Before dawn was even upon them, training has already resumed.
Not because Sirius needed rest—he didn't—but because Mira and Aria did. And because, strangely enough, the quiet hours before the village stirred felt safer. Calmer.
As if the world itself was less likely to provoke disaster when most living things were still asleep. Sirius knew this to be a lie from his own experience. Disaster could happen any moment.
The clearing greeted them once more, its scars now familiar. Where chaos had once reigned, order was slowly being carved out through discipline and repetition.
Sirius stood in the center, hands at his sides, posture straight.
Aria approached him with an unusually serious expression.
"Sirius," she said, "today I'm not waiting for you to ask."
Mira raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Aria exhaled slowly. "I'm teaching you the only barrier spell I know."
Sirius turned his skull toward her. "A defensive spell?"
"Yes," Aria said firmly. "And not just for you. For the village."
Mira nodded in agreement. "If something happens… if someone comes again… we can't rely on you only dodging or overwhelming things. You need to protect."
Sirius inclined his head. "That is reasonable."
Aria continued, "There are two reasons I'm doing this."
She raised one finger.
"First, I want to see how strong it becomes when you cast it."
She raised a second.
"And second. It's because if the kingdom or something worse shows up, I want you to have something that can cover everyone."
Mira folded her arms. "This barrier scales directly with mana. The size of the barrier. The barrier's durability. And it's longevity... it all depends on the caster."
Sirius processed that silently.
"A scalable construct," he murmured. "Then in theory—"
"Don't finish that sentence," Aria cut in quickly. "We're starting small."
Aria began drawing a large sigil in the dirt—far more complex than anything she had taught him before. Layers of interlocking circles, anchor points, directional flow lines.
"This is a basic barrier," she said. "But 'basic' doesn't mean easy."
Mira added, "Most people struggle because it requires constant output. Not bursts. Not spikes. Consistency."
Sirius's gaze sharpened.
Consistency.
That was… difficult.
"Mana must flow evenly," Aria explained. "Too little, the barrier collapses. Too much, it destabilizes and shatters."
"And if it shatters," Mira said grimly, "whatever hits it goes straight through."
Aria demonstrated first.
A translucent dome formed around her. It was barely three meters wide and shimmered faintly, like glass catching sunlight.
She struck it with a small fire spell.
The barrier rippled.
Held.
Then faded.
"Now," Aria said, breathing a little heavier, "you try."
First Attempt
Sirius raised his hand.
Mana flowed.
Immediately, the air screamed.
The barrier tried to form and shattered instantly in a violent pulse that sent dust and loose stones flying outward.
Aria was thrown back a step.
Mira cursed. "Too much! Way too much!"
Sirius lowered his hand. "…I attempted to reduce it."
"You thought you did," Aria snapped. "This spell doesn't tolerate approximation. You need exactness."
For the first time in days, Sirius felt something close to frustration.
He tried again.
The barrier flickered into existence before it warped.
Collapsed.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He kept trying.
Each failure sent waves of pressure outward. They weren't destructive but were certainly exhausting.
Hours passed.
Aria's voice grew hoarse from instruction. Mira's eyes never left Sirius's hands, ready to intervene if things went wrong.
And Sirius...
Sirius struggled.
"That's… unexpected," Mira murmured quietly after the third hour.
Aria nodded, wiping sweat from her brow. "He learns spells instantly… but this one is fighting him."
Sirius overheard them.
"This spell requires constant regulation," he said. "Not discrete execution."
"Yes," Aria said. "You can't just fire and forget."
"I am accustomed to containment," Sirius replied calmly. "But this is… simultaneous restraint and release."
Mira's eyes widened slightly.
"That's it," she said. "You're trying to lock it."
Sirius paused.
"…Yes."
"The barrier isn't a prison," Aria said slowly. "It's a membrane. Flexible. Responsive. You're treating it like a seal."
Understanding dawned.
"I see," Sirius said.
Breakthrough
He adjusted.
Mana flowed—not as a closed loop, but as a circulating current.
The air thickened.
Light bent.
A barrier formed. This time, it held.
A translucent dome expanded outward, smooth and stable, reaching five meters before Sirius instinctively stopped it.
Silence followed.
Aria's eyes widened.
Mira slowly smiled.
"Sirius," Mira said softly, "do you realize what you just did?"
"I successfully cast the spell," Sirius replied.
Aria laughed, half hysterical. "You didn't just cast it. You stabilized it perfectly."
She stepped forward and struck the barrier with a concentrated fire spell.
The dome rippled.
Did not crack.
Did not shatter.
It absorbed the impact like water swallowing a stone.
Sirius maintained the flow effortlessly.
Mira whispered, "It's… beautiful."
After nearly four hours of failure, he had done it.
Pushing the Limits
They tested it carefully.
Physical strikes were launched. Elemental spells came next. The barrier sustained pressure.
The barrier held.
When Sirius released it, the dome dissolved harmlessly into the air.
Aria leaned on her knees, panting. "You realize… if you ever fully expand that thing…"
Sirius looked at his hands.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I am aware."
Theoretically, with his mana capabilities, the barrier could cover the village.
The forest.
Perhaps more.
For the first time, he considered attempting it.
Just once. Just to see...
"Lord Sirius." A voice shouted from the treeline.
All three turned.
A villager came running, face pale, breath ragged.
"Something's wrong!" he yelled. "Back at the village!"
Sirius immediately dropped the thought.
"What happened?" Aria demanded.
The villager swallowed. "A… a wild mana beast. Someone released it nearby—it's heading straight for us!"
Mira's expression darkened.
Aria's jaw tightened.
"…I had a feeling," Aria muttered.
Mira nodded grimly. "So did I."
Sirius said nothing.
He dismissed the lingering mana from his body and reached for his robe—the sealing garment that hid his presence completely.
"Who did it?" the villager asked desperately.
Aria clenched her fists. "We don't know. Not yet."
But in her mind, a name surfaced.
So did Mira's.
They exchanged a glance but said nothing.
"There's no time," Mira said sharply. "If it's a mana beast, the guards won't stop it."
Sirius stepped forward.
"Then we must," he said calmly.
They turned and ran.
Toward the village.
Toward whatever had been unleashed.
And for the first time, Sirius, was about to test whether what he had learned was enough to protect Ainz.