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Rating:
Mature
Archive Warning:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category:
F/M
Fandoms:
Warhammer 40.000無職転生 異世界行ったら本気だす - 理不尽な孫の手 | Mushoku Tensei: Isekai Ittara Honki Dasu - Rifujin na Magonote (Novels)無職転生 ～異世界行ったら本気だす～ | Mushoku Tensei: Isekai Ittara Honki Dasu | Jobless Reincarnation (Anime)
Relationships:
Paul Greyrat/Zenith GreyratLilia Greyrat/Paul Greyrat
Characters:
Ciaphas CainRudeus GreyratPaul GreyratZenith GreyratRoxy MigurdiaLilia GreyratSylphiette (Mushoku Tensei)Ghislaine DedoldiaEris GreyratPhilip Boreas Greyrat
Additional Tags:
CrossoverParodySlice of LifeIsekai and TransmigrationReincarnationPoliticsWarAI-TranslatedOriginal TextSurvivalMagicguanoWorldbuilding
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:2026-02-28Updated:2026-06-10Words:212,710Chapters:29/?Comments:145Kudos:240Bookmarks:70Hits:13,522
Alaric Greyrat: Hero of Six-Faced World (crossover Mushoku Tensei / 40K)
KsiadzRobak21
Chapter 4: A small village at the end of the road
Chapter Text
Buena Village
K410
A small village at the end of the road.
The wagon jolted over another stone, and the young blue-haired girl gritted her teeth to keep from groaning in pain.
"Almost there, miss," the driver muttered, adjusting his straw hat. "Buena's just over that hill."
The girl nodded. She didn't have the strength to answer.
Her back ached from hours of riding, her legs had gone numb, and her hands — once so steady when tracing complex magical circles — now clutched the wooden side of the wagon as if it were her last bastion of dignity.
Buena.
A small village on the vast plains of the Fittoa region in the Asura Kingdom.
Really?
She sighed heavily and began massaging her temples.
How had she known that finding work as a mage would be this difficult?
She was a mage, after all. She had completed her education. She had spent years studying the theory of the elements, the precision of incantations, the control of mana. She could cast spells without incantations at a level most students could only dream of. She had studied at the Academy of Magic…
And she ended up as… what?
A wandering teacher.
Desperately looking for employment in a village forgotten by the world.
Was this really her path?
The wagon rolled up a rise, and before her stretched the view: a handful of wooden houses, fields waving in the wind, a thin wisp of smoke rising from chimneys. No walls, no watchtowers, no magic academies.
Ordinary life.
Ordinary people.
The young, petite girl felt an unpleasant prick in her chest.
It wasn't disdain. She had never looked down on ordinary people.
It was fear.
"If they don't accept me even here… then what?"
She tightened her grip on her staff. It was a bit too big for her height, but well balanced. The only thing reminding her that she wasn't helpless.
"Will you be staying long in Buena?" the driver asked.
"If I get the job… possibly a few years."
The words felt heavy.
A few years.
Was this really how it was supposed to be? She, a graduate, a talented magician, teaching children the magical alphabet and the basics of mana control?
She closed her eyes.
Maybe this wasn't a degradation.
Maybe it was a beginning.
Every great mage had to start somewhere.
But the voice in her head was merciless.
"Don't fool yourself. You've been looking for work for months. The academies didn't want a young Migurdian. The nobility preferred teachers with lineage. The guilds wanted experienced veterans."
And her?
She was talented, yes.
But without a name.
Without protection.
Without reputation.
The wagon stopped in front of a small house at the edge of the village.
"This is where Mr. Greyrat lives," the driver said. "They said he's looking for a teacher for his sons."
Greyrat.
Roxy furrowed her brow.
The name was unfamiliar, but it sounded noble. Perhaps a side branch? Perhaps someone who had abandoned the court for a quiet life?
She jumped down from the wagon. Her legs trembled after the long journey.
She paid with her last coins.
The last ones.
