Stepping Beyond the Barrier
After the long magic lesson with Rune, we headed back home.
“Now, once you master controlling the firepower, there’s nothing more for me to teach you.”
“Defining a mage’s personal world is something you have to do on your own, right?”
“Exactly. Everyone envisions magic differently, so unless we’re debating it together, no one can teach another. Especially you—you’ve already established your own world.”
Fortunately, the magic lessons wrapped up quickly, thanks to my talent. Who am I? A proper mage, fully acknowledged by Rune. The first thing I’d do when I got home was brag to Silleia about my achievement.
Creak.
Opening the front door and stepping inside, I didn’t hear Silleia’s voice as expected.
No way she ran off again… or maybe the search mission isn’t over yet?
On my way upstairs to put the staff back in its place, I spotted something off. A tuft of blonde hair poked out beside the sofa, swaying gently and drawing my eye.
It’s not that Silleia hasn’t come back—she’s hiding behind the sofa.
Why was she lurking there without even saying hi? The sight sparked a mischievous urge in me for some reason.
Might as well go for a sneak prank while I’m at it.
Deadening my footsteps, I crept into the living room. Circling behind the sofa out of her line of sight, I sidled right up behind her quietly crouched form.
Then I grabbed her shoulders and yelled.
“Wah!”
“Gya!!”
Silleia clearly hadn’t seen it coming—she shrieked and bolted upright, scrambling backward while whipping her head around. Only when she spotted my face did she finally relax.
Yep, the classic rear ambush was spot-on.
Her over-the-top reaction made even the prankster feel accomplished and smug.
“Uh… hey, Seha. What was that just now?”
She forced a casual tone, greeting me like nothing had happened. But her flat delivery clashed with her ears, flushed tomato-red.
Elves’ ears turn red when they’re startled or flustered. New fact for the day.
“I had my magic lesson today—came to tell you about it and all.”
“You mean the class with my mom? It wasn’t too tough or anything, right?”
True to form, Silleia fretted over whether Rune’s teaching had been grueling. I used to not get why she was like that, but after sitting through a session myself, it clicked.
Rune’s way more serious about magic than she lets on. The second magic comes up, her words speed up and she won’t stop explaining.
I felt a twinge of pity for Silleia, who’d endured years of it. But that was that, and bragging was still on the agenda.
“She acknowledged my magic in just one day and said there’s nothing left for me to learn.”
“What? My mom acknowledged your magic?”
“Yeah. Magic’s not that big a deal? I showed her one spell, and boom, done.”
“…”
Was my casual flex that shocking? Silleia just gaped, words failing her.
Yep, bragging to others really is the most fun.
Back in my gacha game days, whenever I pulled a good character, I’d always post it on the community boards. Not just straight-up boasting, though—that was boring. I had my techniques.
Stuff like, “Started yesterday and this is my first pull—is this good?” Playing dumb to emphasize how easily I’d snagged something rare.
Or “Aw, got this one I don’t even need… too bad the one I want didn’t drop.” Dismissing it as useless for maximum effect.
Watching the furious replies pour in was my guilty pleasure. Way harder to pull off in real life, though.
Her lips drooping at my humblebrag, Silleia hung her head and fidgeted. Seeing her like that tugged at my heartstrings a bit.
Just then, Rune swept in like a savior, breaking the awkward silence between us.
“I heard a loud yell earlier and popped in—oh, Silleia, you’re here too. I’ve got dinner to prep and some errands, so wait for me, alright?”
She left us with those words and headed out. Her timely interruption bought me a breather.
Guess I should apologize to Silleia…
As I pondered how to broach it, she beat me to it.
“Sorry. I was just jealous on my own. No matter how hard I studied, Mom never acknowledged me.”
“Is that why you hated going to the library before?”
“Yeah. I don’t wanna read books anymore.”
Looks like Silleia was as fed up with rote learning as I was. Why not teach her my way of using magic? Free from old knowledge, defining the world purely on your own terms. It’d suit her perfectly, I bet.
