Noa could feel it now. There was something new in his being, something he had never noticed before.
It was his mana.
And it didn't seem like Darrik's winds or Thalia's ice.
This was something else.
Noa sat still, not daring to breathe, as his mana moved only in the dark corner of his mind.
He focused on it, pulling like threads.
For a second, they obeyed his instructions, and the shadows in the corner of the room deepened.
Even the light thinned slightly as the space around him tightened.
Noa pushed again.
He was too eager to guide his mana particles and use actual magic.
But he didn't know any spells, let alone how to make use of them. And just like that, his breathing quickened, his head spun, and it hurt like hell.
Shadows were gone from his being; he had exhausted his pitiful reserve.
The chill vanished, and his pain and exhaustion intensified.
'I did it.'
This was Noa's last thought as he collapsed on the floor, sleep overtaking him completely. This time, however, he was safe from the visions before a loud knock woke him up.
"Young Master," Thalia called out behind the door. "Commander Halric is waiting for you."
"I heard you. There is no need to break my door," Noa answered, stretching his body. "Give me a minute."
"Okay," the maid said, leaving breakfast in front of his door.
Meanwhile, Noa rubbed his eyes, remembering the previous night.
But to his surprise, a transparent system panel appeared before him, announcing something he was eager to read.
[Affinity detected]
[First Element: Shadow]
[Origin: Innate (It exists within the host)]
Noa stared at it for a moment, his mind in chaos.
The shadow affinity was his.
He didn't receive it from the beast, nor did the mighty dragon gift it to him.
It was something he was born with, and for him to already feel it proved how great a future lay ahead of him.
Noa glanced at the screen once more before it faded into nothingness.
"But why shadow?" he muttered, dressing up. "I am a dragon necromancer. I should have a death affinity or something. Can I obtain it with the awakening ceremony, or do I need to meet other conditions as well?"
Countless thoughts ran through his mind until he sighed and stepped out of the room.
Just sitting and thinking wouldn't solve his questions.
Noa had morning practice, and he was eager to learn more about the warriors. Only then could he meet Darrik and learn more from him.
'I am going to learn how to use swords?' he mused to himself and headed towards the practice grounds.
Walking past the training dummies and broken archery stands, Noa reached the outer walls.
He looked into the distance and noticed his second teacher.
The commander who was waiting for him with arms crossed, eyes burning like fire.
"You are late," he said in disdain, snorting.
He stood tall like a statue, carved by the finest sculptors. His face was both soft from a young age but sharp with experience.
As Noa neared him, the man said nothing, only scrutinizing long enough to weigh him, to judge him.
Then he added, his voice rougher than the last time,
"You look like a girl."
Noa stiffened, almost flipped a middle finger to the man.
Sighing to calm his nerves and avoid swearing at him, he finally said,
"I can learn and build muscle."
Commander Haric didn't react to his words. He just turned, pointing at the practice field.
"Come with me. I am curious how soft you really are."
Noa kept his cool.
He clenched his fist, and the man saw his determination, a hint of amusement flashing through his face.
"Show me your hands," he demanded.
"Why?" Noa asked, about to hide them behind his back.
"I want to hold hands with you," Haric joked, though his tone remained serious. "I want to see what I am working with."
Noa sighed again and showed the man his hands.
"Even your hands are softer than my balls. We need to work on that. You have never used a sword before, right? You lazy fool," he spoke rudely, disregarding the difference in their social status.
Commander Haric was famous for his speed and ability to change the course of the battle.
Even other barons or viscounts poached him with higher salaries and conditions, but he refused them flatly, remaining loyal to Noa's father.
That's why he was not only respected but also enjoyed special privileges.
But Noa only wanted one thing: to punch the man with his soft hands. Still, he only smirked before answering.
"I may not know how to use swords, but I can learn."
"So can a monkey, but I don't remember someone handing them a sword," Haric said, eyeing Noa as if trying to get a reaction out of him.
Either it was to test his patience, or the man simply enjoyed making people angry.
"Let's start with five laps around the grounds. Then we can talk."
"Five?" Noa exclaimed. "Are you kidding me? You want me to run this much with such a frail body?"
"I don't care. It's your problem. I already gave you an instruction."
He then narrowed his brows. "Call me Sir Haric when you are done. But it's Haric the Devil if you give up."
To further display his intentions, he cracked his neck and fists.
Noa gulped.
He knew he had to do it.
It was something he had decided, and there was no going back.
The training arc was part of almost every fantasy webnovel he had read, and now it was his time to experience what it felt like to run as if his life depended on it.
He then walked towards the field, studied it for a moment, and started sprinting.
Unfortunately, his muscles and lungs burned faster than he expected, his legs already protesting. And by the time he reached the halfway point of the first lap, his breaths came in quick gasps.
'I am dying,' he thought, pushing harder.
Then—[Ding!]
A soft, familiar noise echoed in his head.