Lucius crouched beside a shallow stream, watching the water ripple over stone. The forest here was quiet, nestled between hills and cliffs, far from cities and nobles and the politics that clung to power like mold to damp stone.
It was perfect.
A place to breathe. A place to begin.
Kael dozed behind him, draped across a patch of sunlit rock like a lazy cat in scaled armor. The beastkin child, still in her feline form, curled beside Lucius's satchel, her breaths soft and steady. She never strayed far, though she never spoke either. That was fine. Lucius didn't particularly enjoy noise.
He reached into his pack and pulled out a book he had brought from the archive. "Foundations of Shaping: A Primer for Mana Control."
He flipped past the opening pages until he found the first basic form.
Feel your core. Not with sight. Not with touch. But with the mind. Reach inward. There lies the beginning.
Lucius closed his eyes.
He could sense it now—the faint flicker of energy in his chest. His mana core. Fragile. Unstable. But no longer asleep.
He steadied his breathing, ignoring the cool wind brushing through the trees. The book warned against rushing. A single mistake at this stage could cause fractures. That was why most noble families sent their children to private instructors or expensive academies.
Lucius had none of that.
He had patience. And silence. And knowledge.
And that would be enough.
He spent the next few days doing little but breathing, focusing, and walking when his legs went numb. Kael watched occasionally but offered no advice. That was part of the deal. Lucius didn't need a lecture—he needed control.
By the fifth day, the flicker of mana in his core no longer sputtered. It pulsed. Faintly. But steadily.
That was progress.
He opened the second section of the book.
Begin shaping only after the core has stabilized. Shaping is the act of giving form to mana—basic shapes first. Threads. Discs. Shields.
The word made him pause.
Shield.
The original novel had mentioned it—one of the Four Paths. Paths that led to deep and ancient powers. Paths that could only be awakened under specific circumstances.
The Shield of the Eternal Heart.
The Hellfire Brand.
The Wind of the Heavens.
The Crimson Blood Root.
Lucius remembered all of them.
But what mattered most was that they were real. Hidden relics tied to each path. Dangerous trials. Fatal conditions.
And if he wasn't mistaken, one of the relics—the Shield—was buried somewhere within this very region. The novel's protagonist had stumbled across it by accident during his early travels. Lucius would not be so clumsy.
He would find it deliberately.
He rubbed his chest briefly. The mana there wasn't shaped into anything yet, but somewhere, deep down, something stirred.
The shield was already inside him.
As twilight set in, Lucius sat on a flat rock, watching the sky bleed orange and violet. He had drawn a small diagram in the dirt in front of him—his own version of a mana thread.
It wavered. Then stabilized. A soft pulse of energy wove into a line across the diagram.
Clumsy. But real.
Kael stretched nearby. "You're slow."
"I'm careful," Lucius replied without looking up.
"Same thing."
"I'll take it as a compliment."
The dragon grunted, half amused.
Lucius exhaled. He didn't want glory. He didn't want to lead armies or sit on a throne. He had done that in another life.
What he wanted now was simple.
A quiet life.
One where he could sleep in a soft bed. Brew tea in the morning. Watch the rain without worrying whether assassins were climbing his walls.
But quiet life required strength.
In this world, you either had power, or you were crushed by it. Nobles, beasts, dragons, and monsters that walked like men—this world had no shortage of danger. And Lucius had no intention of being weak.
If others followed him—Kael, the beastkin child, whoever came later—he wouldn't stop them. But he wouldn't ask either.
Let them walk beside him, not behind.
As night deepened, Lucius looked at the trembling thread of mana he had shaped.
Still weak.
But no longer silent.
One step at a time.
That was enough