Under the meticulous divine healing of the priest, Corbin's body recovered at an extraordinary rate. Yet, this restorative power could not touch the void deep within his soul, nor could it soothe the profound loneliness of a severed connection. Instead, this very solitude ignited a fierce yearning for the unknown, especially for those powers he had personally experienced but could neither comprehend nor control—magic.
The throbbing pain across his body receded like a tide, replaced by a gentle yet potent force flowing through his meridians, mending the wounds of battle. This was divine light, pure and vibrant with life. Half-awake, he had vaguely sensed this power, knowing it was the priest's divine arts healing him.
Consciousness slowly surfaced from a deep sea. Corbin felt his lungs crave air; as he inhaled deeply, the air carried the familiar scents of herbs and a faint antiseptic. He opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, adorned with images of the God of Light and some subordinate deities. The room was suffused with a warm, healing aura. He knew he was safe, lying in the Wind's Breath Town priest's treatment room.
His body remained heavy and weak, each slight movement accompanied by the protesting ache of muscle fibers. More distinctly, however, was the icy void in his soul. Young Corbin was gone, taking with him three years of shared existence and an inexpressible, warm bond.
Now, he was the complete Corbin, no longer needing to carefully balance two consciousnesses, yet he faced an unprecedented solitude. He tried to focus his mind, to activate his superhuman perception as he once did, but that power, which used to spread outwards like tendrils and capture all things, now yielded only dullness and blankness. The realm that could make the world "slow down" had vanished, as if it had never existed.
This weakness reminded him involuntarily of the discomfort he felt after Sandy first cast a spell for them and he tried to activate his soul power, and the fleeting worry in her eyes then. She seemed to have sensed something amiss, her gaze carrying a hint of warning. Looking back now, that discomfort was perhaps a premonition from his soul, sent when he attempted to wield that power.
Days later, his body pain significantly eased, and Corbin could manage to sit up. Knight Boone came to visit, offering his regards. His face showed fatigue, but his eyes conveyed relief.
"You're awake, lad. Well done, you and Owen saved the whole town. I believe your father would be proud of you!"
Corbin's throat was dry; he asked hoarsely:
"Uncle Owen… how is he?"
Knight Boone's expression darkened, his voice heavy.
"He's severely injured. A dislocated arm, several broken ribs, and that searing magical flame burned his internal organs. But the priest said his life is safe; it will just take some time to recover."
Boone patted Corbin's shoulder, then added:
"He kept muttering that you did well in the final moments, holding off those black-clad figures."
A surge of immense guilt and sorrow welled up in Corbin. Uncle Owen was severely injured protecting him, even at the cost of his own life. He clenched his jaw, making a silent vow. Thinking of his father's ambush three years ago—likely encountering these very people during his patrol—and now these black-clad assailants, Corbin's anger flared. He swore to make those Dark Elves who harmed Uncle Owen pay the price.
Knight Boone watched the resolve in Corbin's eyes and sighed faintly. He then shared the latest news from the town.
"The time you and Uncle Owen bought us was invaluable. Old Scholar Byson also arrived promptly." Boone said, his gaze fixed on Corbin with a hint of concern:
"But, you were still too reckless!"
He continued:
"This incident has completely sobered up the Viscount. He now knows this isn't just ordinary banditry. He's already sent the situation report, along with Scholar Byson's analysis letter, the captured prisoners, and some evidence, to Leaf City. It should have reached the Archduke by now. Now, defenses along the entire border are being strengthened; everyone is quite tense."
At this, Knight Boone paused, a peculiar glint in his eyes.
"Oh, and Old Scholar Byson heard you're awake and asked me to extend an invitation. He hopes you can visit him once you've recovered. He said… he's very interested in your performance during that recent incident."
Boone alluded vaguely to the battle, clearly puzzled by the grim state of the black-clad figures. But out of respect for Corbin's father and trust in Byson, he didn't press further, simply relaying Old Byson's words verbatim.
Corbin's heart stirred. A wizard, so close at hand. That yearning to understand power, to comprehend magic, surged once more. He immediately nodded in agreement.
"Understood, Uncle Boone. As soon as I can get out of bed, I'll certainly pay Scholar Byson a visit."
Knight Boone smiled contentedly, then inquired about Matthew, Rod, and Lianna. Learning his friends were safe and working hard to train for their promotion, Corbin felt a wave of relief and warmth.
