The sea stretched endlessly in every direction, a mirror to the colourless sky above. Time seemed to vanish out on the open water. There was no sun. No wind. Just the gentle lapping of waves and the tiny, ragged breaths of a grieving child.
Sunny sat huddled in the small wooden boat, its sides creaking with every shift of the current. His tears had long dried, but his heart remained shattered, the weight of sorrow pressing so heavily on his chest he thought it might never lift. The scent of smoke still clung to his clothes, even out here on the water.
The memory of his mother's final smile, the explosion, the screaming—it all echoed again and again in his head.
"Why…" he whispered.
Why had this happened? What had his village done? What had he done?
His fists clenched.
Suddenly, deep inside him, something shifted.
A strange warmth swelled in his chest—then pulsed outward.
It wasn't grief. It wasn't pain.
It was power.
He gasped.
His limbs began to tingle, a current running under his skin. The boat beneath him seemed to hum in resonance. The air thickened.
The sea no longer felt cold.
The wind no longer felt distant.
Then—
BOOM.
A sudden surge of mana exploded from his body, sending a ripple across the ocean. It flashed out in every direction, like invisible lightning bursting from his skin.
The water churned violently for a moment, rising up in spirals around the boat before settling. The sky shimmered as if reacting to the presence of something ancient, something vast.
Sunny gasped, falling forward on his hands and knees.
He could feel it. The mana coursing through him. A wellspring of raw, untamed magic energy—more than he'd ever imagined. More than should exist in someone so young.
He'd heard of mages awakening their magic early, but this - this was something else. The power within him felt limitless.
He trembled, eyes wide.
And then, just as suddenly as the mana had erupted, his vision began to dim.
The world around him twisted.
The boat. The sea. The sky.
Everything faded into shadow.
His breath caught in his throat as he was pulled—dragged inward, as though his mind was sinking beneath the surface of reality.
Within the Mind—The Great Library
Darkness.
Then… light.
Not sunlight. Not firelight.
Soft, golden light, like the glow of lanterns in a cathedral.
He stood on solid stone, surrounded by towering shelves—miles high—filled with books. Thousands. Millions. An infinite maze of knowledge. The air buzzed with silent energy, the sound of knowledge being kept.
"What…?" Sunny whispered.
His voice echoed, but not from the walls. From pages.
He took a step forward.
The moment his foot landed, a breeze stirred.
One book, in particular, floated down from a high shelf.
It hovered before him, ancient and elegant. Its cover was dark leather, smooth and unmarred by time. Etched in gold across its front were four simple words:
One True Magic
Sunny stared at it.
The book opened.
Light spilled from the pages, warming his face like firelight.
He read.
"The Source and the Self."
"The origin of all magic, bound by one rule: total mastery of self and spell. Fire, light, shadow, time—each obeys the one whose will is pure. To wield all magic as one, your intent must be flawless. Doubt breaks it. Ego corrupts it. Only true balance unlocks true power."
Sunny blinked.
The words carved themselves into his memory. Not just reading. Understanding. It was as though the knowledge was being poured into his soul.
He flipped to the next page.
It was blank.
"What?" he muttered.
He flipped again. Blank.
Another. Blank.
Suddenly, the book began to glow.
It pulsed with light and then—
whoosh!
It flew from his hands, spiralling into the air like a falling star rising in reverse. It circled him once—twice—and then shot down a distant aisle, vanishing into the maze of shelves.
"Wait!" Sunny called.
But it was gone.
The light dimmed slightly.
He stood alone in the library, surrounded by silence and infinite tomes.
"What… what was that?"
His hands still tingled from the magic. His chest still burned with it. That surge of mana—it hadn't stopped. It had simply quieted, waiting.
He closed his eyes.
And then he thought—
Water.
He didn't know why. But the ocean had always felt close to him. He had lived near it all his life. He'd dreamed of swimming far beyond the harbour. Of controlling it like the wizards in stories.
And now, in this place—
The moment he thought of water, he felt it stir.
Not physically.
Spiritually.
A ripple of pressure stirred around him, soft and cool.
And just like that, he knew.
His journey had begun.