One thing Kene could not grow accustomed to was the sheer abundance of mana in the atmosphere.

  After more than thirty years spent in a mana-starved, crumbling world, this era felt almost alien to him. Mana clung to his skin constantly, a faint buzzing sensation that never quite faded. It was omnipresent, dense, alive.

  Finding a comfortable spot in his room, Kene sat down and closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to settle.

  With this level of ambient mana, he would not have been surprised if certain mages privately reached the sixth or even seventh circle without the aid of rare treasures. Such progress would have been unthinkable in the forgotten timeline.

  A small smile crossed his face.

  Awakening under these conditions would be effortless.

  He turned his focus inward. In his mind’s eye, he saw his mana core, still slightly atrophied, and deliberately set it aside. For now, it did not matter. Instead, he traced the network of mana veins running throughout his body. They were dormant, thin as threads, nothing like the thick, reinforced channels he had possessed in his previous life.

  For mages, mana veins were little more than conduits. They delivered mana from the core to form spells and remained mostly inactive otherwise. A mage’s strength came from how many circles of mana they bound around their core, not from the condition of their veins.

  Enforcers were different.

  They strengthened their mana veins directly, widening and reinforcing them so mana could flow freely through the body itself. Once the veins reached a certain threshold, excess mana pooled into specialized reservoirs known as gates. Opening a gate triggered a qualitative transformation. The body was enhanced, impurities expelled, and beginning with the fourth gate, dormant innate abilities were unsealed.

  Quach had been one of the greatest Enforcers of his generation, having opened seven of the ten known gates.

  An Enforcer’s tier was defined by how many gates they had opened, just as a mage’s rank was defined by their circles.

  Now, Kene focused on opening his first.

  Mana poured into him from the atmosphere, drawn naturally into his body. His task was simple in theory. He needed to circulate the mana continuously, clearing and widening his veins.

  The first circulation was agonizingly slow, as though the mana were moving through thick tar. It took nearly five minutes to complete a single revolution. The second pass met slightly less resistance. With each cycle, the flow improved, until eventually a full circulation took only five seconds.

  That was when the real challenge began.

  Carefully, Kene guided the accumulated mana toward the first gate, located just above his core. At the same time, he maintained a steady influx of mana from the environment, ensuring his veins remained fully expanded.

  The gate began to fill.

  Time slipped away unnoticed as he worked. Eventually, the gate reached critical mass. It could no longer contain the pressure.

  The gate expanded violently.

  Trapped mana surged outward, sinking into flesh and bone, reinforcing every part of his body. A pulse of raw mana burst from him, rattling the room as the transformation completed.

  Kene had awakened.

  His mana veins were thicker now, stronger, but more demanding. Future breakthroughs would require far greater quantities of mana.

  He rose slowly to his feet.

  Strength flooded his limbs. His senses sharpened, the world snapping into clearer focus. His body felt lighter, more responsive, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from him.

  “The first gate,” Kene thought calmly. “A significant leap, but modest compared to what comes later.”

  By his estimate, his baseline physical strength had increased roughly threefold. Not yet fully superhuman, but close.

  Enforcers still needed conventional training to realize their full potential.

  Training with the guards should be sufficient, he decided. Once he rebuilt muscle mass, he could consider opening the second gate.

  A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts.

  Kene opened the door to find Celiel standing there, her expression tense with concern.

  “Young Master,” she said quickly, “there was a sudden surge of mana near your quarters. Are you alright? Was there another attack?”

  Kene paused for a fraction of a second before understanding dawned.

  She felt the awakening.

  “I should have arranged a mana-dampening array,” he thought. “Careless.”

  “There is nothing to worry about,” Kene said aloud. “I am unharmed. The mana pulse you sensed was the result of an experiment involving my core.”

  It was a lie, but not entirely. He had been experimenting, just not with the organ she assumed.

  “Young Master, that is—” Celiel began.