When the wagon drove off, she was left alone, with a gentle wind stirring her blue hair.
She looked at the house.
Small, but well kept. Marks of training could be seen on the fence — scratched wood, stakes driven into the ground.
"The father must be a warrior."
Good. Warriors understood the value of combat magic.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
She took a deep breath.
"I'm a mage," she whispered to herself. "I've graduated. I can teach. I can fight. I can survive."
She knocked.
The door opened faster than she expected.
A tall man with sharp features and a gaze that immediately assessed her from head to toe stood in the doorway.
"Yes?"
The girl straightened, ignoring her fatigue.
"My name is Roxy Migurdia. I'm a mage. I heard you are looking for a teacher for your sons."
For a brief moment, silence fell.
Something tapped inside the house. Like small feet on wooden floors.
Roxy felt a sudden surge of tension.
This could be her last chance.
If they didn't accept her here…
She didn't finish that thought.
The man finally spoke:
"Come in."
The door opened wider.
Roxy stepped across the threshold, not yet knowing that this small village would become the start of a story that would change not only her career… but her entire life.
And that the boys she was to teach were no ordinary children.
The door creaked slightly as Roxy stepped into the living room. The room was modest but clean — a heavy wooden table stood in the center, and the man approached it and sat down, looking at the small girl with a calm gaze.
Paul studied her carefully.
"You're from the Academy, right?"
Roxy nodded calmly.
"Yes. I have the proper education and abilities to properly teach your sons."
Paul muttered something under his breath, as if evaluating her posture, then gestured to a seat at the table.
"Sit."
At that moment, a woman with a gentle gaze and light hair entered the room. Zenith smiled warmly.
"Welcome. We're glad you accepted the offer. You'll be teaching our two sons — Rudy and Alaric."
As if on cue, two identical figures peeked from behind the door.
At first glance, the twins looked almost the same — light hair, similar facial features. But the differences were immediately noticeable.
Rudy had green eyes. They sparkled with curiosity… and something else. He smiled too widely, too confidently. His gaze swept over Roxy's figure — quickly, far too quickly.
"Ooo… is this our new teacher?" he asked, clearly interested.
Zenith immediately shot him a warning look.
Standing beside him was Alaric.
Blue eyes. Calm. Observant.
He didn't look at Roxy like a child seeing a new toy. He looked like someone analyzing the situation. He nodded politely.
"Nice to meet you. I hope we won't be too troublesome."
His tone was perfectly balanced — neither overly confident nor shy. Roxy noticed that the boy instinctively assessed the room: the father's position, the mother's reaction, his brother's behavior.
Rudy snorted.
"Oh, Alaric, don't be so serious."
"Someone has to be," replied the twin calmly.
Paul crossed his arms.
"Rudy has talent for magic, but lacks discipline. Alaric…" he hesitated "learns faster than he should. And he asks questions I don't always want to answer."
Alaric gave a slight smile. It was polite… but tinged with something almost adult.
Roxy felt a slight shiver.
Rudy was a behavioral problem.
Alaric was a mystery.
And mysteries are far more dangerous.
Roxy sat at the table, hands folded on her lap, maintaining a polite, professional smile.
Here we go… the same as always.
"Our children are exceptional."
"They have great potential."
"Please make them archmages."
She snorted inwardly.
How many times had she heard this story? Parents suddenly discover their child can light a candle without a tinderbox and immediately see a future hero of the continent.
Great magic… of course. And I'm just here to fulfill their ambitions.
She looked up at the twins.
And then her thought stopped mid-sentence.
The first — green eyes.
He looked at her in a… unsettling way. Not like a child looking at a teacher. More like someone trying to figure out how far they could push boundaries. There was curiosity, shamelessness… and something Roxy couldn't quite name.
This one's going to be troublesome.
The second — blue eyes.
Stood straight. Polite. Perfect posture for a student from a good home.
But he squinted.
Not maliciously.
Judgingly.
