Chương 28: The Army Wants His Mana

Sieghart balanced upside down in the middle of his bedroom, supporting his entire body with both hands while keeping his legs straight above him. White mana reinforced his muscles and joints as Protection remained active beneath his skin. He had moved the furniture toward the walls before beginning his nightly training. The precaution had become necessary after an early attempt sent him crashing into his desk and buried him beneath several books. The impact hadn't injured him, but damaging books was unforgivable.

Furniture could be repaired. Knowledge deserved better treatment from someone who had already died beneath a collection of poorly secured shelves. Sieghart shifted his weight onto his right hand. His arm trembled beneath him, but Protection reduced the strain on his wrist and shoulder, allowing him to hold the position much longer than his natural strength should have permitted. The spell also protected the blood vessels inside his head from some of the pressure created by remaining upside down.

Sieghart still became dizzy eventually, but the discomfort arrived far more slowly than before. Protection had proven useful for much more than blocking attacks. It allowed him to train harder, recover faster, and perform movements that his five-year-old body couldn't normally tolerate. Sieghart gathered Wind Magic inside his left palm. He aimed toward the floor and compressed the air before releasing it as a controlled blast. The force lifted his body half a meter above the wooden boards.

His balance shifted immediately, but Sieghart adjusted the angle of his palm, correcting his position before gravity pulled him downward. He landed on one hand. The impact traveled through his fingers, wrist, elbow, and shoulder. Protection absorbed most of the force, leaving only a dull vibration behind. Sieghart held the pose for several seconds before lowering his feet to the floor. That represented progress. Several months earlier, Wind Magic could barely move him a centimeter.

Now he could lift his entire body while controlling the direction well enough to avoid striking the ceiling. Actual flight remained distant. Sieghart could propel himself upward, soften falls, and change direction during a jump, but maintaining continuous lift required too much concentration. The blast also pushed him rather than carrying him. If he increased the power carelessly, he would become less like a flying mage and more like a child launched from an invisible catapult.

Still, the training strengthened several abilities simultaneously. Wind propulsion improved his movement, balancing developed his body, and Protection adapted to repeated impacts and physical strain. It was extremely convenient. Sieghart could practice mobility, defense, and physical control without leaving his room, although the occasional noise forced him to pretend he had fallen from his bed. He repeated the exercise several more times.

His fifth attempt carried him slightly higher, but the landing required both hands. On the seventh, he lost balance and struck the floor with one knee. Protection prevented an injury. The wooden board suffered more than Sieghart did, producing a small crack that he would need to repair before Elara noticed. Sieghart examined the damage and decided that it was an appropriate place to end the session. Training until he destroyed his own bedroom would make future practice considerably less convenient.

He deactivated Protection and climbed into bed. The spell disappeared from beneath his skin, leaving his limbs feeling strangely vulnerable after maintaining the reinforcement for most of the day. Sleep would deactivate Protection anyway. Sieghart still hadn't discovered how to keep the spell active while unconscious, but the hours he could maintain it had increased steadily. He stared at the ceiling while considering his training.

His foundational abilities continued improving, but their progress had become increasingly repetitive. Every morning, he maintained the farm with elemental magic. Every afternoon, he practiced archery, Mana Transfusion, and Protection. Every evening, he trained Wind propulsion or experimented with compressed water. The routine worked. His control, casting speed, and Mentality were far greater than they had been one year earlier. Unfortunately, efficiency didn't make repetition interesting.

Doing almost the same thing every day for more than a year was becoming boring. Sieghart had spent his previous life studying through repetition, and that effort had ended with a failed college examination and a bookshelf landing on his head. He wasn't going to abandon his fundamentals. Strong foundations determined how far any skill could develop. However, endlessly polishing the same spells would eventually produce diminishing returns. Sieghart needed something new.

Fireball remained his strongest offensive spell, but it concentrated all its power into a single projectile. Multiple fireballs provided area damage, although maintaining several at once increased his mental strain. A Firewall could solve that problem. Instead of creating individual projectiles, Sieghart could ignite a continuous line of flame capable of blocking a path, dividing enemies, or protecting a position. The spell would also provide sustained area damage.

Monsters could avoid one Fireball, but crossing a wall of black flames would require greater commitment to poor decisions. Creating it shouldn't be impossible. Sieghart already knew how to produce fire and use Wind Magic to feed it. He only needed to spread the ignition across a line and maintain the shape without allowing the flames to become uncontrolled. Anger would create the fire. Intent would determine the boundary.

Wind could stabilize its direction and prevent the flames from spreading toward anything Sieghart wanted to keep. He decided to begin Firewall training the next morning. The farm contained several empty sections of soil where he could experiment without burning crops, fences, livestock, or grandparents. Sieghart mentally constructed a new training regimen. He would start with a flame wide enough to cover one meter, maintain it for five seconds, and then gradually increase its length, height, and duration.

Once the spell stabilized, he could practice curving the wall, creating several sections, or moving it across the ground. A circular version might eventually become a protective ring. Satisfied with the plan, Sieghart closed his eyes. Developing something new immediately made training feel interesting again. He fell asleep without realizing that his carefully prepared schedule would become irrelevant before breakfast ended.

The following morning, Sieghart sat at the table while eating bread, eggs, and preserved fruit. His notebook rested beside his plate, opened to the page containing the planned stages of his Firewall experiment. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Elara had already told him twice to keep ink away from his food. Sieghart obeyed by moving the inkwell several centimeters farther from the plate, which satisfied the exact wording of her request without slowing his planning.

