The morning air was cool and warm.
Ray walked along the familiar road leading toward Marcus's training grounds, his hands resting comfortably at his sides. Bellford was gradually becoming busier as merchants opened their shops and residents began their daily activities.
Nothing about the morning seemed particularly unusual.
He passed a merchant arranging wooden crates outside his store, two workers carrying supplies toward a nearby workshop, and an elderly man speaking with a young woman beside a roadside stall.
Ray's gaze moved naturally from one person to another.
It had become something of a habit.
Ever since discovering his unusual ability to observe people, he had made a conscious effort to pay attention to their movements, expressions, posture, and other subtle details.
However, something different happened that morning.
As he passed the two workers, a faint voice entered his mind.
(...I should have brought the other cart.)
Ray stopped walking.
He turned his head slightly.
Neither worker had spoken.
One was adjusting the rope around a crate, while the other was checking the condition of their cart.
Ray remained still for a moment.
He continued walking, considering whether he had simply mistaken an ordinary sound for something else.
A little farther down the road, he passed a young woman standing outside a shop. She appeared to be examining a small pouch in her hands.
Another faint impression surfaced.
(I hope he accepts the price.)
Ray slowed down.
This time, he was fairly certain that the woman hadn't spoken.
He looked toward her.
Her lips remained closed, and her attention was directed toward the pouch.
He continued walking, but his attention had shifted.
Could he have heard something that wasn't spoken?
The possibility was strange, but he didn't dismiss it immediately.
He decided to experiment.
As he passed another group of people, he concentrated on one individual at a time. Rather than simply examining their expressions and movements, he tried to direct his attention toward the strange sensation that had accompanied the earlier experiences.
At first, nothing happened.
Then, for a brief moment, he caught another fragment.
(...I need to finish this before noon.)
It was faint and incomplete, disappearing almost as soon as it appeared.
Ray looked toward the man he had been observing. The man was carrying a basket of vegetables and appeared to be in a hurry.
There was no way to verify whether the thought had genuinely belonged to him.
Still, the possibility was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
By the time he reached Marcus's training grounds, he had formed a tentative conclusion.
His observation ability might have developed beyond simply gathering external information.
It might now allow him to perceive fragments of another person's thoughts.
However, he had yet to establish whether those impressions were accurate, complete, or even genuinely thoughts.
For now, he decided to keep the matter to himself.
Marcus was already waiting when Ray arrived.
The middle-aged swordsman stood near the center of the training yard, holding a wooden sword.
"You're a little later than usual."
"Only by a few minutes."
"Still later."
Ray gave a small nod.
"I'll keep that in mind."
Marcus handed him a wooden sword.
"Warm up first. Then we'll continue with footwork."
The lesson proceeded much as it usually did.
Marcus demonstrated several movements, explained the importance of maintaining balance, and corrected Ray whenever his posture became unstable.
Yet Ray's attention was occasionally distracted by the strange ability he had experienced on the road.
During one of Marcus's demonstrations, he concentrated on the older man's movements.
A faint impression appeared.
(His rear foot is still too far forward.)
Ray blinked.
He looked down at Marcus's stance.
The observation was accurate. Marcus had indeed placed his rear foot slightly closer than he usually did.
But the thought hadn't sounded like Marcus's own voice.
It had simply appeared in Ray's mind.
"Something wrong?"
Marcus's question brought him back to the present.
"No. I was just thinking."
"Then think while holding your stance properly."
Ray adjusted his position.
"Yes."
He attempted to observe Marcus several more times, but the results were inconsistent. Occasionally, he caught vague impressions, though most attempts produced nothing.
Eventually, he stopped trying.
Swordsmanship required concentration, and dividing his attention between two unfamiliar abilities was hardly productive.
By the end of the lesson, Marcus seemed satisfied with his progress.
"Your balance is improving. You're beginning to move more naturally."
"There's still plenty to improve."
