A new day began. As always, birds sang, the grass shimmered with dew, and the world went about its course.
"Father, please… would you teach me magic?" Tila asked, eyes full of hope.
"I don't know." The answer came dry, like a bucket of cold water.
The girl's dream was shattered in seconds.
"Damn…" she muttered, kicking the grass.
She walked through the field, thinking, imagining… trying.
Until an idea suddenly lit up in her mind.
"Why didn't I think of this before?! The most mysterious person I know!" she exclaimed, running as fast as she could to Bruno's house.
"I'm not very good with magic… and even worse at teaching it." His voice sounded firm, crushing her hope.
Tila dropped to her knees.
"My last chance… destroyed by a 'no'…" she whispered, nearly crying.
Bruno raised an eyebrow.
"And why do you want to learn magic?"
"Magic… the famous tool for everything!" she said, trying to sound confident.
He gave a half-smile.
"I don't think anyone's ever called it that. But… maybe I can help you with that."
"Really?!" Her eyes sparkled.
"Sit here with me." Bruno settled onto the grass, and Tila did the same.
He glanced at the sky for a moment before speaking:
"Magic… is words, it's feeling, it's imagery. You can't change the world, but you can change yourself."
He paused and took a deep breath.
"You will become… a mirror. It reflects, but it also transforms the light. The energy around you will respond to that."
Bruno turned his gaze to Tila.
"When you think, don't imagine what others would think. Think what you yourself would think. Your mind and body… cannot be separate. They must be one."
He plucked a blade of grass, twirling it between his fingers.
"Many say magic is a tool for everything. I don't think so. Magic is like an eraser: it shapes itself to what you need… but in the end, it remains itself."
"Sorry, I still don't understand…" Tila scratched her head, trying to keep up. "But I guess you know what you're talking about."
Bruno chuckled softly.
"Magic is like the mind: you cannot change it… but you can adapt it."
He paused, staring at his hands.
"Fire, water, air, earth, light, darkness, luck, misfortune… and the neutral. These are the fundamentals."
Tila frowned.
"So… it's like rock, paper, scissors?"
Bruno raised an eyebrow and replied with an ironic smile:
"No. It's not a game of who beats who. It's about balance… and choice."
"You can learn all the fundamentals…" Bruno said, gazing at the horizon. "But you will always lose to someone who masters just one."
"And I haven't even mentioned everything…" Bruno looked at Tila seriously. "There are three levels almost no one reaches. Not even in a lifetime.
He took a deep breath before continuing:
"God's Magic.
Trauma Magic.
Draconic Magic."
Each word fell like a stone in the silence.
"If someone comes close to mastering any of these… they have already surpassed being human."
"Do you know anyone?" Tila asked, full of hope.
"A little of everything," Bruno replied with a half-smile.
"Could you show me magic?" Her eyes shone brighter than ever.
Bruno crossed his arms, studying Tila for a few seconds.
"Alright… if you want to learn, you'll have to pay attention."
"I'm ready!" she replied, nearly bouncing in place.
He gave a slight smile.
"First, the basics. Words matter. Every syllable carries intention. That's why we use Latin: it's an ancient language, heavy, not mixed with ordinary speech. When you pronounce it, your mind must believe in what you're saying. Got it?"
"I think so…" Tila replied, trying to look confident.
Bruno took a deep breath and raised his right hand, palm up.
"Let's start with something simple: light. Watch."
He closed his eyes, voice calm and steady:
"Lux Oriatur."
(Let the light arise.)
Out of nowhere, a small golden sphere appeared above his hand, illuminating Bruno's serious face. Tila's eyes widened, enchanted.
"That's amazing!"
He blew on the sphere, and it dispersed into sparkling particles.
"Your turn."
Tila raised her hand, closed her eyes tightly, and murmured:
"Lux Oriatur!"
Nothing happened. Bruno raised an eyebrow.
"You're holding your breath like it's about to explode. Magic isn't force. It's harmony. Breathe, visualize, believe."
She tried again, this time inhaling deeply. Her hand trembled, and a small glow appeared for a moment before vanishing.
