Chapter 5

But what exactly the difference was, he had never seen it with his own eyes.

Bzz—

A brief, clear chime sliced through the silence.

A shield shimmering with faint light appeared out of thin air above his outstretched palm.

Zhao Yu was no longer the beginner who knew nothing about magic.

As his grasp of the relevant theories improved, certain mysteries naturally became clearer in his mind.

Now that he examined the shield, he could indeed make out some of its workings.

The number of glowing runes forming the shield seemed to have increased.

The way they interlocked also appeared denser and more rigorous.

So that was how it worked.

Zhao Yu seemed to understand.

Perhaps the root of leveling up lay in the improvement of one's mental control.

A few more runes flowed beneath his fingertips than before.

The shield condensed more solidly in the air, like a translucent wall.

With a flick of his hand, the wall shattered into motes of light and scattered into the surrounding silence.

"It's time to try that."

Zhao Yu took a deep breath.

The spells passed down at Kamar-Taj were truly wondrous—those symbols were not merely patterns. They could obey one's will and take any form one desired.

Blades, shields, chains... most people only learned the latter two because the Sorcerer Supreme often used them, and because they were simpler.

But rules had never been shackles.

As long as one understood how to arrange the runes and construct the structure, theoretically, anything could be made.

Even a gun.

Of course, a gun would not be very powerful.

With a slight shift of thought, a warm yellow light rose from his palm.

Fine symbols emerged from the light one after another, like fireflies rising from a riverbank on a summer night. They wrapped around his wrist, stretched upward, and intertwined.

At last, the light solidified.

A long blade rested in his hand, faint golden radiance flowing across its entire form.

Energy hummed faintly within the blade, occasionally scattering several ** sparks that fell silently to the ground.

The luminous patterns drifting across the blade's surface flickered in and out like unsteady breaths.

It was a sign that the energy had not yet been fully tamed.

Whenever Kamar-Taj's secret arts were cast, they always burst with fine golden sparks.

Those sparks were actually fragile rune fragments—when a caster's mental control was not precise enough, the symbols would collapse.

But damage of this degree would not harm the weapon's essence. Fresh energy would soon fill in the gaps automatically.

Zhao Yu was currently undergoing that process.

Guided by his will, the long blade floating in midair gradually stabilized. Dark silver and indigo ripples flowed along its body, giving it a restrained yet razor-sharp beauty.

"Very good."

He murmured softly, his gaze sweeping over the curve of the edge.

Naturally, he did not notice that within the same space, separated only by a dimensional barrier the naked eye could not penetrate, two pairs of eyes were fixed firmly upon him.

At the edge of the Mirror Dimension, the mage in brown robes turned his head, every muscle in his face taut. "Master Kamidar,"

His voice was as flat as if measured with a ruler. "If I remember correctly, you only taught him the basic framework method this morning?"

"That is correct, Master Wong."

The older mage standing beside him tugged at his beard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Just before I went to report to you... no more than four hours ago."

"Then,"

The mage called Wong blinked slowly. "How do you explain what we are seeing?"

There truly was no change in his expression.

But it was not because he was calm. He had simply been stunned so thoroughly that he had gone temporarily rigid.

Kamidar opened his mouth, then closed it again.

What could he say?

Wong was asking him what was going on.

But how was he supposed to know?

Someone tell him—why could an apprentice who had only just crossed the threshold that morning make a complete magical weapon manifest in reality now? It defied every known rule of magical inheritance!

Understanding a theoretical framework and actually constructing it were fundamentally different matters.

It was like someone telling you that building blocks could make a castle, even an intricate mechanical model.

But knowing that was one thing. Could your fingers truly complete those delicate connections? How many failures would it take before trembling hands remembered the proper angles and pressure?

Mystic arts were the same.

You had to repeatedly carve every rune with your mind, adjust the frequency of their resonance, until the entire structure could stand firm beneath the wash of energy.

