It took nearly six months of rehabilitation before I could walk normally without a cane. Just as I finally reached the point where I was no longer hindered in my daily movements, it was decided that I would resume my magic training. Mira, who had been by my side as my caregiver all this time, was apparently going to attend combat training while I practiced my magic. I was a bit surprised to learn that she was also being trained for the Royal Guard.
The training ground was located in a corner of the manor's garden. As I stepped out from the roofed corridor, the fresh air flowed into my lungs for the first time in ages. The sunlight was soft, and the breeze carried the scent of young grass and soil, mingled with the slightly sweet fragrance of flowers—resembling tulips—blooming in the garden.
—It was spring.
It had been quite a long time since I had felt the seasons on my skin. The three years since I was kidnapped had passed in a basement where both dates and seasons were an ambiguous blur. For the first six months after my return, I was confined to a bed for treatment, followed by rehabilitation inside the manor. I hadn't even been able to think about the seasons, but the outside world had evidently continued to turn without me, and spring had arrived before I knew it.
The breeze felt wonderful.
I had learned that being able to feel such things was not something to be taken for granted. When I realized I had finally returned to a daily life that felt normal, I was so happy I thought I might cry.
◇◇◇
When I reached the training ground, Professor Berta was already waiting for me.
The moment her eyes landed on me, she caught her breath. Her gaze flickered between my left and right eyes, then fell upon a lock of my hair that had turned silver. Her lips parted as if to speak, but she closed them without making a sound.
"...Lord Rein. I had heard your appearance had changed, but..."
She didn't finish the thought. Professor Berta took a deep, steadying breath, adjusted her glasses, and steeled her expression.
Seeing her again after so long, she looked a bit different than I remembered. Nearly four years had passed since my abduction. The seventeen-year-old girl I knew had become a twenty-one-year-old woman. While her black bob cut, under-rim glasses, and loose, scholar-like robe remained the same, the atmosphere she projected had shifted. The person who used to be a "serious older sister" had grown into a mature woman.
"...You've grown a bit taller. And... you've become frighteningly beautiful," Professor Berta murmured.
"Let's start over from the basics, slowly and without rushing. We will begin today by confirming your current status."
As if flipping a switch, she returned to her professional training tone. That earnest voice, unchanged from the past, provided me with a small sense of relief.
"...Lord Rein. First, please try to release your maximum mana using this Mana Release Stone."
As instructed, I gripped the Mana Release Stone she handed me and began to release my mana. I didn't feel like I was straining myself. Through the stone, a raw flow of mana that had not yet been shaped into magic erupted. Mana so dense it was visible to the naked eye poured out from the stone.
"...!?"
Professor Berta let out a wordless gasp and covered her mouth. She stared at the torrent of visible mana as if witnessing something impossible.
My mana capacity was incomparable to what it had been when I was seven. It made sense. Ever since I learned Recovery Magic, my body had been broken almost every day, and each time, I had squeezed out every drop of mana to heal myself. To harvest my blood, they would wound me until I could no longer recover—meaning until my mana was entirely depleted. As soon as my mana began to replenish, I used it to heal myself constantly, even while sleeping or unconscious. My survival instinct had been perpetually demanding that my mana capacity increase.
Professor Berta looked as if she wanted to ask how I had acquired such power. However, she swallowed the question and moved to the next instruction. Perhaps she sensed it was something she shouldn't ask.
She pushed up her glasses and exhaled deeply.
"...Next, Mana Control, please. Output your mana as thinly as possible. If you can, do it without a staff."
Next was the manipulation of mana. I finely controlled the release from the outputter. I restricted the flow from my fingertips and increased the pressure of the mana being released. I made it thinner than a thread, thinner than the point of a needle. The experience of suturing my own wounds with the tiny bit of mana I had left after being tortured—stitching the flesh and forming a thin layer of skin to stop the bleeding—had allowed me to process mana into something finer than a needlepoint.
To show that I could release it from anywhere on my body, I made the mana spiral up from my fingers toward my arm.
Professor Berta watched in silence for a while.
"...Incredible. Even among the Academy professors—this is..."
She trailed off. She took a deep breath in and let it out.
