St. Augustine's Orphanage, London
Morning light filtered through the thin curtains of Merlin's room, casting pale stripes across the wooden floorboards.
He was already awake, sitting upright on his bed with his wand raised.
"Lumos."
A bright spark flared at the tip. Merlin studied the glow carefully for a few seconds, then nodded in satisfaction.
He had been practicing Lumos nonstop since last night, and he could only say Walffred hadn't lied—repeatedly casting charms really did work wonders.
His Lumos now almost perfectly matched the description in The Standard Book of Spells.
But this wasn't his only gain.
Through repetition, he had also been able to confirm one of his theories about magic.
After casting the charm a certain number of times, a strange emptiness would engulf his body. It wasn't pain, exactly—just an uncomfortable hollowness, as if something vital was missing.
The feeling would fade after an hour, or about half that time if he ate something.
This hinted at something crucial.
Wizards had a finite reserve of magic power.
It was contrary to the movies he remembered, where wizards seemed to cast spells endlessly without consequence. This was reality, not fiction—and that meant he couldn't blindly put his trust in his past-life knowledge from watching movies.
"Since Lumos is already good enough," Merlin muttered, "it's time to try other charms."
He reached for the charms textbook lying on his bedside table—but then stopped, as a spark of inspiration from his other self flashed through his mind.
A grin formed on his face. "Heh… ingenious. As expected of me."
One of the reasons he couldn't sense his magic power, as told by his mother, was because it was still. Then what if he made it move?
He put the book aside and raised his wand again.
"Lumos."
A bright spark of light bloomed at the tip. But Merlin frowned.
The charm activated too quickly, and he didn't have time to sense the flow of magic.
Shaking his head, he tried again.
"Lumos."
Nothing happened. The tip of his wand remained dark.
Merlin showed an expression of "as expected."
He had tried to divide his attention between casting while simultaneously sensing the flow of magic. The result was obvious. The charm failed to trigger. His belief wasn't strong enough.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was onto something here. So he raised his wand and tried again, prioritizing casting the charm this time.
Again and again, he cast Lumos repeatedly, trying to sense the inner flow of his magic power each time, until finally, the familiar emptiness hit him again.
"Guess that's the limit," he sighed. "I'll have to wait for my magic power to replenish."
Then suddenly, he froze as a spark of inspiration flashed through his mind.
"Wait… replenish?" His eyes widened slightly. "If I can feel when my magic power is empty, then I should be able to feel it replenishing as well. Wouldn't that be the best window to sense it…"
The thought struck him like lightning.
That was it.
That was his chance.
Without wasting another second, he rushed downstairs, grabbed his breakfast from the cafeteria—just toast and jam—and hurried back to his room.
He sat cross-legged on the bed, closed his eyes, and focused on that faint emptiness inside him.
The room was silent except for the ticking clock on the wall.
Minutes passed.
Then, Merlin's eyes slowly opened, and a faint smile spread across his face.
"I can feel it."
...
Ivory Village, Aerion Kingdom
"There exist many branches of magic across Gisa," his mother said, her calm voice echoing through the study. "Some even I might not be aware of. But the most prominent of them are healing magic, battle magic, alchemy, runesmithing, potioneering, and ritualism.
"Ritualism, however, has nearly died out in Aerion—you'll only find traces of it now, mostly among shamans in some northern tribes."
Merlin sat across from her, back straight, quill in hand. The study was wide but homely, lined with shelves of books he'd practically grown up reading. Sunlight filtered through the narrow window, and the faint smell of parchment and ink gave the room a calm, familiar warmth.
"Most high-level mages," his mother continued, "eventually specialize in one or two of these branches. You can't master them all. Each demands decades of research and training."
"But once you leave this village," her tone turned dry, as if recalling something unpleasant, "you'll see that most mages never even reach that point. Many call themselves battle mages, even though all they know are simple spells like Force Bullet or Fireball for offense, and Magic Shield for defense."
She sighed softly. "Even those spells take them far too long to cast. That is because they neglect shaping. Remember this well, my dear—shaping is how finely you control your magic. The better your shaping, the stronger, faster, and more efficient your spells become. A mage who cannot shape properly is like a swordsman who cannot hold his blade correctly, so you must learn it well."
Her expression hardened slightly. "There are also branches of magic forbidden by the Kingdom—mind magic, necromancy, and divination. They're dangerous, corruptive, and unpredictable. Anyone caught practicing them faces execution without a trial."
Merlin looked up from his notes. "Even if they're a court mage?"
His mother's lips curved faintly. "Well… that's a discussion for another time."
"Then are all legal branches of magic taught openly?" Merlin asked as he wrote.
"Yes," she replied, "but most people learn through apprenticeships—under senior mages or by swearing allegiance to noble families with magic inheritance. Kyrion, as you know, is the only official magical institution in Aerion. And it does not accept commoners."
Merlin nodded slightly, pen tapping against the parchment. So the ruling class didn't want commoner-born mages to receive systematic training or reach higher levels of magic. But they couldn't completely cut off their path either, or they risked pushing them into a corner and causing them to unite and retaliate.
"No matter which branch a mage studies," his mother continued, "most spells are cast using structured magic."
Merlin looked up. "You mentioned that before. What's really the difference between structured and unstructured magic?"
A faint smile crossed her face. "It's simpler than it sounds. The difference is in the name itself."
Extending her right hand, she opened her palm. The next moment, a faint orb of light flickered into existence above it. "This is an unstructured lighting spell. It's pure shaping, just willpower guiding the magic power."
The orb wavered slightly before vanishing.
"Now watch." She lifted her hand again. This time, threads of magic began weaving themselves in the air, forming intricate runic patterns that took the shape of a faintly glowing circle. A moment later, an identical orb of light appeared above her palm.
"This," she said, "is lighting spell with structured magic. It uses a spell construct—a magical framework made of runes—to guide and contain magic power. The construct stabilizes the energy, shaping it into a defined spell form."
Merlin tilted his head. "But from what I saw, isn't unstructured magic faster?"
"It is," she admitted with a soft chuckle. "But it's also terribly inefficient. The unstructured lighting spell I used just now consumed more than three times the magic of the structured one."
His pen froze mid-sentence. "That much?"
She shrugged lightly. "No need to be so surprised. As a healer, I'm exceptionally skilled at shaping, so the difference is way smaller for me. For most mages, though, the cost jumps anywhere from as low as five times higher to as high as ten.
"And one more thing—unstructured magic can't support complex, high-level spells."
Merlin scribbled everything down quickly, eager not to miss a word. He'd been having lessons like this every morning with his mother since his introduction to magic five days ago, and each one opened a new world to him.
They had covered a wide range of topics: the structure of magical society across the Gisa Continent, habitats of some commonly found magical beasts, names and effects of basic potions and spells, and the various mage lineages of the Aerion Kingdom.
According to his mother, this was all material first- and second-year students learned at Kyrion.
Watching him write so intently, Elena smiled faintly. "So how's your magic power sensing coming along?" she asked.
Merlin paused and looked up. A small, confident smile formed on his face. "I think I've figured it out."
She blinked. "It's fine if you haven't—" She stopped, staring at him. "Wait… what did you just say?"
"I've figured it out?"
The room fell silent.