The Soul from Afar
I closed my eyes. In typical web novels, whether it involved martial arts or magic, there was a common trope that starting young was always better. The reasons differed, but the overall direction remained the same. Mana flowed more easily, meridians stayed clean, adaptation to power happened faster, and so on. The core idea was that the younger you were, the greater your adaptability and absorption rate for supernatural abilities. Miss that window, and your growth would face severe restrictions.
You didn’t even need to look at fiction. Reality worked the same way. To become a first-rate athlete or performer, you had to begin around elementary school at the latest. The more finesse the discipline demanded, the stronger this rule applied. You had to acclimate the body and mind from childhood, pouring a child’s entire potential into that single field if you wanted to stand at the pinnacle.
Since the ways of the world are fundamentally alike, our own world followed similar principles. But there was one small difference.
“I know that for mana—especially the systematic, academic kind—starting too early is considered bad.”
“Yeah, that’s common sense.”
“But that doesn’t mean starting late is better. Doing nothing at all is just as bad.”
A clean, older-sister sort of summary.
“Then what if I told you I know the optimal growth window?”
“…I heard the future version of you said no. Besides, that’s not the kind of thing even the person themselves could know.”
Her voice carried a rare note of confusion.
She was right, of course. A vague growth period might be guessable, but the exact day when someone would grow best? Not even your future self could pinpoint that.
However, what I had summoned through Descent wasn’t my future self. It was something far more objective—like viewing the world through the eyes of a god.
“I still know it.”
“…That’s incredible.”
It was pure admiration. Because we shared the same unique ability, she could sense the wonder radiating from her younger brother.
“You must have called a soul from an incredibly distant place. To view information objectively, you need distance.”
She had guessed the correct answer in one try.
“…I’m more surprised that you figured it out instantly, Sister.”
“Well, I have lived six years longer than you.”
Sister smiled faintly again. This time the smile came from genuine delight. But it faded almost as quickly as it appeared.
“Still, be careful. The information you gain doesn’t deteriorate, but that doesn’t guarantee its reliability.”
“What do you mean?”
When I asked because the words were hard to grasp immediately, she closed her mouth for a moment.
“Like this.”
She closed her eyes. I saw a faint presence approach her. It wasn’t physical, nor was it magical. It was a spiritual sense only those of our family could understand.
Sister was performing a Descent.
“This person believes the earth is flat. They think if you walk for about a hundred days, you’ll reach the edge of the world and fall off a cliff. Yet they’ve never once visited that edge themselves.”
“…So there’s no way to verify whether the person’s knowledge is truly objective fact.”
“Correct. Our Helio catches on fast.”
With those words, the faint translucent light that had flickered around her eyes receded. That was the standard method of using Descent—summoning what you needed in the moment, extracting the information, then swapping or dismissing it.
In the game it had functioned like additional equipment that granted bonuses to related skills and stats. It seemed the developers had viewed it in much the same way.
“So don’t put blind faith in the power and knowledge gained through Descent. The knowledge itself doesn’t deteriorate or distort, but judging whether it’s correct is your responsibility.”
“Is that… worry?”
“Yes, worry. And guidance every user of Descent needs.”
“Understood. I’ll be careful.”
Of course. Unlike in stories, not every piece of information would be accurate and convenient. According to Father, similar cases of Descent had existed before, so nothing truly bizarre should occur. Still, there remained the possibility that it would catch me by the ankle at least once.
“So, did that soul from afar tell you the exact date you should begin?”
“Seven years from now. Roughly seven days before the academy entrance ceremony.”
“…It really gave you an absurdly precise answer.”
This was a setting the developer had personally revealed. That moment was Helio’s optimal starting point, and the academy curriculum allowed immediate introduction to mana, enabling explosive growth. In the game, mana introduction doubled as a tutorial, so refusing it was never an option. Now that it had become reality, the forced nature of the tutorial had vanished. One could, in theory, enjoy a self-imposed hard mode if they wished, but…
I’m not some dried-up veteran who repeats weird stunts because of content drought. No need for pointless risks.
I didn’t possess the audacity to throw away my entire life for an unknown storyline.
“Do you know the clear theory behind the growth method?”
“Yeah. It was mentioned in passing, so the knowledge didn’t deteriorate. I remember it.”
After that, Sister asked question after question. Why explosive growth was possible at that specific time. Why missing the window slowed growth. The side effects of encountering mana too early. And so on.
