Chapter 5 –Aura Projector
As the sun climbed the sky in heavy, deliberate steps, the outer garden bathed in a golden glow. The family had returned to their usual morning routine: Orin was working by the dock, while Lyra sat in the play area inside the house, next to Aelion—sipping her tea and glancing through her book.
Aelion, just four months old, suddenly heard sounds he'd never heard before. In his platinum eyes, a spark of awakened curiosity gleamed. The extraordinary mental development he'd shown since birth had already pushed him far beyond the boundaries of ordinary infancy.
That remarkable intelligence, so clear from the moment he was born, revealed itself once again. Among children of noble lineage, awareness typically surfaced around the fourth month, but Aelion—already at one and a half months—had made his unusual nature felt with those conscious, searching eyes.
Succumbing to his curiosity, Aelion crawled toward the source of the sound. The door was closed; he was too small to reach. Yet, with determined little hands, he grasped the threshold and began to climb with a stubborn resolve.
Lyra, noticing his persistent struggle, closed her book quietly, set aside her tea, and stood up. She gently opened the door. Aelion paused, stunned by the scene beyond—then, with excitement, began to crawl forward.
Suddenly, he found himself among dozens of elves, in a scene shaped by mana. For Aelion, who had seen only three people in his short life, such a multitude of faces and such vibrant energy was overwhelming—he began to feel a little anxious.
A bit further into the room, Elara was in the center, brimming with excitement. A new episode of the elf drama was airing today, and she had been waiting eagerly all week.
The show was projected by the Aura Projector, one of the home's most prized entertainment devices.
Thousands of years ago, humans had developed television, film, and series, igniting an age of cultural warfare. Through this, they could broadcast their own stories to the whole world—even forging alliances with some powerful races. The elves didn't just adopt this technology; they perfected it, elevating it to a new level:
Now, you didn't just watch; the scenes came alive through mana, and the viewer found themselves inside the story. These cultural transmissions, especially in times of peace, nourished not only entertainment, but also the search for spiritual balance.
Aelion was still uneasy. The crowd, the lights, and the sounds were too much for him.
Lyra noticed the intensity in his gaze. In an instant, she scooped him into her arms—and was stunned. For the first time, she saw an expression other than crying.
On Aelion's face, this first real reaction was a subtle blend of awe and tension.
Calming a little, Aelion looked around carefully. Then, reaching out toward one of the elf women on stage, he tried to touch her.
His fingers passed through her and fell to the floor.
The surprise in his eyes lingered. — The next day, he returned. And the day after that…
The Aura Projector room was no longer just a viewing area for him—it became a field of discovery. Each time he entered, he was mesmerized by a new scene, a different culture, or an unfamiliar race. Different formats, different stories… This device became his first "toy."
By the time Aelion was six months old, he had learned to walk. Slowly, with determined steps, he would enter the room, now observing the scenes with more conscious eyes.
He had started to sense that what he was seeing wasn't real. Yet, he still enjoyed it—except this time.
Until one day… when the dark, heavy drama of the "demon" race appeared on the screen.
The scene was suffocating.
Aelion turned his head away, scrunching his face in displeasure.
Bored, he turned to the side… and with an instinctive reflex—without really understanding what he was doing—released a faint wave of mana.
The screen changed instantly.
Aelion was surprised. He tried again. It changed.
Once more… the screen changed again.
Lyra, meanwhile, watched him from a corner, her gaze calm, but her heart was a storm.
Because controlling mana waves was something only fifth-rank and higher users could do.
Very rarely, prodigies at the third or fourth rank displayed this ability at an early age—but in a baby? In her nearly six hundred years as a Saint, she had never seen or heard of a baby releasing mana waves.
Witnessing Aelion shaping mana shook Lyra's intuition to its core.
As Aelion watched the magical battles unfold on the screen, a sparkle of pleasure danced in his eyes.
With the first light of morning, Lyra awoke, passed quietly through the kitchen, and made her way to the storage area in the eastern wing. From outside, the wooden panel looked like any ordinary cabinet. The moment she pressed her hand gently to the surface, delicate veins of mana streamed from her fingertips, glowing like living threads; the panel slid open on its own.
Behind the door appeared the grand library she had built with her own hands, expanded with the power of spatial magic. Illuminated by crystal chandeliers, this vast hall of knowledge was deep, silent, and sacred—impossibly larger than it seemed from outside. Between the floating shelves, spheres of knowledge created by mana hovered, while research notes glimmered on holographic screens…
For a whole day, she meticulously sifted through millions of data chains on high resonance, child development, and mana attunement. Yet the results were contradictory and incomplete.
On the cool evening of the second day, a title in the deepest archives caught Lyra's eye:
"High Early Resonance – Spontaneous Mana Emission in Infants"
Ever since mana began to interact with the world, some infants have started emitting mana waves, whether by instinct or for unexplained reasons. Yet, for infants below the fifth rank, mana waves are an uncontrollable force; this is why, in those below this level, mana eruptions occur, and the infants do not survive. Those who do not erupt—who achieve the expected asymmetric harmony between body and mana—are able to form a more human attunement by suppressing mana waves under the guidance of saint-level power centers.
At that moment, Lyra's heart tightened with a heavy ache. Reading about thousands of cases ending in fatal eruptions, she was swept by a deep worry—and a slight relief—that the survivors only endured under the supervision and control of saintly beings.