Seven Years Later
Time passed.
Seasons changed.
The trees around the Zu residence grew taller, the forest paths became more familiar, and the boy who had once struggled to pull a small carriage gradually grew into a capable young man.
Rayan was now fifteen years old.
His body had grown stronger through years of training. He could run long distances, handle the assigned physical exercises with relative ease, and use his shadow ability with far greater control than before.
He had also become much better at managing the storage technique.
The weight he carried inside his shadow no longer surprised him, and he had developed sensible habits for deciding what to store and when to retrieve it.
His daily life had become a balance between training, studying, helping his family, and spending time with Ran.
Of course, the last activity remained the most unpredictable.
Ran was fifteen as well, although she would reach that age formally in another month according to their family's birthday arrangements.
She had grown taller, become more confident, and retained her remarkable talent for learning.
Unfortunately, she had also retained her talent for creating problems.
One afternoon, she had challenged Rayan to a race around the courtyard.
She lost.
Then she accused him of cheating.
When he asked how, she declared that his legs were longer.
Rayan had stared at her for a full five seconds before answering.
"Ran, that's not cheating. That's growing."
Ran folded her arms.
"Then stop growing!"
Rayan had nearly fallen over laughing.
Their friendship remained as lively as ever.
Yet, beneath the ordinary rhythm of their lives, something important was approaching.
Fifteen was a significant age in their world.
It was the age at which a person could form a Black Core, the foundation that allowed them to convert mental energy into Jet Black.
For necromancers, this marked the beginning of a new stage of development.
Rayan had known about it for years.
His grandfather had explained the process long ago, and Rayan had spent considerable time preparing himself physically and mentally.
He was curious about what forming a Black Core would feel like.
He was also curious about how much Jet Black he would be able to produce.
However, he had learned not to get too excited about his own potential.
Whenever Grandpa noticed that Rayan was making progress, the old man tended to respond by increasing his training.
If I become too impressive, I'll never get a day off.
That was a real concern.
A very real concern.
And so, Rayan had developed a sensible strategy.
He would work hard.
He would improve steadily.
And he would avoid showing off unless there was a good reason.
It was a perfect plan.
Unfortunately, his grandfather was about to give him a reason to become excited.
Birthday Gifts and Unexpected Books
On the morning of Rayan's fifteenth birthday, he woke up earlier than usual.
Not because Grandpa had forced him to.
Not because he had training scheduled.
And not because Ran had somehow managed to invade his bed again.
He woke up because he was excited.
Today was the day.
He was finally old enough to form his Black Core.
He got dressed, washed up, and headed downstairs.
His family was already preparing for the birthday celebration.
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Grandma greeted him warmly, his mother gave him a hug, and his father wished him a happy birthday.
Then Grandpa appeared.
The old man wore a proud smile.
"Happy birthday, Rayan!"
Rayan grinned.
"Thank you, Grandpa!"
Grandpa patted his shoulder.
"You're fifteen now. Time really does fly."
Rayan nodded.
It certainly does.
He had spent seven years training under the old man's supervision.
Seven years of running, exercising, practising his shadow ability, and carrying wood.
Seven years of occasional carriage-pulling.
Seven years of learning how to survive Grandpa's idea of a reasonable morning.
He felt that he had earned something special.
He looked at his grandfather expectantly.
Grandpa noticed.
"What is it?"
Rayan smiled.
"Nothing, Grandpa."
Grandpa narrowed his eyes.
"You're looking at me strangely."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
Rayan coughed.
"I was just wondering whether you had a birthday present for me."
"Of course I do!"
He reached beside his chair and brought out a neatly arranged stack of books.
Rayan stared.
His smile froze.
Books.
Not scrolls.
Not one ancient technique.
Not even a mysterious sealed box.
Books.
A great many books.
Grandpa placed them in front of him.
"These are your study materials."
Rayan blinked.
"My… study materials?"
"That's right."
Grandpa looked pleased with himself.
"There's an entrance examination in two years. If you pass, you'll have the opportunity to enter the Necromancer Academy, one of the best academies for aspiring necromancers."
Rayan stared at the books.
Then at Grandpa.
Then at the books again.
I see.
My birthday present is homework.
Wonderful.
Grandpa continued enthusiastically.
"The academy has excellent instructors, a strong training environment, and access to resources that aren't available to ordinary students. If you want to develop your abilities properly, it's a good place to begin."
Rayan listened.
He understood the importance of the academy.
He wanted to learn more about necromancy, Jet Black, and the deeper mysteries of his family's bloodline.
He also remembered Grandpa's promise.
The remaining three ancient scrolls would be given to him when he entered the academy.
Which meant passing the examination was important for more than one reason.