  “Unwise?” Kene interrupted gently. “Yes. But as you can see, I am fine. The attempt failed. I remain crippled.”

  He delivered the last words with deliberate self-deprecation.

  Celiel winced, clearly uncomfortable, and did not pursue the matter further.

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  “Since you are here,” Kene continued, “you may as well come in.”

  She hesitated, glancing down the corridor as if expecting danger, before stepping inside.

  ***

  “Well? What do you think?” Kene asked.

  He had suspected Celiel would attempt the improved array while he was away. Judging by her expression, she had, and she clearly had many questions. He had given her that knowledge before realizing just how far off the regression had gone. There was no taking it back now.

  Celiel hesitated, her expression conflicted.

  “Young Master,” she said slowly, “where did you find that circle?”

  “Before I answer that,” Kene replied evenly, “could you answer my question first?”

  He needed time to think.

  She nodded, gathering her thoughts. “It is more efficient, just as you said. I’m using twenty to thirty percent less mana to achieve the same results. The potency even increased slightly. I haven’t tested it extensively yet, but I would estimate an improvement of around three percent.”

  The excitement was unmistakable in her voice.

  Kene noted it with approval. A hunger for knowledge was a vital trait in a mage.

  “I’ve never seen this framework before,” Celiel continued. “It wasn’t taught at my academy. I consulted the other mages in the territory as well. None of them recognized it either. Great Mage Atlon was especially interested.”

  Kene’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Did you tell him where you obtained it?” he asked.

  “No,” Celiel replied quickly. “He pressed me for answers, but I wanted to consult you first.”

  That was better than he had feared, though it was still a complication.

  Great Mage Atlon was one of his father’s court mages, a third-circle practitioner and the strongest mage assigned to the territory. From Ester’s memories, the man had been cold, distant, and openly resentful of his assignment. He had preferred remaining in the capital to pursue his research and had even refused to assist with the extermination of the beast den.

  More importantly, Atlon was a direct conduit to Kene’s father.

  If Atlon learned Kene had distributed an unfamiliar magic circle, word would reach the capital immediately. Kene had no intention of drawing that kind of attention yet.

  He needed to solidify his position here first. Once he had power and leverage, navigating his family’s politics would be far easier.

  “Thank you for being discreet, Celiel,” Kene said. “Your loyalty is appreciated and will not be forgotten.”

  She straightened slightly at his words.

  “As for where the array came from,” Kene continued calmly, “it was part of my father’s magical legacy.”

  It was a lie.

  Celiel’s eyes widened. Magical legacies were fiercely guarded within mage bloodlines, no different from battle arts among Enforcer families in the later eras. For a direct descendant to share even a fragment of one was almost unthinkable.

  “Young Master—” she began.

  “I know,” Kene interrupted gently. “It was irresponsible. I placed you in a difficult position. At the time, I thought I was helping. I apologize.”

  Her expression softened.

  “It’s… it’s alright, Young Master,” Celiel said after a moment. “I’ll inform the other mages to keep this confidential.”

  Kene nodded inwardly. He would tell her the truth one day, when it was believable. For now, the lie would hold. It would eventually unravel if he ever returned to the capital, since his father had never shared any such legacy with Ester. That, however, was a problem for the future.

  Kene released an exaggerated sigh of relief.

  “Thank you. Since the matter is already exposed, you may continue using the array. If questions arise later, I’ll take responsibility.”

  Celiel visibly relaxed, though she quickly masked it.

  “There is one concern, Young Master,” she said. “Great Mage Atlon. I believe it would be best to tell him the truth.”

  Kene raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

  “He is ambitious,” Celiel replied carefully. “He constantly seeks advantages within your father’s faction. If he believes he has access to a piece of your father’s legacy, he may keep it to himself rather than expose it.”

  Kene considered this. He knew little of faction politics. Ester had never paid attention during such lessons, often zoning out entirely.

  “I see,” Kene said at last. “Then I’ll leave the explanation to you. You seem to understand him better than I do.”