"Did I do it?!" she asked, breathless.
"You did… a flicker of light. It's a start."
Bruno sat on the grass, motioning for her to follow.
"Now, wind. It's useful for quick movements, putting out flames, or… pushing someone annoying." He smirked slightly.
"How do you say it?" Tila asked eagerly.
"Ventus Spira. It means 'let the wind spin.'"
He opened his hands and said firmly:
"Ventus Spira."
A gentle gust passed between them, making the grass sway. Tila shouted:
"Wow!"
"Your turn."
She repeated the words, but so weakly that it barely lifted dust at her feet.
"That was… wind, right?" she asked, embarrassed.
"More like a sigh, but it counts."
Bruno raised a finger.
"Third magic: water. This one is delicate. It's healing, it's life. Don't force it. Say: Aqua Vitae."
He touched the grass, pronounced the words, and a crystal-clear drop formed in the air, growing into a floating sphere of water.
"If you learn this, you'll never die of thirst."
Tila tried. The first attempt failed. The second, a small droplet landed on her finger. She smiled as if she had won a war.
Bruno watched and, without warning, raised his hands:
"Scutum Umbrae." (Shield of Shadows.)
Suddenly, a dark barrier rose before him, dense as glass but pulsing like living smoke.
"Defense. One of the most useful."
"I want to learn this too!" Tila shouted excitedly.
"Calm down. One at a time. You can barely light a lantern with Lux Oriatur."
She huffed but smiled.
"Okay… and that special magic? You must have one, right?"
Bruno looked at the horizon, voice serious.
"I shouldn't show you this now… but since you asked…"
He closed his eyes and extended his hand. The wind thickened, the light seemed to vanish, and his voice sounded like a heavy whisper:
"Tenebrae Vinculum." (Chains of Darkness.)
Black chains emerged from the ground, twisting through the air before dissipating like smoke. Tila stepped back, startled.
"That was… scary."
"Yes. And dangerous. Never speak it without knowing what you're doing."
He looked at her with a half-smile.
"Now you understand why I said magic is like the mind? Lose control… and it turns against you."
Tila swallowed hard, eyes shining brighter than ever.
"I will learn them all."
"Maybe yes. Maybe no." Bruno shrugged. "But remember: no matter how many you learn, true power isn't in the words… it's in what you believe you can change in what you desire. So I ask you… what do you desire?"
Those words struck her harder than usual. She swallowed, looked around, feeling the weight of the question.
"To defend… my place." The voice came tense, almost a whisper, yet full of determination.
Bruno remained silent for a moment, studying every detail of her face.
"I see…" he finally said. "That's why you want magic, isn't it?"
Tila nodded, too nervous to speak further. Her heart raced, and for the first time, she realized that magic wasn't just about power—it was about protecting what truly matters.
Even after that "magical" day Tila could still see the scene replaying in her mind.
The "other" on top of Bruno, with that red hair, those eyes that looked like dangerous wine, and that… serpentine way of a deadly elven assassin.
She closed her eyes and saw Seralyne licking her lips.
She opened them again and wanted to kick her pillow once more.
"Damn, damn, damn!" Tila rolled on the bed, crushing the blanket with her horns.
The door opened slowly, and Minerva, her mother, entered with a mug of warm milk. Her calm gaze, typical of someone who had lived through more romantic dramas than wars, settled on her daughter.
"Are you going to keep fighting with the pillow, or do you want to talk to him properly?"
"He doesn't understand." Tila took the milk and muttered. "No one understands."
"Try. I'm just your mother." Minerva sat at the edge of the bed, smiling in that way that made Tila feel five years old again.
Tila hesitated but finally said:
"I… I saw him with her."
"Him with who, dear?" Minerva smiled slightly at the corner of her mouth.
"Bruno with an elf… covered in tattoos, purple eyes, all… mysterious."
"And beautiful?"
"Mom!" Tila buried her face in the pillow.
"Okay, fine. Beautiful. The type that could kill you and kiss you at the same time, you know?"
Minerva stifled a laugh.
"So that's it. The competition has appeared."
