Chapter 42: Old Tales and Chains (4)
The second stone was perfectly smooth, matching the old man's work without flaw.
"I'll try again."
The third stone surpassed polished marble in smoothness, dwarfing the old man's creation in both size and quality. In three attempts, the boy had grasped magic's essence in real-time and overtaken his teacher's skill.
"Excellent. Can you attempt this next?"
"Yes."
Clink!
"How about this one?"
"Yes."
Clunk!
"Can you manage this too?!"
"Yes."
Clink! Clink!
The old man failed to conceal his astonishment. He demonstrated various gray mana techniques, each time transforming the stone—from simple spheres and cubes to complex shapes like cups, frames, and vehicles. Ray observed every manipulation intently.
Clunk!
No form required more than three attempts to surpass the old man's precision.
"Hah..."
The old man reeled from renewed shock. He'd anticipated growth when Ray began using refined mana through magic circles, but this defied imagination. The boy had effortlessly mastered elements of maintenance and continuity even before circle formation, instantly discerning their differences.
'When his tools changed, I knew his skill would become incomparable...' Yet this exceeded all predictions. Magic's true nature lay in how elemental mastery—not mana quantity—determined results. By the old man's measure, Ray's control was flawless.
"Excellent. Now—"
Ray continued shaping stones under guidance until...
Silence.
The boy looked up to find the old man asleep, breathing shallowly but contentedly. Veronica tucked him into bed before leading Ray out.
Creak—thud.
She whirled with starry eyes. "You're incredible! How?!"
Ray stared at his disintegrating clocktower sculpture. 'How?' The question had no answer. His magic stemmed from pure intuition, mimicking what he'd seen. Explaining would require revealing his mana-color sight—a secret he wasn't ready to share.
"I just did it."
"Ugh, won't teach me, will you?"
"Really. That's all."
Veronica's pout melted into a smile. "Still amazing! Best mage I've ever seen—well, besides Grandpa!" She chattered excitedly, unaware Ray was studying her emotional aura.
'Missing something.' Envy shimmered clearly, but its usual companion—jealousy—was absent.
"Veronica."
"Grandpa always says theory is essential... Hmm?"
"Do you envy me?"
"Well... yes? Obviously?"
Her fluster outweighed envy. Ray had achieved in moments what she couldn't in years.
'Do street kids really ask such blunt questions?' she wondered. More likely, this strange, handsome boy simply lacked filters.
"Do I annoy you? Make you angry?"
Veronica blinked at his deadpan delivery. "N-no..."
"Or do you wish you'd made the magic circle instead?"
"Are you asking if I'm jealous?"
Ray nodded. He understood envy as desire, jealousy as covetous spite—emotions he'd cataloged through survival.
Veronica deliberated under his intense gaze. "I'm envious... but not jealous."
"Why?"
"Because..." She leaned forward, eyes blazing. "We're friends."
The unspoken demand hung heavy: Say it back.
Ray remained oblivious. "Friends don't feel jealousy?"
"Not usually..."
He nodded, filing this data. "Understood."
"You're weird." Veronica twirled toward the stairs.
Ray called after her: "I need a favor."
They faced each other in the bookstore's first-floor gloom.
"Teach me to read."
"Why?"
"Books hold knowledge. I need it."
Ray's world had expanded beyond Sector 50's confines. This treasure trove of literature—art to engineering, philosophy to magic—could arm him for the journey ahead. Knowledge was currency waiting to be claimed.
"Teaching's one thing, but..." Veronica hesitated. She'd only ever been the student, not teacher.
"Please."
She brightened. "Okay! Let's—"
"Open the shop."
Veronica froze. "The stone-throwers..."
"Gone." Ray's tone brooked no argument. Should they return, Zephyr's gang would answer to him. This bookstore was his sanctuary now.
Her eyes widened. "You didn't... kill them?"
"Not for stones." The casual implication—greater offenses might warrant it—hung unspoken.
Veronica shuddered with exhilaration. "Alright! After lessons, we're reopening!"
She returned with an armload of textbooks and notes—a month's worth of intensive study material. Ray eyed the stack.
"Normal people take a year," she said. "But you..." Memories of Grandfather's praise surfaced: "True talent needs less time."
"Start now."
"First—" Veronica pointed upstairs dramatically. "Bathe. You reek."
The bathroom's white tiles gleamed. Ray studied the shower hose—a potential weapon—before deciphering its mechanics. Cold water cascaded over his scarred physique, then warmed to steaming currents.
Sssss—
Grime and blood dissolved. Ash-colored dust swirled down the drain. The boy who emerged resembled polished steel—all sharp angles and lethal purity, burdens momentarily washed away.
Somewhere, faint bells chimed as Veronica departed for new clothes.