"That's true. Don't get ahead of yourself."
Ray returned the wooden sword to its place.
"I won't."
A few hours had passed.
Elena Voss was waiting at the small training facility.
The thirty-year-old mage stood beside a table containing several assessment crystals and practice materials.
"You're on time," she remarked.
"I try to be."
"Good. We'll continue with mana shaping today."
Ray took his usual position.
Elena began by explaining the importance of maintaining a stable mana flow before attempting to form a spell. She demonstrated a basic exercise involving the manipulation of a small amount of water.
Ray watched carefully.
His observation ability helped him understand the movements involved, but magic remained considerably different from swordsmanship. It required an internal sense of control that couldn't be acquired simply by copying someone's posture.
He followed Elena's instructions and gradually gathered mana into his palm.
A small amount of water formed above it.
It wavered slightly before settling into an uneven shape.
"Better," Elena commented.
Ray maintained his concentration.
"Your control is becoming more consistent. You're no longer losing the shape immediately."
"Is there anything else I should focus on?"
"Efficiency. You're using more mana than necessary to maintain something this simple."
Ray nodded.
He tried again, adjusting the amount of mana he circulated.
This time, the water remained stable for a little longer.
Elena watched with a thoughtful expression.
"That's an improvement."
The lesson continued with several basic exercises involving Earth and Water magic.
Ray managed to lift a small stone and maintain a simple water formation, though neither was particularly impressive.
He was still a beginner, and Elena made sure he understood that progress would require consistent practice.
After completing the lesson, she gave him a few exercises to practice independently.
"Don't spend all your time trying to increase the amount of mana you can use. Control is more important at your current stage."
"I understand."
"Good. I'll see you next time."
Ray thanked her and left.
The afternoon had begun to fade by the time Ray returned home.
He placed his belongings where they usually belonged and headed toward his bedroom.
However, something immediately caught his attention.
There was a book on his bed.
Beside it lay a quill.
Ray stopped at the doorway.
He hadn't left either item there.
The book was moderately sized, with a dark cover that appeared almost black under the room's lighting. It had no visible title, decorative markings, or identifying symbol.
The quill rested neatly beside it.
He didn't approach immediately.
Instead, he glanced around the room.
The windows were closed. His belongings appeared untouched, and there was no obvious indication that anyone had entered.
He walked toward the bed and examined the objects.
The book's cover felt smooth beneath his fingers. It was heavier than he expected, although not excessively so.
He opened it.
The pages were completely blank.
He turned several of them.
Nothing.
There was no writing, illustration, or indication of what the book was intended for.
Ray placed it back on the bed and picked up the quill.
He examined its shaft and feather, looking for anything unusual.
There was no visible inscription or ornamentation.
"...Who put these here?"
He considered the possibility that someone had entered while he was away.
But who?
He lived alone. He hadn't invited anyone over, and he couldn't recall mentioning that he needed a book or writing materials to anyone.
Perhaps Marcus or Elena had left them but he hadn't told any of them where he lived.
Also that seemed unlikely. Neither had any reason to enter his house, much less leave something without informing him.
He examined the book again.
It was possible that someone had simply made a mistake and left it in the wrong place.
Still, that didn't explain how it had entered his room.
Ray sat on the edge of his bed.
For several minutes, he considered what to do.
Eventually, he opened the book to its first page.
If it was ordinary, there was little reason to treat it as anything else. He could simply keep it until he discovered who it belonged to.
He picked up the quill.
There was no ink bottle nearby, which made him pause.
He examined its tip.
It appeared to be dry.
Nevertheless, he lightly pressed it against the blank page and drew a short line.
A dark mark appeared beneath its tip.
Ray stopped.
He lifted the quill.
The line remained.
He examined the page more closely, then touched the mark with a fingertip. It was dry, and the ink didn't smear.
"...Interesting."
He turned the quill around and inspected its tip again.
There was no visible ink container.
