Threads of Power

"Who am I? Aric? Elijah? Both? Or none?".

I stood, pushing aside the questions that threatened to swallow me whole. There was no time to dwell on the past, not when my future depended on mastering something as elusive as mana. I had to act, to train, to understand the relic and the Veil's power over this world.

Since arriving, I had learned the dangers of drawing too much from the Veil. Most couldn't even access it—the barrier between our world and the eldritch realms was too thick. For those few who could? There were always prices. Too much power would corrupt the mind, driving people to madness or worse. And yet, I had to try. The relic had shown me glimpses of the Oswin family's burden—the ancient contract that had set all of this in motion. I couldn't ignore the path I was now walking.

Each night, I trained in secret, away from Cedric's watchful gaze. I delved into the Veil's mana, honing the delicate art of drawing its power without tearing its fragile fabric. If I drew from a single point, the disruption would be catastrophic. Instead, I learned to siphon mana from the surrounding space, extracting tiny fragments as if from every drop in an ocean. The process was subtle but effective.

I could feel the energy now, a faint pulse in the air, like a distant heartbeat resonating just beyond my reach. Most people could not even touch the Veil. Its barrier was too thick, too elusive. Only a rare few could access it, and even then, the risks were immense. Drawing too much power could corrupt the mind, warp the soul. There were tales of those who had succumbed to madness or worse, having ventured too far into the Veil's embrace. The Wyrd, the chaos beyond the Veil, waited to claim those who overstepped their bounds.

Sitting cross-legged on the cold floor of my hidden alcove, I closed my eyes. The first step was always sensing the Veil, feeling its pulse just beneath my skin. It was a persistent presence, always there but nearly untouchable without intense focus. The Veil's texture, its intangible depth, required careful navigation. Overreaching could lead to dire consequences. The Wyrd, ever lurking, was a constant threat to those who dared to flirt with its edges.

But I had to take that risk. I needed to understand the power at my disposal, even if it meant dancing on the edge of madness.

The trick was subtlety. Drawing mana directly from one point in the Veil would tear the fabric, like ripping a hole in reality itself. That's what most people did when they first learned to access it—they grabbed too much, too fast, and paid the price. I wasn't going to make that mistake.

Instead, I had learned to dilute my influence, to pull from the space around me, gently, without straining any single point in the Veil. It was like siphoning off energy from a massive ocean, taking droplets from the surface without disturbing the depths.

Slowly, I opened myself to the Veil. The familiar cold rush of mana trickled into me, circulating through my veins like a river of ice. It was always an overwhelming sensation at first, like the world itself had opened up to me. But I couldn't let it control me. I had to be in charge. Bit by bit, I directed the flow of mana through my body, guiding it into my limbs, my muscles, my bones. I could feel it strengthening me, making me faster, sharper.

But it wasn't enough.

There had to be more. I couldn't just rely on circulating mana through my body like this forever. It was too slow, too limited. I needed something that would let me tap into mana on a deeper level, something that would push me beyond my current limits.

"Wait, what if I...."

That's when the idea came to me—my heart.

If I could connect my heart directly to the Veil, then every beat could pump mana through me. Every pulse of blood would carry power, feeding me strength with each thump in my chest. It was dangerous, of course. Too much mana could stop my heart completely. But the potential was incredible.

"Mana heart, but this is the more dangerous and limited version compared to those from the manhwas."

I focused on the sensation of my heartbeat, steady and strong in my chest. And then, with careful precision, I imagined a thin thread, no thicker than a hair, connecting my heart to the Veil.

"Hahaha...yes!"

For a moment, it worked. Mana flowed in sync with my heartbeat, stronger and faster with each pulse. The power surged through me, filling every inch of my body with raw energy. I felt unstoppable, like I could tear apart the very fabric of reality if I wanted to.

"URGH!! WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Then the pain hit.

It was sudden and brutal, like a knife driving into my chest. My heart skipped a beat, then another. I gasped, clutching at my chest as panic set in. My vision blurred. I could feel my heart struggling, faltering under the strain of too much mana.

Too much. I pushed too far.

I desperately tried to pull back, to sever the connection before it killed me. But the mana resisted, clinging to my heart like a vice.

You are very foolish.

The voice echoed in my mind, and just as suddenly as it had begun, the connection snapped. The pain ebbed away, and my heartbeat returned to normal. I lay there, gasping for breath, drenched in cold sweat, staring up at the ceiling. I had nearly killed myself in a reckless attempt to harness more power than I was ready for.

"Now you choose to speak after remaining silent for the past few days, I had thought you had finally left." I was very frustrated.

I am not bound to help you. My only task is to answer your questions... for a price. This was mercy. Do not expect it again.

"Yeah, well, fuck off."

There was no response.

*sigh*

I had been reckless, but I had learned something valuable. My heart couldn't handle too much mana, not yet. If I wanted to survive in this world, I'd have to be more careful, more patient.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" As my breathing steadied, I began to laugh—maniacally, uncontrollably. The sound echoed through the empty room.

'I'm finally going insane.'

...

"Uh.."

I woke up, aching all over, but alive. Last night had been a close call, and now, as I lay staring up at the same familiar ceiling, I wondered what fresh hell awaited me today. A vision? More whispers? Maybe another creature from the Wyrd would slip through a tear in the Veil? I had only been in this world for three weeks, and I had already gone through more than I could have ever imagined.

