**Chapter 2**
—
It was a time when the war between the Empire and the Demonkind had yet to reach its end.
In his previous life, as a Hero, Dale had witnessed the dread of the Black Duke only once.
When the Imperial Army’s main force had been ensnared by the demons’ machinations, leaving the capital of the Duchy of Saxen defenseless before the enemy’s advance—
the Duke of Saxen had calmly faced them, alone.
No guards, no knights at his side—he stood solitary before the vast horde of the Orc Warlord that had surrounded his castle and city alike.
Dispatched as part of a rapid-response detachment, Dale—then still a Hero of the Empire—would never forget what he saw that day.
The moment the Duke’s black robes, dark as the abyss, billowed in the wind and his hand swept through the air—
the falling twilight was extinguished.
Light itself vanished, and with it came the descent of darkness.
Knights of death, riding steeds born of eternal night, surged forth.
An army of the undying—who would neither rest nor halt.
It was a chill unlike any he had ever known in this world.
—
—
“Young master.”
A gentle woman’s voice brushed softly against his ear.
“It’s time to wake up.”
Dale slowly opened his eyes.
The first light of dawn filtered faintly between his lashes.
‘A dream, huh.’
A dream of the man who, in this life, was now his father.
“Thank you for waking me.”
Dale shook his head slightly, then expressed his gratitude.
Eve was a young maid serving the Saxen household. Though called *young*, she was nearly twice his age—after all, Dale had only just turned eight this year.
Eight years old.
And judging by the lively bustle echoing through the castle, Dale could easily guess what today was.
Today marked his eighth birthday.
Even the Black Duke—who usually had little patience for noble ceremony or social frivolity—had summoned his vassals and the northern nobility to prepare a grand celebration.
The Great Hall of the Ducal Castle was alive with motion. Servants hurried about, and many nobles loyal to the Duke of Saxen had already gathered.
“Congratulations on turning eight,”
said Elena, seated gracefully to the left of the ducal couple’s thrones, her smile tender and warm.
“Thank you for growing up so well, Dale.”
“Mother.”
Dale bowed his head with a composure far beyond his years.
“Where is Father?”
“He had some urgent matters to attend to,” Elena replied with a hint of regret. “He’s currently in conference with Sir Helmut.”
‘Sir Helmut, the Knight Commander?’
Helmut was the captain of the *Raven Knights*—the ducal order directly under Saxen’s command.
To their enemies, they were feared as the “Black Cavalry,” destroyers of battlefields.
For the Duke to summon his commander so hastily, it likely meant a dungeon had been discovered within the territory or some other threat to its safety.
The Duke’s duty to protect his domain, after all, was not something that could be set aside even for his son’s birthday.
“While the banquet is being delayed,” Elena said with a smile, “there’s someone I’d like you to meet in your father’s stead.”
She rose softly, her movements serene and composed. *Someone to meet?* Dale blinked and followed behind her.
Accompanied by maids, Elena led him down the corridors of the lord’s manor—away from the lively noise of the Great Hall, toward the guest chambers on the lower floor.
“Lady Sephia,” Elena called gently, knocking with courtesy. Her respectful tone made Dale blink again in mild surprise.
“My apologies, madam,” came a calm, crystalline voice from within.
“I’m not accustomed to noisy places.”
At the sound of that voice, Dale drew in a sharp breath.
“Dale, greet her,” Elena said warmly. “This is Lady Sephia, the Wise Elf, Elder of the Blue Tower.”
Elder of the Blue Tower—Sephia.
The guest before them was a woman who looked not much older than Elena herself, perhaps even younger.
Her beauty shone cold and pure, like cut crystal. But the pointed ears peeking through her sapphire-blue hair told the truth—
she was an elf, one of the races beloved by mana.
“I owe the Duke and you, madam, a great debt,” Sephia said, bowing her head with poise.
Elena shook hers in modest denial.
“No, we are the ones honored that our child will receive your guidance, Lady Sephia.”
*Guidance*, she said. At that, Dale quickly pieced the situation together.
‘So they’ve brought in quite the extravagant tutor.’
“This must be young Dale,” Sephia said at last, turning her steady gaze on him. Her eyes were deep, perceptive.
“I was told that he’s begun forming faint fragments of a mana circle within his heart.”
That had been said years ago, yet at the age of four or five, a child’s body was too immature to fully manifest magical potential.
So Dale had waited quietly—for the time when his talents would no longer seem *monstrous*, merely *brilliant*.
That didn’t mean he’d wasted those years, of course. His training, hidden from prying eyes, had never ceased.
“I can sense the flow of mana indeed,” Sephia murmured with a nod.
“Dale, you said you wished to learn magic, didn’t you?”
Elena did not wish for her son to become a necromancer like his father.
But neither did she want his remarkable magical gifts to rot unused.
‘Magic of the Blue Tower, hmm.’
Dale wasn’t impatient. So long as the Black Duke was his father, the chance to learn the dark arts would come eventually.
For now, learning from a Blue Tower Elder—an elf, no less—was a rare opportunity.
‘The more knowledge, the better.’
Even if an Elder of the Blue Tower could only teach him so much, it would be worth learning.
—
—
The first lesson began sooner than expected.
Elena left with the maids, saying she would return once the Duke came back.
“I look forward to working with you, Dale,” Sephia said warmly.
She was an Elder of the Blue Tower and an elf rarely seen in the mortal world—her hair a clear, icy blue, her beauty delicate and cold as a gem. The pointed tips of her ears only heightened her ethereal presence.
“I look forward to learning from you, Teacher.”
It was the privilege of a ducal house to employ a tutor of such caliber.