He tried another small mark.
It appeared just as easily.
Ray looked at the quill for a while.
Perhaps it contained some sort of enchantment.
That wasn't entirely unreasonable in a world where magic existed. However, he couldn't sense any obvious mana coming from it.
He considered putting the objects away.
Instead, his eyes returned to the blank page.
He hesitated before writing a short sentence.
[The candle on the desk will go out.]
He stopped after finishing the final word.
Then he stared at the sentence.
A few seconds passed.
Nothing happened.
Ray looked toward the candle.
Its flame continued burning steadily.
He waited another minute.
Still nothing.
He leaned back slightly.
What exactly had he expected?
He had picked up an unfamiliar quill and written an ordinary sentence in an unfamiliar book. Why had he suddenly assumed that anything written on its pages would happen?
The thought was absurd.
Perhaps the quill simply produced ink without requiring an ink bottle. That alone was unusual enough.
He looked at the sentence again.
Could it have been a coincidence if the candle happened to go out?
Certainly.
A candle could extinguish for several ordinary reasons.
There was no reason to connect the two events.
Ray closed the book.
He decided to leave it alone for the evening.
But before putting it away, he glanced at the sentence once more.
The candle was still burning.
He extinguished it himself, then returned the book to his desk.
It was a small experiment, and it had proven nothing.
The following day, Ray returned to the book.
He had spent some time thinking about it and had reached a simple decision.
If the book was strange, then he needed a way to determine what it could do.
He decided to write something.
First, he examined the book itself.
He checked the binding, pages, and cover again. He found no hidden compartments or inscriptions. The quill continued producing dark ink without any apparent supply.
He also attempted to sense mana from both objects.
There was something faintly unusual about them, but he couldn't identify a clear mana signature.
He returned to his desk.
The previous sentence was still visible.
[The candle on the desk will go out.]
He turned to a fresh page.
This time, he decided to test it again.
He placed a small wooden bead on the desk and positioned it several inches from the edge.
He examined its position carefully.
Then he wrote:
[The wooden bead will roll toward the edge of the desk and fall onto the floor.]
He put down the quill.
Nothing happened.
Ray waited.
The bead remained where it was.
He observed it for several minutes, then carefully examined the desk for any noticeable slope.
There was none.
He had no reason to expect the bead to move.
Yet it remained motionless.
Ray looked at the sentence.
He wasn't particularly disappointed.
It was only one experiment.
He closed the book and left the room.
When he returned later, the bead was still in the same position.
He recorded the result in a separate notebook.
The following day, he tried again.
This time, he wrote a passage describing the bead gradually moving toward the edge after being disturbed by a slight vibration from the desk.
He included the circumstances and a reasonable sequence of events.
After finishing the passage, he placed the quill aside.
For a few moments, nothing happened.
Then he felt something unusual.
His mana shifted.
It wasn't a sudden burst, but a small amount seemed to leave his body, moving toward the book before disappearing.
Ray immediately looked down at his hands.
He could sense the difference.
The amount wasn't particularly large, but it was unmistakable.
He waited.
The bead moved slightly.
It was barely noticeable at first. It shifted a fraction of an inch, then moved again.
Ray leaned forward.
The desk was stationary.
There was no visible disturbance.
A few moments later, the bead rolled toward the edge and fell onto the floor.
Ray remained still.
He looked at the bead, then at the book.
"...That wasn't a coincidence."
He picked up the bead and returned it to its original position.
He examined the desk once more.
Nothing had changed.
He then looked at the written passage.
The sequence had followed what he had described.
It was still possible that he had overlooked something, but the movement of the bead had been difficult to explain through ordinary circumstances.
He sat down.
For the first time, he began to suspect that the book might possess an ability to alter reality.
However, he wasn't ready to reach a conclusion.
He needed more tests.
Over the following days, Ray conducted several additional experiments.
He began with simple events and gradually increased their complexity.
