Two elves approached Icariel and Elif from ahead.
Their presence alone slowed the air around them—like the forest itself was holding its breath.
They wore traditional elven garments—not the battle-ready gear Icariel had come to expect from warriors, but soft, flowing robes like something torn from the memory of old gods. They looked like twin spirits of the forest, dressed in deep green and gold. The man had short, moss-colored hair and a firm, proud posture. The woman's golden hair shimmered like sunlight caught in dew, braided and bound behind her shoulder.
But it wasn't their appearance that gave Icariel pause.
It was their age.
Despite the natural elven beauty that dulled wrinkles and softened time, there was no mistaking the weight of the years buried in their eyes. These two were old. Far too old. Like bark that had survived fire and frost, their eyes carried memories no child of man should ever witness.
Elif instinctively stopped walking. Icariel followed, glancing at her for a breath—just long enough to catch the stiffness in her shoulders.
"Excuse me," the elderly elven woman said gently, her voice calm but firm—like riverwater that had worn down stone.
Icariel said nothing. His gaze stayed on them, unblinking, measuring every twitch in their fingers.
Meanwhile, inside Aelar's home...
Princess Virethiel and Aelar sat across from each other at the half-moon table. Morning light filtered through the window, casting soft golden beams across the polished wood, as if sunlight had tried—and failed—to make the room feel warm.
Elena placed a steaming teacup before the princess. "Enjoy. I hope you like it, Highness."
"Thank you, Elena. You really make the best tea," Virethiel replied, her voice smooth as velvet rubbed the wrong way.
"You flatter me," Elena said with a shy smile, placing a hand over her mouth. "If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my room."
Virethiel nodded, and Elena disappeared quietly down the hall, leaving the air colder in her absence.
The moment the door shut, Virethiel leaned back with a soft sigh and smiled—tight, feline.
"Come now, Master. Don't act so stiff when we're alone. It's weird."
Aelar chuckled. "Old habits. And it is part of the rules, you know."
"Hah. Still as stiff as ever." She sipped her tea, pinky extended like a blade.
"I know you're strong—since I trained you—but you need to stop going out alone. Especially now. They're still… lurking. You know that."
"I'm aware," she said, letting her voice cool by a few degrees. "We'll hold a meeting soon to address it. But let's leave that aside for now."
She placed her cup down. "You mentioned something last time… when you returned after rescuing your daughter. You said you brought back a human boy. That he saved her life, and you were going to reward him. Said he intrigued you."
"Yes," Aelar nodded. "He did all that. And more."
"Well, I completely agree with you," she said, eyes gleaming. "To think someone his age could see me while I was cloaked in stealth? I was just walking past. I didn't even make a sound."
Aelar smirked faintly. "I only take the best students."
"You've only ever taken two," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Me. And him."
"Exactly," Aelar replied. "The best."
Virethiel smiled… but only for a moment.
Then her tone turned cold, like frost under velvet. "But, Master," she said quietly, "I don't think you're telling me everything about that boy."
Aelar blinked, then leaned back. "What do you mean?"
"He has no magic circles. Not even a mana core," she said flatly.
Aelar stayed silent, but his thoughts churned beneath the surface. "Of course she noticed. How could she not?"
"And yet," she continued, voice low and laced with disbelief, "when you came earlier after his call for help, he stood behind you… he cast a spell. Not just any spell, either. A flame refined into a spear. That's impossible without a core or circles. And it wasn't just that. He had mana flowing through every part of his body. Everywhere. And I could feel it… it was pure."
"Anyone who's really looked at him can see it—he's not normal,"Aelar admitted to himself. "He shouldn't be capable of what he does."
A long pause hung between them.
Virethiel leaned forward slightly, her green eyes sharp as shattered emeralds.
"Tell me, Master—how is he doing it?"
Aelar stared into his tea like it might give him an answer. "I… have no clue."
Virethiel leaned back in her chair, eyes never leaving him.
"You know how it works," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "All magic starts with the formation of a circle. Whether you're pulling from atmospheric mana or from a core, the circle acts as the focus and refinement channel. Without it, you can't control the spell. And the result either breaks the user's body… or addicts their mind to raw mana."
She met his eyes, not blinking.
"That's why every mage—every true mage—must form circles after a certain level. Not just to shape mana, but to survive it. The circle filters, contains, tames. It gives you control, or it kills you."
She raised a finger. "Even when using atmospheric mana, the circle keeps it stable. Without it, the mana is too wild. It never becomes completely pure."
Aelar narrowed his eyes. He could already see the shape of her conclusion forming, and it chilled him.
"But that human boy…" she said slowly, "from head to toe—he possesses true pure mana."
Aelar's throat dried. Hearing it aloud felt like pressing cold iron against old scars.
