The Measuring Orb Shows No Response

The ability-measuring orb did not react.

The moment I stepped into the training grounds, a scene unfolded before me so dazzling it stung my eyes.

The human students were squeezing out every drop of their mana, conjuring shapes of fire and ice directly from nothing.

The elves, by contrast, were different. They guided the currents of nature with their mana, channeling their magic through it.

A few of them stood out in particular — those who communed ceaselessly with the motes of light drifting in the air, in other words the spirits themselves, borrowing their power.

They called them spirit shamans, didn't they. Rare prodigies among elves, blessed with a talent so scarce it bordered on legend.

Beside them, the beastfolk students acted as if magic were beneath them entirely, proving their abilities by pushing their bodies past the brink of ruin.

Same place, same goal. Yet the way each of them grew stronger was completely different.

Watching the students train, a genuine question rose in me, and I turned to my sister.

"Sis."

"Hmm? What is it?"

"Humans build magic directly out of mana, and elves draw on the power of nature. But those 'spirit shamans' over there borrow power from an entirely different ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠race — the spirits. So what exactly is an ability, anyway?"

"Good question. Perfect timing, too — everyone's gathered, so I'll explain it all at once. Alright! Eyes on me, everyone!"

My sister's call drew the whole class's attention in an instant.

"What is an ability? Does anyone actually know what it is, precisely?"

"A special talent unlike anyone else's, right? That's why it's called a different ability…"

"Exactly. So today, let's go a little deeper into what an ability truly is."

My sister compressed the mana around her into a finely wrought sphere. Within it, waves rippled in patterns so intricate they bordered on grotesque.

"The magic you use, your abilities — all of it is nothing more than playing within the fence of the 'laws' you were given."

Her finger pierced the center of the sphere.

"Manifesting a phenomenon through mana like this — that is an ability. For example, reinforcing your body counts as one too."

She made the concept remarkably easy to grasp. In short: if mana produces a phenomenon, that phenomenon is an ability.

"But long, long ago — in the age of myth — there existed beings that devoured that fence whole and thought for themselves."

Her voice settled low over the entire training ground.

Manas. A state in which the ability itself acquires an ego and awakens. It is not merely an amplification of power. It is a 'living miracle' that redefines the laws of the world and bends fate to its ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠own will."

I looked around the training grounds in silence. The sweating students were simply beings running the system called law — not a single one among them had reached the realm known as Manas.

Myth was just that: myth, a thing far removed from reality.

When my sister finished, a hulking beastfolk student from the back row raised a massive hand and asked, a blank look on his face.

"Um, teacher? What does 'thinking for itself' mean? Is it like, eating food? Or is it some kind of illness?"

The class erupted in laughter, and a smile spread across my sister's face. She seemed pleased to see the students engaging so earnestly.

"To think for yourself doesn't simply mean breathing. It means asking why I breathe, why the world turns the way it does — and searching deeply for the principle behind it."

"Then, Sis — what happens if someone actually becomes a Manas?"

My sister smiled slyly and whispered.

"What happens? You become a god, that's what. But be careful. Manas is so vast and so arrogant that the moment its ego is born, a soul as small as a 'human's' is melted away in an instant. In all of recorded history, not a single being has ever reached that realm and kept their self intact."

She paused for a moment, staring blankly at the mana sphere in her hand.

"Honestly, even that isn't entirely accurate. That's just what the failures who made it into the records say."

"If it isn't in the records, how do you know that, Teacher?"

My sister gave a faint smile and flicked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the mana sphere out into the air. It scattered, dissolving into a dust of beautiful light that faded away.

"I only learned of Manas's existence through academic papers myself, so I don't know the details. Whether Manas ever truly existed — and if it did, how those beings wielded such enormous power… no one in this world knows. That's why it remains a record confined to 'myth.'"

Then, taking in each of her students one by one — myself included — she added:

"We are standing at the edge of a road no one has ever walked. Whether Manas is truly the blessing of godhood, or a calamity that devours even the soul… nothing has been proven. The moment of awakening decides everything. That is the cruelest, sweetest uncertainty of our era."

At those words, the air in the training ground turned cold.