Just like city guards at the gates — quiet vigilance, analyzing whether someone posed a threat.
And that worried her.
Because it wasn't a child's gaze.
It was the gaze of someone who instinctively classifies people, determining their threat level.
He is judging me…
Roxy sensed a subtle tension in the air.
Not hostile.
Not overt.
But present.
And it amused her more than it should have.
"Do I really look that threatening?"
After a moment, she answered herself in her head:
"Yes. A competent mage on the battlefield is a one-person army capable of destroying entire cities. Any reasonable person should fear that."
The green-eyed twin tilted his head slightly.
"You're a water mage, right?" he asked with a slight smile. "Can you… heal too?"
His tone was too soft.
Too interested.
The blue-eyed twin spoke a moment later, more calmly:
"Father said you studied at the Academy. That must mean high mana control and knowledge of spells?"
Roxy blinked.
Not a typical child's question.
This was testing competence.
Paul snorted with laughter.
"See? I told you. He asks too many questions."
Alaric smiled faintly.
"Knowledge is the foundation of safety."
Roxy felt her sarcastic mood gradually give way to alertness.
Good… maybe this won't be a "typical lesson."
Because one thing was certain.
One of the twins was dangerous due to lack of restraint.
The other — due to excess restraint.
And that meant only one thing.
This job might be far more interesting than she expected.
...
...
...
...
An hour later, they were already in the backyard.
The grass was still wet from the morning rain, and in the distance, a line of trees could be seen. A perfect place for basic exercises — without the risk of setting the house on fire.
Roxy turned to her "two students" and folded her hands behind her back.
"In the world of magic, everything relies on three things," she began calmly. "Imagination, mana control, and the spell formula. At the Academy, they teach that without proper visualization, even the greatest amount of mana is useless."
The blue-eyed girl sighed inwardly.
Years of hard work… and here she was, explaining the ranking system of magic as if giving an introductory lecture to two-year-old children…
Parents really have a vivid imagination.
She didn't take them seriously. In her eyes, they were kids with lots of mana — it happened. Just give them the basics and see what grows.
She crouched to be at their level.
"Magic is something everyone has," she began gently. "The difference is how well you can control it."
Alaric stood straight, hands clasped behind his back, listening with almost military concentration. His blue eyes never left her face.
Rudy…
Rudy looked different.
He stood slightly back. Shoulders tense. Green eyes wandering over the garden, the trees, the open space.
He was breathing faster.
Roxy narrowed her eyes slightly.
Stressed? Confused? By what exactly?
Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. Rudy swallowed and sighed heavily.
"Are you alright?" she asked neutrally.
Before he could answer, Alaric raised his eyebrows slightly. He took half a step toward his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder.
The gesture was natural. Calm.
But attentive.
"Rudy?" he asked quietly. "Is something bothering you?"
The green-eyed boy flinched, as if only now realizing someone had touched him.
"N-no… it's nothing," he muttered, trying to smile. "It's just… bright."
Roxy tilted her head.
Bright?
The young teacher sighed inwardly, shaking her head. Kids and their quirks…
She continued without paying it much mind.
"There are different levels of magic. At first, everyone is at the basic level. It's just simple mana manipulation."
She raised her fingers, counting the ranks as if telling a story.
"Then there's Mediator — better control.
Advanced — larger area of effect.
Holy — spells that can influence even the weather.
Royal.
Imperial.
And finally Divine… magic on a continental scale."
She chuckled softly.
"But for many years, you'll only be at the basic level, so don't worry about it."
Alaric tilted his head slightly.
"Is the level determined solely by the amount of mana, or by precision of control?" he asked calmly.
Roxy blinked.
Too proper a sentence. Too precise a question.
"Both," she answered after a moment. "But without control, even a huge amount of mana is useless."
Meanwhile, Rudy's breathing grew faster.
He wasn't listening.
His gaze was fixed on the tree line. The open space felt like a void. A place where anyone could watch. Judge. Mock.
