The Lesson of the Adept and the Own Shadow.

The sky of Aethel that day showed not a single anomaly. It was a blue so deep and perfect it hurt to look at, dotted with cotton-like clouds that seemed to move following the pattern of a gentle breeze. Asimil had decided to take advantage of the weather to clear his mind for a while.

Asimil was lying under the shade of a weeping willow, its leaves brushing the surface of a crystalline lake. Beside him, Biteus slept, emitting a purr that seemed to calm Asimil's heart. For the first time in a long while, the boy felt neither voracious hunger nor the weight of his responsibilities. It was just him, his new companion, and the murmur of the water.

"This is the life, Biteus," murmured Asimil with his eyes closed. "No missions, no yelling, no…"

THWACK!

A sound cut through the air. Biteus, whose instincts were a thousand times faster than Asimil's, let out a growl, its yellow fur bristling, and dove headfirst under its owner's tunic. Asimil barely had time to open one eye before feeling a dry impact right in the middle of his forehead.

"Ow!" he shouted, grabbing his head.

Standing before him, arms crossed and with an expression that could freeze the lake itself, was Noelia. Her emerald eyes flashed with a mix of irritation and something Asimil couldn't identify. At her feet lay the cause of the blow: a heavy leather scroll bearing the Citadel's official seal.

"What do you think you're doing?" Noelia's voice was pure fury. "The clan doesn't give you a day off so you can become part of the scenery. Rest is for those who have reached their level limit, not for novices like you."

Asimil picked up the scroll, rubbing the bump starting to form. "It's my day off, Noelia! Even adventurers need a break sometimes!"

"You are not an adventurer who deserves one," she sentenced, pointing at the scroll. "Read it."

Asimil unrolled the leather. His eyes widened. It was a request for the Mentorship and Apprentice System, an Altverse mechanic designed for veterans to help White-class novices gain experience quickly on escort missions. What surprised him most wasn't the mission itself, but the signatures at the bottom: Noelia Vane and Asimil Nagatomo were already contractually linked by the system.

"You enrolled me without asking?" Asimil asked, indignant.

"I enrolled you so you'd stop being a liability," she replied, turning away. "Besides, the experience bonus is 20%. If you want to remain a weakling for the rest of your life, stay under your tree. But if you want to survive what's coming, move."

Noelia didn't wait for a response. She grabbed the back of his tunic with a strength that defied her delicate appearance and started dragging him across the grass. Asimil kicked, trying to salvage his dignity, while Biteus poked its head out from his collar, eyeing Noelia with absolute distrust.

They arrived at the Citadel gates, where supply carts were lined up like wooden ants. Their contact was waiting for them.

"Ah, the Harmonia novices!" exclaimed a serene voice.

It was Bodkin. He was a man about 174 cm tall, with an athletic build hidden under a worn grey cloak designed to blend with the surroundings. His black hair was short and unkempt, and intense blue eyes analyzed Asimil coldly. The only thing breaking the symmetry of his face was a small scar on his left cheek, a mark signifying he had survived a critical hit.

"I'm Bodkin, Adept-rank adventurer," he introduced himself, giving a curt nod to Noelia. "I'll watch over this cart to the rendezvous point in the Whispering Woods. There shouldn't be any problems, just low-level wolves and maybe a hungry goblin. Ideal for an apprentice to practice."

Asimil nodded, though Bodkin's aura gave him a strange feeling of heaviness in his chest.

As they walked guarding the cart, Bodkin broke the forest's silence. He walked with one hand resting on the pommel of his dagger, his gaze never leaving the horizon, but his voice was directed straight at Asimil.

"Listen well, kid," said Bodkin, while Noelia nodded with her arms crossed, letting him take the lead. "Noelia told me you have trouble channeling your magic. You must understand that magic in this world isn't born from desire; it's born from the mind and physics."

Bodkin stopped for a second and pointed to a stone on the path.

"To cast an attack, you must first visualize it in your mind. If the mental image is asymmetrical or vague, the energy becomes unstable. The mana doesn't know how to organize itself and, instead of projecting outwards, a backlash occurs. Basically, it'll explode in your face before it even leaves."

Asimil tried to summon a small emerald flame in his palm, concentrating on the shape of a sphere, but the light flickered erratically and vanished.

"And the most important thing is Mass Assignment," Bodkin continued, resuming his pace. "If you visualize a boulder of mana but give it the weight of a feather, the mana system detects an inconsistency and will erase it before it touches the enemy. But if you make it too heavy for your current level... well, it'll fall on your own feet and you might break several bones. You have to balance form, mass, and velocity. If you miscalculate any of those variables, you generate a desynchronization."

"Desynchronization?" asked Asimil, feeling a cold sweat run down his neck.

"In simple terms, you slow down," Noelia interjected in her cutting tone, though this time she let Bodkin finish the idea.

"Exactly," confirmed the Adept with a grim smile. "Your brain gives the order to attack, but your body freezes while the system tries to correct your miscalculation. In a real fight, Asimil, one second of desynchronization is the difference between life and an enemy slitting your throat while you wait for your body to respond."

"Desynchronization, huh?" Asimil thought. "That's a strange word."

They had been walking for an hour when the atmosphere changed. The forest grew denser and the sound of birds ceased abruptly. Suddenly, Bodkin stopped, bringing a hand to his mouth. His face, previously pale, turned a greenish hue.

"Damn it…" Bodkin groaned, doubling over. "I think that boar meat at the tavern... wasn't cooked properly. I feel my stomach churning."

"Are you alright?" Asimil asked, approaching with concern.

"I have to go... I'm going to be sick behind those bushes," said Bodkin, pointing to an area of thick shadows. "Don't move from here. Guard the cargo. I'll be back in a minute."

Bodkin disappeared among the trees with suspicious urgency. Two minutes passed. Three. Five. The silence on the path became suspicious. Noelia, who had been watching the cart, suddenly tensed her shoulders. Her hands became enveloped in a chilling aura, and her breath turned white, as if she were cooling the air around her.

"Asimil…" she whispered, her voice no longer scolding but alert. "Wake up that ball of fur. Something's off."

"What's wrong? Bodkin just went to the bathroom…"

"Bodkin is an Adept," Noelia said, looking toward the bushes. "An Adept has passive resistance to low-level toxins. He wouldn't get sick from tavern meat. I sense there's someone else here."

Asimil felt a chill that wasn't from Noelia's ice. He slipped his hand into his tunic and stroked Biteus's head; the creature was trembling and emitting a high-pitched sound, like a silent alarm. The boy put all his senses on alert, but his novice eyes saw nothing.

However, on the ground, right beneath his feet, reality was breaking.

Asimil's shadow, cast by the afternoon sun, began to stretch unnaturally. It didn't follow the light. It twisted, becoming denser, blacker, as if someone had spilled Chinese ink on the ground.

Slowly, without emitting a single sound, a figure began to emerge from the boy's own shadow. First came a hand gloved in black leather, then a shoulder, and finally the cold glint of a steel blade reflecting the light with murderous intent.

The shadow man didn't breathe. He was just a lethal silhouette who raised his sword, aiming directly for Asimil's blind spot.

Noelia screamed something, but for Asimil, his mind saw the danger, but his legs, heavy with fear and lack of training, refused to respond.

The sword descended, seeking the heart of Asimil's data.