He wrote about small objects moving under specific circumstances, then tested passages involving people.
The latter required considerably more care.
He chose situations involving individuals he already knew, such as Marcus and Elena, because he was familiar with their routines and personalities.
He avoided writing vague commands.
Instead, he described specific circumstances, the actions that would follow, and the reasoning behind those actions.
For example, he wrote a passage in which Marcus noticed a particular weakness in Ray's stance during training and demonstrated a correction.
The following lesson, Marcus did precisely that.
But Ray didn't immediately accept the result.
Marcus had corrected his posture many times before. It was entirely possible that the event would have occurred regardless.
So he continued experimenting.
He recorded each passage, the amount of mana he felt leaving his body, and the outcome.
Eventually, he noticed that the book seemed to respond differently depending on what he wrote.
A simple event involving an object required relatively little mana.
A passage involving a person required more concentration, especially when it described several connected actions.
More elaborate passages involving multiple people consumed considerably more.
He also noticed that the events became increasingly difficult to influence when they contradicted the circumstances surrounding them.
The book didn't seem to accept arbitrary instructions.
It required something more substantial.
A believable sequence.
A reasonable cause.
And actions that remained consistent with the people involved.
Ray spent one evening reviewing his notes.
He had begun to understand the general principle.
The book didn't simply make an outcome happen because he had written it.
It seemed to establish a sequence of events that could reasonably lead toward the written outcome.
The more complicated that sequence became, the more mana it required.
He wasn't certain whether this was the complete explanation, but it accounted for most of his observations.
Then there was the matter of its limitations.
Ray sat at his desk with the book open before him.
He had been considering an experiment involving a considerably larger event.
After some thought, he wrote a single sentence.
[The entire city of Bellford will burn tonight.]
He put down the quill.
Nothing happened.
He waited.
The room remained quiet.
He examined his mana.
There had been a slight movement, but nowhere near the amount consumed by his more elaborate experiments.
Ray looked at the sentence.
He had written an outcome without explaining how it would occur.
There was no cause, no sequence of events, and no circumstances that could reasonably lead to such a disaster.
He considered the matter.
If a city were to burn, there would need to be a plausible origin for the fire, circumstances allowing it to spread, and a sequence of events that prevented it from being contained.
Simply declaring the result wasn't enough.
He looked at the book again.
Perhaps that was why nothing had happened.
The book seemed to require more than an intended outcome. It required a logical foundation.
Ray stared at the sentence for a moment before crossing it out.
He had no intention of testing something so dangerous.
There was another problem.
Mana consumption.
He had initially considered the amount used by the book negligible. But after several days of experimentation, he had become increasingly aware of how quickly his reserves could diminish.
During one particularly complicated experiment, he had attempted to describe a sequence involving multiple people and several connected actions.
By the time he finished writing, his mana reserves had dropped considerably.
He had stopped immediately.
It had taken him some time to recover.
The experience had made one thing clear.
The book was not something he could use carelessly.
Ray leaned back in his chair.
He looked at the dark cover.
Who had left it there?
Why had it appeared in his room?
And why can it alter reality?
He had no answers.
For now, he had established a few preliminary rules.
The writing needed to be logical and methodical. The actions had to remain consistent with the people involved and their circumstances. The complexity of the passage influenced the amount of mana consumed.
And most importantly, the book could not simply create an unreasonable outcome without a plausible sequence of events leading toward it.
Ray slowly closed the cover.
He placed the quill beside it and looked at the two objects for a while.
A strange book had appeared in his bedroom without explanation.
It could influence events through written passages, provided they followed a reasonable chain of circumstances.
And it consumed his mana to do so.
He wasn't sure what to make of it.
But one thing was certain.
Whatever this book and quill was, it was very mysterious.
Ray placed the book and quill inside the drawer of his desk.
He would continue his experiments, but only after recovering his mana and considering a more systematic approach.