"My apologies. I lost my composure for a moment. Now, let's try Fire magic. A simple spell will do. I'll give you a staff just in case, but please keep the output as small as possible."
Professor Berta handed me a training staff. I readied it. Fire magic. It had been easy when I was seven. I focused my consciousness on the converter and attempted to pass the Fire attribute color through it—
My body froze.
A cold sweat broke out. Sensation vanished from my fingertips. My hands—my hands began to shake and wouldn't stop.
The basement resurfaced in my mind. The flickering flames of the torches. A glowing iron rod drawing closer. The sensation of it being pressed against my skin. The smell of scorching. The smell of my own flesh burning.
"Aaaaaah!"
"Lord Rein!?"
Professor Berta's voice sounded distant. My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the ground. The staff rolled from my hand. I couldn't breathe. My chest felt tight, as if it were being crushed.
A warm hand touched my back. Professor Berta knelt beside me, slowly rubbing my back.
"It's all right. Slowly, take a breath."
Her voice wasn't her usual training tone. It was softer, like one used to soothe a child. As I took one ragged breath after another, the warmth of her hand gradually brought me back to my senses. The shaking wouldn't stop. It was pathetic.
"...I'm sorry, Professor Berta. It seems I can't use Fire."
The voice I squeezed out was hoarse.
"Please, do not apologize."
Her voice hitched slightly. She started to say something but thought better of it.
"...Let's end it here for today. We can continue once you're feeling better."
The training ended there. Professor Berta stood in place with a troubled expression, seemingly lost in thought.
◇◇◇
The next day, I felt physically recovered. I told her I could train without any problems, and we resumed.
"Today, let's try Water magic. If you feel it's impossible, you don't have to push yourself, all right?"
I shook my head at Professor Berta's worried voice. I had to know. After a short pause, I tried a Water spell.
I sent the Water attribute color into the converter—
It was the same. The moment I became conscious of "Water," the memory of the mass of water that woman had struck me with—of being submerged and drowning—surged up to my throat. I couldn't breathe. I was drowning on dry land.
I dropped the staff and fell to my knees.
Both Fire and Water.
The two attributes. Neither of them worked.
Remaining on my knees, I stared at the ground.
The dreams of my former self still lived within me, along with my excitement toward magic. Yet now, the act of using magic was simply painful and terrifying.
More than that, I was just sad that the magic within me felt defiled by that woman. All I had left was Recovery Magic.
Observing my state, Professor Berta kept her mouth tightly shut.
◇◇◇
We continued training the following day. Professor Berta spoke as if choosing her words with extreme care.
"...I have heard that you can still use Recovery Magic. If it's too difficult, you may refuse, but could you show me? I'll make a wound—"
"I understand."
Recovery Magic was the one thing I had used every single day in that basement. I pulled the knife from my Crest Identification at my waist and slashed my left palm deeply.
"Lord Rein!? What are you—!?"
Professor Berta screamed. But before the blood could even overflow, mana was already flowing into the wound. The skin closed up. By the time the green light faded, not even a trace of the cut remained. Only the dripping blood left any evidence. For me, it was as natural as breathing—something I could do even in my sleep.
Professor Berta gasped in surprise, but afterward, she scolded me with teary eyes.
"Please, stop hurting yourself! It makes others sad!!"
I waited for her to calm down before resuming. She was clearly worried, but when I told her, "I'm used to it, so it's fine," she looked like she was about to cry again and swallowed her words.
"...Next, I will make a small wound on myself. Please try to heal it."
Professor Berta took a small knife from her pocket and shallowly cut her fingertip. A single red line appeared.
"Please."
I sent mana into the finger she held out, just as I would for my own body. But the mana wouldn't take. The moment it touched her skin, the mana scattered as if repelled. It was the same no matter how many times I tried. Paths formed naturally within my own body, but I couldn't even find an entrance into someone else's.
"...I'm sorry. It seems I can't heal the wound."
Professor Berta silently applied a Low-grade Potion to her fingertip to close the cut.
She didn't move for a long time.
"...We'll stop here for today. I need to speak with your parents."
With only those words spoken in a trembling voice, Professor Berta left the training ground. Her steps were unsteady, like those of a sleepwalker.