His small body began to tremble.
Alaric noticed immediately. He just sighed, looking at his brother.
"Brother…" he said softly. "Are you alright?"
Rudy swallowed.
"Y-yes… it's just… a lot of space."
Roxy sighed inwardly. Kids and their quirks.
"It's just the garden," she said neutrally. "No one is watching you."
She observed them from the side, arms crossed.
She didn't intervene.
It was just a childish quarrel… right?
Alaric didn't remove his hand from his brother's shoulder. His voice was calm, almost mentor-like — absurd for a two-year-old.
"Rudy, we have a beautiful day," he said softly. "The sun is shining. The air is clean."
Rudy shook his head violently.
"I'd rather study inside."
Quietly. Stubbornly.
Alaric sighed. As if carrying a weight heavier than his size.
"Dear brother, you must go outside," he stated in the tone of someone giving a lecture. "You must breathe fresh air. Adapt your body to the climate. Harden it."
Roxy raised an eyebrow.
Harden…?
Alaric continued unwaveringly:
"Constantly breathing dust and germs indoors doesn't help your growth as a mage. The environment affects your body, and your body affects mana flow."
Roxy blinked.
Am I just listening to a physiology lecture?
Rudy turned even redder.
"N-no!"
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes."
Their voices began overlapping, faster and faster.
Rudy, pale as always, now flushed to the tips of his ears.
"I don't want to sunbathe!"
Alaric looked at him with slight disbelief.
"You must. You're pale as a corpse."
Rudy froze.
"I'm not!"
"You are."
"No!"
"You are."
"NO!"
"YES."
Roxy cleared her throat quietly, trying to maintain composure.
But the corner of her mouth twitched.
A two-year-old talking about body hardening and climate adaptation.
The other fighting for the right to stay in the shade like an offended aristocrat.
Alaric bent closer to his brother after a moment and spoke quieter:
"The world won't get smaller just because you're afraid of it."
Rudy fell silent.
It wasn't a typical child's sentence.
Roxy felt her chest tighten slightly this time.
Because the green-eyed boy didn't sulk.
He didn't protest.
He just looked toward the grass.
Alaric gently squeezed his shoulder.
"If it's too difficult, we'll go back inside," he added more gently. "But first, let's try."
Rudy shook his head vigorously.
"No! I don't want to go out."
Tiny fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt. His eyes darted toward the house — safe walls, roof, enclosed space.
Alaric sighed quietly.
Not with irritation.
With something closer to fatigue.
"You should be glad we live in a place like this."
Rudy raised his eyebrows.
"What do you mean?"
Alaric looked at the fields beyond the garden. At the wind moving the grass. At the blue sky.
"We live in the countryside," he said calmly. "Clean air. Open spaces. Earth beneath our feet. We can breathe without pain."
Rudy was silent.
Alaric continued, his tone strangely serious for a two-year-old.
"There are places where people live differently. In closed, heavy cities. Narrow as wells. The air is thick. Suffocating. Dark with smoke.
They spend their whole lives in small rooms. Breathing pollution. Working endlessly. No sun. No earth. No freedom."
Roxy instinctively studied him more closely.
It wasn't a child's imagination.
It sounded like memory.
Rudy watched his brother in silence.
There was something other than fear in his eyes.
Surprise.
"How do you…?" he began slowly. "How do you know about such places?"
"From books…" Alaric shrugged slightly. "There are other kingdoms where people aren't lucky enough to live in the luxury we do…" he answered evasively. "The world isn't kind everywhere."
For a brief moment, his gaze was distant. Cold. As if looking at something not present.
At steel structures.
At darkness.
At a faceless crowd.
But he blinked — and was once again just a small boy in the yard.
"You shouldn't waste your good life in confinement," he added more gently. "Explore the world. Breathe. You're a noble. At least you have that privilege by name."
Rudy pressed his lips together.
He didn't immediately object.
He didn't say "no."
He just stared at the field before him.