"WHY ME? WHAT THE HELL?? MAKE IT FAIR!" I shouted, half laughing, half crying. I punched my pillow in frustration. "I'M TALKING TO YOU, BASTARD! THE ONE WHO THREW ME HERE!"

A soft cough interrupted my outburst. I turned my head to see Lucia, the maid assigned to me, standing awkwardly by the door. She was two years older than me and had been with me since I woke up in this strange world.

"Um... Young Master Aric?" she asked cautiously, her face filled with concern.

"..." 

Fuck. Kill me now.

I forced a smile, awkward and forced. "Oh, Lucia. The weather's nice today, isn't it?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "It's been raining since last night, young master...."

I turned to the window, noticing the raindrops tapping against the glass and the dark clouds hanging low in the sky.

"Exactly!" I exclaimed, trying to salvage my dignity. "That's exactly the kind of weather I like. So... calming. Haha..."

"...." Lucia just stared at me, her face unreadable.

"Uh... I'm hungry," I muttered, desperate to change the subject. "Get me some breakfast, please."

She nodded quickly. "Yes, young master. Right away."

As she left the room, I slumped back against the bed, groaning into my hands.

...

I found myself standing in the training yard, holding what was left of my sword. The broken blade gleamed faintly in the light, its jagged edges a reminder of my earlier failure. I had tried to infuse it with mana, to channel the spatial magic that I knew I had an affinity for. But instead, the sword had exploded in my hand, the metal shattering like glass.

The memory still made me wince.

I sighed, tossing the broken blade aside. "Not today," I muttered, shaking my head. I wasn't ready.

'2 failures in a row, such a talented individual I am.'

Frustrated, I left the training yard.

"Lets just go visit Harmony again, I need to learn more things which my father seems to keep away from me."

...

As I wandered through the bustling streets of Harmony, I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. The more I learned, the more questions I had. My father, Cedric, had shielded me from so much—The Forgotten Continent, the relic, the divine contract made by the founder. 

Why? What was he protecting me from?

I walked past market stalls, blending into the crowd as best as I could. My cloak was pulled tight around me, hiding my identity. No one here knew who I was—at least, not yet. I had made sure to keep a low profile since arriving in Harmony. It was safer that way.

But safety wasn't what I was after.

As I ventured deeper into the city, I found myself drawn to a dimly lit tavern on the edge of the market. It was the kind of place where information flowed freely, where people whispered secrets over mugs of ale.

'Exactly what I need.'

I stepped into the dimly lit tavern, the heavy scent of smoke lingering in the air. Conversations blended into a low murmur, giving the room an almost comforting hum. The light flickered off the walls, casting long shadows that danced with every movement.

My eyes moved from table to table, uncertain of my next step. I hadn't planned this far—hadn't thought ahead. What would I even say?

The only thing I knew was that I couldn't leave empty-handed.

As I moved further into the room, my gaze landed on a woman sitting alone in the farthest corner. She stood out from the chaos around her with an almost palpable aura of calm. Her presence was magnetic, like the eye of a storm amid the swirling chaos of the tavern.

She was tall and slender, with an elegance that came not just from her posture but from the grace of her movements. Her dark, chestnut hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, its depth and sheen obscuring her true nature. Her eyes, a deep, penetrating green, were sharp and observant, hinting at a depth of knowledge and an intelligence that went beyond mere appearances.

Her attire was simple yet refined—a fitted, dark green dress that complemented her eyes and accentuated her graceful form. The dress was practical, adorned with subtle, intricate patterns woven into the fabric that caught the light just enough to suggest hidden layers of meaning. Around her neck hung a delicate silver pendant, shaped like an intricate leaf, catching the dim light with a soft glimmer.

Despite the lively, raucous atmosphere of the tavern, she sat with a serene expression, her posture relaxed yet poised. Her gaze, though gentle, was sharp and calculating, as if she were always observing and analyzing, processing the world with a mind as keen as it was perceptive.

I hesitated. What was I even going to ask? How would I start?

Before I could piece together a coherent plan, she caught my eye. There was no warmth in her gaze, only curiosity, as though she was waiting for something—someone.

"Looking for something?" Her voice was smooth, cutting through the noise without raising above it. It wasn't a question so much as a challenge.

Caught off guard, I stood there, unsure how to respond. I hadn't expected her to speak first. My hesitation must've made me seem like a fool, but I didn't care anymore. After everything I'd been through, pride was a luxury I couldn't afford.

"I..." My throat felt dry, and I swallowed hard before continuing. "I'm trying to understand the Veil."

The words felt heavy, but I had to start somewhere.

Truth be told, I could have gone to my father. One word to him and he'd re-assign me the mentor, well-versed in the Veil who could answer my questions. But after what I'd learned—the secrets he was hiding—I wasn't sure how much I could trust him anymore. Every piece of information seemed tainted now, twisted to fit whatever agenda he was protecting.

Yet here I was, seeking answers from a stranger in a tavern. The irony wasn't lost on me. Trusting her was a gamble too. She could feed me lies just as easily as anyone else. But sometimes, when you don't know what's true, even a whisper of knowledge is worth the risk.

"Information from someone like you might not be reliable," I muttered under my breath, half to myself. "But it's worth a shot."

She didn't react immediately. Instead, she watched me closely, her gaze sharp, weighing me again. There was no warmth, no hint of reassurance. Just cold calculation.

...