Chapter 30: A Commoner’s Offer
Caelus remained seated before the diagram, studying the same Zero-Tier spell that had defeated him repeatedly.
The glyphs were simple, the structure hardly complex at all, and yet he still couldn’t make the spell work. Each attempt had failed for a different reason, but the result remained the same.
He leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving the page. Irritation sat beneath his composure, controlled but persistent. He wasn’t tempted to throw the book across the room. He wanted to know where he had gone wrong.
Why can’t I do something this simple?
He knew the theory well enough to explain the spell to someone else, yet that knowledge refused to translate into action. He could describe what each part was supposed to accomplish, but when it came time to make the mana obey, the process fell apart.
He closed the book and thought.
The limitation was obvious. He didn’t have a Mind Core yet, and anything from Circle One upward required one. There was no point trying to force his way into more advanced structured magic when his foundation couldn’t support it.
But Cleanse was Zero-Tier. If he couldn’t execute even that, then the problem wasn’t the complexity of the spell.
His thoughts settled on the one method he’d been deliberately avoiding: a conventional incantation.
The spoken sequence provided the structure his mind had been failing to reproduce on its own. Instead of constructing the spell entirely within his thoughts, he could let the incantation guide his mana through the process.
He had been trying to skip the foundation and jump straight to chantless casting.
He knew what he had to do.
The answer was obvious. Unfortunately, he hated it.
Casting a Zero-Tier spell through an incantation felt beneath him. He had survived what most people wouldn’t, obtained an S-rank artifact, and walked away from the Eclipse chamber alive. Now he was expected to stand in a library and recite a beginner spell whose sole purpose was to clean a table.
The absurdity irritated him enough to consider another attempt. He could try again, adjust the visualization, force his mana into tighter control and see whether the result changed.
He stopped himself.
He’d already done exactly that.
Repeating the same mistake because he disliked the answer would accomplish nothing. Pride had its uses, but wasting hours to protect it wasn’t one of them.
Caelus reached for the book containing the conventional incantation.
The incantation was written in the same strange language used for structured magic. Several phrases followed one another in a precise sequence, each carrying the mana toward the next stage of the spell.
Memorizing the words took him little time. His memory handled the sequence easily.
Understanding how the sequence interacted with his mana was another matter.
He traced the relationship between the spoken sequence and the spell structure until the connection became clear. The words weren’t producing the magic themselves. They were giving his mana a path to follow, turning a process he’d previously tried to construct from pure thought into something his mind could actually reproduce.
Caelus positioned his hands above the table and took a slow breath before beginning the incantation.
"Aelith vaer..."
The remaining words followed in a measured cadence, unfamiliar to his ears yet strangely natural once spoken. The language carried a rhythm that made the sequence easier to follow, each phrase leading his mana toward the next stage of the spell.
The foreign words flowed from his tongue, their meaning reaching him through the translation attached to the magical language. He felt his mana respond almost immediately.
This time, it had somewhere to go.
The structure formed in sequence, each part following the one before it instead of collapsing under his control.
The spell activated.
The grime covering the table vanished.
Caelus stared at the spotless surface.
A grin appeared before he could stop it.
"Finally."
The word slipped out with genuine satisfaction. It was only a Zero-Tier utility spell, but it was the first structured spell he’d successfully executed.
He enjoyed the success for exactly as long as it took to notice the presence at the library entrance.
Caelus turned.
Eve stood there, watching him.
She had seen everything.
Caelus straightened and adjusted his sleeves as though he’d been doing nothing more important than reading.
"You didn’t see anything."
Her expression remained blank, though the slight tightening of her jaw betrayed her.
Caelus cleared his throat and looked back at the table.
Then she spoke.
"I want you to be my dueling partner."
Eve had mostly observed him until now, whether from Veyra’s shadow or across a battlefield. She had never asked him to train with her.
The offer carried its own implication. She saw enough potential to find him worth training, even if he was still far below her current level.
"I’d join you, but I don’t see the point. You’re going to win anyway."
"If you duel with me, I’ll help you with magic."
Caelus studied her.
"We’ll be dueling without magic or our affinities until you’re good enough."
His eyebrow twitched.
"No magic?"
"No."
"No Shadow Affinity?"
"No."
Caelus stared at her for a moment. The restriction itself wasn’t unreasonable. If anything, it made sense for the kind of training she was proposing. What bothered him was the fact that he would be relying on her to guide him through it.
Eve was a commoner.
He had been raised in a world where birth determined status, and status was rarely questioned. Accepting instruction from someone beneath the social rank he’d been taught to value should have offended his pride more than it did. Unfortunately, she was stronger, more experienced in actual combat, and offering something he genuinely needed.
Refusing useful knowledge simply because of her birth would be stupidity. He disliked the idea of depending on her, but his pride wasn’t worth sabotaging his own progress.
Besides, Eve had never fit neatly into the limits he’d written for her. Her potential had always been greater than what the novel managed to show, and what he’d seen in the labyrinth had only reinforced that.
"Deal."
"We’ll start today."
Eve turned toward the door.
Caelus followed.
---
They walked through the corridors without speaking, their footsteps falling in and out of rhythm against the stone.
Veyra’s silence usually made Caelus feel observed.
Eve’s simply left him alone with his thoughts.
Caelus glanced at her as they walked.
In the novel, Eve had always been talented, but much of her potential had remained unexplored. He had written enough to know where she was headed, yet the person walking beside him had already begun exceeding what he’d actually seen on the page.
Another small reminder that the world refused to stay inside the boundaries he’d given it.
They reached the training chamber.
It was broad and practical, its stone floor marked by years of use. Weapon racks lined the walls, while battered practice dummies stood along the edges.
Eve walked to the weapon rack. She chose two single-handed blades, one in each hand.
Caelus watched her for a moment, then chose a single blade for himself. He tested its weight once before settling into his stance.
Eve turned to face him and raised both blades.
"Three."
Caelus adjusted his grip and focused on her movements.
"Two."
He shifted his weight, waiting for the final count.
There should have been a "One."
There wasn’t.
Eve blurred forward before he was ready.
His eyes widened.
Shit.