  Celiel inclined her head.

  As she turned to leave, Kene called out to her.

  “Celiel.”

  “Yes, Young Master?”

  “I plan to organize an initiative for you and the other first- and second-circle mages,” he said. “We need to address the agricultural issues before winter. How familiar are you with enchantments?”

  “Only the basics,” she admitted. “My education ended early.”

  “That’s sufficient,” Kene replied. “I’ll work out the theoretical framework. You and the others will handle testing. My magical talent may be lacking, but my knowledge is not.”

  She looked puzzled but intrigued.

  Agricultural magic should not exist in this era. In the golden age, it had originated from an earth mage with a rare affinity capable of influencing plant growth. Over time, their discoveries had been standardized into spell structures, revolutionizing food production.

  Kene would need to recreate the process carefully, disguising foreknowledge as gradual experimentation.

  “For now,” he added, “continue practicing with the new array.”

  Celiel nodded once more and departed.

  ***

  Kene wore simple pants and a tunic as he walked toward the training courtyard, with Mikkel trailing a few steps behind him. The man had taken to shadowing him ever since the attempted assassination.

  Kene appreciated the vigilance, though he was fairly confident he could handle a mundane assassin now.

  Up ahead stood a tall woman clad in silver plate armor. His eyesight had improved slightly after awakening, but it was still nowhere near what it had been in his previous life, so he only made out finer details as they drew closer.

  She was dark-skinned, with sharp features and wavy hair pulled back into a tight bun. She was likely from the same continent as Ester’s mother.

  Knight Merva stood waiting for them.

  She bowed slightly. “Young Master Ester. Mikkel.”

  Mikkel nodded in return before turning and leaving them alone. Merva’s gaze settled on Kene.

  “It’s good to see you’re in better health, young master,” she said.

  “I had good healers,” Kene replied simply.

  They began walking toward the courtyard.

  “I would like to take responsibility for what happened,” Merva continued. “It occurred under my watch. I should have been more vigilant in checking our ranks for infiltrators, and you bore the consequences of that failure.”

  She paused only briefly before continuing. “As Mikkel has likely informed you, we have doubled patrols and reinforced our screening procedures in response to the breach.”

  Kene thought.

  Unlike Alton, who did the bare minimum.

  Merva belonged to the knight-guard unit aligned with his father’s faction. Her family had spent a favor owed by his mother to secure her position, which led many to dismiss her as a product of nepotism rather than merit. Letting an heir—disgraced or not—be gravely injured under her watch would have only sharpened that scrutiny.

  She would be eager to prove herself.

  “You are forgiven, Knight Merva,” Kene said.

  She inclined her head slightly.

  “You may make up for the lapse,” he added, “by training me.”

  “As you wish, young master,” she replied. Then, after a brief hesitation, she said, “But I do have a question.”

  “Yes?”

  “Why the sudden interest in training and combat?”

  Kene sifted through Ester’s memories. His family had attempted to teach him the basics when it became clear his talent as a mage was lacking, but the boy had refused outright, showing little interest or discipline.

  “The recent events were… eye-opening,” Kene said carefully. “I’ve been too coddled by my family and the guards. If I’m to survive, I need to be able to defend myself. My family tried to teach me that once, but I was ignorant then. I’d like to correct that mistake—under your tutelage, of course.”

  The answer seemed to satisfy her. She nodded once.

  “Over there is the gambeson pile. Put one on and line up with the guards,” Merva said. “I’ve already informed them you’ll be training with the unit weekly from today onward.”

  She fixed him with a steady look. “While you’re here, you’ll receive no special treatment. You’ll train as they do, and I expect you to take this seriously. You’re free to leave at any time, but while you remain, you’ll be held to the same standard.”

  “I understand, Knight Merva,” Kene said. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  And he meant it.

  His body needed tempering, strengthened enough to endure the breakthrough required for the second gate.