I gathered every persuasive analysis, developer interview, and casually mentioned setting I could recall and explained them all. Sister fell silent once more.
“Um, Sister.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“Does it bother you that I’m following this?”
I asked cautiously in response to her relentless questioning. I had no intention of abandoning the growth plan at this point, but when the family member I trusted most kept showing skepticism, it was impossible not to feel uneasy.
Sister slowly shook her head.
“Well… I couldn’t find any contradictions between what you explained and the knowledge I already possess. Setting aside that it’s only possible for you, I think the credibility is quite high.”
“Really?”
Because Sister’s expression and tone rarely changed, she invited many misunderstandings. Having been raised by her almost from birth, I had prided myself on never being confused by her, but…
So it wasn’t reluctance. She was simply being thorough?
It seemed my ability to read her face was still lacking.
Just as my confidence in knowing her well began to crumble, Sister spoke again.
“However, it terrifies me to stand by and watch my little brother invest his entire life in something that only carries a high degree of credibility.”
Ah. So it really was reluctance.
Before I could even register her worry, I realized my pride in never being wrong about her had not yet collapsed. Only afterward did I understand that her thorough interrogation stemmed from concern for me. In the process, I also discovered I possessed a talent for being an unfilial son.
“Ah, yeah. Thank you for worrying about me.”
“…I’d prefer you saved the thanks. Because what I’m about to say next is something you won’t want to hear.”
“From you, Sister?”
“Yes. From me.”
Having set the stage, Sister made a frightening face.
…Even then, the fact that it still looked elegant was the irony of Helenora.
“Helio, I need to observe your mana. Even if I can’t identify it precisely, I should be able to confirm an approximation.”
“…What do you need for the observation?”
“Obviously I have to watch you move directly.”
Indeed, they were words I didn’t want to hear. To maximize the growth effect, I wasn’t supposed to come into contact with mana before the formal introduction.
“…………”
Yet when I looked at Sister’s thoroughly intimidating expression, the words “I don’t want to” refused to leave my mouth.
No, let’s be honest.
It was her request, but I myself had already grown interested. If not for the fainting episodes caused by Descent, I would have begun touching mana the very next day.
In other words, although I lived in a world where mana was commonplace, I had never actually handled or sensed it myself. That childlike curiosity, fused with Oh Ji-o’s memories, transformed into excitement at the prospect of experiencing real fantasy.
Well, I’m also worried whether the information is accurate, once or twice should be fine, and since Sister is asking, I can’t exactly refuse.
Besides, completely avoiding mana was impossible for someone from a noble house. Even without moving the mana inside one’s body, magic tools powered by mana stones were everywhere.
In short, unless one had come from a pre-otherworld era, a body completely untouched by mana was only theoretically possible. So a little selfish interest mixed in should be acceptable, right?
“If Sister says so, I can’t refuse.”
“…Yes. Thank you for understanding, Helio.”
Yet her expression remained gloomy, as though she were forcing herself to do this against her wishes. Our sister always bought me expensive snacks whenever I looked this dejected.
The ice dessert from Selene last time was delicious. I should casually mention it soon.
With saliva pooling in my mouth for more than one reason, I followed Sister to the training ground.
It was common sense among nobles that encountering mana training methods too early was unwise. At the same time, people always wanted to get ahead even by a little, and one of the few available methods now rested in my hand as a wooden sword.
“I’ll demonstrate first. Copy me exactly.”
Sister swung the sword.
Incredible.
It wasn’t a particularly practical motion. The movement wasn’t fast, nor was it filled with power. A simple downward strike would probably have been more useful for training. It was graceful, but that was all.
Yet what Sister displayed now was our family’s secret sword art, known as Hymn of the Sun.
A low hum rose from the blade, as though the sword itself were crying. The phenomenon called sword cry wasn’t special in principle. It was simply the sound produced when wind was drawn along the blade’s trajectory.
What made the sound remarkable was that producing it required formidable muscle strength, profound understanding of the sword, and precise mana control—enough to gather wind using the sword alone.
Whoosh.
But even that was merely an aftereffect. The true meaning was manifesting from the sword she held.
“Aura…”
A bluish light clung to the edge of the wooden blade. It was the manifestation of aura, the most famous and greatest filter among all mana techniques.
For a fourteen-year-old girl to achieve it was astonishing.