As if really trying to imagine something bigger than his own fear.
Roxy felt a slight shiver run through her.
Because there was no childish naivety in Alaric's words.
There was… gratitude.
Gratitude for a world that didn't resemble a nightmare.
"So?" Alaric asked quietly.
Rudy took a shallow breath.
"Just a little," he finally muttered. "But if it's too much… I'm going back inside."
Alaric smiled faintly.
"That's a reasonable compromise."
Roxy watched them in silence for a moment.
A two-year-old talking about class privileges and air quality…
The other fighting a fear bigger than his body…
Something told her that this magic lesson would be the least extraordinary thing she experienced today.
Roxy stood in the yard, arms crossed over her chest, staff resting on her shoulder. Her hat cast a shadow over her face, and the sea breeze stirred her blue hair.
"…Magic isn't just 'wave a stick and wish something happens,'" she muttered under her breath. "It's structure, visualization, mana. And discipline. I've seen more fools in this kingdom than I could count… Maybe it's just cultural."
The green-eyed boy stood rigid as a string. Shoulders raised, as if simply being outdoors exhausted him. He kept glancing toward the house.
The blue-eyed boy, meanwhile, listened attentively, focused, hand on his chin.
Roxy snorted softly.
"If space stresses you, offensive magic will eat you alive. Focus."
She pointed her staff at one of the trees.
"First, incantation. Words organize mana. Give it form. Without them—"
"Do we always have to use incantations?" Alaric interjected calmly.
Roxy looked at him as if he were an idiot.
"Of course! Without incantation—"
She began to recite:
"Oh water that flows through the veins of the world, gather into a droplet and—"
"Perhaps you could aim at another tree?" Alaric interrupted politely.
Silence fell.
…
…
…
"Excuse me?"
"That's Mom's favorite tree."
Roxy blinked twice. She looked at the tree. Then at the house. Then back at the tree.
"…Alright. Fine. Let's do it this way."
She cleared her throat and pointed at another, clearly less cared-for tree at the edge of the yard.
"This tree looks like it has no family attachments."
Raising her staff, she began again:
"Oh water that flows through the veins of the world, gather into a droplet and pierce the obstacle — Water Ball!"
Moisture gathered in the air. A small ball of water formed at the tip of her staff and, with a hiss, shot toward the trunk.
Splosh!
The bark cracked, the wood splitting apart.
The green-eyed boy flinched.
The blue-eyed one didn't even blink.
Roxy turned to them.
"This is a basic water spell. Without an incantation, you can't maintain the structure. Unless—"
She paused, narrowing her eyes.
"—unless you have an absurd talent and can shape mana purely with visualization. But that's rare."
She gave Alaric a suspicious glance.
"So? Which one of you wants to try?"
Alaric didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he lightly tapped his brother on the shoulder.
"Rudy, you go first," he said calmly. "Show Miss Roxy that you're not just a theorist."
Rudeus blushed slightly but smiled to himself. His green eyes glinted with ambition.
"O-okay."
He stepped a few paces forward, standing in front of the designated tree. He took a deep breath. His shoulders tensed, but this time not from the open space—it was excitement.
Roxy sighed inwardly and rolled her eyes.
"He'll repeat the incantation. Maybe gather too much mana. Maybe too little. Spill water at his feet. Standard."
She crossed her arms, watching.
Rudeus raised his hand.
"O water that flows through the veins of the world…"
The air trembled slightly.
Roxy frowned.
The mana was gathering faster than it should have. Too fluidly. Too smoothly.
"…gather into a drop and—"
Suddenly, a gust of wind lifted the edge of her cloak and skirt fabric.
Time slowed.
Rudeus froze mid-incantation.
His eyes widened.
His cheeks burned a deep red.
The incantation broke off mid-word.
The mana dissipated without a shot.
Silence.
Roxy blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…Why did you stop?" she asked slowly.
Rudeus looked away, red as a beet.
