Infinite Mana > Anything Else?

I pivoted, selecting a nearby tree as my next target. Its bark was thick, its trunk wide enough to need three grown men to encircle it. I clenched my fist, letting my aura pool into my arm. The energy buzzed faintly as I stepped forward and punched.

The impact sent a shockwave through the clearing. The tree splintered, its trunk cracking loudly before toppling over with a heavy thud.

I shook out my hand, marveling at the lack of strain.

The next experiment involved precision. I extended my hand, summoning [Sunlight]. The orb of fire appeared instantly, its heat radiating outward as it hovered above my palm.

Now, I channeled aura into the spell, curious to see how the two energies interacted. To my surprise, the orb shifted. Its color deepened to a fiery gold, and the heat intensified, warping the air around it.

"Huh," I mused. "That's new."

I directed the orb toward a cluster of smaller rocks, watching as it floated effortlessly. With a flick of my fingers, the orb split into three smaller fragments, each one targeting a different stone. The rocks didn't just crack—they melted, reduced to molten slag in seconds.

Aura combined with mana wasn't just powerful—it was destructive.

Finally, I allowed myself to explore the most intriguing aspect of my new abilities: the Halo of Merit.

So far, it had only appeared when I was actively channeling immense amounts of mana or performing extraordinary feats. Yet, I could feel it now—a latent presence just waiting to be called upon.

I reached inward, willing the halo to manifest.

The air shimmered around me, and then it appeared—a golden ring of light hovering above my head, radiant and divine. Its warmth wasn't just physical; it was emotional, filling me with a sense of purpose and clarity.

As it glowed, the forest seemed to respond. The trees swayed gently, the animals stilled, and for a moment, it felt as though the world itself acknowledged the halo's presence.

But the attention it drew was unsettling. I could sense eyes watching me—whether mortal, divine, or something else entirely, I couldn't tell.

With a deep breath, I willed the halo to vanish. The light faded, and the weight of unseen scrutiny lifted.

"Not yet," I murmured. "I don't need that kind of attention right now."

By the time I returned to the manor, the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. I felt alive, invigorated, ready to take on whatever challenges came next.

Or so I thought.

A servant intercepted me as I approached my room, a sealed letter in hand. The crest on the envelope was unmistakable: the Duke's house.

"Who's this from?" I asked, though I already knew.

"The young lady Seraphina, my lord," the servant replied, bowing slightly.

I tore the seal open, my eyes scanning the elegant handwriting.

Lloyd, I need your help. It's urgent. Come to the Falcren estate as soon as possible.

The words were simple, but the weight behind them was unmistakable. Seraphina wasn't one to exaggerate or overreact. If she said it was urgent, then it was.

My mind raced as I folded the letter, tucking it into my pocket. Whatever was happening, it wasn't good.

"Guess it's time to see what's next," I muttered, already preparing for the journey ahead.

+

The letter from Seraphina hadn't left my mind since I'd read it. Her precise handwriting carried an urgency I wasn't used to seeing from her. Seraphina didn't ask for help lightly—her pride wouldn't allow it unless the situation was truly dire.

I sat in my room, the letter spread across the desk in front of me, as I replayed her words in my head. "Urgent" and "come as soon as possible" weren't phrases she used lightly.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.

"Come in," I called.

Father entered, his presence filling the small space. He closed the door behind him and stood awkwardly, arms crossed. The air between us was still tense after the duel.

"I assume you've read the letter," he began, his voice measured.

"I have," I replied, turning to face him. "She's asking for my help."

Father nodded, stepping closer. "The Duke's family isn't one to throw words around lightly. If Seraphina is reaching out to you directly, it's serious."

"And?" I prompted, narrowing my eyes. "What do you want me to do about it?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You know the political implications. She's the Duke's daughter. If we overstep, it could put the family in an awkward position."

"And if we ignore it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He hesitated. "Then we risk offending the Duke."

I crossed my arms, my patience thinning. "So what's your suggestion, Father? You came to me, not the other way around."

"I'm saying tread carefully, Lloyd," he said, his tone firm. "This isn't just about you. It's about the Lionheart name. Handle this wisely, and it could benefit us all."

His words carried weight, but I couldn't ignore the underlying tension. This wasn't just about politics—it was about me. About the son he'd ignored for years now standing in a position to make choices that could impact the family.

"I'll go," I said after a moment. "But I'm not going for the family's reputation. I'm going because Seraphina asked for my help."

Father studied me, his expression unreadable, before giving a single nod. "A carriage will be ready in an hour. You'll take a few guards with you."

"Fine."

He turned to leave but paused at the door. "Lloyd... be careful. The world isn't kind to people who stand out."