“Hoo… Did you see it clearly?”
“Yes. You even produced aura.”
“That was a trick, so don’t pay it too much mind.”
What Sister had shown was indeed our family’s secret sword art. Even so, because it was closer to a formal exercise than practical combat, it possessed no real fighting utility.
Yet it had never been created for practicality in the first place.
An action imbued with power… right?
I didn’t understand the principle, but there existed several movements that resonated with mana. Hymn of the Sun gathered those movements into a single form. Its effect was to draw external mana toward the body and wrap it around the practitioner.
“This will stimulate your mana circuits.”
“And you’ll observe that, Sister?”
“Correct.”
I looked down at the wooden sword in my grip. Unlike static methods such as breathing or meditation, Hymn of the Sun was a dynamic training technique that gathered mana through physical movement. Its role was to stimulate the mana within the body, making the physique more mana-friendly. It didn’t utilize mana in earnest like formal martial arts, but it did awaken and circulate the mana inside the body to a degree.
In other words, it resembled the physical conditioning phase before formally entering a sport.
“Will you try?”
“Yes.”
In truth, for the sake of reaching the optimal point, I shouldn’t have done even this. The secret to growth lay in avoiding mana exposure as much as possible before the formal introduction. Like osmosis, a body overly separated from the outside would greedily draw in mana, triggering the phenomenon.
Therefore this would likely be the first and last time.
Whoosh.
“Good, well done. Now step forward with your left foot.”
Following Sister’s guidance, I swung the wooden sword. Downward cut, left foot stepping forward into an upward cut, then a full turn into a horizontal slash. After only these three movements, I felt a vivid blue energy stir inside me.
Feeling color from power… it really is amazing…
“Cough.”
“Helio?”
My legs gave out. I collapsed on the spot. My vision slowly darkened as pain surged in. It felt exactly like the aftereffects of Descent that had made me faint before.
“Helio!”
As Sister rushed toward me, my vision went completely black.
I opened my eyes.
“Oh my goodness, are you all right, Helio?!”
“Where does it hurt? Do you feel anything strange?”
I could tell at once that my parents’ reactions were not exaggerated. After all, it hadn’t been long since the Descent incident had caused me to faint, and now I had lost consciousness again. The process this time had been different as well.
“…I coughed up blood?”
I vaguely remembered spitting something out right before collapsing. Apparently it had been blood. Physically I only felt a little weak; there was no major pain, but…
Separate from my physical state, I sensed a clear foreboding. Not from game knowledge about what happened to Helio, but from pure human instinct. The anxious faces of the two people before me told me that something bad was coming.
“Um, why did I collapse? I didn’t do anything special.”
“…While you were unconscious, the examination was already finished. The doctor said the cause was you using mana.”
“Uh… Is it an unknown side effect of Descent?”
If so, detaching Oh Ji-o’s soul should solve it. Losing the knowledge would be a shame, but some of it remained in my head, and I could always write down the important parts again.
“…No. It appears the cause is purely from using mana.”
“Even so… I haven’t used mana directly. I only… only moved a little.”
“……”
“……”
“Th-then what is the cause? I understand that using mana is the problem, but I need to know why using it does this. Right?”
Father shook his head with a pained expression.
“The cause is unknown.”
“That means…”
If a mere family sword art had done this to me, proper magic or martial arts would clearly be impossible.
“Ah……”
Only then did I realize the source of my foreboding.
Both parents. Mother and Father.
“…Sob.”
“…Don’t cry. The one who is suffering most is this child.”
Both of them wore expressions of grief. As though they could not bear how pitiful I was.
Helio might not have understood, but Oh Ji-o’s knowledge recognized exactly what those faces meant.
When they received the disability diagnosis.
When one leg had been crushed in an accident. When the doctor declared he would never walk again. It was the same expression Oh Ji-o’s parents had shown back then.
“Uh…”
Even for an eight-year-old like Helio, mana was familiar and friendly. If that was true for him, what about the world at large? Oh Ji-o’s knowledge supplied the answer.
Of course you can use it.
There might be differences in degree, but from commoner to noble, the use of mana was something anyone could do.
…And I had become a person who could no longer do what was naturally possible for everyone.
“Uh…… Ah……”
Tears fell. Knowledge that pure Helio would never have possessed—the social perception of outcasts—flowed in from Oh Ji-o’s memories.
I had become a useless person.