He was estimating how much distance should separate the training area from the nearest field when someone knocked on the farmhouse door. The sound was firm and repeated three times. It wasn't Master Thorne's usual impatient pounding, and the old shopkeeper wasn't expected until the following week. Edric exchanged a glance with Elara before leaving the table. His enchanted bow rested near the door, and his hand passed close to it as he opened the entrance. A teenage boy waited outside.

He wore a brown traveling cloak and carried a leather satchel marked with the emblem of the regional administration. The messenger couldn't have been older than sixteen. Mud covered his boots, while exhaustion darkened the skin beneath his eyes. He removed a sealed letter from his satchel and handed it to Edric.

"For Edric Vale," the teenager said.

"That's me."

"Orders from the regional command." The messenger didn't wait for a reply. He turned, climbed onto the horse tied near the road, and rode away without explaining the contents. Sieghart watched through the open doorway. The teenager's silence and hurry suggested that the farm wasn't his only destination. Similar letters were probably being delivered throughout the territory. Edric closed the door and examined the seal. His expression became wary when he recognized the symbol pressed into the wax.

He returned to the table, broke the seal, and unfolded the letter. Elara placed her cup down while Sieghart closed his notebook. The message required only a few moments to read. Edric's eyes moved across the page, stopped, and returned to the beginning as though he hoped the words might change during a second examination. His expression turned sour.

"What is it?" Elara asked. Edric didn't answer immediately. He lowered the letter and stared at the table while choosing his words.

"The eastern region is losing territory," he eventually said.

"Several defensive positions have already fallen, and they are requesting reinforcements from every neighboring domain." Elara's face tightened.

"How bad is it?"

"The letter doesn't provide details. It only says that more soldiers, hunters, healers, craftsmen, and anyone with useful support abilities are needed immediately." Sieghart noticed the way Edric held the paper. His grandfather's fingers had tightened around the edges, creating deep folds.

"You were called," Sieghart said. Edric looked at him.

"Yes." Elara shook her head.

"You haven't served in years."

"They need archers. My Aura and the enchanted bow are still useful, even if I'm not as young as I used to be." Edric's farming Aura didn't specialize in combat, but decades of hunting and border defense had made him a capable archer. The red-glowing weapon stored near the entrance probably possessed considerably more power than the practice bow Sieghart used.

"How long would you be gone?" Elara asked.

"It doesn't say." That answer made the room feel colder. A temporary request for assistance might last several days. A military reinforcement order could keep Edric away for months—or until someone decided the survivors were no longer needed. Sieghart looked at the letter. The regional command was requesting anyone with useful support abilities. His grandfather's hesitation suggested that the message contained more than one name. The silence stretched until even Elara seemed to reach the same conclusion.

"What else does it say?" she asked. Edric didn't respond.

"Edric." His grandfather slowly placed the letter on the table.

"Sieg was called as well." Silence took over the room. Sieghart stared at Edric. Elara's chair scraped against the floor as she stood so quickly that the table shook.

"No."

"They aren't asking him to fight," Edric said.

"He is five."

"I know."

"Then why is his name on a military order?" Edric turned the letter so she could read the relevant section. Elara's eyes moved across the words, and anger gradually replaced her initial shock. The regional command had learned that Sieghart possessed an unusually large mana reserve and experience charging old-style magical equipment. They wanted him assigned to a logistics unit. His stated duties involved restoring mana to weapons, defensive tools, communication devices, heating equipment, and emergency supplies.

On paper, he wouldn't approach the battlefield. He would remain behind the defensive lines under supervision, providing energy to equipment used by soldiers. That distinction didn't make the request reasonable. Battles moved, defensive lines collapsed, and support units became targets whenever enemies understood their value.

"They cannot order a child into a war zone," Elara said.

"They can request the service of every Aura or magic user registered inside the region during an emergency," Edric replied.

"The law doesn't establish a minimum age because no one expected a five-year-old to become a recognized magical worker." Sieghart understood how his name had entered those records. Master Thorne rented and sold weapons after Sieghart charged them. Wartime regulations probably required merchants to report available equipment and anyone capable of maintaining it. The old shopkeeper might not have betrayed Sieghart intentionally.

A sudden inspection, inventory request, or military purchase would have revealed that his supposedly obsolete merchandise was being charged faster than ever. Someone had followed the numbers until they discovered the source.

"They know about his mana," Elara whispered.

"They know he has a large reserve," Edric corrected.

"They don't know the truth." That was a small comfort. The military didn't know Sieghart possessed infinite mana, but they knew enough to place his name on an official reinforcement order. Sieghart looked at the ten silver coins remaining beside his notebook. His first income had purchased books, independence, and a new branch of magic. Apparently, it had also created employment records suitable for wartime conscription.

"What happens if we refuse?" Sieghart asked. Neither grandparent answered immediately. Their silence provided more information than any explanation. House Emberhart commanded the border forces and governed the territory. Refusing an emergency order could be treated as disobedience, especially when the person refusing carried the Emberhart name. Sieghart's father might not care about him as a son. Lord Alaric could still consider his mana a regional resource. Edric folded the letter carefully.

"We won't let them place you near a battle."

"They want him to charge weapons," Elara said.

"That means those weapons will be wherever soldiers need them."

"I'll be with him."

"That doesn't make him older." Sieghart remained silent while his grandparents argued. He didn't want to enter a war, but the summons also represented the exact opportunity he had been considering the previous night. New environments. New magical equipment. Experienced Aura users. Possibly even monsters capable of granting experience to Black Magic. The risk was far greater than training on the farm. So was the potential progress. That didn't make accepting the order wise.

Becoming a dungeoneer at five had been insanity. Entering a collapsing war zone at the same age deserved an entirely separate category. Sieghart looked at the unfinished Firewall training plan beside his breakfast. He had wanted something new. Apparently, the world had mistaken that thought for a request.