"What are you trying to say?"
"I suspected that your large mana pool might be the result of your mother's death."
"What does that have to do with it?"
"When people lose control of their emotions, their bodies produce too much mana. That can lead to serious injury—or death."
"How?!"
"Imagine people as different-shaped, different-sized glass cups, each filled with varying amounts of water. That water is mana. The cups with water represent people who can use magic. Those without it are ordinary people. Get it?"
"Yeah, I understand."
"You're one of those cups filled with water. You have your own shape, volume, and color. When you cast magic, you pour that water out. Then your body—your cup—refills itself. But sometimes, the cup starts refilling before any water is poured out. What happens then?"
"The water spills over."
"And if it doesn't?"
"The pressure breaks the cup."
"Exactly. When someone can't control their emotions, their body overproduces mana. If they don't release it in time, or if they don't use enough, they die. But now I understand something—your mana isn't the result of emotional trauma."
"How can you tell?"
"If it were, you'd already be dead—or writhing in agony."
"So sitting on that stump all day… was just to see if I'd die?"
"Yeah. But hey, you're still alive, so don't worry! There's another reason too: while you sat there, your mind and body calmed down, and your mana levels returned to a normal state. I had to verify that. What use do I have teaching a boy who might die tomorrow? Ha-ha-ha!"
After hearing those final words, the food in my mouth suddenly felt like stones. I couldn't swallow.
Was this luck? Or fate?
I didn't know what to believe anymore.
"Hey, don't worry," said Master Valorant. "Everything will be fine. But with your current condition, you won't be able to begin physical training just yet. So tomorrow...
we'll start working with mana instead. Oh, and give me your hand."
"My hand? What for?"
If Master Valorant was right, then the reason I survived… was luck. Because my sorrow, my grief over my mother, could have very well killed me.
But somehow… it didn't.
He took my palm gently and pulled a small black stone from his pocket, placing it in my hand.
It looked ordinary, nothing special.
A regular stone?
No—magicians don't carry ordinary stones around, do they?
"Close your eyes," he said.
"Focus on the stone. Visualize it."
I obeyed.
In the darkness behind my eyes, a flicker of flame sparked into existence.
Then it grew, spreading and encircling me.
Fire.
It wrapped around my body—not burning, just surrounding me completely.
And then I heard his voice again.
"Alright. Open your eyes."
I opened them slowly, expecting to see the same black stone.
But it wasn't black anymore.
It had turned blue.
"What…?" I gasped.
Even Master Valorant stared at my hand, surprised.
"Interesting…" he muttered.
"What? What's wrong? Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing's wrong. But… it seems you can wield the Blue Flame."
"The Blue Flame…? What does that mean?"
"There are four known flame types in this world.
The Eternal Flame—ordinary fire.
The Green Flame—the kind I used to destroy Baskervill.
The Black Flame—it consumes all living matter.
And the Blue Flame—it takes form according to the will of the wielder."
"It takes form?"
"Yes. You can shape it. Not into complex structures, but simple ones—things you can control."
"So I can really use flame magic?"
"You can use fire. But not just any fire.
You've been gifted the Blue Flame."
"And what now?"
"Now, starting tomorrow, we'll begin your foundational training.
The basics—so you can control and awaken the flame within you."
He stood and gestured toward the cabin.
"Go get some sleep. Tomorrow, the real work begins."
I nodded and walked toward the cabin, my chest swelling with emotion.
The fact that I had an affinity for fire magic—especially Blue Flame magic—filled me with joy.
For the first time in a long while,
I went to bed smiling.
The sun had already risen by the time I woke up—and once again, I had overslept.
Master Valorant stood over me, an empty bucket in hand, water dripping from my soaked clothes and hair.
"Get up! You plan to lie there all day? Morning training has begun! Move!"
"I—I'm getting up!"
He walked away, leaving the door open behind him.
But I caught a glimpse of something different in his eyes—something soft.
It looked like he was… pleased to be teaching me.
As I got to my feet, I noticed something else.
My body—it felt completely healed.
[How is that possible?]
Just two days ago, I could barely move. Now, not a trace of pain.
