The Path of Secrecy

The words of the old herbalist echoed in his mind as he left the hut and made his way back to the village. Beryl's warning lingered—"You're not a normal mage, boy."

It was supposed to be exhilarating, the idea that he was special, that his mana core set him apart from the ordinary mages. But instead of excitement, he felt a cold, creeping anxiety. This wasn't a game anymore, and standing out in this world could get him killed.

Stay quiet. Grow stronger in secret.

He mulled over Beryl's advice as he walked the dirt path back to the village. This world was filled with dangerous forces, from rival magi to powerful magical creatures, not to mention the political intrigue of the noble families and guilds. If he made his abilities known too early, he'd paint a target on his back.

He arrived at the inn just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the village in a soft orange glow. Inside, Merrick was tending to a few customers, wiping down tables and serving drinks. The warmth of the fire and the smell of roasting meat did little to settle the storm brewing in his mind.

"Back so soon?" Merrick asked as he entered, raising an eyebrow. "Find what you were looking for?"

"I think so," he said vaguely, not wanting to reveal too much. "But it's going to take some time."

Merrick grunted in response, clearly not interested in prying. "Well, I've got a few more chores lined up if you're looking to keep busy. A little work never hurt anyone."

"I'll get to it," he promised, though his mind was far from thinking about manual labor. He had too many things to consider. Too many unknowns.

---

Later that night, after finishing up the chores and a simple meal, he sat alone in his room at the inn. The walls were bare, and the small window let in a cool breeze, but he barely noticed the simplicity of the space. All he could think about was his core—the strange, unplaceable energy Beryl had sensed.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, focusing inward once again. This time, with the experience from earlier, he tried to go deeper, to understand the oddity of his core. His breathing slowed, his thoughts becoming singular as he reached out with his senses, letting them probe the faint mana pulsing within.

There it was again, faint but present, a pale sphere of energy. But there was something more now, something he hadn't noticed before. A second, subtler current of power intertwined with his core. It was barely perceptible, but it pulsed with a rhythm distinct from his own heartbeat, a separate force that existed alongside his mana.

What is this?

He concentrated harder, but the more he reached for it, the more elusive it became. It was as though this other energy was hiding from him, slipping just out of reach whenever he tried to grasp it.

Frustrated, he opened his eyes, exhaling sharply. This wasn't going to be easy. His knowledge of the Supreme Magus universe gave him insight, but theory was nothing compared to practice. And now that he had this mysterious core, he had no idea how to move forward without exposing himself.

He needed help—real help, beyond what a village herbalist could provide. But if he wanted to avoid unwanted attention, he had to be careful about where and who he sought out.

---

The next morning, he awoke with a sense of determination. He couldn't just sit around and wait for answers. If he was going to survive in this world, he had to take action.

After a quick breakfast, he left the inn and wandered through the village. The sun was high in the sky, and the villagers were busy with their daily routines—farmers tending to crops, merchants setting up stalls, and children running through the streets.

As he walked, he considered his options. There had to be someone out there who could help him train his magic discreetly. The key was finding a teacher who wasn't connected to the major mage guilds or noble families—someone who wouldn't care about his unique core or try to use it for their own gain.

He wandered through the market square, his mind working through the possibilities. Maybe a rogue mage, someone living on the outskirts of society, might be willing to teach him. He recalled from the Supreme Magus novels that there were always wandering mages, people who rejected the rigid structures of guilds and the nobility. They could be dangerous, but they might also be his best bet at keeping his secrets safe.

As he passed a small stall selling charms and trinkets, a voice called out to him.

"You there! Boy!"

He turned to see an old man sitting behind the stall, his gnarled hands carefully arranging a set of glowing crystals. His eyes, sharp and bright despite his age, seemed to bore into him.

"Come here," the man said, his voice raspy. "I can see you've got something interesting about you."

He hesitated, unsure whether to trust the stranger. But something about the man's eyes told him that this wasn't just an ordinary peddler of magical wares.

Cautiously, he stepped closer. "What do you mean?"

The old man smiled, revealing a few missing teeth. "You carry a strange energy. Not something I see every day, that's for sure."

His heart skipped a beat. How did this man know? Could he sense the oddity of his core the way Beryl had?

"Don't look so surprised," the old man said with a chuckle. "I've been around long enough to recognize when someone's got a bit of magic in them. But yours… yours is different."

"Different how?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The old man's eyes gleamed. "Oh, I couldn't say for sure without getting a closer look. But I've got a hunch that whatever's going on inside you, it's not something most mages would know how to handle."

A wave of unease washed over him. The last thing he needed was someone prying into his core. "I'm not interested in being someone's experiment," he said, taking a step back.

The old man raised his hands in mock surrender. "Easy now, boy. I'm not looking to meddle in your affairs. Just offering some advice. If you're smart, you'll keep that magic of yours quiet. There are people out there who'd pay a pretty penny to get their hands on someone like you."

He clenched his fists. "Thanks for the warning."

With that, he turned and walked away, his mind racing. The man's words confirmed what he had feared all along: his core was different, and that difference would draw attention. The old man was right—he needed to be careful. But at the same time, he couldn't afford to waste any more time. He had to learn control, or he would be a sitting duck for anyone who wanted to exploit him.

As he made his way back to the inn, a plan began to form in his mind. He would need to leave this village soon, find somewhere he could train in secret. Perhaps he could pass as an apprentice in a larger town, or join a caravan as a laborer while he honed his skills. Whatever he chose, he couldn't stay here for long.

---

That evening, as he lay in bed, he stared up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his decisions pressing down on him. The world outside was vast and unforgiving, but it was also full of opportunity. He had been given a second chance at life, and with it came power—power he didn't yet fully understand, but would eventually master.

But for now, the shadows of his future loomed uncertain and dark.

His journey had only just begun, but already, he could feel the pull of destiny.

---

End of Chapter 4

In the coming chapters, the protagonist could set out from the village, seeking to find a rogue mage or a more discreet teacher to help him control his core. As he encounters new challenges, enemies, and potential allies, he'll begin to learn more about his strange power and how to harness it, while also avoiding those who would seek to use him for their own ends.