of magic," she muttered. Her gaze drifted back toward the valley as she continued.
"You see, a long time ago, before humanity was reduced to the three territories we know now—before the non-human races formed the Confluence Accord in retaliation for the massacres of the elves—humanity ruled most of the continent. But that didn’t mean things were peaceful. Strife and conflict are part of human nature, sadly. And since most of the continent had already been explored and conquered, it was only a matter of time before someone tried to become the definitive ruler of humanity. And that, of course, sparked endless conflict." Magnus remained silent, listening intently. History wasn’t his strong suit, and he hadn’t taken the time to learn much about this world's past beyond the current conflict consuming the continent.
Mia continued, "When mages and knights are your strongest fighting force—too rare and valuable to risk losing in battle—most conflicts didn’t lead to outright war. Instead, it became an arms race. I’m simplifying a lot, but it essentially boiled down to one idea: the country with the most powerful mages and knights would dominate. So nations started looking for ways to create mages and knights artificially—and ways to enhance the ones they already had."
Magnus’s eyes widened as he interrupted, "Wait, are you saying..."
Mia nodded before he could finish.
"That’s right. Oaths. They were a form of mental magic, and the concept was simple. Knights were easy enough to train, but to become a truly powerful knight required an unshakable will. And not everyone is born with that kind of strength. So, oaths were created. Knights would make a pledge to themselves and to the country they served. Those words would be transformed into binding vows—restrictions on their very thoughts." Magnus raised a hand, gesturing for her to pause.
"Wait, wait, wait," he said, shaking his head.
"You’re saying you took one of these oaths? Is that why you...?" His voice trailed off, the weight of the revelation sinking in. Watching him, Mia smirked slightly, though there was no lightness in it.
"Is that why I’m so willing to help people, as you put it? No," Mia said, her voice steady but tinged with something deeper.
"I’ve always been like that—it’s how Master Rerzos raised me. I was lucky, even among spirit naturalists. Not only was I born with an extremely high affinity for spirits, but I also had aura—the potential to become a knight. My master and I only discovered that much later in my life. You see, being a spirit naturalist means spirits naturally focus more of their attention on you. Because of that, magic becomes less effective around us. So, no one realized I even had the potential to be a knight until my aura awakened on its own in my later years." Her gaze hardened, her tone growing sharper as she narrowed her eyes.
"The problem was, by then, I was already trained. My mindset was... set in stone." She turned to Magnus, her piercing stare meeting his.
"Knights depend on willpower, Magnus. But it’s not just any willpower—it’s the kind rooted in self-confidence, self-understanding, and belief in your own abilities. I didn’t have that," she said simply.
Her words clicked in Magnus’s mind. He finally understood what Mia had been trying to say. Yes, she was self-sacrificing, willing to do anything for others, to put her life on the line for what she believed was the greater good. But, as Marcos had once said, she knew how to be kind to everyone but herself. She had been raised to see herself as part of something greater, a piece of the whole to be used for the kingdom’s benefit.
It was a mentality that made for excellent soldiers but poor knights. After all, how could someone use their willpower to enhance themselves if they didn’t truly value themselves?
Mia let out a deep, heavy sigh before continuing.
"But it would’ve been a waste for a spirit naturalist with the potential to be a knight to let that potential go unused. So, my master gave me a choice: to take an oath or not. Without it, I likely would’ve stayed at the Apprentice-level my entire life. But with it, I could focus and amplify my willpower." She paused, her gaze turning toward the distance.
"Willpower is like a vast body of water. Everyone starts at a different sea level. As a knight’s willpower grows, their sea level rises, and their body of water becomes broader and deeper. Mine, though... mine was shallow and murky, built entirely around others instead of myself." Magnus listened closely, his brows furrowing as Mia explained.
"That’s where the oath came in," she said.
"It worked like a compression effect. Imagine pouring water into a barrel—it settles at a certain level. But if you shrink that barrel into a tube, the water level rises sharply. That’s what the oath did for me. It narrowed and concentrated my willpower, giving me enough focus to reach the Master-level. On paper, my willpower is equal to that of Gerald or Marcos. But in quality, I could never compare to them." Mia gave a small, bitter smile as she looked back at Magnus.
"Like I said, I cheated." Magnus’s expression was a mix of astonishment and conflict as he stared at her. His thoughts swirled, pieces falling into place.
If I’m understanding this right, the oath works by limiting thoughts and narrowing mental possibilities. It’s similar to how my [Library of Babel] functions, relying on the Mind Simulation Space where my thoughts are confined to creating new, successful spells that adhere strictly to the laws of magic.
But for Mia, it wasn’t just confined to a part of her mind—it applied to her entire being.
Magnus’s thoughts turned inward as he tried to grasp the implications.
It’s one thing to have a goal—working toward it, sacrificing for it, and even risking your life to achieve it. That’s just how life is for some people. But goals can change. As you grow, experience life, and learn more about what you want, the destination often shifts. But the oath stripped that away. It didn’t control your actions or turn you into a puppet. It simply made it so thoughts contradicting the oath’s terms would never occur to you.
If you swore to see a mission through to the end, it wasn’t a matter of ignoring fear or doubt. The idea of retreating, canceling, or abandoning the mission wouldn’t even cross your mind—just as naturally as you don’t think about breathing.
A choice to sheer away at the very potential of free will... willingly.
"Mia, you..." Magnus began, but the words caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say, how to respond to everything she’d just revealed. Seeing his dilemma, Mia offered him a small, gentle smile.
"It’s okay, Magnus," she said softly.
"I chose to take that oath, and I don’t regret it. Even if I’m not as great a person as you think I am, because of that oath, I’ve been able to save lives and protect the people and things I care about. So, I don’t regret it." Magnus listened, but her words felt different this time. For the first time, they sounded hollow to him—like they carried no weight, no real choice behind them.
"But how can you know that?" He asked, his voice quieter.
"What if your oath is just stopping the idea of regret from entering your mind?" The question lingered between them, unspoken yet heavy. It was like asking if a person stripped of their ability to make bad decisions could truly be considered good. Were they not simply molded? A puppet incapable of seeing their strings, blind to the manipulation that guided them? The only choices they’d ever known or been able ot choose were the good ones. But if that ability to choose wrong was given back, what then? Would they stay on the same path or turn away without hesitation? In the latter case, were they ever good?
Mia’s gaze drifted, her thoughts seemingly far away.
After a long pause, she looked back at Magnus and asked, "Is that really so bad? If giving up regret means saving people, making the world safer and better... is it really such a terrible thing?" Her eyes softened, but her voice remained steady.
"Like you said, if not for me, you might have died. So, can you honestly say that what I did was regrettable?" Silence stretched between them. Magnus opened his mouth, but no words came out. He had no answer—not the kind Mia was looking for. She seemed to notice, her smile returning, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, she let out a short, quiet laugh—the same friendly laugh Magnus had come to associate with her. But now, it felt off, a shadow of what it once was.
"You should go grab some food, Magnus," she said gently, her tone light but dismissive.
"And get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow, and hopefully, we’ll figure out a way to deal with that monster." Mia turned away before he could respond, her attention drifting back to the bow in her lap. She began fiddling with it, her fingers moving with the same deliberate care she’d shown when Magnus first climbed up to the watchtower.
It was as though the conversation had never happened.