Arcane Warfare: From the Ashes of a Disposable Soldier

 As the first rays of dawn filtered through the worn fabric of the military tent, Cedar stirred from a restless sleep.

 Outside the camp, Ivan, who had returned to his post after the surreal encounter, lay restless. His breathing was uneven, his body betraying the turmoil that lingered from the shared vision.

 When Ivan finally blinked awake, his hazel eyes were clouded with confusion and dread. He sat up slowly, rubbing at his temples as if trying to dispel the lingering specter of the dream. "That…" His voice was raw and unsteady. "That wasn't just a dream, was it?"

 Cedar sat upright, his expression heavy with understanding. "No, Ivan. That was real."

 Even now, he could feel the weight of Len's presence, like a spectral hand clutching the edges of his consciousness. Len's power was vast, ancient, and undeniable—a force that had etched itself into Cedar's very being.

 Ivan's hands trembled slightly as he exhaled, his breath visible in the morning chill. "The grimoire, the bloody vessel… what do we do now?"

 Sitting up, Cedar placed a steadying hand on Ivan's shoulder. "We train. We learn everything we can from the grimoire. If we're going to survive what's coming, we need to get stronger. And fast."

 Ivan's nod was hesitant, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. But beneath that hesitation was a spark of determination—a faint glimmer of resolve that mirrored Cedar's own.

 Outside the tent, the soft sounds of soldiers and mages moving about the camp created a stark contrast to the heavy silence inside. It was a reminder that while the world moved on, Cedar and Ivan were about to delve into a path that could change everything.

 Yet even as Cedar resolved to move forward, a secret stirred within him. One he had carried for as long as he could remember.

 Not even Ivan knew. Not even Len. The Red Eye Fever, that violent, bloodthirsty state that overtook him in moments of extreme danger, had a cost.

 Each time it happened, it left him comatose. And in those comas, he dreamed—visions that felt too vivid, too detailed to be mere fabrications of the mind. They felt like fragments of something… real.

 Each dream was a window into something darker, something hidden:

 In the first, he was bound in a cold, damp dungeon. Chains bit into his wrists, the scent of mildew and despair thick in the air.

 He could feel every bruise, every wound, every ounce of exhaustion as he waited for death to claim him. The faces of his captors were blurred, yet their voices—mocking, cruel—echoed in his mind like an unrelenting curse.

 In the second, he stood on a battlefield drenched in blood. The screams of the dying filled his ears as he knelt over a defeated enemy.

 His hands gripped their trembling form as he drained the last drop of life from their body. Their terror-stricken eyes burned into his memory, but his focus was on the power. The dark, intoxicating thrill of absorbing their essence made his veins hum with energy.

 And in the third, he sat upon a shattered throne, the world around him reduced to ruin. At his feet knelt a trembling woman, her face hidden by the fall of her hair. She didn't speak, but her silence carried an unbearable weight.

 The power he felt in that moment—the authority, the dominion over her and all else—made his skin crawl. Yet he couldn't deny the allure of it.

 These weren't ordinary dreams; they were fragments of something buried deep within him, shadows of a truth he couldn't yet grasp.

 Even Len, with all his ancient power and boundless knowledge, hadn't uncovered their meaning. That alone was reason enough to keep them hidden. The truth could wait.

 Cedar had long grown accustomed to the mysterious fog that shrouded his existence, a veil of enigma he neither fought nor fully embraced. It was simply there, an ever-present companion in his journey.

 But now, for the first time in what felt like forever, the fog hinted at something tangible. Maybe even an opportunity to meet 'her' again.

 Yet the moment wasn't right. Not now.

 Survival and strength—these were the priorities. Everything else would have to wait.

 Over the next two days, Cedar and Ivan threw themselves into training with an intensity born of desperation. Most of the time they are on their own as Len only appeared in Cedar's dream to guide them.

 Len's first lesson was deceptively simple but revolutionary: how to store the grimoire within one's mana core.

 The process required intricate control, demanding that Cedar synchronize his essence with the grimoire's pulsating power.

 Each attempt felt like wrestling with a living creature—the grimoire resisted, its raw energy clawing at his core. But after hours of painstaking effort, he succeeded. The artifact now resided within him, hidden from the eyes of anyone who might seek to exploit it.

"Impressive," Len remarked, his voice cold but laced with a faint note of approval. "Now, let's see if you can grasp the basics of Purify magic."

 Purify magic.

 A seemingly simple concept with profound implications. The spell allowed Cedar to strip mana of all personal imprints, rendering it neutral and safe for others to absorb.

