Chapter 4: Chapter 3: Mira And Three Percent

The morning stayed bright, the sun riding high above Mermaid’s Cove as the town slowly returned to its usual rhythm—though not without a few glances toward the strange carriage parked near the square.

Mira had wandered down the path behind the general store, heading toward her favorite spot by the rocky cliffs. The sea was loud here, crashing below, but the wind carried a calm that helped her think.

She sat down on her usual bench and pulled the paper bag into her lap.

Inside were her new gloves—stitched with love by her mother.

“All right, let’s see how well you channel,” she said, slipping them on with care.

She flexed her fingers, then held one palm out toward a small rock near the bench.

A gentle whoosh of wind gathered at her fingertips and pushed the rock with a satisfying plop into the grass.

Mira smiled. “Nice.”

Behind her, someone cleared their throat.

“Practicing again, Mira-nee?”

She turned to see Finn, the baker’s son—grinning sheepishly with a roll of bread in one hand and flour on his cheek.

“Hey, Finn. You’re up early.”

“Had to deliver to the docks,” he said, sitting cross-legged beside her. “And also... wanted to see if the rumors were true.”

“What rumors?”

“That there’s a prince in town!” he said with wide eyes. “They said he had gold hair and boots so shiny you could see your reflection in them!”

Mira raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“Well, is it true? You’re always the first to know stuff.” Finn’s eyes widened, excited.

She shrugged. “I saw him from afar. Looked like royalty. Stood like royalty. Probably is.”

Finn leaned in. “Do you think he’s here for you?”

That made Mira blink. “Me? Why would a prince be here for me?”

“I dunno,” he said, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “Maybe he heard about the ‘Saintess of the South’ and came to propose!”

She bonked him lightly on the head with her knuckle. “Stop reading romance novels.”

“Ow—come on, Mira-nee,” he laughed. “You’d look cool with a tiara.”

“I’d rather look at spellbooks,” she muttered, adjusting her gloves as she stepped into the clearing just beyond the pines.

This was her private practice spot—solid earth, wide sky, and enough space that no one would complain about scorched grass or frozen trees.

She pulled her hair back into a loose tie, brushed the dust from her sleeves, and took a deep breath.

“All right, gloves. I’ll start with five percent mana output,” she whispered. “Show me what you’ve got.”

She squared her stance, boots rooted.

“Fireball.”

She raised her right hand. Magic gathered—warm, bright, eager. A sphere of red flame spun to life in her palm, pulsing with heat.

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She flicked her wrist.

Boom.

The fireball hit a weathered boulder with a low thud and burst in a spray of sparks. Steam rose from the impact point.

“Too much juice,” Mira muttered, scratching her chin. “Let’s tune down to three percent. I don’t want to create another crater.”

She turned.

“Wind Blade.”

This time she swept her left arm through the air.

A sudden gust coiled around her fingers, then snapped forward in a sharp arc.

The crescent blade zipped across the clearing, slicing clean through a patch of tall grass and carving a neat line into the bark of a tree trunk beyond.

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“Hah. Clean cut.”

She tapped her gloves. The channeling was smooth. The spell flowed beautifully.

“Earth Spike.”

Mira crouched, pressing her palms to the ground. Brown sigils flickered beneath her boots.

A thick pillar of earth burst upward in a jagged spike. It stood for a second—then crumbled under its own weight.

“Too slow,” she muttered. “That’s on me. I hesitated. Sorry, earth.”

She patted the dirt apologetically and stood again.

“Ice Spear.”

Cold bloomed in the air around her as she summoned frost into her fingertips. A pale-blue spear shimmered into being, sleek and sharp as glass.

She threw it with practiced aim.

It struck another boulder and exploded in a shower of shards.

Mira shielded her eyes, then lowered her hand, frowning.

“Still veers left. Hm. Maybe the gloves are overcorrecting?”

She began pacing slowly in a circle, breathing steady.

Her mana swirled just beneath her skin—quiet but ready. Like a tide waiting for the moon.

At last, she turned toward the sea.

She raised her hand.

“Ice Frost.”

The word left her lips like a secret.

Her magic stirred gently—no thunder, no roar. Just calm, absolute control.

Frost bloomed across her gloves.

Below the cliffs, the waves slowed.