No one knows.

That very uncertainty seared itself into my mind all the more intensely for it.

A power even this world had failed to properly record. Perhaps the instant one of us reached for it, someone here would become a god — or vanish forever. One of the two.

"Alright, let's leave it there for abilities for now. Otonashi, Lucia — you two need to get tested and measured as well."

At that, the class returned to testing their own abilities, and after hearing Lucia's explanation, I got to check whether I was among the first to have my ability bloom.

"First, place your hand on this orb. Then we can tell whether your ability has bloomed. Humans these days have mana too, so they can bloom abilities — a perfectly ordinary person like you, Shiota, is bound to have one."

"What about you, Lucia?"

"Me? Mine gives off a warm, bright light like this. Most celestials glow this way. You can roughly gauge your talent by the size of the light. Now, place your hand here, Shiota."

The transparent orb Lucia handed me was a little larger than my palm, its cold surface pressing against my fingertips.

Around us, the other students quietly abandoned their own tests and drifted over to watch my result. That 'uncomfortable attention' directed at me settled over my shoulders once again.

"Okay — don't take your hand off, and just let a little mana flow out. It's simpler than you'd think. Like this, hold out your hand and…"

Following her instructions, I let my mana seep into the orb the way one might let water trickle from a fingertip.

Ziiing—.

The orb shuddered with an unpleasant whine. Its color didn't change. No light came. Instead, the density inside the orb began to warp with terrifying speed.

Like a vacuum cleaner swallowing every stray ray of light around it, the transparency within the orb slowly curdled into 'void.'

And then, as if nothing had happened at all, the orb simply returned to nothing.

"Huh…?"

Lucia's eyes went wide.

The murmur of the students cut off clean.

"It's not… showing any response…"

Lucia's flustered voice dropped a heavy silence over the training ground. The buzz of the students crowding around me died in an instant, and the air sank, thick and airless, as if we'd been sealed in a vacuum.

I pulled my hand away from the orb. No warmth lingered at my fingertips. No light, either.

Lucia shook the orb again and again, as if refusing to believe it. But it had simply gone cold, no different from a plain bead of glass.

"Um… Shiota, you did channel mana into it, right?"

"Yeah. I definitely did."

My answer was flat and unconcerned. But there was no denying that something inside me had pulsed with a sickening wave during those brief moments I faced the orb.

That strange sensation — as if the orb had failed to give off light because something within me had devoured every trace of the mana inside it.

No response. Did that mean I possessed neither a recorded form of magic nor any ability at all?

"What did I say — humans really do have their limits, huh?"

"Still, I never imagined there'd be no reaction at all…"

Disappointed sighs and murmurs of relief drifted up from every direction.

My sister had been watching from a distance. Wiping away her earlier solemnity, she approached me wearing an unreadable smile. She gave my shoulder a light tap and whispered in a voice far too low for the other students to hear.

"Otonashi. Don't be too discouraged. I told you, remember? We're standing on a road no one has ever walked."

She flicked a shard of the broken orb, then looked me dead in the eye.

"Normally, an orb showing no reaction like this can come down to a few different things, but the big ones are: your ability hasn't bloomed yet — or your power is so immense that it can't be measured at all. Of course, in that second case the orb would have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to shatter, but… anyway, don't lose heart. You'll have plenty of chances."

My sister comforted me as gently as she always did.

Instead of answering, I clenched my fist in silence. If even this world had recorded me as a 'zero,' then paradoxically, that meant I was a being bound by none of its laws, anywhere.

Become a god — or vanish entirely.

I couldn't know yet. But this much, at least, I understood with certainty: today, I had fastened the first button of the 'uncertainty' hidden inside me.

"You do have mana, after all — and broadly speaking, reinforcing your body with it, the way the beastfolk do, counts as an ability too. Why don't you go over there and try it out on the wooden dummy?"

With that, my sister made the suggestion. I accepted it with a nod.

"Sure. You never know — this body of mine might just have a talent for body reinforcement."

And so I headed over to the wooden training dummy off to the side.

"Shiota! I'm coming with you! I have to get measured too!"

And so Lucia followed me to the dummy as well.