"Competition? I wasn't even in the race yet!" Tila stood up, cheeks burning. "And now there's a ninja elf hitting on him and he just… accepts it!?"
"He accepted?"
Tila deflated.
"Okay, maybe he just stood there. Maybe he got scared. Maybe he even had a dagger in his face and deflected it with one hand… which was kind of cool…" She muttered increasingly quietly. "But still!"
Minerva stood and stroked her daughter's head.
"Look, if you really care about him… this whole thing might be a good thing."
"Good!?"
"You've been thinking about him all day. Now you have a reason to chase after him."
Tila crossed her arms, pouting.
"I'm a warrior. I don't chase after a man."
Minerva laughed. Again.
"Ah, of course. But if you do, you'll take your axe, right?"
Tila almost smiled. Almost.
"Maybe just to show that weird elf who's in charge."
Minerva winked.
"That's it, daughter. Show them the cow has horns too."
---
One week later
The morning still yawned when someone knocked on Bruno's door with force.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Bruno didn't move immediately. He was finishing cutting some fruit with near-ceremonial precision, and Kearlin, as always, floated invisibly nearby.
"If it's Tila, she's learned to knock heavier," Bruno murmured.
"If it's Tila, it could be PMS," Kearlin said, his voice cutting through the air like a cheeky remark. "Or her mother sending her."
Bruno rolled his eyes and opened the door. On the other side stood a wall of muscle with a serious face.
"Gorham."
"Bruno."
They stayed silent for a moment. That's how they communicated. Gorham wasn't a man of words. Bruno… only spoke when necessary.
Gorham handed over a crumpled scroll.
"A tower appeared to the north, near the Low Sand Village. People go in and don't come out. Those who do… come back different."
"Different how?" Bruno asked, already reading the scroll without lifting his eyes.
"Some cry endlessly. Others lose their voice. A child came back speaking languages the arcanist couldn't understand. There was a man who returned with gray eyes and threw himself into the well."
Bruno raised his gaze slowly.
"And why call me?"
"Because you're the only damn one who doesn't give me a headache." Gorham scratched his horns and muttered. "And because the others… are afraid."
Bruno took a deep breath, folded the scroll, and placed it on the table.
"Alright. I'll go."
"Going alone?"
"As always."
Gorham nodded and turned, but before leaving he murmured, almost under his breath:
"Be careful with that tower, Bruno. There's something in it… that watches back."
The door closed slowly. Bruno remained silent for a while, then turned to Kearlin, floating cross-legged nearby.
"A tower that judges others… what an idiot."
"I bet it'll find you too strange to judge."
"I hope so." Bruno grabbed his cloak, strapped the iron sword to his back, and took the last sip of tea.
"Because I wouldn't know what to do with you either."
And so, Bruno stepped out the door, leaving the handle turning slowly, as if even the house knew he would return changed.
Bruno walked along the dirt road, the sun starting to rise behind the mountains. The village was already behind him, and ahead, the silhouette of the tower rose imposing, shrouded in a thin mist that seemed to pulse with ancient energy.
Kearlin floated beside him, making an annoying little sound, trying to ease the tension.
"You know this isn't a walk in the park, right?" Kearlin muttered in his voice.
"I know, I know…" Bruno replied, adjusting the hood of his cloak. "But if this tower is going to judge me, it better be ready for what's coming."
Reaching the tower gates, Bruno stopped and observed the strange mechanism that seemed alive, as if capable of thought.
Without a word, the tower began to emit a faint glow, and a distant voice echoed, cold and authoritative:
"Who dares enter to be judged?"
Bruno took a deep breath, aware that this was unlike any other visit. In that instant, a faint shadow of distant memories seemed to flicker across his eyes, as if the tower were trying to access something deeper in his essence.
The voice of the tower reverberated through the stone walls in an ancient language that seemed to vibrate within Bruno's soul.
"Declare your name and purpose," it commanded, light flickering with an ethereal blue hue.
Bruno remained firm, unhesitating.
"My name is Bruno. I've come seeking answers."
A heavy silence fell. Then, without warning, the tower projected fleeting images — shadows and silhouettes, like distorted scenes of lives as real as dreams.
