Chapter 41: Second Circle Lorraine closed the door of her room behind her and turned the lock until she heard the faint click. Only then did she allow herself to breathe out and lean against it, shoulders sagging with exhaustion. The tray she had served her father earlier had already been cleared away, and she’d dropped off Azel’s food too. Now, finally, she was alone. She crossed the small space in a few steps and collapsed face-first onto the bed. It was soft. Softer than anything she’d slept on in months — no, longer than that. The mattress practically swallowed her weight, its clean sheets cool against her cheek. For the first time in what felt like forever, she could almost pretend she was back in her old room in Aegis, surrounded by silken drapes and gilded windows. Almost. She rolled onto her back, staring blankly at the wooden ceiling above her. It had been eight months since they fled Aegis. Eight long, grueling months since her aunt’s coup shattered everything she’d ever known. Eight months since she and her father had barely managed to escape with their lives, leaving behind their home, their name, and every shred of comfort they’d once taken for granted. Starbloom was different, yes, but it wasn’t better. The same rules applied here as they did back home: no one helped unless they wanted something. Trust was currency. And trust was always spent at a loss. Her father had drilled that lesson into her since she was young. She closed her eyes. She remembered when she was little, wandering the halls of their mansion with books clutched to her chest. She’d always dreamed of exploring beyond those walls — of the bustling streets and open skies she’d only ever read about. The outside world had seemed so thrilling then, so free. But when she’d finally gotten her wish, when she and her father had been driven out and forced to survive beyond the safety of their estate, with the countless attempts on their lives, the romance of it all evaporated. The world wasn’t kind. It was sharp-edged and merciless. She wanted nothing more than to go back, back to those days when her biggest worry was whether her tutor would praise her spellwork. Instead, she and her father spent months scraping by — job after job, barely making enough ares to keep them fed. She’d studied harder than she ever had in her life, pouring over magic texts late into the night, until her hands cramped and her eyes burned. She’d carved her first mana circle through sheer grit and willpower, piecing together the theory she’d once learned as idle amusement. All of it just to be strong enough to survive. Her acceptance letter to Astralis Academy had been her single shining victory. A promise of a future — a stipend, an education, a path forward. If she could claw her way to the top ten, she could finally support her father properly. She’d done all of this alone. Alone. And then Azel appeared. She bit her lip, fingers curling into the bedsheets. He’d said they were the same age, but it didn’t feel that way. He was composed, absurdly capable, terrifyingly strong. His aura control alone put him leagues above even some seasoned adventurers she’d seen back in her homeland. And then, without hesitation, he’d offered her the Shadow Wraith’s core — a Rank 4 monster’s heart, something that could take her months to earn on her own. Why? She didn’t understand him. People didn’t help without wanting something in return. Not in this world. Yet every time she braced for his angle — his demand, his price for the help, it never came. Her hand drifted toward the nightstand, where the crystal rested. It gleamed faintly in the dark, its light soft and alive, like moonlight caught in glass. He said, take it if you want, leave it if you don’t. She exhaled sharply through her nose, almost laughing at herself. Rude. That’s what she’d been. Rude and suspicious. And yet he’d brushed it off without anger, without resentment. "Idiot," she murmured, sitting up. "I’ll apologize tomorrow." But tonight? Tonight she had work to do. She swung her legs off the bed, and sat down in the middle of the room. If she was going to reclaim her clan, dethrone her aunt, and take back everything she’d lost, she couldn’t waste a single opportunity. Her aunt was already at the Fifth Circle — a monster of a mage. Lorraine wasn’t even at her second. She clenched her fists. ’I need more power.’ Taking the crystal in both hands, she studied its glow one last time. It pulsed faintly, almost like it was breathing. "...Alright," she whispered. She poured mana into it. The surface resisted at first, hard as stone, but then — Crack. It shattered like brittle glass. In an instant, mana flooded into her. It roared through her veins like a raging river, a tide so forceful she gasped aloud, knees shaking. Her grip tightened, fingers digging into her thighs as she grounded herself. ’So this... this is Rank 4...?’ Her mind sharpened, instincts taking over. She guided the surge toward her heart, into her existing circle. It thrummed violently, swollen to its limits, glowing brighter and brighter until — Pulse. The circle shrunk and stabilized, bursting with energy. At the same time, a black liquid seeped from her pores, foul-smelling and viscous, staining her skin. She barely registered it, too focused on harnessing the residual mana to begin the painful next step. The second circle. She gritted her teeth, drawing in breath through clenched jaws. The process was agony. It felt like carving runes directly into her soul, etching them in burning lines of light across her chest. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her nails dug crescent marks into her palms. Every inch of her screamed at her to stop. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Minutes stretched like hours, but finally — Pulse. The second circle locked into place, faintly glowing beneath her skin. Her mana flow shifted dramatically, smoother, stronger, like a river channeled into wide new paths. Her reserves doubled, tripled even. Spells she’d once labored over now seemed like they’d form effortlessly. Lorraine exhaled, trembling. She looked down at the black residue smeared across her arms and hands, wrinkling her nose at the stench. Impurities. The texts had mentioned this: the body purging its flaws, refining itself with each rank. It was disgusting, but she smiled anyway. Her skin already felt smoother beneath the grime, her senses sharper. A mage’s lifespan even lengthened with each breakthrough. Tears pricked at her eyes. She hadn’t cried in months, not since they’d fled, but now — "Thank you..." she whispered, voice cracking. Her fingers tightened around nothing. "...Thank you so much."