Time continued to pass, regardless of the deepening turmoil within Adrian. His daily routine now included tending to the Kevish saplings in the greenhouse during the morning, followed by a stop at the Ordinas Club room. By now, the research on black mana had become so familiar, it felt as though it were his own.
“Just like you said, the common threads in these materials really are strange.”
Adrian’s voice rang clearly through the quiet of the Ordinas Club room. At his words, Kyle, who had been lounging on a plush sofa across the table, sprang up with a surprised, “Huh?” He then trudged over to where Adrian was sitting.
“Ah, so you’re already looking through that. Odd, right? This phenomenon, I mean.”
Kyle pointed his index finger at several spots on a parchment map. The areas were marked with hastily scribbled red ink ovals, and scrawled over each of them were various people’s names.
“According to the records left by the native inhabitants who once lived here, ‘Wherever black mana sprang up, monsters would always crawl out from within it.’ The testimonies all say that at first only a few creatures emerged, but once the black mana spread across the continent, they began swarming like a plague, overrunning villages where people gathered. What’s peculiar is that whenever the world was engulfed in black mana, a hero who could quell the chaos would always appear. Just like King Carlo the Founder of Rustavaran!”
“……”
Adrian said nothing. He merely listened in silence, his gaze still fixed on the section of the map where Kyle’s finger lingered. Like King Carlo the Founder? But it wasn’t that black mana nonsense that helped him—it was me.
“What exactly is this black mana? It summons these terrifying beasts, and yet at the same time, it gives rise to heroes who save us.”
“Yeah… what could it be, really.”
Adrian tilted his head slightly and rested his chin on one hand, deep in thought. Kyle gave the troubled freshman a light, sympathetic pat on the back.
***
“Wait, there’s still a whole month until the finals and they’re already starting the prelims?”
As usual, Adrian was about to open his dorm room door when he caught sight of a poster plastered on the large pillar next to it. He muttered to himself as he read it. It was a poster cheering on the social club Hounds, emblazoned with the words: ‘Wield your blade, all who bear one!’ Had it been a poster from Amber’s club instead, Mikhail would’ve torn it down long ago.
“Just how many challengers are there…”
He shook his head and muttered again. Kids. They were so easily thrilled by brawling and beating each other senseless—typical behavior. Of course, Mikhail had to come in first in that mess.
The moment he opened the door, Mikhail’s blunt voice greeted him.
“What were you mumbling about by yourself out there?”
“Prelims already started, huh?”
Adrian replied, gesturing with his thumb toward the hallway outside their dorm room.
“By the way, when’s your prelim round?”
“Why do you wanna know? So you can come watch?”
“……”
Adrian took off his school uniform jacket and neatly folded it on a chair in the dorm. Then he cast a quick glance toward Mikhail’s bed. Flip— Mikhail, with his usual indifferent expression, turned the page of a book titled A Study on Effective Swordsmanship in Long-Distance Duels.
If he said one more unnecessary word, he might get dragged into the prelims himself. Adrian gave a short, amused huff and shook his head.
“……Just asking. I’ll be cheering you on—from afar.”
“Oh, how could I possibly handle such enthusiastic support from a distance.”
Tch. Mikhail responded as though he’d expected that answer, not even bothering to shift his position. Adrian studied Mikhail, who remained strangely unfazed even in the middle of a conversation about the martial tournament.
“No, seriously. I’m rooting for you.”
“Did I say you weren’t?”
Mikhail’s cold tone cut him off right away. He’d long since learned to tell when his roommate was just saying things for the sake of it. He knew that Adrian would be more delighted to see a new sprout in the flowerpot by the window than to see himself win the prelims. And yet, here Adrian was, rambling like he actually cared about the tournament.
“Like you said, the prelims are just a warm-up—the real deal is the finals, right?”
“What.”
“So, I mean… are you preparing well? Need more mana-purifying incense sticks or anything?”
“……Incense?”
Mikhail turned his head away from the book at Adrian’s excessive interest. Why is he suddenly so into the tournament? When Adrian brought up the incense, his eyes had even sparkled. In those eyes, Mikhail briefly saw a flash of a memory—that day, when Adrian’s warm, honey-colored gaze had filled his vision, and his soft breath had brushed against bare skin.
Mikhail tilted his head, thinking for a moment, then nodded slowly as if confirming Adrian was indeed a fool.
“Come to think of it, I guess it is about that time.”
“Knew it. I figured as much.”
Adrian gave Mikhail a sidelong glance and nodded back, then walked over to his desk and pulled a few incense sticks from the drawer. He had calculated how many would be needed to burn over the next two months, all the way to the finals. He’d originally said they’d be three Tilon each, but if Mikhail could win the tournament, he could give them away for free.
“Same as before—light the top, leave it nearby for ten minutes or so, and…”
“Don’t remember.”
Mikhail cut Adrian off bluntly mid-explanation. Adrian paused, his lips still slightly parted, then resumed.
“Honestly, there’s nothing to remember. I’m explaining it right now. You can borrow the matches he—”
“Just do it for me like you did last time.”
“…The matches are right here, and all you need to do is light it with—”
“I said do it for me.”
Mikhail sat nonchalantly on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning the top of his shirt.
“Now?”
Adrian’s dazed voice was met by Mikhail’s pointed stare, as if saying, If not now, then when? Mikhail, still wearing a calm, unfazed expression, unfastened the rest of the buttons and slipped the shirt off, folding it loosely before placing it on the bed.
Such a self-centered bastard. Cursing inwardly, Adrian placed the incense on a dish and struck a match with a sharp fsshh—. The tip of the incense flared, curling upward in smoky wisps.
“If you sit on the bed, I can’t get a good look at the mana flow. Come over here.”
Adrian gave a light wave toward the nightstand where the incense was burning, motioning for Mikhail to move from his own bed.
“…Do I really have to go over there?”
Mikhail’s low voice quietly declined the invitation.
“Obviously. Get over here. I have to keep an eye on your mana flow, and snuff out the incense if it starts working.”
Adrian’s deadpan response followed immediately. Mikhail stared at him in silence for a moment, let out a small sigh, then rose from the bed. As Mikhail walked over, bare-chested, Adrian’s gaze followed him intensely, then gave a slow nod.
“Your mana flow looks a lot more stable than before.”
It was thanks to the incense Adrian had prepared. Mikhail had felt the effects immediately after that subtle treatment. His daily mana training had gone smoother, and even the long-neglected sword-infused mana exercises were yielding much better results.
Adrian’s cool palm touched Mikhail’s bare back. It wandered slowly, almost tracing the flow of mana with his fingers. Mikhail squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on his mana training rather than the feel of Adrian’s fingers. Unaware of Mikhail’s inner struggle, Adrian observed the flow and began to speak.
“How is it? You noticed the difference during training, right?”
“Yeah.”
Mikhail nodded up and down unconsciously, like a good student.
By now, he had come to acknowledge Adrian’s depth of knowledge when it came to magic. Still, somewhere deep inside, there remained a persistent suspicion. It was only natural—how could a commoner know this much, especially about magic and mana?
“The signs are promising. Your mana is flowing smoothly from your heart all the way to around your elbows.”
But the cold hand on his back and those occasionally warm, amber-colored eyes always made his doubts melt away. Honestly, he couldn’t even explain why.
“Yeah.”
Feels good. Mikhail murmured, eyes still shut.
