It had been a year since the Legacy set sail toward Black Rock Academy. Twelve months of training, challenges, discoveries, and frustration had turned William from a stubborn rookie into a real fighter… even if he was still far from being called a mage.
The waves had become part of the daily scenery, and the creaking of wood as it moved with the current felt as natural as a heartbeat. William spent his days training on deck, facing off against the sailors who, over time, stopped seeing him as a lucky kid and began treating him like an equal—or at least like someone who could put up a real fight.
"Incoming fireball!" one of them shouted right before rolling across the deck in a cloud of smoke.
The fireball had become his signature move. He hadn't just mastered the spell—he'd made it part of himself. He could cast it faster, aim it better, and even curve its path to strike from unexpected angles. Some of the sailors joked that when he turned his back to you, it was just to aim more precisely. And, well… they weren't wrong.
Thanks to all the experience he'd racked up, he could now take down level-1 knights—so long as he caught them off guard. It wasn't about brute strength anymore; it was about wit, precision… and a well-placed burst of flame.
But it wasn't all wins.
The mana shield… that damn spell still refused to cooperate. Day after day, night after night, William sat cross-legged, the scroll hovering in front of him, chanting the incantation, activating his mana flow… and still nothing.
Angel did what she could to help.
"Brain configuration correct. Neural pathways aligned. Synchronization complete. Result: activation failed."
"Then why!?" William would shout in frustration again and again.
The answer came after many weeks of reflection, late-night talks with Aurus, and deep, exhausting meditation.
"Mana doesn't respond to the body, William," Aurus said one night while they sipped tea in his cabin. "It responds to the soul."
And just like that, everything clicked. Angel—powerful as she was—had no access to his soul. She could scan his brain, control his muscles, even manage his nervous system… but the soul, that mysterious core, was beyond her reach.
"That's why you can't help me with this, isn't it?" William asked her.
"Confirmed. Absolute restriction. The soul cannot be interfered with."
And with that, William understood he was on his own. If he wanted to master the mana shield, he had to go beyond technique. He needed a deeper connection with himself. It wasn't enough to chant and wave his hands. He had to believe. He had to feel.
Still, he never gave up. Every night, he sat at the bow of the ship, the salty wind hitting his face, breathing deep, visualizing, trying to unlock that part of himself that remained closed. He knew this wasn't wasted time. He was building something.
And he hadn't forgotten about his friends. From time to time, he went below deck to check on the other knight hopefuls. The first time he showed up after his clash with the nobles, the room went silent. No one dared meet his eyes.
But he didn't hold a grudge. In fact, he was glad to see them doing well. The reputation he'd earned acted like a shield for them. No one dared mess with them anymore. Training was now strict but fair. Cedric, Thom, and Dixon had all made solid progress. And though they still looked at him with a bit of fear… there was respect too.
"Back to beat us up again?" Dixon joked one day.
"Nope. Just checking how the bamboo sprouts are growing," William replied with a grin.
The laughter that followed was genuine. The fear was slowly fading. His presence had stopped being a threat—it had become a symbol. A sign that even the castaways could rise again.
A year had passed. The sea was still vast. The sky still ever-changing. But William… he wasn't the same. He hadn't mastered the mana shield yet, but he was getting closer. He'd already crossed halfway between the impossible and the inevitable.
And every night, as the wind blew and the fire danced in his palm, he made a promise to himself:
"One day… I'll do it. And when I do, no one will ever underestimate us again."
The sun was just starting to rise over the horizon when William, his face damp with early morning dew, approached a group of sailors sipping strong tea and munching on hard bread by the ship's railing.
"Hey," William said, breaking the morning silence as he rubbed his arms. "How does the path of a knight usually go? I feel like… my body isn't progressing like I hoped."
The sailors exchanged glances—then burst out laughing.
"Ha! This brat never gets tired of wanting more," joked Ranno, a bald man with arms like tree trunks. "Kid, you hit harder than I did at twenty!"
"And you've only been training for a year!" another added, clapping him on the back. "You should be proud, not frustrated."
"You don't get it," William muttered, frowning. "I feel stuck. I can throw fireballs all day, sure—but when it comes to endurance, speed, raw strength… I'm just not getting anywhere."
"Hmmm…" Ranno grunted, raising an eyebrow. "If you're that desperate… maybe it's time we show you the secret."
"What secret?" William tilted his head, suspicious.
"The one we use every day to stay strong as bulls and fast as devils," said another sailor, stretching his shoulders in an exaggerated motion. "But I warn you, it's not for whiny little crybabies."
William crossed his arms, flashing a defiant smile.
"Then what are you waiting for? Show me."
The sailors glanced at each other like they'd just won a bet.
"Captain!" one of them shouted toward the helm. "We're taking the kid to that part of the ship. That cool?"
Thenerev appeared with his usual bored look and a piece of fish between his teeth—but his face changed the moment he heard the request. He looked straight at William, sighed, and said quietly:
"Be careful. If anything happens to that kid, we might all end up dead without knowing how or why."
William heard him loud and clear. He wanted to ask what that meant, but the sailors were already dragging him below deck, laughing and yelling at him to stop asking so many questions.
"Come on, brat! Time to become a real man!"
"Maybe puke your breakfast while you're at it!"
"Or both!"
They descended deep into the ship, heading toward a hatch that was usually kept shut. When they opened it, a metallic, damp smell wafted out like an ancient breath. The sailors lit oil lamps and began going down a narrow staircase. William followed, heart pounding in his chest.
He didn't know what was waiting down there—but something inside told him this secret could change everything.