The hall was quiet, lit only by hanging rune-lanterns and the low hum of sealing glyphs in the floor. I sat cross-legged on the silk mat, two shallow bowls of spring water placed between us.
Father knelt opposite me, eyes steady, hands on his knees. He said nothing—but his presence filled the room like a stone in a lake.
"The Water Divination is a test," I said. "But not of strength. Of nature."
He nodded. "Aura shaped by the soul."
"Exactly."
I gestured to the bowls. "When you push Nen into the water, the change reveals your category."
Lucerius arched a brow. "And if it changes in multiple ways?"
I smiled faintly. "Then things get… interesting."
I placed my hands to the sides of the first bowl.
Ten. Stabilize. Ren. Expand.
Aura flowed into the water—clean, steady, deliberate.
The surface began to expand—pushing outward slightly, as if the bowl itself swelled causing some of the water to over flow.
"The volume of the water changed," I said aloud. "That means that I am Enhancer."
Father watched the changes calmly, then looked to me.
"So yo can strengthen yourself and objects using your aura?"
"Yes but there is more to it then that but we can discuss that after you do your water divination. Just do what I did."
He nodded once.
He placed his hands to the sides of the second bowl, but didn't close his eyes.
His aura was disciplined—controlled with frightening precision.
The water didn't expand.
Instead, the leaf on the surface spun. Slow. Deliberate. Which means that he is a Manipulator but I feel something off about the water.
Father removed his hands and stared into the water for a long moment.
"This means I am a manipulator, correct?" he said quietly. "That means I can control objects and living things."
"Yes but I have a feeling about the water, let's taste it."
"Why?"
"Because if the taste of the water has changed, it means you also have an affinity as a transmuter."
We both stuck a finger into the bow, then touched our tongues to taste the water to find that it tastes sweet.
"I don't remember water being sween and I know you didn't put anything in the water which means that I must be a transmuter as well."
I leaned forward, impressed.
"I think you're a Transmuter primary. But you've trained your aura like a Manipulator—exact and adaptive. Or you have a dual affinity, which is rare."
"It matches how you fight," I added. "Not raw destruction. Refined pressure. Intent."
Father's eyes met mine.
"And you?"
"I build from the inside out. Strength layered over fire, shaped by instinct."
We sat in silence for a while, both staring into our respective bowls.
"Those who have a single category of nen like me can also use others that are compatible but tey wouldn't be as strong. if you are an enhancer ,like me, you can use transmuter and emitter abilities but they won't be as efficient as your original category. and the time it would take to learn them would be greater then your original category." I explained as I showed him the diagram of nen categories.
"So since I am a transmuter, I can use enhancer and manipulator abilities but not as efficient and would take longer to learn then my transmuter abilities."
"Yes and no. Since you have a dual affinity with both transmuter and manipulator, so you should master both abilities at the same rate but manipulator won't be as effective as transmuter." I clarified.
"I see, then let's continue the training."
Then we stood up and we began the advance training before we work on advanced training – Hatsu, En, Gyo, and More
I stood, aura focused, and moved to the edge of the training ring.
"All right. Now for the hard part."
Father followed.
"Hatsu," I began, "is your personal technique—how your aura expresses who you are."
I formed a flame in my palm with demonic energy, then wrapped it in aura. The fire compressed into a spinning ring, then expanded outward like a burst of dragon breath.
"My Hatsu is a fusion of Enhancement and Emission, shaped by my identity as both devil and dragon."
Father nodded slowly. "And mine?"
"You'll know when you stop copying me," I said with a grin.
Next, I activated Gyo, focusing my aura into my eyes. Father did the same after a brief explanation.
"Now look at the flame," I said.
He blinked—once.
"Color change. Pressure shift. Core vibration. The flame is alive."
"That's what Gyo lets you see. The truth beneath aura."
We moved to En next. I expanded mine to fill the room in a perfect dome. He mirrored me, managing nearly the same radius on his first try—because of course he did.
"Increases awareness. Control. Enemy detection."
Then came Shu—coating a stick with aura.
Lucerius swung the stick into a wall.
It cracked stone.
"Now imagine that on a sword."
He obviously imagined it because he smiled less then 10 seconds later.
Finally, I demonstrated Ko—compressing Ten + Zetsu + Ren + Hatsu into my fist. My aura flared with dangerous precision.
Father focused. Repeated it.
The wall he struck didn't just crack. It shattered.
We stood in silence afterward, both of us flushed with the weight of what we'd just accomplished.
"You're not just passing power," Father said, wiping sweat from his brow. "You're teaching me how to refine identity."
"Exactly," I said. "Nen isn't about what you do. It's about who you are when you do it."
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A few hours later.