A warrior in the midst of an ancestral battle, a lone man walking across endless deserts, a face disappearing into the fog of memory.
Bruno blinked, feeling the weight of these echoes pass through his mind, but forming no clear story, just fragments.
"It cannot judge me," he muttered to himself, "for even I do not fully understand what I carry."
The tower trembled, light intensifying. Within it, a subtle energy whispered, as if seeking a hidden truth even Bruno did not know.
Kearlin observed attentively, his invisible presence a silent anchor in this encounter between mortal and eternal.
"Welcome, Bruno. The judgment begins," the tower spoke, this time less threatening, more curious.
---
13 years ago
A boy was kicked out of a bar with no empathy.
"Get out, brat. No money, don't get in the way."
"Looks like it won't be easy," Kearlin spoke.
"Damn, where's the goddess to show the demon king?" The OP ability — while speaking, he feigned a cry.
"Never mind. I'll do it my way," he said, eyes shining with burning fire.
---
7 years ago
A heavy snowstorm appeared. A warrior prepared a fire, but nothing the soldier did worked. He was exhausted, had no magic, and a woman stepped out of a simple cabin.
"Bruno, do you think this will pass?"
"You asked the wrong person."
"No, I'm telling everything. I can't stand seeing my daughter suffer."
"And I repeat, I know less than you, but… hold on, okay, queen?" Bruno tried to laugh, but even that was difficult.
"She said she wanted to marry you when she grew up." Bruno didn't look at her.
"I know."
---
11 years ago
A bar where people seemed happier than usual.
"Let's make Bruno lose his virginity to a sword," a drunk dwarf shouted.
"Say it as if it were my first time killing," Bruno, also drunk, replied but more composed than the rest.
"So our little Bruno isn't so virgin after all… wonder if he's also a virgin in other things," said an orc, drinking heavily and full of malice.
"Please, people, let Bruno have his moment," said the cleric, with no alcohol in his blood.
---
4 years ago
A man found himself in a burning village. His armor still had fresh blood, his hands trembled, but his gaze didn't change — only more tired.
---
How much time had passed?
He woke up tired, his laughter still weak, his gaze even more so. Was this Bruno? Or was it…
"Bruno, are you there?" He searched and found him seated in a chair, staring at the stars.
"Vaedros, can you believe I —" Bruno didn't finish. He feared what might come.
---
Many years ago…
"Enough of this nonsense. I came here to be judged, not read like a book."
The tower did not respond. He walked to its center, where its essence resided. Something benign — the nearby village, a single sword strike was enough… but it was never that simple.
The stone door slammed behind Bruno with a dull thud.
Inside, silence. Not the natural silence of forests or night, but a manufactured silence, where even the sound of one's own breath seemed controlled.
In the center of the circular chamber stood a pedestal made of neither wood nor stone. The walls around pulsed slowly, alive — or nearly so.
Then, the tower began.
"Judgment initiated."
A voice without voice, as if the very matter had spoken.
The runes on the floor lit up… then flickered.
"Identity… ambiguous.
Origin… undetectable.
Presence… contradictory.
Result…"
The light wavered.
"Error."
Bruno took half a step forward, eyes narrowed, alert.
"Critical error.
This being cannot be judged."
A fine crack appeared on the pedestal, as if the attempt to evaluate was harming the tower itself.
"Soul condition… multiple…?
Temporal flow… broken…?
Moral consistency… unstable, but…"
Long silence. The walls stopped pulsing.
Then, one last attempt:
"Race: not elf, not orc, not dwarf.
Human? No.
Undefined? No."
"What are you BRUNO "
Bruno exhaled slowly. Calmly. No expression of victory. Just… silent acknowledgment that this would happen.
The tower finally whispered:
"Soul: Good monster killer?So many names, so many nicknames for someone so young
Sentence: Exempt.
Reason: Undefined.
Powers: Undefined."
The doors opened behind him as the essence fragmented more and more.
Bruno turned without a word.
He stepped across the threshold of the tower.
And as he walked back along the path,
the sky trembled — as if the entire world had felt it.
"Seems like you were wrong."