Within three days, Corbin's body recovered enough for him to move freely. He eagerly headed to Scholar Byson's residence. Along the way, the town's atmosphere had subtly shifted. Though outwardly calm, Corbin sensed an underlying unease and vigilance in the air. Patrol guards had noticeably increased, and stern-faced knights, unfamiliar to him, rode through the streets, imbuing the town with a unique aura.
Byson's residence sat in a secluded spot on the edge of town, enveloped in a faint magical aura, as if cut off from the hustle and bustle. The courtyard harbored strange plants Corbin had never seen, emitting subtle fragrances, and the air within was filled with the distinct scent of ancient books and dust. All of this filled Corbin with unprecedented curiosity and excitement. He pushed open the creaking wooden door and cautiously stepped into the courtyard.
Scholar Byson seemed to have anticipated his arrival. Yet, Corbin noticed his complexion looked somewhat fatigued, even unnaturally pale. He sat at his desk, a quill suspended above an open parchment. Sandy sat quietly on a low stool nearby, holding a bestiary, occasionally glancing up at her grandfather. Byson slowly raised his head, his wise eyes peering through his spectacles, a glimmer of insight in their depths as they met Corbin's.
"Sit, child."
Byson's voice was soft, yet possessed a calming power. Sandy immediately put down her book and waved at Corbin, her face bright with the cheerfulness of one who had survived a great ordeal:
"You're here! That's great, come in!"
Corbin's heart warmed. Her unreserved vitality eased his slight nervousness about entering the mysterious residence. He quickly walked to the desk and sat in the chair opposite Scholar Byson. Though his body still felt weak, his entire being was drawn to the old wizard and the magical aura permeating the room. That intense curiosity and thirst for knowledge made it almost impossible for him to remain calm. To have the chance to experience true magic and understand the essence of his own unique power—this had always been his deepest desire.
"I heard about that night from Sandy, and during that battle, I felt the explosive power in your soul."
Byson smiled faintly, his eyes profound.
"Coupled with the faint mixed aura emanating from you, and the changes after your severe illness. Child, your soul… is extraordinary."
Corbin's heart jolted. His greatest secret, which he had always guarded so carefully, seemed to be laid bare before this old wizard. He felt a surge of tension, but also knew this was his only path to answers.
Byson didn't wait for Corbin's response; he continued:
"That night, in extreme anger and despair, you forcibly activated the power deep within your soul. That mental energy, and the magic you cast—though it resembled magic, it wasn't an elemental spell learned and controlled through a systematic method. It was more like… the primal essence of flame resonating within your soul."
He paused, his gaze sharp as he looked at Corbin.
"And your keen perception… that, too, originates from the soul's power, even harder to explain than Aura or ordinary magic."
Corbin felt a chill rise from his core. He recalled the searing pain of his soul being torn, and the emptiness after the power erupted, and most vividly, Young Corbin's final image. He clenched his fists tightly, desperate to understand more.
"After the priest's treatment, I conducted a more detailed examination of your body and soul fluctuations," Scholar Byson said gravely. "The results showed some very interesting, but also very dangerous signs."
He looked at Corbin, his expression unprecedentedly serious.
"The flame magic you copied and cast in that critical moment was essentially based on your soul's unique qualities, forcibly drawing and manipulating fire elements from the air…" Byson mused for a moment, as if carefully choosing his words.
"You did not go through the systematic runic construction or incantation guidance of a magic circuit. You purely used your soul, or rather, an immense amount of mental energy, to pay the price for casting that spell."
Byson's words confirmed Corbin's vague inner suspicions, also deepening his fear of that uncontrollable power.
"Do you remember my granddaughter Sandy first cast the Lightfoot Charm for you, when you tried to activate your power?" Byson asked. Corbin nodded.
"She sensed the subtle magical fluctuations then, and warned me." Corbin interjected, adding to Byson's statement.
Byson continued:
"And that night, the mental energy you expended for that instantaneous burst… was so immense it even affected your soul's stability, directly causing you to lose your superhuman perception realm."
Byson's words were like a basin of cold water poured over Corbin. He had always believed that the weakness after that power burst was merely temporary exhaustion, never expecting the cost to be at the soul level, directly leading to the loss of his superhuman perception.
"That method of directly paying with your soul is incredibly dangerous. The slightest misstep could lead to soul disintegration and utter demise," Byson stated grimly. "Your recovery this time is nothing short of a miracle."
Corbin felt a shiver of post-fear. He hadn't realized that desperate strike had brought him so close to death.
