The Royal Library remained unchanged.
Its silence stretched endlessly between towering shelves, heavy not with oppression, but with presence. Every book, every recorded word, carried the weight of accumulated knowledge, and yet none of it seemed to demand attention. It simply existed, waiting to be understood.
Samuel sat at the long wooden table, surrounded by stacks of opened texts. The hours had passed without interruption, unnoticed by him, as his eyes moved steadily across each page with quiet precision. He did not rush, nor did he pause. Each word, each concept, settled into his understanding as if it had always belonged there.
Mana.
That was the foundation of this world.
An external force that flowed through everything—air, earth, and life itself. It could be drawn in, refined, shaped into structured spells, and released through calculated control. It was consistent. Predictable. Defined.
And yet—
Samuel slowly closed the book in front of him, his golden eyes lowering slightly as his thoughts aligned with a conclusion that had already formed.
"I didn't feel mana in my body."
The realization surfaced within his mind without resistance, without even the slightest disturbance. It was not something that required confirmation. From the moment he began reading, he had already known.
That absence did not surprise him.
Because there was always a way forward.
He leaned back slightly, his gaze shifting beyond the pages before him, not toward the library, but inward—toward the structure of his own existence. In his previous life, energy had responded to him without question. It had obeyed. Bent. Taken form under his will.
Now, there was nothing.
No flow.
No presence.
No response.
But that did not mean there was no path.
Samuel closed his eyes.
Silence deepened around him as his awareness extended outward, not forcefully, but with quiet control. He searched—not for power, not for dominance, but for confirmation of what the books described so clearly.
Mana should have been there.
Everywhere.
And yet—
There was nothing.
Not resistance.
Not suppression.
Simply… absence.
His eyes opened again, calm as ever.
"So this world does not recognize me," he murmured softly.
The words were not heavy.
They carried no frustration.
Only understanding.
—
A subtle shift in movement nearby drew his attention.
Sara had returned, another set of texts in her hands, though her steps slowed slightly as she noticed the stillness around him. There was something different—not in the environment, but in the atmosphere surrounding the Fifth Prince.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
"…Your Highness," she spoke carefully, placing the books down, "have you found what you were looking for?"
Samuel's gaze shifted toward her.
"For the most part."
There was no elaboration.
No unnecessary explanation.
Sara hesitated for a brief moment before continuing.
"If there is anything unclear, I can assist—"
"I cannot sense mana."
The words were spoken plainly.
Directly.
And they stopped her completely.
"…what?" she asked, almost instinctively.
Samuel did not repeat himself immediately. Instead, he watched her reaction, not out of curiosity, but observation. When he spoke again, his tone remained unchanged.
"The texts state that mana exists within all things. That even those incapable of controlling it can still perceive its presence to some degree."
Sara nodded slowly.
"That is correct."
"And yet," Samuel continued, "I do not perceive it at all."
Silence followed.
Not the silence of the library—
But one filled with uncertainty.
Sara studied him more carefully now, her expression no longer composed solely by duty. There was thought behind her eyes, calculation, doubt.
"That… should not be possible," she said after a moment. "Mana is not something that can simply be absent. Even if one lacks affinity or control, the presence itself can still be felt."
Samuel did not argue.
"Then confirm it."
—
She hesitated.
Only briefly.
Then stepped closer.
"If I may," she said quietly.
Samuel did not move.
That alone was enough.
Sara raised her hand slightly, her focus sharpening as she allowed a controlled flow of mana to circulate through her palm. It was refined, subtle, carefully restrained so as not to cause harm. She guided it forward, letting the faint current extend toward him, intending only to observe the reaction.
Mana always reacted.
It shifted.
It adjusted.
It acknowledged existence.
But the moment it reached Samuel—
It disappeared.
Not scattered.
Not blocked.
Gone.
As if it had never existed in the first place.
Sara's breath caught slightly, her eyes narrowing in disbelief as she withdrew her hand.
"That… isn't suppression," she murmured.
Samuel watched her calmly.
"No."
She shook her head slightly, trying to process what she had just witnessed.
"If it were resistance, the mana would react. If it were rejection, it would destabilize. But this…" she paused, her voice lowering, "…this is as if there is nothing for it to interact with."
Samuel's gaze remained steady.
"That is correct."
The conclusion settled between them.
He leaned back slightly, his thoughts aligning with quiet clarity.
So the problem was not mana itself.
It was him.
This body.
This existence.
Something about it existed outside the recognition of this world's system.
And that—
Changed everything.
Sara looked at him again, more carefully this time.
"…Your Highness," she said slowly, "if what we observed is accurate, then you may not be able to become a mage."
Samuel did not respond immediately.
Because that statement—
Held no weight.
"I never intended to follow their path," he said calmly.
Sara blinked.
"…then you intend to use Aura?"
Samuel's gaze shifted slightly, the concept settling into place.
Aura did not rely on the world.
It was forged from within.
Discipline.
Repetition.
Control.
Unlike mana—
It did not require recognition.
"…perhaps," he replied.
There was no commitment in his voice.
Only consideration.
—
From the distance, Edward finally stepped forward, his presence firm yet controlled.
"If Your Highness wishes to walk the path of Aura," he said, "then training must begin immediately."
Samuel looked at him.
Edward continued without hesitation.
"This body has no foundation. It has never been trained. Without that, even sensing Aura will be difficult."
Samuel understood that.
Perfectly.
His gaze lowered slightly, not in doubt, but in quiet acceptance of reality.
Weakness was not an obstacle.
It was a starting point.
"Then we begin with the body," he said.
—
Sara watched him in silence.
There was no frustration.
No disappointment.
No resistance.
As if being cut off from the world's primary source of power…
Meant nothing to him.
"…you are not concerned?" she asked quietly.
Samuel turned his gaze toward her.
"No."
The answer came without hesitation.
Because there was no reason to be.
"There is always a way forward."
—
And in that moment—
Something subtle shifted.
Not within the library.
Not within the world.
But within the path Samuel had chosen.
—
He was no longer trying to understand the system.
He had already begun—
Moving beyond it.