"He's channeling pure mana—no circle, no core—and casting refined spells?" Her voice trembled with rare disbelief. "That shouldn't be possible. And yet, he shows none of the usual side effects."
"I asked him," Aelar said quietly.
"And?"
"He said… he taught himself."
"What?" Her eyes widened. "Self-taught?"
Aelar nodded. "He told me no one trained him. And I couldn't detect any lie."
The princess blinked. For her, that counted as stunned.
"Some humans can fool a low-level detection," she muttered. "But not mine. And certainly not yours."
"So it means he didn't lie," she murmured, thoughts spinning like wind in a storm. "Incredible…"
She paused. "Does he possess the Infinity Body?"
"No," Aelar said firmly. "Those born with it show clear signs from the moment they draw breath. He has none. And the one destined to possess it in this generation has already been born."
"Then how…?" she whispered, more to herself than to him.
"I don't know. And neither does he, as far as I can tell." Aelar sighed. "But just so you know… he's terrible at fighting."
Virethiel blinked. "What?"
"He's completely untrained in hand-to-hand. I sparred with him multiple times. No techniques. No muscle memory. He just throws spells like stones at wolves. All instinct. All desperation. That's exactly why I believe him even more."
"How so?"
"Because the potential is there. That, I'm sure of."
Virethiel grew quiet. Her gaze drifted. "Only once before… I saw something similar. But it makes no sense to be related, so I'll leave it aside—for now."
Aelar studied her expression.
"I told Elena as well," he said. "He's either the cursed human child… or the luckiest one."
Virethiel's lips curled faintly. "Maybe. Either way, Master… keep training him. If he really has that potential, he may become useful to us."
"Useful?" Aelar thought. "From what I know, the boy values his life too much to risk it for anyone…"
But he said nothing. He simply nodded.
Virethiel stood, sweeping her cloak over her shoulder like a curtain falling on a stage.
"I need to go," she said, already vanishing from sight even as she added, "Say goodbye to Elena for me."
"See you later," Aelar said softly.
He rubbed his temples and exhaled slowly.
"I spent all night thinking about him… and now the princess is putting more questions into my head."
He closed his eyes for a moment.
"Icariel…"
Meanwhile, back with Icariel and Elif…
"What do they want?" Icariel wondered, subtly raising his guard.
The two elderly elves approached gently. Their presence wasn't threatening—just strange. Like a calm before a whisper that never comes.
The golden-haired woman smiled kindly. "Elif. When we heard what happened to you, we were so worried. We're just glad to see you safe."
"The Warleader and your mother were both deeply troubled," added the green-haired man beside her.
"Thank you for your concern," Elif said with a polite bow. "I'm really okay now."
"We're truly glad," the old woman said, turning to her husband. "Dear, give her the bag."
The man stepped forward and handed over a cloth satchel.
"It's from us," he said. "We filled it with good fruits and some rare herbs."
"Oh—no, that's really not necessary," Elif said, flustered.
"Please," the woman insisted. "It's the least we can do."
Elif hesitated, then smiled and took the gift with both hands. "Thank you. I appreciate it."
Their eyes then turned to Icariel.
"And who is this young human?"
"Oh," Elif said brightly, "this is my savior. He's the one who saved me outside the tribe. Father brought him himself."
The elderly couple's eyes lit up.
"Oh, for tree's sake!" the woman exclaimed. "Dear, give him the other bag!"
The man reached into their satchel again and held out another bundle.
"This young human saved our Warleader's daughter! He's a blessing!"
Icariel's eyes widened. "Ah—no, it's fine. I live with them now. I can just share with Elif."
"No way," the old woman laughed. "We must give you something too!"
Elif leaned in and whispered, "But isn't that your last bag?"
"Don't worry," the old man said cheerfully. "We'll gather more later."
He lowered his head slightly, offering the bag again.
"…Then you leave me no choice," Icariel said, accepting it. "Thank you… kind elves."
The couple beamed, their faces warm as sun-dappled bark.
"We should go," Elif said quietly. "I think they're done by now."
Icariel nodded.
"Thank you again," Elif said with another bow.
"Take care," the old woman smiled. "And thank you, young human."
Icariel turned and gave a final glance. "Thank you," he echoed, softer.
As they walked away, his grip on the gift bag tightened slightly. Something warm unfurled in his chest—quiet and unfamiliar.
"They really are kind… happy just to give…"
It reminded him of Galien—how the man had given him his first axe before the hunt, without expecting anything in return.
A small smile tugged at Icariel's lips.
Elif noticed and raised a brow. "You're smiling. What, did a bag of fruit make you that happy?"
"Nah," he said, glancing down at the bag. "The act did."
[End of Chapter 38]