Rayan looked at the books again.
Two years.
Two years of studying.
Then the academy.
Then the remaining scrolls.
He slowly nodded.
"Thank you, Grandpa."
Grandpa smiled.
"You're welcome."
Rayan picked up the top book.
It was thick.
He opened it.
The first page contained a list of subjects and a recommended study schedule.
He flipped to the next page.
More information.
Then another.
More information.
His smile became increasingly strained.
Grandpa, did you buy these books from a library, or did you empty an entire academy?
He looked at the stack.
There were books on general knowledge, history, geography, basic necromancy, magical creatures, and the fundamentals of mental energy.
Some were clearly intended for beginners.
Others looked much more advanced.
Rayan picked up one of the thicker volumes.
The title read: An Introduction to the Principles of Necromantic Theory.
He put it down.
Then he picked it up again.
All right. I can do this.
He had already learned to read and write at an unusually young age.
He was capable of studying independently.
He had years of experience training his mind and body.
Two years should be enough time to prepare.
Probably.
He glanced toward Grandpa.
"Grandpa?"
"Yes?"
"Are all of these books necessary?"
Grandpa smiled.
"Not all of them are equally important, but each contains useful information."
Rayan nodded slowly.
That wasn't an answer.
Grandpa patted his shoulder.
"Don't worry. We'll make a study plan."
Rayan stared at him.
That sounds even worse.
The Mystery of the Black Core
After breakfast, Grandpa took Rayan aside.
"Rayan, now that you've reached fifteen, we can discuss forming your Black Core."
Rayan's attention immediately sharpened.
Finally.
This was what he had been waiting for.
Grandpa continued, "The Black Core is an important foundation for necromancers. It allows you to convert mental energy into Jet Black, which you can then use in your cultivation and techniques."
Rayan nodded.
He knew the theory, but hearing it from Grandpa made the moment feel more significant.
"Can I form it today?"
Grandpa smiled.
"If you're ready, yes. But you must understand that the process requires concentration. Don't rush it, and don't try to force the result."
Rayan took a breath.
"Understood."
Grandpa studied him for a moment.
Then he asked, "Would you like me to guide you through the process?"
Rayan hesitated.
He wanted to experience the process for himself, but he also knew that having his grandfather's guidance would be safer.
"Yes, Grandpa."
"Good."
Grandpa nodded.
"Then we'll begin with the basics."
He explained the process in detail, describing how Rayan needed to focus his mental energy and guide it toward the formation of the Black Core.
Rayan listened carefully.
He asked several questions, and Grandpa answered them patiently.
The more they discussed it, the more Rayan realized that this was different from simply summoning his shadow.
The Black Core was not a detached entity that could be called forth and sent away.
It was a fundamental part of a necromancer's development.
It would become the foundation through which he could produce and use Jet Black.
Rayan was excited.
But he was also cautious.
This is important.
I should take it seriously.
Grandpa seemed satisfied with his attitude.
"Good. We'll begin when you're ready."
Rayan nodded.
Then, just as Grandpa was about to continue, another thought occurred to him.
He looked up.
"Grandpa?"
"Yes?"
"Can you form Ran's Black Core too?"
Grandpa paused.
Then a knowing smile spread across his face.
"I was wondering when you'd ask that."
Rayan scratched his cheek.
"Well…"
Grandpa chuckled.
"I can guide her through the process as well, but she won't reach fifteen until next month."
Rayan nodded.
"Then I'll wait."
Grandpa's smile widened.
"You'll wait?"
"Yes. I'll form my Black Core after Ran turns fifteen."
For a moment, Grandpa said nothing.
Then he laughed softly.
"I see."
He looked at Rayan with unmistakable affection.
"You've thought this through, haven't you?"
Rayan scratched the back of his head.
"She's my friend. It would be nice if we started this stage together."
Grandpa's expression softened.
He had expected Rayan to ask for Ran to receive help.
He hadn't necessarily expected his grandson to delay his own advancement for her sake.
It was a small gesture, but it told him something important about the boy.
Rayan was ambitious.
He wanted to become strong.
He wanted to master the family's ancient techniques.
But he wasn't so obsessed with his own progress that he would forget the people close to him.
Grandpa patted his shoulder.
"Very well. We'll wait until next month."
Rayan smiled.
"Thank you, Grandpa."
Grandpa nodded.
"However, the books remain your responsibility."
Rayan's smile vanished.
There it is.
I knew there had to be a catch.
Grandpa burst out laughing.
"Hahahaha! Don't look so miserable! You're preparing for the Necromancer Academy, not being sentenced to prison!"
Rayan glanced at the books.
I'm not entirely convinced there's a difference.