The radiance pulsed softly, and before Icariel's eyes, the blood vanished, the torn flesh knit itself together, and the deep gash faded—until it was as if the wound had never existed.
"Amazing…" Icariel muttered, his eyes wide.
But what caught his attention even more than the spell's result was what happened around them—specifically, to the orbs of mana floating in the air.
"Did you notice?" the voice in his mind asked.
"Yes," Icariel replied. "The mana… it's disappearing. Why?"
"With your White Sense, you're seeing it clearly now," the voice said. "That's what makes healing so difficult. It doesn't create something or combine elements like most magic—it sacrifices."
Icariel narrowed his eyes, watching as more and more mana orbs were drawn into the spell, dissolving like drops of rain in sunlight.
"Healing consumes both internal mana and ambient mana," the voice continued. "It's like the blood circle you used when your body first adapted to mana. The spell pulls from the surrounding environment as collateral… to restore what was broken."
"Hah…"Icariel smirked faintly. "Funny how these elves worship nature like it's sacred—and yet they drain its mana like it's nothing. So much for their 'gods' and 'gifts.'"
"Life isn't cheap, Icariel—it has to be bought." The voice responded.
Icariel listened the voice and watched in silence as the last of the green glow faded. The elf girl stood, rolling her shoulder with ease, the wound now completely gone. No scar. No trace.
"So how do I learn it? I only know how to mix mana and imprint it in my body."
"I'll explain later. It's different, yes—but the core principle is still rooted in your training. Refinement. Sacrifice. Intent."
"Should we grab that last herb?" she asked, stretching with confidence.
"After you," Icariel replied.
They moved quietly through the night-lit forest. She found the last herb—a small plant with red berries—and gathered it carefully.
"Can we go now?" Icariel asked, rubbing his eyes. "I'm tired. My body's still sore from training."
"Yeah, yeah, crybaby," she teased. "I'm done too."
As they walked back toward the cave, she suddenly stopped and looked up at him. "Thank you," she said softly. "Everything happened so fast… I didn't get to say it before. But really—thank you. For saving me. And helping me."
Icariel glanced at her with a lazy smile. "Don't worry about it. Though, if I'd known you were twenty, I probably would've left you there. That child appearance of yours fooled my heart."
"Jerk," she muttered with a grin.
Back at the cave, Icariel handed her the bundle of herbs. "So… how exactly are you planning to eat these?"
She paused, considering. "I was going to mix and cook them. Do you have a pot or something?"
Icariel gestured vaguely at his meager setup—three sticks, one skewering meat over the flames, the other two propped up for balance. "Look around. Do you see a pot? I've got rocks for a bed and sticks for cooking. What, did you expect a full kitchen?"
She sighed. "Ugh, you're impossible."
"Then what are you going to do?" he asked.
"I'll eat them the way nature intended—raw and pure," she declared, already chewing on a bitter green leaf. "That's why I gathered so much. It takes a lot to feel full this way."
Icariel gave her a flat stare. "Weird."
As she munched on the raw plants, Icariel ignited a small flame on the cave floor with his spell. The flickering warmth filled the cave with a soft light.
"This should hold till morning," he murmured, lying down on the cold stone floor, using a nearby rock as a pillow.
A quiet moment passed. Then the elf girl spoke.
"…Are you a mage?" she asked suddenly.
Icariel's eyes widened just slightly at her question, caught off guard by the sudden curiosity.
"What makes you think I'm one?" Icariel replied calmly, still lying on the cold floor.
The elf girl didn't hesitate. "We elves… we're far more connected to mana than humans. We can sense it with more precision, especially pure mana. And the mana inside you—it's… strange."
"Strange?"
"Not in a bad way," she said. "It's unusually pure, too pure. I've never felt anything like it—not even from an normal adult elf in my village. Even if you don't possess a lot, it's... clearer. And I'm sure of one thing." She looked directly at him. "It's grown since I woke up. I can feel it. You possess more mana now than when we first saw you."
Icariel said nothing.
"You cast spells," she went on, "and from what I saw in the forest—the shattered stones, the training grounds, and the trees—you were clearly practicing magic. Not to mention when I was healing myself earlier. You said you could sense if anything approached us. The only humans who can do that are mages with a developed Spirit Zone and…anyway that kind of awareness is impossible without it."
She tilted her head. "It would only make sense if you were a mage. Isn't that true?"
"…I'm not a mage," Icariel muttered, voice low, eyes still watching the flickering flame beside him. "And I've never met one either. So I wouldn't know what makes someone a mage in the first place."
"Then how?" she asked, genuine confusion on her face.
"I just trained on my own. That's all," he answered flatly.
In his mind, the thought echoed quietly "She doesn't need to know about the presence inside me… No one should. And if they did, who would trust me?"
"You're lying," the elf girl said suddenly, narrowing her eyes.
"I'm not," Icariel said, turning his head to meet her gaze. "I just learned… the way I could."
Their eyes met. A quiet challenge passed between them.
"…Strange," she muttered. "We elves have a gift. Among the many things given to us, there's one that lets us sense the truth… when we truly want to. And you—"
She paused, her eyes widening.
"You're telling the truth." She looked even more confused now than before. "Tomorrow," she said, "can I watch you how you train?"
Icariel stared back for a moment. "…Who gave you permission to stay here that long? You're recovered now."
"You jerk!" she snapped. "Where do you expect me to go? I don't even know where I am, or where my parents are! I should wait a little while longer—I'm alone!"
Her voice cracked slightly at the last word.
Icariel looked at her, saying nothing for a while. Then finally, he exhaled.
"…If you teach me healing magic, then why not."
"I can show you," the elf girl muttered, "but it'll be too difficult for you to learn."
"That's enough for me," Icariel said, pointing lazily at a flat stone sticking just above the dirt. "You can sleep there. It's not too cold—the flame will continue to burn for most of the night."
"…Good night," Icariel said, closing his eyes.
"Good night," she said as she climbed up onto it and curled herself into a tight ball.
The elf girl turned her head to look at him one last time.
"What an odd human," she thought with a faint smile, as sleep slowly took her.
The next morning came quietly, the light of dawn slipping through the cave entrance in soft rays.
The elf girl stirred slowly, her small body aching slightly from having slept on cold stone. She stretched a little, her silver hair falling messily over her face as she opened her eyes, expecting to see Icariel nearby.
But he wasn't there.
Instead, right beside her, was a large leaf—curved perfectly like a bowl—filled with clear, cool water. She blinked in surprise. Where is he…?
Before she could think more, sounds echoed from outside. Rhythmic, sharp, and violent—cutting through the air.
Curious, she stepped toward the light and exited the cave. The early morning breeze brushed against her skin as her bare feet touched the soft grass.
And there he was.
Icariel. Shirtless, his lean and well-built body moving in clean, precise motions. He stood in the middle of his training ground—where the forest was already scarred from the day before. His black hair danced in the wind as he raised his arm and cast forward his Wind Slash spells.
Two visible wind slashes shot out horizontally.
One—controlled and sharp—curved with finesse. The other—raw and forceful—followed behind it with explosive power.
Fwoosh—THWACK!
They hit the same tree in quick succession, one slicing it clean, the other smashing it apart completely in a double impact. The trunk shattered and fell with a loud crash.
The elf girl froze.
Her face turned red in an instant as her eyes locked onto Icariel's form… but then, her expression shifted to something else entirely—wide-eyed disbelief.
"…How are you using magic like that?" she muttered aloud, breathless.