That took time, patience, and countless restarts from the brink of collapse.

Yet the blade in that young man's hand was giving off a steady hum.

His fingertips had to hover in the air without wavering. Not even the slightest tremor was allowed.

The work drained the mind and tested one's temperament even more.

Normally, newcomers could not even touch the edges of it without half a year of practice.

But this sight before him... Kamidar felt as though the breath in his chest would not go down, choking him painfully.

How many years had he spent at Kamar-Taj? He had lost count.

From when his hair had been black to now, when frost had touched his temples, his days had all been spent among these courtyards and tomes.

He had followed the Ancient One into battle against shadows crawling out of rifts and witnessed many scenes ordinary people could never imagine.

But for his breathing to fall out of rhythm like this, it was the first time.

That student merely stood there, calm and composed.

Yet that very appearance made Kamidar's throat go dry.

"Master, please believe me."

He heard his own voice, dry and stiff. "I only began teaching him this morning.

As for why this is happening... I do not know either."

Wong stood opposite him, his expression barely stirring.

He knew Kamidar well. The man never spoke falsehoods.

Who in all Kamar-Taj did not know the old mage's disposition? He was as solid as a stone.

Even Kaecilius, who had always held himself in the highest regard, would give him a slight nod upon seeing him.

Why would such a man fabricate a story for an apprentice who had only just arrived?

Since every other possibility had been eliminated one by one, then the remaining answer, no matter how absurd it sounded, could only be the truth.

The truth was that this young man had used only one morning.

He had understood those difficult principles. Not only understood them—he could even make a faint but unmistakable glow emerge from his fingertips.

Wong himself had risen step by step from being an apprentice. He understood what that meant.

Even the Ancient One, back in her day, seemed never to have had such a record.

This could no longer be described as mere talent.

Kamidar looked at the apprentice's tranquil profile and suddenly felt a deep sense of helplessness.

He was afraid he could no longer teach this student.

Wong watched the figure beyond the Mirror Dimension, unconsciously rubbing the worn fabric at his cuff with his fingertips.

The air carried the mixed scent of old parchment and sandalwood ash, while the faint tinkling of copper bells stirred by the wind came from afar.

It turned out that people could stand so far apart from one another.

He recalled a street performer he had seen in Kathmandu many years ago—the monkey chained in iron could never learn to stand on its head, no matter how hard it tried, while a boy in the neighboring tent could spread his arms and run across a tightrope on his first attempt.

At the time, he had merely found it amusing. Now, however, he unearthed some icy omen from that memory.

"Teacher."

Kamidar's voice pulled him back to reality.

The mage who was always so meticulous now had his shoulders drawn in slightly, like a bird whose feathers had been soaked by rain. "I've thought it over carefully... the problem isn't with me."

Wong did not turn around.

He knew what Kamidar feared—the face that never revealed emotion, the eyes that could pierce through illusions.

But that was not what concerned him now.

Beyond the Mirror Dimension, the young man named Zhao Yu was drawing his third complete Ring of Seraphim in the air.

The golden-red sparks did not burst from a sling ring. They seeped directly from the skin of his fingertips, as though those ancient runes had always been etched deep in his bloodline.

The first ring had taken three minutes. The second had been shortened to the span of seventy heartbeats. Now, the third... Wong silently counted the sounds of the water clock dripping at the end of the corridor.

Twenty-three drops.

At the instant the copper bowl caught the twenty-fourth droplet, the final arc closed perfectly.

"He learns too fast."

Kamidar's voice was dry, like that of someone who had walked through the desert for too long. "Fast enough to defy reason."

Wong finally turned his face slightly.

The light of dusk slanted in through the high windows, burying half his face in shadow. "What do you think reason is?"

Kamidar opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"Reason is the road most people take."

Wong turned back to continue watching the young man.