The training grounds atop the eastern terrace were quiet—too quiet.
There was no thunderous sparring like in Father's courtyard. No explosive aura tests. Here, only wind whispered between drifting petals and cold stone.
My mother waited for me barefoot, clad in flowing silver-black robes. In her hand rested the sword Nothung, its edge gleaming with a light so thin it might have been invisible to anyone else.
"You've trained your body with your father," Mother said, her voice smooth and clear. "Now we shape your soul with the blade."
I bowed, respectfully. "I'm ready."
Mother moved like silk spun through gravity.
One cut.
Forward step.
Wrist pivot.
Slide.
The forms were deliberate. Elegant. Every inch of her movement was compressed purpose—no flourish, no waste.
"Demonic swords are not wielded through strength alone," she explained. "They channel will. They demand clarity."
She handed me a practice blade. Not a demonic sword, but weighted and finely balanced.
"First form," she said. "Crescent Bloom."
I mimicked her movement. My foot placement faltered.
"Stop," she said.
She stepped behind me, guiding my stance. Her hands pressed lightly on my shoulders, adjusting posture.
"A cut begins with the spine. Not the wrist. Feel it."
I did feel it, but it took a while. We repeated the form. Again. And again.
Until my muscles burned. Until sweat blurred my vision. And still she made me pause.
"Breath," she said. "Hold too long and the blade becomes heavy. Exhale too soon and you lose rhythm."
I followed her instruction. Let my breath guide my strikes, not chase them.
This time when I struck, the blade hummed slightly.
She nodded.
"Now again. Until it sings louder."
During the final hour, she brought out a sword with a sealed aura—Tyrfing, the Blade of Destruction. She didn't let me touch it.
She only drew it once and in that instant, the pressure of the entire dojo shifted.
"One day," she said quietly, "you may wield these. Not because of your birth. Not because of your gear. But because your spirit is sharp enough."
I lowered my eyes.
"Then I'll train until it is."
Mother turned away, sheathing Tyrfing in one smooth motion.
"Good," she said. "Because the blade never lies."
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2 hours later
I am currently at the Southern forest in the Buné territory for training in sword technique and faced a sudden ambush by rogue familiars.
The forest reeked of corrupted blood as four summoned beasts lay twitching in the clearing—chimeric things, stitched from shadow and claw. My aura crackled around me, holding the fifth at bay.
"Too many for a test run," I muttered, side-stepping a strike that split the ground behind me. "Even for me."
But Astra didn't move, she stood a dozen paces back, watching. Measuring.
Her eyes, cold as a drawn blade, flicked once toward the scabbard at her side. Without a word, she drew Nothung—its blade gleaming like frozen moonlight—and tossed it across the battlefield.
I caught it one-handed. It hummed in my grip. Not in anger. Not in resistance. But in recognition.
The beast lunged.
I moved instinctively, aura surging with trained focus.
Step. Twist. Arc.
Slice.
The creature's front leg separated cleanly from its body, the severed limb dissolving before it hit the ground. I followed up with a spin cut and split its jaw down the middle.
The sword glided through corrupted flesh like it wasn't there.
It didn't burn nor did it roar.
It sang.
Behind me, Mother stepped forward at last, arms folded. "And?"
I lowered the blade, letting it rest along my forearm.
"She's lighter than I expected," I said. "Sharper too."
Astra's lips quirked—just faintly.
"Nothung only cuts what the wielder is willing to face."
I glanced at her.
"Why now?"
She paused, then walked toward me slowly.
"Because a sword, even a cursed one, knows when its wielder is still a boy."
She stopped at arm's reach.
"And tonight, Ren… you proved you're not."
She turned and walked away, leaving me standing there—Blade in hand.
Resolve in heart.
And blood on the ground.
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2 hours later.
Beneath the estate is an arane lab that is used by my mother, I am currently using to work on studying and training in magic. I wanted to try to replicate magic from the Fairy Tail world.
I stood alone, surrounded by floating parchments, carved glyph stones, and a sealed crystal core originally forged by the Sigurd Institution. Ancient devilcraft hummed faintly in the walls.
This place wasn't for meditation, It was for invention.
"Let's see if my theory on [archive magic] holds," I murmured.
I raised my palm and began circulating demonic energy through my fingers—slow, deliberate, dense. I approached the Sigurd core—still half-sealed by Astra's old restrictions. I placed my hand on the access rune, feeding it a small pulse of stabilized energy.
The core pulsed. Glyphs appeared around me like floating screens—mana layers storing ancient information in real time.
I breathed slowly.
"Activate: Archive Layer One… Begin indexing."
The air shimmered as magic arrays began to rotate around my shoulders.
