Chapter 85

"Hh… ngh."

Heavy rain hammered every sense into submission. Mikhail turned toward the ragged breathing rising behind him.

"I… I remember."

Julien's head hung low, his mana pouring out in hot, unsteady surges as his fingers dug into Mikhail's shoulder.

"It's coming back… why… why did I forget… all of it."

Mikhail watched Julien stammer out the broken words, allowed himself a quiet smile, and faced forward again.

The restriction magic imposed on Julien.

The handiwork of Garelt Leventia, head of the southern family.

True to the Leventia name, the spell had been constructed to reject any external attempt to dismantle it.

But that didn't mean it was flawless.

The curse drew its power from Garelt's obsession and rage—a force born of the desire to isolate a helpless target and drive him to ruin. Every fiber of the spell served one purpose: to realize Garelt's impulsive, destructive hunger.

And that, paradoxically—

—meant it had never fully accounted for the will that could ignite from within Julien himself.

"Julien."

Mikhail called his name and fixed his eyes on the spirits multiplying for the final time.

His body groaned under the strain of absorbing Julien's mana far beyond its limits.

The shoulder beneath Julien's fingertips seared as though it were being burned alive.

But the thought of stopping never once crossed his mind.

"Let's finish this. Pour everything you have into me."

Julien's answer reached his ears. Mikhail focused every shred of awareness on his outstretched hand.

The will of someone who had realized what he'd lost—and sworn never to let it slip away again.

A fierce resolve to protect what was his flowed through Julien's touch and into Mikhail's body.

Crackle—. Cra-crack—.

A crystal woven from both their mana condensed in the air above, growing denser with each passing heartbeat.

A new blue crystal, taking form.

It shone brighter and clearer than anything that had come before.

SHATTER!

It happened in an instant.

The crystal, expanded to its absolute limit, erupted in a blaze of brilliance—painting the ash-gray sky a vivid, luminous blue.

It surged forward, crushing everything in its path to dust.

FWOOOOOSH!

"Oh…."

The gasp escaped before he could stop it.

Cashion Retri stood rooted to the spot, staring at the scene unfolding before his eyes.

Born at the center of a surface where there was scarcely room to stand—where everything teetered on the edge of collapse—

Mana that outshone anything he had ever seen, radiant and pure, swallowing the threats blanketing the sky one by one.

It reminded him, unmistakably, of Joseph's cruciform star—the one he'd witnessed on a snowfield where death had seemed certain, with a magical beast bearing down on them.

"……"

Cashion stood transfixed by the dazzling spectacle, then slowly shifted his gaze to the boy standing beneath the light.

A figure closer to child than adult. Someone whose years of experience yet to come far outnumbered those already gathered.

The trembling frame, the short hair whipping in the wind, the slight and youthful silhouette—all of it still so unfinished.

And yet… the mana streaming from that boy's hand was anything but.

Its vivid light proved it beyond all doubt.

The potential he carried. The right to inherit the North. The promise that hope would endure through the bitter cold.

"Ha… haha."

Cashion swallowed the surge of fulfillment swelling in his chest.

A contented laugh spilled from his lips as they curled upward.

His eyes never left the boy painting a miracle across the sky. In a low, reverent murmur, he spoke.

"Lord Joseph. The light of the North… has grown into something magnificent."

---

Three days passed after that.

The rain that had poured for a solid week stopped as though it had never fallen.

The prayer festival—mired in talk of postponement and cancellation—went ahead with only a single day's delay and no real trouble.

The streets where the festivities unfolded buzzed with life, same as always.

"……"

Fresh air grazed the tip of his nose. Mikhail opened his eyes at a languid pace.

Bright sunlight seeped through the gap in the curtains, and the shadow of the window frame lay patterned across the white ceiling like lace.

A bedroom, by the look of it. Mikhail let out a small groan and pushed himself upright.

FLASH!

A system message appeared before his eyes.

【Notice: [Natural Element: Water] and [Natural Element: Electricity] have imbued your mana, activating their attributes.】

〈Mana Element: Water〉

[A natural element carrying the water attribute. The user can expend mana to partially replicate water's properties and activate the trait of [Binding].]

〈Mana Element: Electricity〉

[A natural element carrying the electricity attribute. The user can expend mana to partially replicate electricity's properties and activate the trait of [Surge].]

