#021. Veronica’s Bookstore (2)
“Victory is determined solely by one’s skill in handling mana. The number of circles doesn’t matter,” the old man declared.
Whoosh—
The gray mass of mana shifted.
It hovered in the air between the old man and the boy, positioned much closer to the latter.
“I expect to surpass you in both skill and number of circles. Given the difference in our ages, positioning the sphere here seems fair. What do you think?”
Ray nodded. He assumed “circles” referred to rings. But doubt flickered in his mind.
‘He doesn’t seem to realize I don’t have a ring. He’s only speculating.’
If true, it meant one couldn’t normally sense another’s ring. His ability to see mana’s color was exceptional.
As Ray pondered, the old man pointed at the wall clock.
“We’ll begin the moment the second hand reaches the next hour mark and the minute hand moves. Agreed?”
“Yes.”
Ray straightened his posture, focusing entirely on the gray mana.
Tick. Tock.
A strange tension filled the air.
The second hand advanced.
Tick. Tock. Click.
The instant the minute hand shifted, Ray yanked the mana toward himself.
Whoosh—!
The mana surged at blinding speed—and landed on the old man’s palm, not Ray’s.
“It appears I’ve won the first round.”
“……”
Ray blinked, bewildered. He hadn’t even felt the mana being snatched. The old man had taken it in a split second.
“May I ask my question first?”
“Go ahead.”
The old man spoke without hesitation. “Which sector are you from? You’re… unlike ordinary children.”
Ray briefly considered lying but dismissed it. This duel was bound by mutual agreement, and deception rarely worked on such individuals.
“Sector 50.”
“Sector 50? You came alone?”
“One question per round,” Ray stated coldly.
The old man chuckled. “Ah, my mistake. Rules are rules.”
“Let’s proceed to the next round.”
The gray mana moved again, settling between them.
“Same starting condition—when the minute hand shifts.”
“Fine.”
Tick. Tock. Click!
Whoosh—!
This time, the mana vanished into the old man’s palm once more. But Ray almost felt it slip through his grasp.
‘Not enough. I need to be faster. Or try something else.’
The old man’s speed defied reason. At this rate, Ray would only spill his secrets.
As Ray strategized, the old man continued.
“Second question: Who taught you magic? I suspect you abandoned formal training midway.”
“No one. I taught myself.”
The old man narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Ray’s face. If this was a lie, it was masterfully performed.
“You’ve shocked me twice today. In all my years, no surprise has matched this.”
“Is self-taught magic that rare?”
“I’ll answer if you win a round. That itself is a question.”
The gray mana reset. Both focused on the clock.
Tick. Tock. Click!
Whoosh—!
The mana lunged for the old man’s palm—but the mana around his face suddenly rippled, distorting violently.
“……!”
In that split second of distraction, Ray seized control.
“Clever,” the old man muttered, watching the mana settle on Ray’s palm—a cluster of elemental energy, from his perspective.
“You altered your strategy.”
“No rule forbade interference,” Ray replied.
The old man’s faint smile betrayed not irritation… but approval.