A faint blue sigil lit beneath her boots. No burst. No blaze. Just a pulse of perfect precision.

She pointed two fingers toward the water.

Crack.

A small section of sea—no more than a few meters wide—froze solid.

Just like that.

A thin, glassy sheet spread across the surface. Light danced on it. The waves lapped at its edges but didn’t break.

The tide accepted it. No protest.

Mira let her hand drop.

The glow faded.

The spell held.

She watched the ice float serenely in place, undisturbed. Perfect.

And smiled.

“That’s better,” she murmured. “I think I’m getting used to the gloves.”

She took a breath. The wind tasted of salt and stillness.

Her mana stirred softly within her. Calm. Deep. She could’ve frozen the whole bay if she wanted—maybe even farther.

But she didn’t. She didn’t need to.

“Mira-nee! That was so cool!”

As the ice began to melt, Finn burst out from the bushes, eyes wide with wonder.

Mira stretched with a soft sigh, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “How many times have I told you? Don’t come near me when I’m practicing.”

“I didn’t,” he said, dramatically clutching his chest. “I was at least twenty feet away."

She gave him a look. “That’s not safe enough. You’re lucky it was only three percent.”

“Wait… that was three percent?” His jaw dropped. “You froze the sea with three percent?”

Mira blinked. “Well… sort of.”

“That’s not normal, Mira-nee. Look at those adventurers at your father’s guild.” He plopped onto a nearby rock, shaking his head in disbelief. “Maybe you’re a real Saintess after all.”

Mira laughed. “More like a disaster prevention consultant.”

Finn tilted his head. “Huh?”

“See that pond over there?” Mira pointed with her thumb. “It wasn’t there before. I accidentally blew open the ground when I was eight. That’s how it became a pond.”

Finn swallowed hard. “...Okay, that’s actually kind of scary.”

She sighed and sat beside him. “It’s not supposed to be. I just… have a lot of magic. Too much, sometimes. So I practice to hold back. A lot.”

Finn looked at her for a moment, then offered her a piece of his bread.

She took it with a quiet, “Thanks.”

“You know,” he said after a moment, swinging his legs. “If I were you, I’d be showing off every day. Big explosions. Lightning in the sky. Ice slides through town.”

“Explosions are easy,” Mira said, taking a bite. “Control is the hard part.”

Finn whistled. “Deep. That’s too complicated for me. I’m only ten years old.” He laughed.

They sat in silence for a while, watching the last of the frozen patch sink beneath the tide.

“What do you think the prince is really doing here, Mira-nee?” Finn asked eventually.

Mira shrugged. “Maybe he’s just bored and wants to see how fish markets work.”

Finn gave her a sideways glance. “I’m ten, Mira-nee. Not three.”

She patted Finn’s head. “Good. Then act like it. Don’t think too much.”

He stood up and dusted off his pants. “Anyway, I better get back before my mom starts asking where I’ve wandered off to.”

“Don’t tell anyone what you saw,” Mira said, standing with him.

“I won’t,” he said. Then paused, grinning. “But you’ll have to make me your bridesman when you marry the prince.”

Mira groaned. “You’re never dropping that, are you?”

“Nope!” He waved over his shoulder as he jogged off. “See you later, Mira–sama!”

Mira shook her head, smiling despite herself.

Then she turned back toward the sea.

The last shimmer of ice was gone, swallowed by the tide.

But the quiet stillness remained.

…Meanwhile, back in town, Lucien stood at the window of his inn room, sipping tea as he watched the harbour below with unreadable eyes.

“She’s here,” he said softly.

Cassian, seated across from him with a stack of paperwork, didn’t look up. “Who?”

“The Saintess,” Lucien murmured. “I think I felt her… at the square.”

Cassian closed the file in his lap. “You’re being paranoid again.”

Lucien’s golden eyes glinted. “Maybe. But you can’t deny there are traces of mana everywhere in this town. That means they have someone powerful here.”

“Powerful?” Cassian pushed up his glasses. “Judging from the density, I’d say B-class at best. Far from truly powerful.”

Lucien smiled faintly. “That’s why I love having you around, Cassian. You see numbers. I see stories." He turned from the window and set down his cup.

“Let’s go for a walk, shall we?”