Spell formulas. Elemental threads. Even sword technique data appeared in strings of compressed runic code.
I couldn't cast anything yet, but I could see it.
"So this is what it feels like… to read magic like a machine."
I reached out mentally, syncing my flow of demonic energy into the first Archive window. A data-ring lit up and obeyed.
"[Archive Magic]—Stage One, successful." I said as I switch to my next theory on [jutsu shiki].
Turning to the spellboard, I began drawing Jutsu Shiki glyphs in the air with pure aura-ink—demonic energy manipulated like calligraphy.
Stroke. Circle. Spiral. Anchor.
"It's not chant-based," I muttered. "It's formula-based. Like math in flames."
The symbols glowed faintly red. One set—centered around fire—activated. Heat burst upward in a small column.
"Fire Rune Circle Bound: Stable."
I layered another glyph to trigger after delay.
A soft flare.
"Delayed activation. That's real [Jutsu Shiki]."
It wasn't explosive yet. but it worked.
I smiled before switching to my theory on [dragon slayer magic].
I stepped into the circle and lowered my center of gravity.
Breath in. Focus.
My demonic energy spiraled around my spine. I drew it upward—toward my throat and jaw.
"No chant. Just will. Just force."
I exhaled.
The fire that erupted wasn't clean. It crackled—unstable, jagged, dark red but it was fire.
And it tasted like mana poison in my mouth.
"Dragon breath… simulation successful," I coughed. "Not yet a roar. But the spark is there."
My throat ached, but I grinned.
"I'll need to reinforce my lungs. Maybe with enchanted glyphs or a runic stabilizer… Or I could use nen to enhance my lungs."
A faint clap echoed from the doorway.
I turned—Astra stood watching, arms folded, eyes unreadable.
"You're teaching yourself how to build magic that shouldn't exist here," she said softly.
"I'm not building it," I said. "I'm remembering it."
Astra walked forward and placed her hand on the Archive core.
"When the time comes," she said, "this room may become your greatest weapon—or your greatest temptation. What will you do with what you create here, Ren?"
I looked her dead in the eyes.
"I'll use it to unite the knowledge of devils, dragons, and worlds beyond. And I'll burn it all down before I let it be misused."
She smiled faintly.
Then left me to my work.
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Afternoon
After all my training today, I went to Kuoh Town Park to spend time with my childhood friends Issei and Irina. With the sky was fading into gold when I heard Irina's laugh.
I turned from the slide just in time to see her tackle Issei from behind. He yelped as she locked her arms around him like a bear.
"Got you!" she grinned.
"No fair! You said we were playing tag, not wrestling!" he shouted, flailing.
"Same difference!" she shot back.
I smiled, sitting on the swing nearby, watching the two of them go at it like always. Some things never changed—even across worlds, timelines, and reincarnation.
They didn't know I remembered everything. Not yet.
To them, I was just Ren—quiet, curious, a bit older-sounding than I should've been, but good company.
And to me… they were the only connection I still had to the world I'd lost.
Irina ran over first, plopping onto the swing beside mine. Her long auburn hair bounced with each step, and her bright violet eyes sparkled under the fading light.
"You didn't even try to run, Ren-kun," she said, pouting. "You're supposed to be the fastest."
"I like watching more than playing," I said. "It's peaceful."
"Boring," Issei called from the sandbox, wiping dirt off his hands. "You sound like a grandpa already."
"Maybe I'm an old soul," I replied with a smile.
Irina leaned closer, whispering like she was telling a secret.
"That's okay. I think you're kinda cool like that."
I blinked, caught off guard—but managed a chuckle.
As the sky dimmed, the fireflies came out. We chased a few. Caught two. Let them go.
At one point, Irina sat beside me on the grassy hill, arms around her knees. Issei lay on his back nearby, staring at the stars.
"Hey," Issei said suddenly. "Do you think we'll be friends forever?"
"Yeah," Irina said without hesitation. "Even if we go to different schools or move away, we'll still find each other."
I didn't answer right away.
How could I explain I already knew where their lives would go?
How Irina would leave. How Issei could suffer. How my own future was far from theirs.
Still…
"Even if we end up in different worlds," I said softly, "I'll find my way back to you."
Issei sat up, frowning. "Different worlds? What are you, some kind of anime character?"
I smirked. "Maybe."
Irina giggled.
"Then I'll be your magical knight," she said proudly. "To protect you!"
"Hey! That's my job!" Issei cried.
"You can be the mascot," she teased.
I watched them argue.
And for a moment—just a moment—I let go of destiny, dragons, training, and Touki.
And I was just a boy. Sitting in the grass. With the two people who reminded me why I still wanted to live.
next time interlude – training and growing