Chapter – 05
The violent, razor-sharp mana pierced through the tender bodies of the children without mercy — stabbing, tearing, and rending as if to annihilate them.
“Uwaaaah!”
“It hurts! H-hngh… it hurts too much…!”
“P-please, please stop! Aaaagh—!”
The air filled with screams so horrific that they were almost unbearable to hear.
In truth, what was happening wasn’t much different from torture.
It was the Rite of Communion — a brutal magical ceremony to forcibly heighten one’s mana sensitivity and implant a magic core within the body.
Normally, no proper mage tower would ever conduct a ceremony like this.
For an ordinary person with talent as a mage, it typically took anywhere from a month to half a year for a mana core to properly settle inside the body.
If done hastily, the foreign mana could easily go astray, damaging organs and killing the host outright.
That was why high-ranking magicians carefully nurtured a candidate’s affinity, step by step, over a long period — the proper way to pass on mana.
Thus, the northern mage tower’s method of instantaneous mana transference was essentially taboo within the mage community.
“Urgh, k-keuh…!”
A child beside Liriope suddenly vomited blood and collapsed forward, convulsing before losing consciousness entirely.
Liriope’s condition was hardly any better.
The molten surge of mana was far too immense for her immature body to contain.
It boiled through her veins like liquid metal, searing her from the inside out.
Her body was drenched in cold sweat, and even clenching her teeth couldn’t stop the choked sobs and groans that escaped her lips.
“Uh… hngh, ah… agh…”
The stench of iron filled her throat, her vision flashing white and black as her consciousness wavered between clarity and oblivion.
[Stay conscious!]
Just as her body began to slump forward, a harsh voice snapped inside her head, yanking her awareness back.
[If you lose consciousness now, it’s over. Do you want to spend the rest of your life as a cripple, called a half-wit again?]
Even though she had endured this once before, the pain was something she could never grow used to.
Liriope bit down on her tongue, clinging to the last shreds of her sanity.
[I’ll clear the path — focus! If you let yourself be swept away now, you’ll live the rest of your days being trampled underfoot. Did you come back in time just to end like that again?]
Like a drowning person clutching at a piece of driftwood, she latched onto that voice and desperately tried to tame the raging mana within her.
“Urgh… ngh… Aagh!”
Of course, it wasn’t easy.
If sheer willpower could instantly fix everything, then why had she lived such a miserable life the first time?
Memories of her previous life flickered across her mind —
the endless humiliation, the years of being treated worse than a dog within the mage tower where only strength was respected.
Every day she barely survived, scraping by in a place where weakness was synonymous with worthlessness.
She endured it all, clinging desperately to stay beside her sister in the northern mage tower.
Only later did she realize how meaningless that struggle had been.
When she finally gave up, she lived hiding in the shadows — unseen, unheard, unimportant.
She had achieved nothing. Protected nothing.
Her life had been one long chain of powerlessness and disgrace.
And in the end, she lost the one thing she had truly cared for.
That was why this time… this time had to be different.
No matter what, she could not walk the same path again.
Shaking violently, Liriope gritted her teeth and endured through the agony.
She didn’t know how long she writhed and screamed on the floor.
Her fingernails were torn and broken from clawing at the stone; her face was wet with tears and saliva.
But it didn’t matter — sweat poured from her body like rain, drenching her from head to toe.
Whenever she wanted to give up, the voice in her head lashed at her again, dragging her back from the brink.
Despite its harsh tone, the invisible force behind it guided the rampaging mana — pushing, shaping, leading it delicately toward her heart where the core was meant to form.
Time lost all meaning. The torment felt endless.
Fwoosh—!
And then, suddenly—
Like clouds parting after a storm, like fog lifting from a lake, clarity bloomed inside her mind.
Her breath filled with a crystalline sharpness, her vision sharpening to painful brilliance.
Then something wondrous happened before her eyes.
“Ah…”
At first, she thought black-and-blue snowflakes were falling inside the room.
In her blurred vision, luminous motes of light drifted gracefully through the air, shimmering like tiny stars.
They floated around her in slow motion, as though time itself had stopped — and then, all at once, they erupted into a storm.
The mana that had only tormented her moments before now surged toward her heart, finally finding its rightful path.
Power poured into her — vast, radiant, intoxicating.
For the first time, she felt a soaring sense of freedom and might.
Her body trembled, not from pain but from sheer exhilaration.
A shiver of ecstasy ran through her entire being.
The crushing pain that had torn her apart moments ago vanished as if it had never been.
Had it not been for the blood, sweat, and tears soaking her clothes, she might have thought it all a dream.
Her violet eyes, hazy until now, slowly regained their light.
That was when she noticed — the magic circle covering the ceiling had gone dark.
“Hm. Out of fifty, sixteen survived this time. Four remained conscious till the end. Better results than usual.”
The room stank of blood and fear.
Children whimpered and sobbed amid the carnage, their bodies broken and twisted from the ordeal.
Most had died outright.
Some still twitched on the ground, barely alive.
Only a handful — including Liriope — had managed to stay conscious, their faces streaked with tears and blood.
A red-haired boy sat in shock on the floor, covered in gore. His eyes were vacant — until they suddenly flared crimson.
When he saw the corpses of the boys who had once called him leader, he let out a beastlike howl, glaring murderously at the mage who had conducted the ritual.
Amid the chaos, Liriope suddenly realized someone was clutching her tightly — almost painfully so.
“Ah… hh, ngh…”
The person’s ragged breath trembled against her ear, too faint even for a scream.
When Liriope lifted her head, she saw Calliona — drenched in blood, tears streaking down her face.
“U-unnie…?”
Liriope gasped in horror.
[That sister of yours… I suspected as much from the moment I saw her, but she really is a broken vessel.]
The voice in her head clicked its tongue, sounding faintly weary — perhaps from having shared in Liriope’s struggle.
[Her natural talent as a mage is almost nonexistent. Her body’s a wreck, yet somehow she’s still clinging to life.]
Liriope froze.
No talent?
What nonsense was that?
Calliona was a genius — one universally acknowledged by all.
