Dusk settled as I sat in my room within the manor’s ancient castle, Violet sleeping soundly beside me.

Asleep already…

I draped a light blanket over her, slipped out, and closed the door softly.

Outside, Guard Gry stood watch, sword at his hip. He’d let no one disturb Violet’s rest but me.

After playing with Violet all day, I’d neglected my magic practice. I stepped out of the castle into the deepening twilight of the estate. The tournament seemed over. Servants hurried about, preparing for the evening’s main event—the banquet.

I had little interest in it.

Perhaps yesterday’s elemental arrangement drills had worked. My mental stamina felt slightly sharper, the Magic Cube steadier in my mind.

Could I finally cast a proper spell today?

Eager to test myself, I slipped away from the bustle. I found a small, unassuming hill at the estate’s edge—right beneath the towering black wall that bordered the grounds. Dwarf trees dotted the slope. I moved behind the hill, closed my eyes, and sensed the ambient magic.

Thick. So thick I could refill the Magic Cube in an instant.

Truth was, magic saturated Avaria Continent—no, the entire world. Yet so few could wield it. Knights and swordsmen? They’d never grasp this mysterious power.

I couldn’t wait to master a first-tier spell. Here, I’d test if my mental stamina could handle Frost Arrow.

If I sensed weakness, I’d sever the magic link immediately—minimizing backlash.

I scanned the area. Distant castle windows glowed with lamplight. Voices from the feast faded to silence.

Safe enough.

I channeled mana, swiftly arranging elements. A minor spell flared to life: *Scouting Mist*.

Pale gray vapor spread in a ring around me, sealing off a thirty-meter perimeter. Anyone crossing it would trigger an alert in my mind.

Ready. I began arranging the first Magic Rune for Frost Arrow.

Familiarity dulls wonder. Like rewatching a mystery film, the thrill fades.

The first rune coalesced in two seconds flat.

Casting any spell required three steps: gather elements, arrange them into a fixed formula, then fuse them. One misstep anywhere meant failure.

After wielding such power daily, my heart stayed calm as I shaped the second rune.

No dizziness. Mental stamina held. I suppressed my excitement and linked the two runes.

A pale white glow shimmered before me.

*Frost Arrow—success!*

I aimed at a nearby dwarf tree and released the spell. The glow solidified into a translucent white arrow. It spiraled through the air with a *whoosh*.

Six seconds. From start to finish. A miracle for a Magic Apprentice—but I needed faster.

*Instant casting… if only.*

A dull *thunk* echoed. The arrow buried itself deep in the tree trunk, its tail quivering.

Frost crept slowly across the wrinkled bark. Where the arrow struck, icy veins spiderwebbed outward.

Frost Arrow’s power matched a normal arrow’s—but its true strength lay in slowing foes. A hit would freeze wounds and stiffen limbs with cold, granting mages the upper hand.

Finally. A formal spell cast. I’d crossed into first-tier Mage territory.

My mental stamina still had reserves.

Scouting Mist held its perimeter. I sat on a boulder and meditated, restoring my focus.

One Frost Arrow wasn’t enough.

My memories held far deadlier spells. With a six-second casting delay, I’d need more trump cards. I’d store one offensive and one defensive rune set in the Magic Cube.

*Blazing Lance* for offense—highest damage.

*Rune Barrier* for defense—unshakable stability.

When my mental stamina fully recovered—surpassing even earlier levels—I rose from meditation.

Recovery through meditation wasn’t as slow as I’d feared… but nowhere near my other talents.

This might be my only weakness in magic.

Above, the sky had shifted from dusky yellow to bruised purple. Light faded fast.

The distant castle blazed with lanterns. Silhouettes flitted past windows. The banquet was starting.

*Good. Perfect cover to store these runes.*

Scouting Mist reported no intruders within thirty meters. The setting was ideal.

I calmed my mind. Riding the earlier momentum, I cast Frost Arrow’s rune set again and stored it in the spinning Magic Cube.

One second faster this time.

Practice and specialization clearly sped up casting. Maybe a talentless grind took hundreds of tries to match a genius’s single attempt—but persistence always paid off.

Mental stamina held strong. No discomfort yet.

*Now. Blazing Lance—three runes.*

A near-second-tier offensive spell. Far harder than basic magic. I dared not rush. Every elemental arrangement demanded precision.

Yet… talent could be infuriating.

The first rune formed in barely a second. It felt instinctive—like answering "one plus one equals two" without calculation.

The next two runes followed just as smoothly. Automatic. Effortless.

I stored Blazing Lance’s rune set in the Cube.

Seven seconds total. Flawless on the first try.

*What about… a second-tier spell? Tempest Hammer?*

The thought took root, impossible to shake.

*Maybe it’ll work like Blazing Lance did.*

I recalled Tempest Hammer’s formula: four runes. Moderately complex.

My unnatural casting began again. The runes posed little challenge.

But my mental stamina…

The world swayed slightly before my eyes.

Dizziness crashed over me.

*No. Not yet! The fourth rune isn’t set!*

I couldn’t stop now.

*Never quit halfway!*

*Almost there. Don’t fail before victory!*

First rune. Second rune…

Hope flared. *I can do this!*

Third. Fourth—complete. As I strained to lock Tempest Hammer’s form into the Cube, disaster struck.

Dizziness swallowed everything. The world spun violently. Reality shattered.

My vision blurred. Dwarf trees twisted into clawing, demonic shapes under the night sky.

I staggered, nearly collapsing.

*No… must store this power.*

The landscape dissolved into chaotic inkblots. No sense of space remained. Was I even standing on solid ground?

Tempest Hammer’s form unraveled, dissolving back into raw elements.

*Failure again…*

Then—my vision shifted abruptly.

A strange perspective flooded my eyes.

*Not mine.*

A desolate rooftop. Filthy, cobweb-choked beams. Weeds choked the floor. The scene moved rapidly. Glimpses of crimson-furred beasts. Corpses. Blood pooling on stone.

*Someone else’s sight!*

I moved my arm. The viewpoint didn’t follow. Definitely not my body.

Dizziness worsened with the visual dissonance. I swayed, then crashed forward. Sharp pain flared in my arm.

As I fell, the foreign vision fractured—not the image itself, but…

*Had the person whose eyes I borrowed just stumbled too?*

*Did my fall swap our sight?*