Arthur didn’t have to wait long after Aria bolted from his room.

  A few minutes later, the heavy oak door creaked open, and Layla, his personal maid, rushed in. Her usually pristine uniform was slightly wrinkled, but the moment she saw Arthur sitting up, her face broke into a massive, relieved smile.

  “Young Master!” She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “You had us all worried sick.”

  “I am glad to be back, Layla,” Arthur replied, offering a polite smile.

  Layla quickly wiped her eyes before her professional demeanor clicked back into place. “Let’s get you into fresh clothes, My Lord. Your father and the guests are already gathering for breakfast, and I will not have you looking like this at the dining table.”

  Despite the dull ache in his chest, Arthur allowed her to help him. Layla carefully swapped his bloodied bandages for fresh ones, dressing him in a crisp dark tunic that hid the bulk of the wrappings.

  Arthur took a step. His right leg was still a bit stiff, but he could finally walk without support.

  He walked out of the room and went downstairs.

  When he entered the grand dining hall, the gentle clinking of silverware instantly stopped.

  Roderick Ashborn sat at the head of the table. The dark circles under the Lord’s eyes were still prominent. There was no pity in his gaze anymore. There was only a deep, unshakeable pride.

  Sitting to Roderick’s left was Viscountess Sylvia, who offered him a polite, respectful nod. On his right, Cecilia was seated; her eyes were teary after hearing that her son had woken up.

  Arthur slowly made his way to his usual seat. Before he could even pull his chair out, a blur of silver hair moved beside him. Aria, who had already been seated, quickly stood to steady the chair for him.

  He blinked in surprise as he sat down while Aria took the seat directly next to his.

  He looked across the table. Sitting directly opposite him was Elara, the young heir of the Lunalar family. She sat perfectly straight; her noble posture was flawless as always. But the moment Arthur’s eyes met hers, she immediately looked away.

  Arthur raised an eyebrow, bewildered by the sudden cold shoulder, but decided not to push it.

  Breakfast passed with light, careful conversation. Roderick intentionally avoided heavy politics to let his son eat in peace.

  Once the meal concluded, Arthur pushed his chair back.

  “Where are you headed?”

  Arthur paused. Elara was looking at him now; her blue eyes were calm and unreadable.

  “The library,” Arthur replied simply. “I’ve been out for a week. I have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Elara held his gaze for a second longer, then gave a single, silent nod.

  Arthur left the dining hall, his mind already shifting gears.

  The estate's library was a massive room, lined with towering bookshelves that smelled of dust. He made his way to the front reception desk.

  Sitting behind it, reading a thick leather-bound tome as always, was Marcus. The High Mage wasn’t wearing armor today, just a set of simple, comfortable robes.

  Marcus slowly lowered his book, looking Oliver up and down with a deadpan expression.

  “You look like a corpse that got lost on its way to the graveyard,” he grumbled, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, complaining about your wounds?”

  “Good morning to you too, Marcus,” Arthur sighed, leaning heavily on the desk. “And I would be in bed, but I have a slight problem. My core unsealed itself in the woods, and I had used raw mana directly at that time.”

  Marcus’s smirk vanished. He carefully closed his book and stood up. The grumpy demeanor completely melted away, replaced by an intense, heavy sincerity.

  “Young Master Oliver,” Marcus said, his voice thick with emotion. He stepped out from behind the desk and lowered his head in a deep, formal bow. “You stood between an Alpha Werewolf and my daughter, and you bled for her. Words are insufficient... but you have my life.”

  Arthur shifted uncomfortably, not expecting the sudden reverence from the old man.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “I appreciate that, Marcus. Truly,” Arthur said. “But right now, what I need is a teacher. I need to know how magic works in this world before I accidentally detonate my own arms.”

  Marcus straightened up, a proud glint returning to his eye. “Very well. Then we begin with the absolute basics.”

  Marcus raised his hand, his palm facing the ceiling.

  Arthur’s eyes widened as the air above the Mage’s hand began to shimmer. Particles of blue and gold mana gathered, condensing into a perfect, glowing, three-dimensional miniature of a knight holding a sword.

  “There are three primary Paths for an Awakened,” Marcus explained, the tiny glowing knight swinging its sword. “The first is the Path of the Knight. People who awaken a knight’s core circulate mana internally to reinforce their muscles and weapons.”

  Marcus flickered his fingers. The knight dissolved and reformed into a miniature blacksmith striking an anvil. “The second is the Path of the Creator. The Artificers and Forge Mages who inject their mana into inanimate objects to alter their properties."

  With a final twist of his wrist, the blacksmith shifted into a robed figure that unleashed a silent torrent of water from its hands. “And the third is the Path of the Elementalist. Mages like myself. We project mana outward, altering the world’s energy to cast spells. Across all three paths, there are Nine stages of power.”