"However," Byson's tone shifted, carrying an irrepressible excitement and admiration, "your soul's unique quality, its ability to attract and manipulate magical elements, is a talent countless mages dream of! Your mental strength far surpasses the average person's; to even endure that level of soul-payment without immediate death shows your soul is extraordinarily resilient! Combining these two, your magical talent… is exceptionally outstanding!"
Byson's eyes gleamed as if he had discovered a vast treasure.
"More importantly, it's the imagination of magic." He looked at Corbin with excitement:
"Magic isn't just a stack of runes and incantations; it's an understanding of power, a cognition of the world, and… the imagination to transform these into reality. Your burst that night, though crude, but that will and instinct to forcibly copy and cast magic in desperation, is itself an astounding capacity for 'imagination' and 'imitation'!"
Byson looked at Corbin, his tone turning solemn again:
"I can teach you how to perceive, guide, and wield this power, as well as the magic system of this world, so you no longer have to pay with your soul."
Byson's tone then became hesitant, as he continued:
"However, this requires starting from the very basics of magic perception, runes, and incantations, step by step. The process will be arduous, demanding a great deal of time and effort, and… learning magic is not without its price."
He looked at Corbin, bringing up a crucial question:
"I heard from Boone that next month you are going to Leaf City's Temple of the War God to participate in the official knight promotion trial?"
Corbin nodded, looking at him expectantly.
"If you start formally studying magic now, especially attempting to perceive and wield magical energy, it will affect the outcome of your promotion trial."
Byson stated directly and candidly.
Corbin looked perplexed.
"Affect? Will it make me stronger?"
Byson shook his head.
"No, it might prevent you from passing the Temple of the War God's promotion trial. As you know, in the mortal professional system, Aura and magic originate from different power sources. While theoretically they can be cultivated concurrently, there are significant obstacles, especially when obtaining 'official' ranks. The Temple of the War God represents the highest echelon of the Aura system; its promotion trial, besides testing your mastery of Aura and combat skills, also, to some extent, assesses your 'compatibility' or 'purity' with the War God system."
He looked at Corbin, explaining:
"If you begin to perceive and wield magic before the promotion trial, even just basic magical fluctuations, it could be detected by the Temple of the War God's trial mechanism or the deity behind it. For the Temple of the War God, they prefer pure Aura users, or clerics who follow deities from the same alignment sequence. Your soul is already special and 'impure' enough; if you further taint yourself with the aura of magic, you might very likely be deemed 'unqualified,' leading to failure in your promotion. Only the deities of the Magic God Civilization Sequence, born after the rise of magic, are more tolerant of the world."
Byson's words were like a sudden realization, causing Corbin to sober instantly. He had always diligently trained his Aura, aspiring to become an official knight. This was not only an inheritance of his father's legacy but also his foundation in this world. And now, Byson told him that learning magic might cost him this opportunity.
He fell silent, Byson's words echoing in his mind, along with the contradiction between his desire to understand soul power, to master magic, and his simple wish to become an official knight. Becoming an official knight meant more resources, higher status, and better protection for himself and those around him. But at the same time, the secret deep within his soul, that mysterious power, and his curiosity about the magical world, scorched him like a fierce fire.
Byson did not rush him, quietly awaiting Corbin's decision. He knew this was a difficult choice for a young man. Sandy also looked at Corbin with concern.
Time seemed to freeze. The room was filled only with the soft scratch of the quill on parchment and Corbin's increasingly rapid breathing. He thought of his father, of Knight Owen's sacrifice, of the threat facing Wind's Breath Town, and of that terrifying Dark Elf mage. He needed power, all the power he could get—not just Aura, but that latent power from deep within his soul, and the magic of this world. He didn't want to experience power loss again, nor could he endure the despair of helplessness.
Finally, Corbin looked up, the pain and struggle in his blue eyes gradually receding, replaced by a gaze of nearly fanatical determination. He looked at Scholar Byson, slowly speaking, his voice low, yet carrying an undeniable resolve:
"I'll learn."
He knew what this decision meant: possibly failing the Temple of the War God's promotion, and a future path unknown and arduous. But as an Earthling, if he came to a magical world and didn't experience such a feeling, to have the opportunity to pursue it and not try, how regretful would that be? He truly wanted to see what kind of world this was; this profound stirring could no longer be suppressed. He chose a path more difficult, but one more likely to touch the essence of the world.