"I-I'm sorry! It was unintentional! The wind! I… I didn't mean it!"
Roxy stared at him for a few seconds, expressionless.
Then her eyes narrowed slightly.
"He's two years old."
Alaric stepped forward calmly.
He looked at his brother.
He looked at Roxy.
He looked back at his brother.
He sighed.
And without warning, he tapped Rudeus on the back of the head with an open hand.
"Focus," he said dryly, shaking his head. "This is a magic lesson, not textile analysis."
Rudeus grabbed the back of his head.
"Ouch! That was accidental!"
"Of course," Alaric replied coolly. "Just like your 'structural studies' in the bedroom."
Roxy blinked.
"…What?"
Rudeus turned even redder.
"NOTHING!"
Alaric looked at him with absolute deadpan seriousness.
"An incantation interrupted by visual stimuli shows a lack of mental discipline. On a battlefield, you'd already be dead."
Roxy studied him for a moment.
The way he stood straight.
The tone of his voice.
The cold analysis.
"A two-year-old."
Something here was very wrong.
Rudeus muttered under his breath but straightened up again.
He took a deep breath.
This time he closed his eyes.
"O water that flows through the veins of the world, gather into a drop and pierce the obstacle—Water Ball!"
This time, the mana formed steadily.
Smoothly.
Precisely.
The water ball formed in an instant and with a hiss shot toward the tree.
Splosh!
The trunk split deeper than when Roxy had shot it.
Silence.
Roxy slowly lowered her hands. Her eyes widened slightly.
"…That wasn't basic level," she said quietly.
Rudeus opened his eyes, still slightly red but clearly proud.
Alaric looked at the split wood.
Roxy stared at the fissured tree for a few more seconds. Something didn't add up. Something very wrong.
She replayed in her mind what she had just heard.
The incantation.
Rudeus started it correctly.
Stopped halfway.
Then… closed his eyes.
And spoke the ending.
But.
Her pupils narrowed.
"Rudeus," she said slowly, very slowly, "how much of the incantation did you actually say the second time?"
Rudeus massaged the sore back of his head, giving Alaric a petulant look.
"Almost all of it…" he muttered. "…I mean… I can shoot a Water Ball without the incantation anyway."
Silence.
The wind stirred the grass.
Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.
Roxy blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…Excuse me?"
Rudeus shrugged, as if speaking of something entirely ordinary.
"Well, now that I know how the mana flows and how to shape it, I just squeeze it into form. Words just help focus."
Roxy felt as if someone had hit her with an invisible brick.
In the world of magic, there were clear rules.
For human mages, an incantation was structure.
It was a frame stabilizing the flow of mana.
A safeguard.
Magic without an incantation required:
— perfect feel for the mana flow,
— absolute control over its compression,
— spatial imagination to maintain the spell's structure without verbal guidance.
That was… advanced level.
No.
Elite.
Reserved for experienced mages.
Not for a child barely reaching her waist.
"Repeat," she said quietly.
Rudeus tilted his head.
"Without an incantation?"
"Without an incantation."
Alaric narrowed his eyes at his brother.
Something inside him tensed.
Rudeus raised his hand.
Without words.
The air trembled slightly.
Roxy held her breath.
The mana gathered faster than before.
Without distraction.
Without shaking.
Condensed into a perfectly spherical shape.
In an instant.
Splosh!
The water ball struck the same spot on the trunk, deepening the crack.
Silence.
Roxy watched.
And for the first time in a long while, she truly lost her composure.
"That…" she began slowly. "…this is incantation-free magic."
Rudeus nodded, as if confirming the obvious.
"Yes. It's easier to react faster."
Roxy blinked again.
Her education at the Academy.
Years of practice.
Hundreds of repetitions.
Hours of meditation on mana flow.
And this child said, "easier."
She glanced at Alaric.
He didn't look impressed.
He looked concerned.
Like someone seeing a weapon of mass destruction in the hands of a small child.
Roxy slowly exhaled.