Zhao Yu had already begun trying to suspend all three rings at once. Fine sweat beaded on his brow, but his fingers were as steady as iron rods welded into the air. "But some people are born knowing the shortcut."

He paused, hearing his own breath echo faintly within his chest.

"Or rather, they are the shortcut."

Kamidar wiped his forehead.

He had repeated that motion seven times today. "Then... do we keep teaching him?"

The question hung between them.

From the other end of the corridor came the hum of apprentices practicing Vishanti's Blade, like a swarm of bees trapped in a glass jar.

Wong recalled what the Ancient One had said before leaving—she had been arranging the scrolls she would take to the eastern foothills of the Himalayas, parchment spread across the wooden table like a giant bird with its wings open.

"If you encounter fire,"

She had not looked up at the time. "Do not think about controlling it. Just make sure it does not burn what should not be burned."

Now the fire had already been lit.

"Teach him."

Wong said, "Teach until you can no longer teach."

"But—"

"Then send him where he needs to go."

Kamidar froze. "You mean..."

"The deepest chamber of the Sorcerer Supreme's library, those unique copies transcribed in dragon-blood ink."

Wong's gaze crossed the boundary of the Mirror Dimension and settled on the young man's fingertips, trembling slightly from concentration. "And the Astrolabe of Cagliostro, the Time Mirror in the cellar of the Temple of Watum—places whose doors we cannot even find keyholes for."

He suddenly smiled.

It was brief, like a blade skimming across water.

"But he may only need to give them a push."

The water clock dripped three more times.

Zhao Yu successfully set the three rings rotating in reverse. Golden-red sparks drew intertwined trails through the air, reflecting him like a shadow standing at the heart of a furnace.

An apprentice fell from the corridor and rolled a long way across the ground.

Kamidar stared at the increasingly complex patterns of light, his Adam's apple moving. "How much longer can I hold on?"

"At this speed?"

Wong calculated the trajectory of the energy flow—not from a sling ring into the void, but in reverse, as though the surrounding magic was actively surging toward the young man. "Before sunset tomorrow.

Perhaps less."

"When will the Sorcerer Supreme return?"

"Soon."

"Specifically—"

"When she is meant to return."

Wong turned and left the window. The sound of his boot heels striking the stone floor echoed through the long corridor.

He stopped after the third step without looking back.

"Before he drains you dry, stuff more into him.

Whatever you can fit."

"Stuff in what?"

"Everything."

Wong said, "Rules, taboos, prices.

Every lesson that took us decades to understand.

Make him remember that magic is never a gift—it is a debt.

The sooner it is repaid, the less interest there is."

Kamidar remained silent for a long time.

When he spoke again, his voice carried the firmness of someone who had made up his mind.

"If he asks why..."

"Tell him."

Wong pushed open the heavy wooden door at the end of the hall. The last light of dusk squeezed through the crack, drawing a long, narrow streak across the floor. "Because some paths are too narrow for two people to walk side by side.

And we..."

He turned sideways and vanished into the shadows beyond the door, the rest of his words as soft as a sigh.

"...have already taken our place behind him."

When Wong's voice rang out over the courtyard's stone steps, Kamidar was staring blankly at a scripture.

The threats from the outer realms had never ceased.

Those beings lurking behind the rifts between stars had always kept their gaze fixed on this blue planet.

The Sorcerer Supreme who protected Earth was now traveling through shattered dimensions, contending with several of the most dangerous among them.

Dormammu—the dark lord who devoured light—was merely one link in her long chain of battles.

With their mentor away on an expedition, those left behind naturally had to take on some of the trivial responsibilities.

"There's no need to worry too much."

Wong walked to his side and pressed a hand against the young sorcerer's shoulder. "You have already mastered quite a few spells. Just teach them directly.

If that truly feels difficult, why not let him start by dealing with the ancient texts? Those words are enough to occupy anyone for a long while."

Kamar-Taj lay in a valley surrounded by snow-capped mountains.