Godslayer's Legacy: THE PATH TO SUPREMACY

The Kirean estate's library seemed even more vast to Rui that day, the towering shelves stretching higher, the shadows between them deeper. The quiet sanctuary of the library now felt like a maze of unanswered questions, the soft rustling of old pages a whisper of truths just out of reach.

Rui had settled into his usual corner, a thick tome open before him. It was an older volume, its cracked leather cover devoid of ornamentation, as though its contents needed no embellishment. The title, Veins of Magic: The Flow Within, promised knowledge, but its pages were dense with archaic language and abstract concepts.

"The refinement of mana," Rui muttered, skimming a passage. "A technique that requires precision, patience, and a profound understanding of oneself… yet the true origins of tempered cores remain… unknown?"

He frowned, running a finger along the faded script. The text seemed to dance between revelation and mystery, offering glimpses of truth without ever fully exposing it.

"You've found quite the relic," came Vynar's voice, startling Rui from his focus. The scribe stood nearby, his arms laden with scrolls, his expression unreadable behind his glasses.

Rui straightened, gesturing to the book. "This talks about tempered mana. It mentions how it's refined, but… it's vague. Almost like it's hiding something."

Vynar approached, setting the scrolls on the table with care. He glanced at the book and then at Rui, his gaze sharp yet contemplative. "Tempered mana is a topic that invites curiosity… and fear. Not all who seek its truths are ready to bear the weight of what they find."

"What do you mean?" Rui asked, his silver eyes narrowing.

Vynar hesitated, his fingers brushing the edge of the book. "Tempered mana is rare because it is unnatural. Not in the sense of being wrong, but because it defies the natural flow of magic. Most cores are shaped by their awakening, their strength drawn from the purity of that moment. But a tempered core…" He paused, searching for the right words. "A tempered core is shaped before it awakens. It carries the marks of deliberate cultivation."

Rui's breath caught. "But how? I didn't—"

"You didn't know," Vynar interrupted gently. "But your body did. Your very essence has been honing your mana, likely since the day you were born. Perhaps even before."

The room seemed to grow quieter, the soft sounds of the library fading into the background. Rui stared at the scribe, his mind racing. "Why would that happen? How?"

Vynar sighed, his gaze distant. "There are theories, but no certainties. Some believe tempered mana occurs in those with a unique connection to the flow of magic—an affinity not for elements, but for the mana itself. Others think it's a result of… interference."

"Interference?" Rui asked, his voice steady despite the unease creeping into his chest.

"An event, a circumstance, something that alters the natural course of your core's formation," Vynar explained. "It could be environmental, hereditary… or something far more elusive. The truth is, no one fully understands it. But one thing is certain: a tempered core is not merely a gift. It is a challenge."

Rui frowned, his fingers tightening around the edge of the book. "Why a challenge?"

"Because tempered mana is not just dense," Vynar said, his tone quiet but firm. "It is resistant. It resists stagnation, resists control. It demands refinement at every stage. You will grow, Rui, but your growth will not be easy. You will have to fight for every step forward, not because you are lacking, but because you are more."

The words settled heavily in the space between them. Rui felt the weight of them, the truth they carried. He thought of his awakening, the surge of power, the way the grand mage had looked at him—not with pride, but with caution.

"Does that mean I'll never master it?" Rui asked quietly.

Vynar smiled faintly. "No. It means your mastery will be earned, not given. And in that, you may find strength others cannot imagine."

Rui looked down at the book, his thoughts swirling. He traced the diagram of a core on the page, its lines faintly glowing under the afternoon light. "What about the Kireans? Did they know about this? About tempered mana?"

Vynar's expression shifted, a flicker of something—sympathy? Respect?—crossing his face. "The Kireans are known for their subtlety, their ability to see what others overlook. Your family has always valued the balance of power and understanding, seeking harmony where others sought dominance. If any lineage could carry the secret of tempered mana, it would be yours."

"But they never told me," Rui said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Vynar inclined his head. "Perhaps they didn't know. Or perhaps they knew that telling you would shape your path too soon. The Kireans understand better than most that some truths must be discovered, not given."

Rui closed the book gently, his hands resting on its worn cover. The library suddenly felt vast and quiet again, the weight of its knowledge pressing down on him. But this time, it wasn't suffocating—it was grounding.

"Thank you," he said finally, looking up at Vynar.

The scribe nodded, his expression softening. "You're welcome, young master. But remember—knowledge is only the beginning. The path you walk will be yours to shape."

With that, Vynar gathered his scrolls and left, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. Rui watched him go, the silence of the library settling around him once more.

He looked back at the book, his silver eyes reflecting the faint light of the stained glass above. The tempered mana within him was a mystery, a challenge, and perhaps even a burden. But it was also a part of him, as much as the core it shaped.

And Rui knew one thing for certain: he would uncover its secrets, no matter how long it took.