Sirius had always been a quick thinker in his old world, considering the kind of job he did in there. But in this new body, a body crafted from centuries-old necromantic arts, he discovered a different kind of talent entirely.
He was learning faster than Mira could teach.
And far faster than Aria could gauge.
The morning after the crater incident, the three returned to the clearing. Dew shimmered across the torn soil like scattered silver. Birds refused to come near the place now, circling overhead instead as though wary of a predator.
Sirius stepped to the center of the devastation without hesitation.
Then, he raised his hand. He felt it again. That pressure.
The colossal, suffocating mass of mana pushing against the confines of his skeletal form. A human body would have combusted instantly under that strain. Flesh would have melted. Nerves would have burned. Even the original Lich would have collapsed from the overwhelming recoil.
But Sirius… remained steady.
Not because he was strong.
But because his body had no weakness to exploit. Not one that he'd noticed.
Bone reinforced by mana. Continuously.
Spirit protected by immortality and a mind sharpened by necessity.
He was built... no, designed to survive his own power.
And for the first time since arriving in this world, he understood why.
Mira paced around him nervously. "Okay… bring out a tiny bit. Just like yesterday—no more than a drop."
"Understood."
Aria was scribbling on a wooden slate nearby. "This is insane… If he leaks again, we're all going to end up buried."
Sirius nodded once. "I will aim upward this time."
Mira stepped back immediately. "Good. Very good. Let's not make another crater."
Aria snapped, "Or a canyon. One crater is enough."
Sirius focused inward. The torrent of mana surged like an ocean storm trying to break free. He compressed it, guided it, bent it, not through finesse yet, but through sheer force of will.
He shaped a thread.
A drop.
A fraction of a fraction of what he held within his body.
His palm glowed faintly.
"There!" Mira shouted. "That's it! Don't move!"
Aria retreated fifty meters behind a tree.
Sirius held the mana steady. This time it didn't surge uncontrollably. It pulsed gently, like a heartbeat.
Mira clapped excitedly.
"You're doing it! That's the tiniest output I've ever seen! Try, try very carefully to shoot it upward!"
He directed his palm to the sky.
And released.
A thin beam shot upward with a sharp crack more sound than light.
Bwaaaaaam!
The air trembled.
Clouds parted.
Literally.
Two miles of sky instantly split open, a circular hole forming among the clouds as if someone had punched through them with a giant invisible fist.
Wind howled wildly across the clearing.
Mira's jaw dropped.
Aria peeked from behind her tree.
"…Was that supposed to be tiny?" she whispered.
Sirius lowered his hand slowly. "That was… the smallest amount I can currently manage without losing control."
Mira exhaled shakily. "Then we need to work on making your tiny even tinier."
Aria scribbled furiously. "The clouds are gone. The clouds are literally gone."
"It appears so," Sirius said.
Mira stepped forward and took his skeletal wrist gently. "No. You're doing well. Truly. This is progress… terrifying progress, but still progress."
Sirius tilted his skull a fraction. "You are not injured this time?"
Mira smiled. "I braced myself and fortunately, you shot it up."
Aria shouted from across the clearing, "I didn't! You nearly knocked the wind out of me!"
"That was the sky reacting," Sirius replied.
"That makes me feel worse!"
Mira laughed, shaking her head.
His adaptation was scary but that's what they needed. They continued training.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Sirius unleashed the same tiny fraction a dozen times. Then twenty. Then fifty.
Every shot tore another hole in the sky.
Every shot silenced the wind.
Every shot reminded him of just how monstrous his mana truly was.
But with each attempt, his hand trembled a little less. His focus stabilized. His grasp of his reserves grew firmer. The initially wild torrent began to feel more like a heavy river—a river he could divert piece by piece.
At one point, his mana slipped again.
Just slightly.
Boooooom!
The explosion was massive but direct.
The shockwave blasted outward like a cannon shot.
Mira and Aria flew backward—again. Mira balanced herself on time but Aria slammed into one of the trees with a pained grunt.
Sirius, however, did not move an inch.
His robe flapped violently, but his bones remained unscathed, firmly rooted in place as if the earth itself anchored him.
Mira groaned on the ground. "Ow—"
Aria wheezed some distance away from her. "I felt my soul vibrate."
Sirius looked down at his own hand, clenching and unclenching it.
His bones—if they could be called bones at this point—felt harder. Denser.
"The pressure strengthens me," Sirius murmured. "Even when my mana erupts outward… my body absorbs part of the recoil."
He lifted his arm, examining the faint blue glow beneath the bone.
"This body was not designed merely to cast. It was designed to endure."
Aria stumbled to her feet. "So your body gets stronger every time you mess up?"
"I think so."
"That's cheating."
Mira laughed breathlessly. "Lord Sirius, you're a monster."
"Thank you," he replied politely.
"Not a compliment," Aria muttered.
"Alright, that's it for today. Let's head back while I examine myself a little." Sirius smiled.
~~~~~
They returned the next morning, exhausted but ready to start the day.
"Let's start with the same amount as yesterday," Mira said.
Sirius nodded, raised his palm, and controlled it perfectly on the first attempt.
Mira froze. "You… learned it already?"
He nodded. "You explained it well."
Aria dropped her slate. "No—no, no, no—that took me three weeks to stabilize! THREE WEEKS!"
"And you," Siriu said calmly, "taught yourself. Without proper foundational guidance. Impressive."
Aria looked conflicted between pride and wanting to punch him.
"Alright," Mira said, clapping her hands, "then let's go smaller. Much smaller."
This time she guided him gently, placing her hand over his arm.
"Imagine your mana as steam instead of water," she said softly. "Let it evaporate. Don't push it. Don't release. Just let it 'exist' without direction."
Sirius closed his eyes.
His mana stirred.
Breathed.
Softened.
A tiny spark—half the size of the previous one—appeared at his palm.
Mira gasped. "Yes! YES! You're doing it!"
Aria leaned closer. "That… that actually looks manageable…"
Sirius lowered his arm.
"Should I fire it?"
"Upward," Mira said quickly.
He did.
This time, the result wasn't as violent.
It only cleared a hole in the clouds about a mile wide.
Progress.
Small progress.
Terrifying progress.
But progress.
Again and again, and again, Mira made him fire the tiny output repeatedly:
Into the sky.
Into the wind.
Into a tree which evaporated instantly.
Into a rock which shattered into dust.
Every time, Sirius refined the amount.
Every time, Mira's instructions got sharper.
Every time, Aria's notes grew more frantic.
By sunset, Sirius could hold the tiny fraction completely stable for an entire minute.
It was an absurd achievement.
Impossible but he did it.
Not because of talent.
But because he had no limit and no fear of breaking himself.
They were preparing to return to the village when Mira suddenly stiffened.
"Sirius," she whispered, "do you feel that?"
He paused.
If there was one innate ability he learnt without knowing how, it would be manipulating mana sense. His mana senses flared outward, covering a very wide range.
He then sensed the ripple.
There was a disturbance.
Something moving through the woods, fast, heavy, and aggressive.
Aria grabbed Mira's sleeve. "What is that? A deadly beast?"
Sirius lowered his hand slowly.
"No."
His voice was cold.
Controlled.
Dangerously calm.
"That is a most likely a scouting party."
Mira's eyes widened. "From a kingdom, right?"
Aria swallowed. "They felt the explosions… the mana surges…"
Sirius nodded.
"They are coming toward Village Ainz."
He turned, cloak trailing behind him.
"And they do not come in peace."