 Len's plan was clear: Cedar would purify and store his mana, then use it to help Ivan strengthen his second circle and form a third. Once Ivan achieved his breakthrough, he would do the same for Cedar, accelerating his growth in turn.

 After managing to use the magic in the dream, Cedar could sure that he could do it outside.

 Cedar's first attempts at Purify magic in the real world were clumsy, the process draining him faster than expected. But with persistence, he began to find a rhythm, each session bringing him closer to mastery.

 After a few tries, Cedar has helped Ivan refine his 2nd circle near breakthrough.

 On the final day of their camp, Cedar sat cross-legged across from Ivan.

 His breathing steady as he focused inward. The mana within his core stirred, vibrant and restless. Using the Purify spell, he guided it through the intricate process of transformation. Slowly, the energy shifted, its raw essence turning smooth and neutral.

"Ready?" Ivan asked, his tone steady but his eyes reflecting a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

 Cedar nodded, extending his hand toward Ivan. "Let's do this."

 With deliberate precision, Cedar released the purified mana in controlled waves. The energy flowed from him like a gentle stream, luminous and untainted. Ivan closed his eyes, his expression tightening in deep concentration as he opened his core to receive it.

 His aura flickered faintly at first, then flared brighter with each surge of mana as it integrated with his second circle, a steady rhythm of light and power building within him.

 Time seemed to stretch as the process continued, the atmosphere around them growing dense, charged with the resonance of merging energies.

 Beads of sweat formed on Ivan's brow, his body trembling slightly as he guided the influx of mana with meticulous care. Cedar could see it happening—the faint glow of Ivan's second circle intensifying, pulsing like a heartbeat as it absorbed the pure energy.

 Then, with a sudden surge, the first circle within Ivan's core began to resonate in harmony with the second.

 The two circles of light spun faster, their energies growing brighter and more vibrant with every passing moment. The air around Ivan rippled as if bending under the force of his growing power.

 Cedar watched, captivated, as the two glowing rings began to overlap, their light intertwining in an intricate dance. A sharp hum filled the air, a sound that resonated deep within Cedar's chest.

 For a brief, breathtaking moment, the overlapping circles seemed unstable, their combined energy surging and sparking like a storm trapped within Ivan's core.

 But then, the mana surged outward in a flash of brilliance, forcing the two circles to fuse.

 From that fusion, a third circle emerged, forming seamlessly around the other two. Its green light was radiant and steady, etched with glowing runes that pulsed with a quiet, undeniable strength.

 Cedar exhaled sharply as the final wave of mana flowed into Ivan, signaling the end of the process. He felt the shift—an unmistakable breakthrough.

 Ivan's eyes snapped open, glowing faintly with the energy coursing through him, and his aura erupted like a storm.

 The force of it filled the tent, dense and electric, pressing down on Cedar like the weight of an oncoming tide. Ivan's breathing was heavy, his body still as he adjusted to the newfound power.

 As a result of the breakthrough, subtle yet undeniable changes swept over Ivan, drawing him closer to the ancestry Len had once hinted at when attempting to awaken traces of his dormant bloodline.

 His skin now held a delicate luminescence, as if touched by starlight, giving it a faint ethereal glow that caught the dim light in the tent with an almost divine quality.

 His silver hair, damp from exertion, shimmered like spun moonlight, its strands appearing liquid in their smooth, flowing brilliance.

 It framed his features with a striking elegance that seemed to amplify his noble bearing. Ivan's once-muted gray eyes transformed into radiant pools of luminous silver, their depths swirling with a reflective, almost hypnotic intensity.

 They no longer looked human—they held a clarity and wisdom that hinted at something ancient, something otherworldly.

 Even the aura around him shifted, becoming more composed yet commanding, as though his very presence now carried the weight of a forgotten legacy.

 It was not just a change in appearance but a transformation that reached into the core of who he was—a glimpse of the heritage lying dormant within him, now stirred into life.

 For a moment, Ivan simply sat there, his chest rising and falling as the intensity of the moment settled into him.

 Cedar, though drained from the effort, managed a small, weary smile. "You did it."

 Ivan exhaled deeply, a soft laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his now shimmering silver hair. "No, we did it."

 His voice carried a mix of gratitude and quiet resolve, and the determination burning in his gaze was unmistakable. This was just the beginning.

 By employing the ancient and intricate breakthrough method of the elves, as instructed by Len, Ivan's once-diluted bloodline had taken a significant step toward awakening its latent potential.

 His connection to his ancestor, Asterius, felt stronger now—closer, as though a bridge had formed between the distant past and his present self.