Lucan stood in the center of the clearing, staring at the spot where his master had once been.


    Only ashes remained.


    The wind swept softly through the trees, carrying away the last traces of the man who had shaped his life. It was too quiet now—too empty. For years, this forest had been their home, filled with the warmth of a steady voice, the scent of burning wood, the weight of lessons learned through patience and hardship.


    Now, it was just him.


    His fingers curled around the Aethergem left behind. It pulsed faintly, still warm, as if the last remnants of his master’s life still clung to it. For a long time, he simply stood there, the weight of it pressing against his palm.


    Then, slowly, he lifted it over his head and tied it around his neck with a strip of leather.


    The gem felt heavy.


    Not from its weight, but from its meaning.


    Lucan exhaled.


    "There’s nothing left for me here."


    He turned toward the forest, slinging a small bag over his shoulder. His old journal—filled with pages of notes, half-finished sketches, and observations about the world—rested safely inside.


    With one last look at the only home he had ever known, he left.


    The jungle was alive with sound.


    Insects hummed, hidden beneath the foliage. Birds with feathers of Aether-infused light darted between branches, their wings leaving faint trails of luminescence in the air. Every plant, every vine, every stone seemed to pulse with some form of hidden magic.


    Lucan moved carefully, stepping over twisted roots that slithered like living things. Some of them actually were. He had seen too many creatures in this jungle that did not behave as they should—predatory flowers, vines that strangled anything warm-blooded, and trees that whispered in a language no man should understand.


    He took out his journal and began to write.


    "Observations: The vegetation here is infused with Aether at a level far beyond normal environments. The trees seem to store energy and release it in cycles—possibly linked to the moon phases? Need more study."


    Lucan had no magic. No Aethergem of his own. But he had something just as powerful—knowledge.


    If he couldn’t wield Aether, he would understand it.


    That was how he would survive.


    His eyes scanned the treetops, noting the slight rustling above. Something was moving up there. He kept walking, but his grip tightened on the dagger at his belt.


    Then—a blur of silver shot past him.


    Lucan froze.


    A small creature soared overhead, leaping through the air with impossible ease. It barely touched the ground before launching itself into the sky again—a streak of silver and white against the dark canopy.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    He had never seen anything move like that before.


    Slowly, he crouched behind a thick root, eyes narrowing as he tracked the creature’s movement. It landed on a high tree branch, ears twitching as it scanned the area.


    A rabbit-like beast—but larger than a normal hare, its fur gleaming with soft traces of Aetheric light.


    Lucan opened his journal and flipped to a blank page.


    Entry: "Unidentified species. Appearance resembles a hare, but body structure suggests enhanced muscular density. Aethergem visible just above the chest. Hypothesis: Aether-enhanced leaping ability?"


    He kept watching.


    The creature tensed. Then—it jumped.


    It didn’t just jump. It disappeared into the sky.


    Lucan blinked.


    "That thing just leapt at least fifty meters straight up…"


    His fingers moved quickly, jotting down everything he had seen. He had heard rumors of creatures like this before—beasts whose Aethergems did not grant them spells, but instead enhanced their natural abilities.


    "Aethergem ability: Extreme leaping power. Possible use—high mobility combat? Evasion? Need further observation."


    He waited, hoping to see it land again.


    Instead, he saw something else.


    In the distance, past the final edge of the jungle, something caught his eye. Between the dense trees, he could make out structures—houses, rooftops, smoke rising from chimneys.


    A village.


    His heart beat faster.


    "Civilization."


    For the first time in his life, he would see the world outside the forest.


    Lucan stepped out of the jungle and into the outskirts of the village.


    A small wooden sign, half-covered in moss, marked the entrance. He brushed the dirt away and read the words carved into its surface.


    Eldermere.


    The first human settlement he had ever laid eyes on.


    Lucan slowed his steps, taking everything in. The village was not grand like the floating cities of Arcanis he had read about. There were no towering spires, no enchanted streets lined with glowing crystals.


    Instead, it was simple. But alive.


    The houses were made of thick wood, their rooftops woven with dried leaves. The fields were golden with crops, yet no hands worked the soil—small enchantments did it for them, ensuring the perfect balance of water and nutrients.


    Magic was everywhere, but subtle. Not overwhelming like in the great mage cities.


    Lucan wandered further, studying the way runes were etched into doorways, the way small orbs of floating light guided people down the paths at night.


    "Even here, magic rules everything."


    And then—something happened.


    A sudden gasp from the crowd ahead.


    Lucan turned, his eyes locking onto the scene unfolding before him.


    A young woman had collapsed in the middle of the street.


    The girl lay motionless, her golden hair sprawled across the dirt road. Her dress, embroidered with faint runes, was slightly dusted from the fall.


    Lucan’s eyes narrowed.


    Her lips were pale blue. Her chest barely moved.


    The villagers rushed toward her, panic in their voices.


    "Seraphina!"


    "Someone get the healer!"


    Lucan’s mind was already racing. He stepped forward, pushing past the crowd before anyone could react.


    "Move," he ordered.


    Some hesitated, staring at him. He shoved one man aside, dropping to his knees beside the girl.


    "She’s not breathing," he muttered.


    His hands moved on their own.


    Tilt the head back. Open the airway. Listen.


    He pressed his ear to her lips. No breath.


    His chest tightened.


    "Heart failure."


    The villagers were still talking, still yelling. They didn’t understand.


    "Step back!" he snapped. "She needs air!"


    He placed his hands over her sternum and began chest compressions.


    One. Two. Three.


    The villagers stared in confusion.


    "What is he doing?"


    "Is it some kind of spell?"


    Thirty compressions. Then, he pinched her nose, parted her lips, and breathed air into her lungs.


    The girl’s chest rose slightly.


    Lucan repeated the cycle. Again. Again.


    Then—


    A cough.


    Her body jerked, her chest heaving as she sucked in a breath.


    Lucan exhaled, his arms shaking from the effort.


    The villagers around them gasped in shock.


    "She’s—she’s breathing!"


    The girl’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and confused.


    Lucan sat back, watching.


    He had saved her.


    Not with magic.


    Not with Aether.


    But with knowledge.


    And as the villagers whispered among themselves, their eyes shifting toward him in awe and uncertainty,