Flynn's affinity ceremony went mostly unseen. Everyone in the front rows were divided into two groups, and the people in the back were discussing Percy's ceremony.

Nevertheless, she was glad. She touched the pillar and got the same deep brown color that Hack, her older brother, got.

She had a good affinity for Earth spiritmancy. She could one day reach Rank 3 like her dad.

Not that anyone cared.

She walked off the stage as the next commoner child went in. She saw her family cheering for her, and a small smile and blush overcame her.

She glanced over at Percy; he was surrounded by people, so he wouldn't notice her ceremony. But Percy was glancing at her, turning back and forth between people.

When their eyes met, a bright smile lit up his face. Flynn couldn't help but look away, also smiling.

He's so busy, I shouldn't disturb him.

But the picture of his own ceremony was still stuck in her head, the image of him standing on stage with a pillar of three intense lights behind him.

His shifting eyes glowed in the shadows on his face. Everyone was upstanding, praising him with their loudest voices; even her own father was bewildered.

It was something that would happen only once in a thousand years. One spiritmancer with three affinities.

And not just weak affinities. All looked to at least reach Rank 5.

His earth affinity was so powerful that it glowed a liquid gold color. That was Rank 6.

There were only a few people like that in the entire kingdom—the dukes and the Hestia family.

The color shown on the pillar wasn't even a hard limit; it actually showed how powerful a person might one day become if they worked their absolute hardest.

With special elixirs and spirits, Percy could even ascend higher than that.

Yet he was frowning when he looked down at the crowd.

A sour look that, for some reason, didn't spoil the image in her head. It enhanced it in a strange way.

He was perfect even when he frowned.

That was who Perseus Amphene was, someone who defied logic and made the impossible look like a joke, all while being a good person.

Flynn was sure her head would be massive if she were half as talented as him. She would never see things the way he saw them, and maybe that was a good thing.

She was okay with that.

She was okay with never ascending to that hallowed level. It was reserved for exceptional people like Percy, Hephaestus, and Vanitas.

Before she met him, she was okay with that.

She closed her eyes, resting on one of the grand hall's walls. The room was filled with noise that made her skull itch.

I can't.

Accepting your place in the world is always the right thing to do. After all, you never know what suffering you'd bring on yourself by reaching for what you couldn't have.

She opened her eyes, and her amber eyes settled and her breathing relaxed. She went with a smile to celebrate with her family and prepare to imprint the spell he gave her the last thing they would share.

●——●

Vanitas led Percy and Thalos closer to the stage, where his father was standing close to the stairs.

Percy glanced backwards; Flynn had finished her own ceremony a while ago. He wanted to congratulate her soon, he was worried she'd be feeling down.

But the Count of Yarol demanded attention. He was a tall man, with a brown goatee and greying hair. His name was Dresden Neo.

Now that they were closer, Percy could see under his white hood. The Count looked healthy and like a somewhat quiet, reclusive man.

"Greetings, Sir Thalos, young Perseus." The Count nodded to them as they bowed. He had the same blue eyes as Vanitas, but these were deeper, hiding secrets beneath their surface.

"I am honoured by your offer, Lord Dresden," Percy said immediately, putting on his humblest face for now.

"Worry not, child," Dresden said, waving it off. "It is an honour to invest in the talent of Yarol. I heard you wanted to take Viscount Pyrrhos' offer. I have already sent a servant of mine to relay my apologies for poaching you."

They both laughed. Percy would likely still get the spell from the Viscount, but not now. Thalos' satchel was laden with scrolls already from people he rejected. It actually caught a lot of eyes because they had no servants to carry them.

"I wanted to support and build a mutual relation with the Chiton region," Percy said sincerely, putting on a childlike smile.

But Dresden's blue eyes peered into him; his face remained unchanged, just giving a little smile.

"Well then, I am glad to give you this spell. It is a wind spell given to my parents by travellers as tribute. They helped us translate it from their language. It is one of the more potent Rank 1 spells I've seen and a bit hard to control."

"Is the original language still there?" Percy asked immediately, interested in how spells change based on the language.

They were just tools to help focus the caster's intent and improve the spirit's understanding of the caster's intent after all.

Dresden nodded, drawing the scroll from inside his robe and handing it to him.

"I hear you are quite the innovator, so I can guess why you wanted to see it in its initial language. The name of the spell is [Forced Distance]. Now it might look simple but—"

"The spell is only four words," Percy said in astonishment. From the diagram on the scroll, he could see that the spell had a special gesture.

A palm movement like a cobra strike pointed at the opponent. Then the movement would create a corresponding rush of wind. There were other motions in the scroll, but the cobra strike was the most used.

The language was also indecipherable to him right now, but he knew it was from Shaasti—a nation across the pale seas.

He looked up to see Dresden's smile widen.

"I'm glad you like it," he said. "Will you give me the honour of having it imprinted?"

Percy nodded rapidly. "Yes, of course."

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