“Bit random, but wanna try copying how I do magic?”
“No reason not to, but I doubt mimicking you’ll help much.”
“Just hear me out first. Forget all that about drawing magic circles or mana attributes—toss it.”
“You can still cast spells like that?”
“Yup. That’s what I did.”
Now her eyes widened with curiosity. This time, she fired off the question.
“So how do you cast magic? You just think of what you want and imagine it happening?”
Her enthusiasm lifted my mood too.
Did Rune feel like this explaining so eagerly today?
Careful not to ramble for thirty minutes like her, I laid it out for Silleia.
“For me, I activate it with the mindset of turning my past self to ashes. The key is solidifying your intent and believing you can manifest it in reality with mana’s power.”
“Whoa~ Lemme try!”
Silleia swung her hand, and poof—a staff popped out of thin air.
Rune too? Elves can summon their staves from nowhere whenever they want?
That’d be super convenient once I learned it. Even with the lightweight enchantment, it’s still a tad heavy for my body.
She twirled the staff in the air, then turned back to me.
“Liar! Nothing’s happening. I thought about my past self, but zip.”
“No one fills up on the first sip.”
“Sip? I’ve never drunk alcohol.”
“That’s what I mean—you can’t nail it right away. And that ‘past self’ thing is just my method. You gotta find what fits you.”
“Aw, whatever. I’ll think about it.”
That should be enough. Magic’s a path you carve yourself—no one else can interfere.
Our chat wrapped up just as Rune’s footsteps echoed from the entryway.
“Hope you weren’t waiting long? I’ll make dinner right away, so come to the table. Oh, and Seha—sit for a sec. Got something to tell you.”
“Related to wherever you went earlier?”
“Yes. Your scouting schedule outside the forest just got set. I’ve got nothing left to teach, so after three days of practical training with Ivelin, you’ll head out.”
“Sooner than I thought. Figured I’d train for a week straight.”
“First scout’s just a quick look around while the sun’s up. No pressure for results—just get a feel for the vibe.”
Her words eased my mind a little. And with my current skills, I could handle anyone anyway.
Dark elves or not, on Easy Mode, they wouldn’t have insane power or anything.
“Then I’ll train hard the next three days and nail the scout.”
“Good. If Ivelin gets too harsh, tell me. He’s got a soft heart under that gruff exterior—wants everyone stronger.”
Come to think of it, Ivelin had said the next training would be even tougher. Was training with him scarier than heading outside? Nah, just my imagination.
Three days of hellish training with Ivelin later, departure day arrived at last.
“Ivelin probably said it too, but don’t push yourself. Your safety comes first—keep that in mind.”
Rune saw me off at the village gate, her tone laced with worry.
“Of course. Don’t worry too much. What could go wrong?”
The characters who spout lines like that in movies always jinx it—but not me. On 1F, while others fought ogres, I just played with slimes. Trust in Easy Mode’s cheat status.
Still, better safe than sorry—I slipped on the World Tree ring Ivelin gave me, on my left hand. The foreign feel had bugged me before, but outside, its luck boost might come in handy.
For the record, Ivelin and Silleia hadn’t said goodbye yet. The search team was escorting me to the forest outskirts.
En route, Ivelin spoke up.
“Our duty ends here. The World Tree’s blessing wanes now.”
Time to part with the search team too.
Silleia, who’d been quiet around Ivelin, piped up first.
“Seha! Be careful out there! And don’t forget our promise.”
What promise with Silleia again?
Her request clicked—tell her about the world beyond the forest she couldn’t see.
Ivelin just nodded, arms crossed, silent. He’d drilled external dangers into me during training— no need to repeat.
The other team members bid farewell in their own ways.
Guess it’s time.
What’s a good goodbye? Thumbs-up and “I’ll be back” like in a movie? That’d haunt me later. Better keep it simple.
“I’ll be off.”
Bowing to my well-wishers, I strode boldly toward the world beyond the forest.