  Arthur stared at the incredibly detailed, hovering hologram-like mage. The control required to manipulate light and mana like that was staggering.

  Marcus closed his hand, dispelling the illusion. He walked over to a restricted shelf, pulled down a heavy, worn book, and set it on the table.

  “This contains the most basic elemental formulas,” Marcus said, tapping the cover. “A spell is a highly specific, established pathway in your body. We use incantations to automatically trigger these pathways, safely guiding the mana from your core to your fingertips. Memorize the chants. Do not attempt to cast them yet until I bring the Orb to test your magic affinity.

  With a final, respectful nod, the Mage left Arthur alone at the table.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Arthur opened the book to the first page. It showed a diagram of a human arm, with a complex, squiggly line detailing how mana traveled the mana pathways to cast a simple ‘Ignite’ spell. Below, it was a short incantation and a longer one.

  He stared at the diagram for a long time; his eyes traced the flow of the mana. The pathway started at the core, hit a specific point in the shoulder, and then violently zig-zagged back and forth through the bicep before finally reaching the fingertip.

  Arthur frowned, leaning closer to the book.

  Why would it do that? He wondered, his engineering instincts flaring with curiosity. Energy—whether electrical or fluid—naturally seeks the path of least resistance. This pathway looks incredibly inefficient; it is actively forcing the mana into ninety-degree turns. Why wouldn’t they just use a straight line?

  A true engineer doesn’t dismiss a strange design; they look for the structural reasoning behind it. If the Ancestors designed it this way, there had to be a physical constraint they were trying to overcome.

  He needed to test it.

  Arthur grabbed a blank piece of parchment and a quill; he quickly sketched an outline of a human arm, drawing it in overlapping layers: the major muscle groups, the vascular system, and the web of peripheral nerves.

  Heeeh, it seems that the classes I took on bioengineering won’t be for nothing. Arthur thought with a smirk.

  He chanted the incantation, closed his eyes, and focused entirely on the flow of the mana from his core to his fingertip.

  A thermal tingle sparked under his skin.

  Arthur carefully tracked the sensation. He felt the tiny pulse of mana hit a dense cluster of mana pathways in his shoulder. The moment mana passed through it, it instantly flared with heat.

  Then, the mana traveled down the thickest circuit, zigzagging around his bicep just like the book’s diagram showed. As it traveled the long path, the intense heat slowly dissipated into the surrounding area, cooling down to a safe, manageable warmth by the time it reached his fingertip.

  Arthur’s eyes snapped open. The realization dawned on him.

  “It is like a biological radiator system,” Arthur muttered, hastily marking the pathways cluster as ‘Friction node’ on his parchment. The mana isn’t going on such a long path for no reason. Let's suppose that It hits the friction node to create fire-altering mana, but if it gets sent directly into the fingertips, it would melt the small pipes. Hmm, so they drag it through the longest, thickest route possible to safely dissipate some of the heat before it arrives! Arthur thought deeply while massaging his forehead.

  He stared at his sketch in absolute awe. It was a brilliant, necessary safety measure for people who didn’t understand thermodynamics.

  But he understood it.

  He looked at his layered sketch; he didn’t need to use the whole arm as a radiator. If he manages to bypass the thick arteries and find a hair-thin capillary that ran in a perfect straight line from the shoulder’s friction node directly to his fingertips, he could skip the radiator entirely.

  The logic started clicking into place.

  Now what about heat dissipation? Arthur thought. The micro-circuit is around ten times narrower than the macro one, as the book stated. If I send the same amount of mana down that thin path, the heat will instantly burn the pathway.

  Arthur thought hard about it, as the minutes turned into hours. He was deeply engrossed in his thoughts and not paying attention to anything else.

  Hmmm, but wait...! What if I send just a tenth of that amount, while increasing the pressure that the core outputs mana in, to compensate for the drop in volume... Arthur thought, a wide grin spreading across his face.

  “This really needs some serious testing; I need to ask Marcus when he is back about this," Arthur muttered while stretching his back.

  HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK! The sudden, deafening blast of a massive horn shattered the silence of the library.

  Arthur flinched; it wasn’t an Estate alarm. It was a deep, multi-tonal blast that echoed from the courtyard walls. The Royal Horn.

  The messenger from the Capital had arrived, and he clearly won’t be bringing any good news with him.

  (To be continued...)

  Thanks for reading!

  - A quick heads-up on the naming convention: From now on, the narration and his internal thoughts will always use "Arthur." He will only be called "Oliver" in dialogue when other characters speak to him. I hope this keeps things clear and highlights the "mask" he has to wear in this world for now!

  - I really hope that this chapter was enjoyable for you, it took me quite some time to fine tune the power system, especially the "how does magic work" part. And I would be glad if the chapter didn't feel just like a massive info dump.

  - Lemme know your thoughts and if there is something that doesn't feel right!