"Rudeus…" she said seriously. "You do know most mages can't do this even after a decade of study, right?"
Rudeus blinked.
"Really?"
"Really."
Alaric crossed his arms, eyeing his twin brother suspiciously.
Roxy finally smiled slowly.
Not sarcastically.
Not ironically.
Truly.
"Looks like," she said quietly, "I've stumbled onto a genius."
Then she looked at the other twin.
"And you?"
Her intuition told her that in this family, ordinary did not exist.
The boy opened his mouth.
"I—"
"He fixed the wall in the house!" Rudeus suddenly blurted out, pointing enthusiastically at his brother.
Silence fell.
Alaric slowly turned his head.
Looked at Rudeus.
Very.
Very.
Slowly.
"I had to fix it," he said coldly, "because YOU broke it."
"That was an experiment!" Rudeus protested. "I had to test the impact pressure!"
"On the house wall."
"How was I supposed to know it would cause such damage?! I shot from the window, I didn't know it would be that powerful!"
"Because it's part of the house?! And why on earth would you use destructive arcana in our home!?"
"Because it was a controlled test!" Rudeus snapped, clenching his fists. "I had to check the penetration scale under increased mana compression!"
"On structural wood," Alaric said hollowly. "In a living space. With parents inside."
"The window was open!"
"And the wall closed!"
"It was just a thin partition!"
"It was part of the HOUSE!"
"Stop saying 'house' in that tone!"
"Because it is a HOUSE!"
Alaric pointed at the tree.
"Experiments are done in controlled conditions. Away from civilian infrastructure."
"Civilian?!," Rudeus raised his voice. "This is our house!"
"Exactly!"
"If I'd known the compression would grow exponentially—"
"You would've done it outside!"
"It was raining!"
"It was a light drizzle!"
"I didn't want to get wet!"
"You preferred to destroy the wall?!"
"I didn't destroy it! It was just a crack!"
"Through which you could see the yard!"
"It was a structural fissure!"
"It was a hole!"
Rudeus puffed his cheeks.
"You're exaggerating."
Alaric took a slow breath.
One word echoed in his mind.
Irresponsibility.
"Rudeus."
"What?!"
"If father saw this, he'd have beaten us within an inch of our lives."
Roxy stood a few steps away.
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…Fixed the wall?" she repeated slowly.
Both boys froze.
Looked at her.
Rudeus spoke first.
"Yes! I broke it with a Water Ball… a bit too hard… and Alaric fixed it!"
Alaric felt something freeze inside him.
Traitor, he whispered, staring intently at his flesh-and-blood brother.
Roxy narrowed her eyes.
Slowly turned her head toward the house.
The wall looked perfect.
No cracks.
No difference in the color of the wood.
No signs of repair.
Not even the slightest irregularity in the plank structure.
As if nothing had ever happened.
Earth magic could patch gaps.
Water magic could smooth surfaces.
But restoring the wood's structure to its original state?
No traces?
No new material?
No visible seam?
Her gaze returned to Alaric.
"How exactly did you 'fix' it?" she asked calmly.
Alaric shrugged.
"I reconstructed the structure."
Roxy was silent.
"From… what?" she pressed.
"From what remained."
"The wood was broken?"
"Yes."
"Into pieces?"
"Into pieces small enough to make father unhappy."
Rudeus grimaced.
"Very unhappy."
Roxy felt her heart rate quicken.
"You used earth magic?"
"No."
"Water?"
"No."
"Fire?"
"No."
"Wind?"
"No."
"So… what kind?"
Alaric hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"I condensed the matter and restored its original arrangement."
Silence.
Rudeus added cheerfully:
"He snapped his fingers and the wall was like new!"
Roxy slowly shifted her gaze from one twin to the other.
In the magic system of this world:
Reconstructing matter wasn't a basic skill.
It wasn't even intermediate.
It bordered on manipulating physical structure at a level children weren't taught.
Not even first-year students.
