The flickering torchlight cast long shadows against the stone walls of the cave. Leonhart sat in silence, his golden eyes fixated on his open palm. He could feel it—the energy, the mana that eluded him—brushing against his skin like a phantom breeze. It was there, but it refused to yield to his will.
He clenched his fist. Useless.
Frustration boiled within him. He had spent hours—no, days—trying to manipulate mana, pushing his mind and body to grasp what should have been second nature. But no matter how much he willed it, no matter how hard he focused, it slipped through his fingers like water.
He exhaled sharply, his mind drifting back to his past life. Back then, he had been the strongest warrior, feared and revered across the battlefield. Magic users respected him, but they were never a threat—because mana had always been a part of him. It had flowed naturally within his veins, an extension of his being. He had never needed to learn how to use it. It simply responded to his will.
But now…
Now he was a monster, and the power that once surged through him like an unstoppable tide had abandoned him. He didn't understand the method behind wielding mana because he had never needed to before. And worse—he was starting to suspect that something was actively preventing monsters from using it at all. Some unseen force, a barrier that locked magic away from creatures like him.
A soft chuckle broke his concentration. The captive mage sat across from him, her back against the cave wall, her hands still bound. Despite her weakened state, there was a glint of amusement in her tired eyes.
"Frustrating, isn't it?" she mused. "It's right there, but you can't touch it."
Leonhart's gaze darkened. "You think this is funny?"
She smirked. "I think it's ironic. A monster trying to grasp something only humans can wield. No matter how much you think like one, your body won't change."
His nails scraped against the stone floor. He could snap her neck in an instant. And yet—she was right. He hated that she was right.
"You claim you can teach me magic," he said slowly. "How?"
She tilted her head. "Magic isn't just about power. It's about control. Humans don't just grab mana; we shape it, command it. Your kind… you just take. But magic doesn't submit to brute force."
Leonhart's eyes narrowed. "Then tell me what does."
She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering. "A conduit. A connection. If your body rejects mana, then you need something that won't."
His mind churned. A conduit… He had heard of enchanted weapons, artifacts imbued with magic. But he had nothing of the sort.
She studied his expression. "There is another way."
He exhaled sharply. "Speak."
Her lips curled into a small smile. "A pact."
A silence stretched between them.
"You mean a contract?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.
She nodded. "Magic is bound by rules. If you want mana, you need to form a bond with something that already possesses it. A spirit. A demon. Even a human, in rare cases."
Leonhart frowned. "And you expect me to trust your word?"
"I expect you to understand that I gain nothing from lying," she countered. "If you want to wield magic, you need a source. And I…" She hesitated. "I can help with that."
His eyes bore into hers, searching for deception. He found none. Only exhaustion… and something else. A quiet resolve.
"You're not doing this out of kindness," he stated.
She laughed softly. "No. I'm doing it because if I don't, I'm as good as dead. You need magic. I need protection. It's a fair trade."
He considered her words carefully. He had no reason to trust her, but he had even fewer reasons to ignore her. If what she said was true, then he had a path forward—a way to bridge the gap between himself and the power he craved.
Finally, he stood. "Then we begin at dawn."
The mage exhaled, her body slumping slightly. "Good choice."
Leonhart turned away, his mind already racing through the possibilities.
If this worked, he would no longer be just another monster clawing for survival.
He would be something more.