The forest air, thick and damp, clung to Eris as she ventured deeper into the ancient trees. The breeze whispered long-forgotten secrets in the leaves, and each crunch beneath her boots echoed in the silence. She stopped in a clearing, surrounded by nature's embrace, and closed her eyes. A profound sense of calm settled over her, a quiet strength growing within. She focused her will, turning her attention inward to the fundamental task: rebuilding Mana Core Number One.
Within herself, Eris reviewed the intricate truth of this world. This wasn't just any world; it was a true domain of mages, where power and influence were intrinsically linked to the Circles of Mana.
"A circle," Eris thought, with the clarity of someone assessing a grand, complex system, "is not a realm in itself, but a higher vessel. An energetic backbone that holds a magus's true potential." The academy was crucial precisely for this; it was the crucible where aspirants learned to forge and polish these vessels. From the outside, a magus's initial ten circles might appear to be a linear scale, but Eris knew that each number represented a chasm of difficulty. It wasn't just a matter of accumulating mana; each circle demanded unique understanding, unwavering willpower, and, most challenging, a "polishing" of the inner vessel that few could achieve. Most mages stagnated at low, intermediate, or high ranks, unable to transcend the bottleneck represented by each new circle. Treasures, techniques, magical inheritances—all were tools for this arduous process, but true progress depended on the purity and moldability of the core itself. A Ten-Circle Mage, as the books defined her, was the pinnacle of what this world believed possible, an absolute master, the height of known power.
Suddenly, a strange sensation washed over Eris. It wasn't pain, nor mana, but a kind of subtle buzzing in the air, as if reality itself were being rewritten. Her eyes snapped open. In front of her, where there had been nothing before, appeared an ancient mirror, its glass surface opaque, surrounded by a rustic, unfamiliar frame. It pulsed with a dim but powerful light. Eris stood motionless, watching.
The mirror ignited with a blinding light. Millions of images, fragments of time Eris had never experienced, flashed into her mind: epic battles, fantastic creatures, floating cities, mages performing feats that defied known logic. There was a Hundred-Circle Mage, a towering and terrifying figure, not a boundary, but a mere shadow in a far vaster universe. These flashes weren't alien memories; they transformed into her own, embedding themselves in her psyche with the same authority as her past experiences. The vision of that Hundred-Circle Mage, the person who had killed her in her "previous life," was now just a dot on an incomprehensibly distant horizon.
Eris felt as if an invisible hand, a force beyond her understanding, was weaving a new reality around her. The limitations of the ten circles crumbled. The world wasn't small; it was infinite. The idea of the Ten-Circle Mage as the absolute master dissipated, replaced by the realization that it was only the beginning of a path that extended far beyond, a path where pioneers could forge entirely new circles.
"Good luck," a voice whispered in her mind, clear and ethereal, as if a god bored of watching had decided to intervene.
The ancient mirror went out as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Eris alone in the forest clearing. The flood of information dissipated, the divine intervention erased from her conscious memory. All that remained was one unshakeable truth, seared into her very core: She was a Thirty-Circle Mage. The knowledge of that level, the skills and understanding it entailed, was now a part of her, as if it had always been. The intricacies of how or why simply vanished, replaced by an innate confidence and a boundless sense of possibility.
She returned home, the familiar comfort of her house now infused with a new, expanded purpose. She quietly ascended to the room she shared with her mother and little sister. Her mother slept deeply, her face serene. Her tiny sister, curled up, exhaled a soft sigh. Eris lay down on the bed, drawing close to them. Her hands moved instinctively, not with the detached assessment of before, but with a profound, inexplicable tenderness that had taken root within her. She gently stroked her sister's hair, leaving a deeper mark of her affection, a connection that went beyond the physical. Then, she turned to her mother. Eris caressed her with the same devotion, leaning in to place a light kiss on her cheek. Her mother stirred, a soft hum escaping her, accustomed to Eris's newfound affectionate teasing, and though she was often proud and independent, she leaned into the touch with a quiet warmth. Eris embraced them both, promising silently to protect them, a Thirty-Circle Mage with newly forged memories and an expanded purpose, ready to embrace her strength to cherish and secure the hearts of those she loved most.