A week passed over Berk like a steady tide.
The village did not slow for it. Hammers still rang from the forge, and the wind still carried the same salt and smoke that clung to every corner of the island. But for Lucian, the days had been quieter, spent not in battle or movement, but in recovery and understanding.
The potion Gothi had given him worked differently from the pill.
Where the pill had burned through him like fire, forcing out everything impure with violent intensity, the potion moved with patience. It seeped into his body gradually, easing into places he hadn't even realized were damaged. The strain that once lingered beneath his skin, subtle and unnoticed, began to fade. Day by day, that invisible weight lifted until it was gone entirely.
By the end of the week, Lucian felt lighter.
Not stronger in the way stories exaggerated, not suddenly transformed into something beyond human, but balanced. His movements carried less resistance, his breathing came easier, and there was a quiet clarity in his body that hadn't been there before.
If the pill had cleansed him, the potion had repaired what was left behind.
The book, however, was something else entirely.
What began as curiosity turned into long hours of reading, his attention drawn deeper with every page. It wasn't simply a collection of techniques or spells, but a broader understanding of what magic truly was, and more importantly, what it could become depending on the path one chose.
Lucian learned that the term "mage" was little more than a general label, a way to describe anyone capable of wielding magic. It carried no specific method, no strict definition, only the acknowledgment that the person in question could manipulate something beyond the ordinary.
Wizards, on the other hand, followed a far more structured path.
Their power was built, not inherited. Through study and discipline, they cultivated mana within themselves, gradually forming a mana core that served as the center of all their magic. Every spell, every controlled effect, every refinement of their abilities traced back to that core. It required patience, understanding, and time.
It was also the path Lucian had once walked.
The path that had been taken from him.
Sorcerers stood in contrast to that discipline. Their magic came not from study, but from within. Bloodline, ancestry, or some innate connection allowed them to wield power naturally, without the need to build a core from scratch. The book noted, however, that if a sorcerer chose to follow the methods of a wizard, they could strengthen and refine their abilities even further.
Witches followed a similar structure to wizards, but their practice diverged in approach. Their magic leaned toward the natural and the personal, shaped through herbs, potions, hexes, dark mana and subtle manipulations rather than direct, structured casting. It was knowledge passed through tradition rather than formal study.
Warlocks, however, walked a different road entirely. They did not cultivate or inherit their power.
They were given it.
Through a pact with something beyond the ordinary, something powerful and often unknowable, a warlock gained access to magic that was never truly theirs. It was a trade, an exchange, a binding agreement that came with its own weight.
Shamans stood between worlds, acting as intermediaries between the living and the unseen. Their magic was rooted in spirits, ancestors, and the balance between realms. It was not something they controlled in the same way a wizard did, but something they worked with.
Druids drew their strength from nature itself, from the land, the wind, and the living world around them. Their abilities reflected that connection, often tied to growth, healing, and transformation.
Priests or clerics relied on faith, channeling power granted by gods or divine forces. Their magic came not from themselves, but from something higher, something that chose to answer.
And then there were chi cultivators.
They turned inward.
Rather than relying on external mana, they refined their own internal energy or chi, strengthening both body and spirit through discipline and control.
Lucian absorbed all of it. Every path, possibility and yet, one truth remained unchanged.
A wizard without a mana core was finished.
The book made that point with quiet certainty, not as a warning, but as a fact. Once shattered, a mana core could not be rebuilt through effort or training. It was not something that could be recovered by will alone. Lucian found himself lingering on that realization longer than he intended, reading the same passage more than once, as if repetition might offer a different answer.
It didn't.
Still, the book did not leave him without options.
There were other paths he could take, ways to step back into magic without relying on what he had lost. A warlock's pact could grant him power through an agreement with a higher being. A God's blessing could allow him to channel divine energy, if such a force chose to recognize him. A cultivator's path offered another alternative, one that did not depend on a mana core at all.
Different roads leading to the same destination but each required something beyond his current reach.
A patron, god or a master.
For now, those options remained distant, more theory than reality.
Lucian closed the book slowly, letting out a quiet breath.
For the time being, he would move forward without magic.