"Aaagh! It hurts!" Caelen cried out. The pain in his right hand was unbearable, like it was about to explode.
He tried to lift his left hand, but he couldn't. It felt like the crystal fragment was pulling it in, locking him in place.
"Listen to me," Idel said, but Caelen was in too much pain to hear a word.
The Crest of Knowledge on Idel's right hand lit up, and a pulse of energy swept through the house. A silencing field settled around them.
If anyone outside had heard Caelen's screams, it would've been dangerous.
"Hey! Listen to me!" Idel shouted. The strain made his injuries flare with pain. "If you want the pain to stop, you'd better pay attention!"
Caelen looked up, eyes swimming with agony. But he had no choice. Idel was his only hope now.
"Have you ever focused on something so intensely that your mind started working faster?"
"What are you talking about, old man? I'm in pain!" Caelen snapped.
"Just answer me!"
"I-I don't remember!"
"You need to remember."
Caelen tried to think. It was hard—every thought felt like it was dragging through fire—but he pushed himself.
"Ughh..." The more he thought, the more it hurt. But he kept going.
Then, something surfaced—when he fought Illgorn, and his arm was wounded.
"Once. When I was injured, my heart was pounding... and everything felt slower. Like time had stretched out."
Yes! Idel nearly laughed with relief.
"Try it!" he urged. "Try to recreate that moment. Forget about your heart or the injury—they're not what matters now.
Just focus. Bring yourself back to that moment your mind sped up. Do that, and time will slow again!"
Caelen did what he was told—but nothing changed.
"Try harder!" Idel shouted. "You can do this. Focus on one thing. Only one. Don't let anything else in!"
When Caelen tried again, the pain surged, but it felt different now. Sharper—too sharp. Like time was dragging.
No, not dragging. Slowing.
The pain hurt more because time was slowing down.
It kept building, stronger and stronger, until—
Fwushh.
Like a dam breaking, the energy surged into his right hand.
A glowing mark of a parchment and a pen flared to life, shining blue.
"Haa... huu..." Caelen was gasping now, barely able to breathe. But the worst of the pain had passed.
"Congratulations," Idel said with a proud smile. "You're a magus now."
And Caelen collapsed to the ground.
---
A tall, bulky man stood outside, eyeing Caelen's house with visible annoyance.
Why the hell do I have to be the one stuck watching this kid?
After some careful consideration—meaning a quick game of drawing straws—he'd been the unlucky one. Out of the six barbarian warriors, he pulled the shortest straw.
The chief had ordered someone to keep an eye on the boy, just in case.
His reasoning?
No regular villager should be on good terms with the legendary Chief Illgorn.
But the warrior wasn't convinced. Caelen couldn't even activate his crest. What threat could he possibly pose?
He doesn't even train, the man thought, watching the lights in the house go out not long after Caelen went in.
He had no idea a magus had just cloaked the house in a concealment field.
So, after a while, he ignored the chief's orders and went to sleep—confident the kid wasn't worth the trouble.
---
When Caelen woke up, he was back in the chair, sitting across from the still-awake Idel.
"How?" he started, since he remembered collapsing to the ground—but now, he was upright.
"Hehe, I'm not dead yet," Idel said, waving his right hand with the blue crest shining.
"What happened to me? Why did my hand hurt?" Caelen asked, lifting both arms.
His left hand was free from the crystal fragment, and his right from the pain.
But when he looked down, his eyes widened.
Three beams of red light streamed from his left hand. One beam of blue light from his right.
"What the hell!"
"Don't worry. I'll explain everything. You're a lucky one, Caelen."
Caelen frowned. Being called lucky felt like a joke. But more than that, it was the first time the old man had said his name.
He wasn't sure why, but it made him pause. He looked at Idel, waiting for the explanation.
"In short, you have a dual crest."
"What? Is that even possible?"
"Of course it is. Our records show it's happened before. And they were all strong. But... they were usually killed at birth."
"And what's lucky about that?" Caelen snapped.
"You're alive, aren't you? Also, your Crest of Knowledge had been sealed. So, I'm guessing you were born in Elarith.
Someone strong must've sealed your crest and sent you to the barbarians. Otherwise, you'd be dead."
"How do you know that? What if the barbarians sealed it?"
"Hahaha! You're funny. Barbarians can't use magic, Caelen. They wouldn't even know where to start.
Magic is exclusive to the Crest of Knowledge. And you—" he leaned forward slightly—"you have the two strongest crests."
"How?" Caelen whispered. The revelation settled like stone in his chest. Was this why he had wasted three years in this village?
"I get that it's hard to believe," Idel said. "Let me guess: you've always felt weaker than the other barbarians. Shorter, slower, less powerful?"
Caelen didn't answer, but his silence was enough.
"That's because your body's only half barbarian. Even your level now..."
"What's wrong with my level?" Caelen asked.
"Your Crest of War is only at the third stage. But you've trained more than anyone else, haven't you?"
Caelen nodded.
"And that's the point. Your training was divided between two paths—War and Knowledge.
If you had a single crest, all that effort would've gone into one. You'd easily be at the fourth stage, maybe even the fifth. Well, not back when you turned fifteen, but now."
"But... my Crest of Knowledge is only at the first stage."
"Because it was sealed. And you never trained for it.
You think swinging a sword trains your mind? Still, if it hadn't been sealed, it might've reached the second stage on its own.
War strategies count too. I'm guessing you fought differently than the others?"
Caelen remembered all the scoldings. Using a shield. Dodging instead of clashing. Even fighting with one hand instead of two.
"That's your instinct. We don't know this as a certainty, but just like you gain benefits from both sides, you probably also inherit their flaws.
If you're seriously injured—if you lose a limb—your power will weaken. Just like me. That is why you don't want to be injured."
Another scary revelation had found Caelen.
"Caelen, listen to me," Idel said, his tone growing serious. "I had my doubts before, but now that I know you're one of us—even if only half—I can trust you with my research."
"Wait, wait! I don't even know what's happening. The crest just appeared. What if it's a mistake? What if it disappears again?"
"It won't," Idel said. "It's real. I understand it's a lot, and I'd love to give you time. But we don't have it. By tomorrow morning, I'll be dead.
So until then, I want to pass on as much as I can. I can't train you, unfortunately—but I can give you a path."
Caelen froze.
It was too much. Just days ago, he had been ready to leave everything behind—including being a barbarian.
Now, he was being told he had a dual crest. That it was rare, powerful, and dangerous.
It was hard to grasp. He barely understood barbarian abilities, let alone the Crest of Knowledge.
A barbarian learned abilities after their Crest of War was activated.
If he went back to his family, maybe he could still learn to be a warrior. But now... he had no idea what kind of future waited for him.