Something was off.
Very off.
She narrowed her eyes.
The house looked untouched.
The mana in the air was calm.
She didn't sense an active spell.
No trace of fresh transmutation.
As if time had been reversed.
Her throat dried slightly.
"Alaric," she said quietly. "Show me."
He looked at her.
And in his eyes, there was no childish pride.
There was calculation.
Risk assessment.
And something else.
Something that made Roxy think for the first time:
"This boy is not ordinary."
Not at all.
Silence fell.
Alaric didn't respond immediately.
He first looked at Rudeus—long, pointedly.
Then at Roxy.
Then at the split tree that had just been the target.
He sighed.
It wasn't a child's sigh.
It was a tired, deep exhale of someone who had already lived through the consequences of "uncontrolled talent."
"If you insist…" he said calmly.
Roxy stiffened almost imperceptibly.
Alaric stepped a few paces closer to the tree. Stood before it, arms relaxed along his sides.
The trunk was split in two places. The fibers jagged. Moisture seeped into the fresh cracks.
Rudeus watched with clear curiosity.
Roxy held her breath.
Alaric narrowed his eyes.
In his mind, there was no incantation.
No visualized ball.
Not even the classic flow of the element.
There was structure.
He saw it.
The rings.
The fiber alignment.
The tensions.
The microcracks.
The matter wasn't an "element" to him.
It was a system.
A system that could be restored.
He raised his hand.
He didn't utter a single word.
He snapped his fingers.
There was no flash.
No wave of mana visible to the naked eye.
No dramatic gust.
There was only a short, almost inaudible trembling of the air.
The tree reacted.
The frayed fibers began to retreat, as if someone were playing the scene backward. Cracks sealed line by line. The wood smoothed out. The structure returned to its original arrangement.
Within seconds, the trunk looked as if it had never been struck.
Without a trace.
No color difference.
No new texture.
As if time had been rewound by a few minutes.
The silence was absolute.
The wind rustled the grass.
Rudeus blinked.
"Ooo…"
Roxy didn't blink at all.
She couldn't feel the classic elemental discharge.
There was no water concentration.
No movement of earth.
No manipulation of air.
Mana was present.
But used… differently.
Precisely.
Quietly.
Without loss.
Her heart began to beat faster.
"That wasn't earth magic," she said softly.
Alaric lowered his hand.
"No."
"It wasn't transmutation either."
"No."
"There was no incantation."
"No."
Rudeus looked at the tree with a wide grin.
"I told you! He snapped his fingers and that's it!"
Roxy slowly shifted her gaze to Alaric.
"What exactly did you do?"
The boy answered without hesitation:
"I restored the structure to its previous state, using the existing matter. I rearranged it according to the earlier pattern."
Her throat went dry.
That wasn't the answer of a child.
It was the answer of a researcher.
"How did you know the 'earlier pattern'?" she asked even more quietly.
Alaric looked at the tree.
"It was enough to remember."
Roxy felt a chill.
Rudeus's non-incantational magic was an anomaly.
It…
It was something else.
Not improvisation.
Not instinct.
It was control at a level even the Academy didn't teach.
She looked at his face.
Calm.
Composed.
Too calm.
"This isn't a basic level," she said slowly.
Alaric shrugged.
"I didn't classify it."
Rudeus looked between them.
"Is that good or bad?"
Roxy didn't answer immediately.
Because a very uncomfortable thought entered her mind.
If one child could shape mana without an incantation…
And the other reconstruct matter without a visible element…
This wasn't an ordinary family with a lot of mana.
It was something that could shake the very foundations of magical education.
She slowly exhaled.
"From today," she said softly, "your lessons will look different."
She looked first at Rudeus.
Then at Alaric.
"And no one outside of us needs to know what you're capable of."
Alaric raised a single brow.
A trace of relief appeared in his eyes.
Because one thing he knew all too well:
In the world he had been born into before, such abilities were not praised.
Such abilities made you disappear.
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