Demon Lord reborn as The Hero's Child

”Again,” Lyra announced from the back. Kōya glanced over his shoulder. ”Again?”

”I am not stopping until I make the light go where I want it to go.”

”That is going to take a while.”

”Then we will be here for a while.”

She raised the wand.

This time, she didn’t rush the process. Raw mana flowed steadily through her pathways. The small crystal glowed.

A round sphere of white light appeared. It moved slowly forward. Only a few inches from the crystal, but it stayed there. Hovering stable.

Lyra stared at it, holding her breath. Then her face brightened into triumph. ”I did it.”

Kōya nodded. ”You did.”

The light remained suspended for several seconds before fading.

Lyra lowered the wand, pleased with herself. She opened the heavy magic book again, flipping through the pages.

”This Chapter says there are different ways to shape raw mana.”

”Yes.”

”Can you teach me how?”

Kōya considered it. ”I can help you understand the core principles.”

”Only some?”

”I don’t know what kind of mage you will become.”

Lyra looked down at the page of diagrams. ”Neither do I.”

”That is probably for the best.”

”Why?”

”Because then you get to choose your path.”

She looked up quickly.

*Choose.*

She had heard that word several times since leaving Zeref’s fortress.

Each time, it meant a little more.

She turned the parchment page. ”What kind of magic do you think I should learn first?”

”Whatever you want to learn.”

”That is not helpful advice, Kōya.”

”It is honest advice.”

”Then what would you learn first in my position?”

Kōya thought about the threats in the dark. ”Defensive barrier magic.”

Lyra raised a skeptical eyebrow. ”Because you think I’ll need to protect myself out there?”

”Yes.”

She considered the logic. ”Anything else?”

”Basic healing.”

”You want me to heal you?”

”If it becomes necessary.”

”You do get injured a lot.”

”That is an unfortunate truth.”

”Then maybe I should learn healing.” She smiled. ”But I also want something offensive.”

Kōya nodded. ”You will need that capability too.”

Lyra’s eyes lit up. ”Lightning?”

Kōya looked back at her. ”Why lightning?”

”Because your primary magic is lightning.”

”My sword is lightning.”

”And you make it look powerful.”

”That is not a good reason to choose a volatile element.”

”It is a good reason to me.”

Kōya thought about the arcane theory involved. ”Lightning magic is difficult to control.”

”Good.”

”Why is that good?”

”Because if it were easy, I’d get bored with it.”

Kōya looked at her, exasperated. ”You are becoming a problem.”

Lyra smiled sweetly. ”You said I could choose.”

”I did.”

”Then I am choosing lightning.”

Kōya shook his head. ”Fine.”

Lyra flipped to another section of the book. ”Where do we start?”

”Not with lightning.”

Her excited face fell. ”Why not?”

”Because you still can’t make a basic light spell stay where you want it for more than ten seconds.”

”...Right.”

”One thing at a time.”

Lyra sighed dramatically, slumping against the canvas. ”Fine.”

She looked down at the text, then at her wand, then back at the book.

A few quiet minutes passed.

”What is this diagram?”

”Basic mana compression.”

”What’s this complex one?”

”Advanced flow control.”

”And this one?”

”Core elemental conversion.”

”What about that one?”

”Do not touch that spell.”

Lyra defiantly touched the glowing rune on the page.

The book flashed with blinding light. Kōya snatched the smoking book from her hands.

”Why did you do that?”

”You said not to!”

”Exactly my point!”

”You knew I would touch it!”

”I was hoping you possessed some self-preservation!”

”Hoping for what?”

”That you wouldn’t touch an explosive rune.”

Lyra smiled, unrepentant. ”You were disappointed.”

”Very.”

She laughed.

The muddy road stretched ahead of them.

The day passed slowly, the miles blurring together. They practiced arcane theory whenever they stopped the wagon to rest the horse. Sometimes Lyra succeeded. Sometimes she failed. Sometimes the spell refused to work at all.

Once, she triggered a static charge that made Kōya’s dark hair stand straight up on end.

He stared at her, unimpressed.

She stared back, her lip quivering.

Neither of them spoke.

Then she burst into laughter.

”Do not laugh at me,” Kōya ordered, trying to smooth his hair down.

”I am sorry.”

”You are not sorry.”

”No, I am not.”

Kōya sighed.

She laughed harder, holding her sides.

By the late evening, when they made camp, Lyra had managed to cast three functional spells.

A small, stable light. A concussive wind pulse. And a weak defensive barrier.

The shimmering barrier lasted for less than two seconds before shattering. But it worked.

She sat beside the crackling campfire that night, staring at her own hands. ”I actually did three.”

Kōya nodded, tending the fire. ”You did.”

”Yesterday morning I couldn’t do any.”

”That is how learning works.”

Lyra smiled at the flames. ”I like it.”

”What?”

”Learning things.”

She looked into the fire. ”Nobody ever taught me anything because they wanted me to grow.”

Kōya listened silently.

”They only taught me things because they needed my labor.”

She looked down at her polished wand resting in her lap. ”This feels different.”

”It is.”

She looked up at him, her eyes bright. ”I want to get stronger.”

Kōya nodded. ”Then you will.”

”Not because I have to survive. Not because someone ordered me to fight. Not because I will owe somebody a debt.” Lyra smiled. ”I will do it because I want to.”

Kōya looked back at the fire. ”Good.”

She leaned back against a log.

For a long while, neither of them spoke.

The night was peaceful. The wand rested beside Lyra. Her magic books lay open. Her new clothes were folded nearby. The sturdy bag Kōya had bought her sat beside her boots.

It all looked painfully ordinary.

But Lyra knew better. Every ordinary object represented something she had never been allowed to have.

A choice.

A personal possession.

A future.

She picked up the wooden wand. The small crystal glowed faintly in the firelight. This time, she didn’t try to cast anything complex. She simply held it, feeling the smooth wood.

”I think I like being a mage.”

Kōya looked over at her, amused. ”You haven’t learned a proper offensive spell yet.”

”I have learned three spells.”

”Two and a half.”

”The barrier worked.”

”For two seconds.”

”It still counts.”

Kōya smiled. ”Fine.”

”Three.”

”Three.”

Lyra rested the wand against her shoulder.

She looked out toward the dark road stretching into the night. Tomorrow morning, they would continue east. Eventually, they would reach the territory of Slane. Eventually, they would search for Mizuki. They would face whatever horrors waited beyond the border.

But tonight, sitting by the fire, Lyra could think about something else. She could hold true power in her own two hands.

And nobody could ever again tell her what she was allowed to become.