"You look a lot better," he said.
"Yeah… I feel great. Did you use some kind of magic on me?"
He pulled a small black stone from his pocket, resting it on his open palm.
As I watched, it began to glow a soft green.
I stared in awe.
"W-Wow… You can use the Green Flame? What does it do?"
"Yes. My flame is green. It can burn from the inside—and more importantly, it heals."
"Healing sounds a lot better than internal combustion."
"It also works well against poison. Especially demonic poison.
Baskervill's hounds left you with more than just wounds.
They tried to poison you.
The Green Flame purged it from your system—and healed you."
"That explains how I'm standing today…"
He nodded. "Now that you're stable, it's time for your first real lesson. I'll explain the fundamentals of flame magic, and then… training begins."
According to Master Valorant, fire-wielding Elestars are trained in a combat style called 'Flaming Wrath.'
It's composed of seven stages.
1st Stage: Flame Mana
2nd Stage: Burning Hands
3rd Stage: Eyes of Fury
4th Stage: Augmentation
He didn't tell me the rest. "You'll learn them when you reach level four," he said.
He also explained why the technique was called Flaming Wrath—because fire draws strength from anger.
But that same anger could overwhelm the Elestar, plunging them into a destructive berserk state.
He made it clear:
No matter what level I reached, if I couldn't control my rage, I'd lose myself—and possibly my life.
So my first lesson… was learning to stay calm.
We began with meditation.
I didn't really understand what it meant at first.
All we did was sit still in peaceful silence.
But Master Valorant didn't make it easy.
Sometimes, he'd suddenly scream,
"AAAAHHHHHHH!"
Other times, he'd yell random insults like "Donkey!" or worse.
I tried to stay calm and not react. That was the real test.
He told me this technique came from the eastern Water Kingdom, where meditation is used to keep mana from leaking unnecessarily.
And it helped.
Those two weeks of meditating every day helped me quiet my mana. I could feel it now, flowing inside me.
Once I had that sense of awareness, he taught me concentration.
Concentration meant focusing all my energy on a single strand of mana, guiding it through my body.
It was… incredibly difficult.
My mana was chaotic—abundant and undisciplined.
Trying to concentrate was like holding water in my hands during a storm.
At one point, I focused so intensely that I could actually see my own mana—and even Master Valorant's.
He explained that during battle, Elestars concentrate their mana this way, weaving it through their limbs and casting spells with enhanced force.
It strengthens both the body and the magic.
The training continued… and got harder.
"Today," said Master Valorant, "we add something new to your routine."
"What now?" I asked.
"You'll maintain mana concentration as usual."
Then he picked up a stick.
"And I'll hit you."
"You'll what?! Are you joking?"
He looked at me—expressionless.
He wasn't joking.
"The lesson is simple. If you maintain concentration, I'll hit you once and check again.
If you're still stable, I stop.
If not… I keep hitting you until you get it right."
"What if I can't keep it stable?!"
"Then you'll keep getting hit.
Now stand up. Let's begin."
There was another thing he taught me that day:
When you concentrate your mana, you can sense the kind of mage someone is.
If their mana is pooled deep in their body—around the heart or core—they're a wizard.
If it flows through their limbs like blood, they're an Elestar.
You can even estimate their strength by how much mana gathers in certain parts of their body.
The more they use mana, the more it lingers in their primary casting points.
I wasn't good enough yet to judge someone that way.
But according to Master Valorant, it was essential—for knowing your enemy, and choosing the right opponent.
That day's training began with meditation.
Then concentration.
Then…
WHACK!
A stick came flying at lightning speed and cracked me across the head.
For a moment, the world turned white.
Then… everything went dark.
Fifteen seconds passed before I opened my eyes again.
Master Valorant stood over me, nudging me with his foot.
"You alive?"
I blinked up at him, dazed.
So this was how day one ended.
"Have you come to your senses? Then resume your concentration."
My master left just as I was coming to. Honestly, I hadn't even noticed him standing so close—his sensitivity to mana must be exceptional. It has to be the result of years of training. A sharp throbbing pain pulsed in my head.