In his past life, Dale had been an all-rounder—versed in swordsmanship, magic, assassination, and even poison.
As a Hero—an *instrument of war*—he had trained for every possible form of combat.
So he was not entirely unfamiliar with the Blue Tower’s specialty—water-element magic.
But back then, what he’d learned was a brutal, distorted form of sorcery—focused solely on destruction and death, forcibly engraved upon his body through magical and surgical modifications.
This time was different. The magic he would now learn was far removed from such killing arts.
Water-element magic emphasized defense and control over offense.
The Blue Tower’s core doctrine revolved around two principles—*Neutralization* and *Nonlethality*.
‘Mother’s intention, no doubt.’
Elena must have invited a Blue Tower magician out of a mother’s wish—that her son not live a life of bloodshed.
Perhaps she even hoped this path would guide him to join the Blue Tower one day.
But Dale had no intention of letting others decide his future.
‘My vessel now is not what it once was.’
Even if he had inherited his former insights, his current body was that of an eight-year-old boy.
Yes, the blood of the Black Tower’s master flowed within him, granting him a natural affinity for magic—
but that was all. He was no longer the superhuman weapon forged by decades of slaughter and imperial experimentation.
Thus, he had to focus—build selectively upon his deep understanding rather than chase the power of the past.
To open a path that no one else had ever reached.
‘Even if I’m greedy, I’ll have to limit myself to swordsmanship and two schools of magic.’
If one was to be dark-element magic, the other might as well be water-element.
He smiled faintly. There was no rush.
At eight years old, even learning under an Elder would mostly involve mana control and basic spells.
After all, he hadn’t yet completed even his first mana circle. There was no need to hurry.
“Come, let’s take a walk outside,” Sephia suddenly suggested, her clear eyes gleaming as if they could see right through him.
“Yes, Teacher.”
He had no reason to refuse.
—
—
Dale walked beside her through the castle’s courtyard. The morning chill seeped deep into his lungs.
“The air is quite cool,” Sephia said as they crossed the white marble colonnade.
“It reminds me of home.”
There was a wistful note in her voice. Judging by her words and her faint aura, Dale guessed she must be a *Snow Elf*.
“Tell me, Dale,” she asked softly, “is learning magic truly your own wish?”
Her sudden question made him blink.
“When you said you wanted to learn magic, there was a hesitation unbefitting a child.”
“It *is* my wish to learn,” Dale replied, though inwardly he felt she’d seen right through him.
After a brief pause, he shook his head and added, “But… the magic I wish to learn is somewhat different.”
“Dark-element magic, I presume,” Sephia said simply, without surprise.
“The Duke’s vow not to pass on his *art* to his child is quite well-known.”
The romance of the Black Duke and Elena was still a favorite gossip tale among nobles across the continent.
“Do you, Teacher, find the necromancy of the Black Tower repulsive?”
“Why would you think that?”
Elves were known for their reverence of nature’s order.
Dale had assumed she would instinctively reject the dark arts—but her answer caught him off guard.
“To revive the dead is to defy nature’s law…” he began, but Sephia laughed softly.
“Do you truly believe that reviving the dead defies nature’s order?”
“W-wouldn’t it?”
“Then tell me—when a priest heals a mortally ill patient and restores life to one fated to die, is that *divine providence* or defiance of nature?”
At that, Dale understood her meaning.
“Of course, my kin never agreed with me,” Sephia said, her tone tinged with distant melancholy.
“Because of that, I’ve lived quite a turbulent life.”
“You mean…?”
She said nothing more.
But Dale could already guess why an elf—of all beings, who usually dwelled in secluded forests far from human lands—would live here among mortals.
‘An exile.’
Indeed, her thoughts were far from the rigid dogma of most elves.
‘Perhaps she’ll be a better teacher than I expected.’
Seeing her sincerity, Dale made up his mind.
‘I need not hide my talent any longer.’
Almost as if responding to his resolve, Sephia smiled faintly.
“Then, shall we begin with sensing mana?”
With snowflakes drifting faintly through the air, she turned to face him.
“The Duke said you’ve already begun forming fragments of a mana circle within your heart, correct?”
“Yes.”
Then Sephia began her lesson—from the very foundations of magic.
This world is suffused with mana.
But unless one is an ancient being, like a dragon, raw mana cannot be controlled directly.
Thus, humans, elves, and other races refine it within themselves into *magical power*, or *magi*, before it can be used.
The mana circle within the heart acts as a power generator—converting raw mana into usable magi.
The number of circles one forms is therefore the measure of a mage’s mastery.
“Your first goal,” Sephia said, “is to expand that fragment into a complete ring—your First Circle.”
“I understand.”
“Of course, that will not happen overnight.”
Dale nodded quietly.
“Let us begin by circulating mana around your heart,” she continued. “Focus, and guide the flow steadily.”
There and then, Sephia began instructing him on the basic methods of mana manipulation.
“Never neglect this process,” she said gently. “Repetition and sincerity are the foundation of all magic.”
Dale listened intently, then inhaled deeply and followed her guidance—
drawing in the flow of mana from the world outside, guiding it through his body, circulating it around his heart, expanding it into a perfect ring.
“It will take weeks, perhaps,” Sephia said softly. “During that time, we’ll explore the kinds of magic you wish to learn.”
As she spoke, Dale’s focus deepened.
And then, suddenly—
“Teacher.”
Sephia tilted her head slightly. “Yes? Do you have a question?”
Her expression was that of a kind mentor, encouraging curiosity.
“No,” Dale said quietly.
“…?”
Because as he spoke, he could already feel it—
the mana within him, perfectly revolving, solidly fixed around his heart in a completed circle.
*The First Circle was already formed.*
