Chương 203

The freezing rain poured down in heavy, relentless sheets. The mud in the alleyway was thick and cold. A young boy huddled against a damp stone wall. His name was Mumud. He pulled his thin, ragged shirt tighter around his chest, trying to stop his violent shivering. Just a few feet away, his parents lay perfectly still in the mud. The plague had swept through the lower districts of the city a week ago. It took his mother first, then his father. Now, it was just him.

Down the street, a heavy wooden shutter banged open. Maro, the local baker, stuck his head out into the rain.

"Stay away from my storefront!" Maro yelled, waving a rolling pin at a passing beggar.

"The imported wheat is already costing me double, and I won't catch the sickness from you street rats! Clear out!" The shutter slammed shut. The street went quiet again, save for the rain. Mumud hugged his knees tightly to his chest. He didn't have the energy to cry anymore. His stomach cramped with hunger and his lungs burned with every shallow breath. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against his wet knees. He just waited for the cold to finish the job. Footsteps splashed in the deep puddles.

The splashing stopped right in front of him. Mumud slowly opened his eyes. A tall man stood over him. The man wore a heavy, expensive blue cloak with silver embroidery along the edges. His white hair was tied back neatly. His face was outrageously handsome, and incredibly arrogant. Braham looked down. He didn't glance at the dead bodies nearby but rather looked at the shivering boy in the mud with his blood red eyes.

"Disgusting," Braham muttered. Mumud lowered his head. He knew he was dirty. He just wished the man would walk away so he could sleep. But Braham didn't leave. The Legendary Great Magician frowned, his red eyes narrowing with intense focus.

"Your body is dying," Braham stated flatly.

"But your mana core is completely overflowing. How does a starving street rat possess this kind of innate mana imbalance?" Mumud didn't understand the words. He just let out a weak, rattling cough. Braham unclasped the heavy silver pin at his neck. He pulled the thick blue cloak off his shoulders and threw it over the boy. The fabric was incredibly warm. It smelled faintly of old parchment and ozone. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Get up," Braham commanded.

"I do not waste my time on the weak, but you are a little interesting. Come with me." Mumud gripped the edge of the warm cloak. He looked up at the arrogant man. For the first time in days, a tiny spark of warmth blossomed in his chest. He didn't want to die in the mud. He stumbled to his feet. His legs shook, but he followed the Magician into the freezing rain. ….. Braham's magic tower was massive. It was filled with floating lights, giant wooden bookshelves, and dozens of nervous apprentices.

Mumud sat at a large oak desk in the beginner's hall. He held a small piece of white chalk. He was clean, well-fed, and wearing a proper apprentice robe. Across the room, an older apprentice named Vorn slammed his hands on his desk.

"This is impossible!" Vorn cursed loudly, gripping his hair.

"The runic structure for a basic 'Light' spell takes three entire pages to draw! How am I supposed to memorize this without making a mistake?" Braham walked past Vorn's desk. He casually glanced at the older apprentice.

"If you cannot grasp the basics, leave my tower," Braham said coldly.

"I have no use for idiots." Vorn scrambled to gather his scattered papers and stopped complaining. He looked completely terrified. Braham stopped at Mumud's desk. The Legendary Great Magician looked down. Mumud had not drawn three pages of runes. He had drawn a small, tight circle on his slate, omitting several complex bridging symbols. He pushed a tiny bit of mana into the chalk. A bright, warm ball of pure light floated up from the desk and hovered perfectly in the air. Braham stared at the floating light.

He looked at the boy.

"You skipped the third sequence," Braham noted. His voice was unusually quiet. Mumud shrank back in his chair.

"I'm sorry. It felt unnecessary. The mana flows much smoother if I just connect the first and second rings directly. It feels more natural." Braham didn't yell. A slow, incredibly rare smile spread across his face. He reached out and gently ruffled Mumud's silver hair.

"You are a genius, boy," Braham said proudly.

"You can actually understand the flow. Do not apologize for being better than them." Mumud's chest swelled. He looked up at Braham. The man was arrogant, demanding, and often cruel to everyone else in the tower. But to Mumud, he was a savior. He was a father.

"I will learn everything you teach me, Teacher," Mumud promised earnestly.

"That is to be expected," Braham said. He turned to the rest of the crowded room.

"You all, leave my sight! Mumud, come to my private study. We are starting advanced elementals." Years passed quickly. The magic tower became Mumud's entire world. He followed Braham everywhere. They spent late nights in the study, debating mana theory over cups of midnight snacks.

"Fire is destruction," Braham argued one evening. He pointed a finger at the fireplace. A fierce, wild flame danced on his knuckle.

"It consumes fuel. It cannot be tamed, only directed." Mumud shook his head. He held out his own hand. A matching flame appeared, but it didn't flicker wildly. It sat perfectly still on his palm, shaped exactly like a small, blooming flower.

"It just wants direction," Mumud smiled.

"You don't have to force it." Braham watched the fire flower. He showed another small smile.

"You always find the gentle side of things. It is a weakness, Mumud. But it is... an interesting perspective." Mumud cherished those quiet moments. He didn't care about the rumors outside the tower. People called Braham a tyrant. They said the Legendary Great Magician was a monster. Mumud only saw the man who had pulled him out of the freezing mud. But the peace did not last.