【Notice: The effects of a newly acquired item have settled into your body.】

〈Item: Core of the Raging Storm〉

[A core formed from the compressed fusion of electricity and water. Its unstable yet violently churning patterns attest to the raw energy within. The power imbued in the core strongly reflects the nature of electricity, amplifying spell potency.]

The system message flickered with a dark blue flash.

Then, as if it had been waiting for him to regain consciousness, it began dumping information without pause.

Mikhail watched line after line materialize through the fog in his head, scrunched his face, and muttered.

"Slow down. Take it easy."

The output lurched to a halt. Mikhail started reading through the frozen text.

His lingering grogginess dragged his focus under now and then, eyes dipping mid-sentence—

But it didn't stop him from absorbing the contents.

Water and electricity. Two more elements unlocked, plus an item to boost my stats.

His gaze settled at the bottom of the text and went still. A new message surfaced.

【Stat Change Notice】

• Mana Capacity: B → B+ (tier increase)

• Impact Reduction: C- → C (tier increase)

• Mana Quality: C+ → B- (tier increase)

Growth numbers aren't bad either. Solid haul.

Creeeak.

The sound of a door opening pulled his attention from the messages. Mikhail turned his head.

Through the widening gap, a familiar head of pink hair and two round puffballs padded into the room.

"Oh!"

The moment Julien's violet eyes rolled across the room and landed on Mikhail's face, he startled.

He shoved the tray he'd been carrying off to the side and closed the distance in a single bound.

"Mikhail, are you okay? How do you feel? Does anything else hurt?"

Questions tumbled out in rapid succession. Han and Ul hopped onto the bed and peered up at Mikhail.

Mikhail flashed a teasing grin at Julien, then gently stroked the two creatures who'd come to check on him.

"I'm fine now. Slept so long I actually feel refreshed."

"Hah. Thank god. You have no idea how worried I was…."

Julien heaved a sigh and let his shoulders slump, then dragged a chair over and sat down with his chin propped in his hand.

In the silence that followed, those violet eyes sharpened into a look that could cut.

A grumbling complaint slipped through his parted lips.

"I'm never believing you when you say you're fine. Ever again."

Mikhail glanced at the pile of medicine packets stacked on the desk, smirked, and shrugged.

"Why not? Everything worked out."

"I mean, sure, but…."

Julien pursed his lips and trailed off for no real reason.

Mikhail smiled and turned toward the window, where bright light poured in.

Against the clear sky, the lively clamor of festival-goers drifted upward.

Streams of water arcing from the lake traced sweeping curves through the air, catching the sunlight and scattering into glittering fragments.

A scene of pure, unbothered peace.

He was watching it all in silence when Julien's voice floated in from beside him.

"You know, you were right—everything turned out great. The magic tools on the lake are working properly again, and because we stopped the spirits from multiplying before things got out of hand, there wasn't a single disruption. On top of that, the festival organizers heard about what we did and waived all our remaining duties—even gave us the highest score as a special exception. They said we can just enjoy ourselves for the rest of our stay and head back to the academy whenever we're ready. About the best possible outcome we could've asked for, wouldn't you say?"

Julien finished and turned his gaze to the tranquil sky beyond the window, same as Mikhail.

A beat of silence passed between them.

Julien let out a soft breath, turned to face Mikhail, and let the corners of his eyes crease gently.

"And… thank you. I mean it."

Mikhail shifted to meet his gaze.

Only a handful of syllables—but layered beneath them were more meanings than words could hold.

Mikhail recalled that final moment on the lake and offered a faint smile in place of a reply.

Julien's face brightened into something warmer still. Before long, he rose from his seat.

"Oh—there's someone who's been waiting to see you. I should go let them know you're awake."

Only one person came to mind. Mikhail asked.

"Cashion?"

"Yeah. I heard he even pushed back his departure schedule. He'll be thrilled to hear you're up. Let me go pass the word along—I'll come back with his answer."

Mikhail nodded. Julien stood, slid the chair back into its place, and smoothed out the wrinkled edges of his clothes with a few quick pats before turning toward the door.

"Julien."

Julien stopped mid-step at the sound of his name and looked back.

Mikhail held his questioning gaze with a steady, unhurried look.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

Julien froze. His pupils trembled once, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

But the flicker of emotion lasted only an instant.

The same composed smile he always wore settled back across Julien's face.

"Go see Cashion first. We can finish my story after that."