Witch Taming System

Lancel stepped out of the Gretelle Mansion and into the yard. It had been three days since he had devoted himself entirely to studying elemental resonance.

Nearby, in the gazebo, Countess Gretelle was calmly sipping her tea. The moment she noticed him walking out, with Fiore following close behind, she lifted her gaze.

"What are you two up to?"

"Master, could you take a look at Lancel’s progress?" Fiore asked.

"Progress? Has he already figured out his natural attunement?"

"I think I did," Lancel replied. "But I’m not completely sure. I do have a spell to show you, though."

"Show me."

To Countess Gretelle, this was unusual. He had only been studying elemental resonance for a week.

If someone rushed to determine their attunement and committed to the wrong path, they could end up wasting years before realizing their mistake. While she knew Lancel was far from ordinary, this was still unexpected.

Even so, she chose to indulge him.

After all, establishing a favorable connection with Lancel was important. Countess Gretelle had a feeling—no, a certainty—that he would become someone significant in the future.

At that moment, Lancel extended his hand. Mana began to gather, slithering along his arm and concentrating toward his fingertips.

"...."

Even that alone was unusual. Normally, mana flowed from the womb, traveling through established circuits before being expressed through the palm, not the fingertips.

Still, she held her tongue and observed.

———!

His mana, a strikingly pure white, began to glow, growing even brighter as it concentrated.

That, too, was strange.

Countess Gretelle’s own mana carried a blue hue when gathered. Fiore’s leaned toward green. Most witches developed a distinct coloration as their mana matured, shaped by their affinity and experience.

But Lancel’s remained white.

Not just white, but pure white.

There was no witch in existence whose mana stayed that way beyond the early stages of learning. Yes, in childhood, when a witch had just begun to manipulate mana, it would appear white.

But over time, it would inevitably take on color.

And yet, Lancel’s mana was even whiter than that.

While Countess Gretelle could barely recall the specifics of her own childhood, she was certain her mana had never been this pristine. At best, it had bordered on silver or a faint gray.

But this, for some reason, lacked impurities to an unnatural degree.

Still, she might have been jumping to conclusions. For all she knew, his mana would eventually begin to discolor like any other.

In any case, the mana gathered at Lancel’s fingertips began to take shape.

"...!"

It lasted only for a brief instant, but in that moment, his pure white mana flickered into a void of black.

No, it was not just black, but something darker than darkness itself.

For a split second, Countess Gretelle wondered if she had imagined it. The change had been so fleeting that it was easy to be mistaken.

After all, Fiore hadn’t reacted at all.

But then again, that kind of perception required experience, something Fiore didn’t yet have.

———!

His mana then took shape.

For a brief moment, a Hexencircle formed, and in that instant, something shot out from it, darting away before it could even be properly seen.

"Do that again."

Perhaps Countess Gretelle was mistaken, but that magic had felt... familiar.

"...Okay."

For Lancel, however, this wasn’t easy. Even forming the Hexencircle required him to keep precise calculations in mind, something he had yet to fully master.

Once more, the Hexencircle appeared.

———!

And again, that bright flash shot out from it.

This time, Countess Gretelle focused entirely on that fleeting moment, observing closely and breaking down what she had just witnessed.

"...It resembles something that borders on creation magic..."

"Creation magic?"

"Yes. I’m certain I wasn’t mistaken." Her gaze remained fixed on where the construct had disappeared. "But what you produced... it took the form of a sword."

"Ah?"

Countess Gretelle fell silent for a moment, her brows knitting together as she began piecing things together.

"...No. That’s not quite right."

She turned to Lancel.

"Do it again."

Lancel raised his hand once more. Mana gathered again. The Hexencircle flared into existence, and once again, that flash shot out.

"...Again."

Lancel didn’t question it. He repeated the process again and again as per Countess Gretelle’s instructions.

"...Again."

This time, Countess Gretelle’s eyes narrowed as she followed every minute fluctuation in his mana.

"Slow it down."

"...I’ll try."

Lancel exhaled, forcing himself to focus. He held the mana longer this time, letting it build instead of releasing it immediately.

The Hexencircle stabilized for just a fraction longer, and for that fraction of time, the "sword" became clearer.

"I think I understand it now."

"Yes?"

"It seems like you’re constructing matter based on a conceptual template," Countess Gretelle said. "The sword is just the shape your mind defaulted to. What matters is the composition behind it."

"...Composition?"

Countess Gretelle lifted a hand, as if organizing her thoughts.

"Every element has a defined structure. When witches perform elemental resonance, they replicate properties."

Her eyes narrowed.

"But what you’re doing... is skipping that step."

"Skipping?"

"You’re not resonating with an element," she said. "You’re assembling it."

Fiore’s eyes widened slightly at that.

"...Wait, Master, are you saying—"

"Yes," Countess Gretelle cut in. "It seems like his mana isn’t aligning with a category in the periodic table."

She turned back to Lancel.

"It’s treating the periodic table as a library."

"...?"

"Instead of belonging to one group, your mana is referencing multiple structures at once and constructing something out of them."

She pointed to where the Hexencircle had appeared.

"That ’sword’ wasn’t a spell. It was a temporary assembly of matter, likely metallic, given its stability, but incomplete due to your lack of precision."

Lancel slowly clenched his hand.

"...Are you saying I can create anything?"

"No." Countess Gretelle shook her head immediately. "Not yet. Right now, you’re instinctively defaulting to simple, familiar forms. A sword is something your mind understands."

She stepped closer.

"But if my conjecture is correct..."

"...."

"You don’t have a natural attunement."

"...What?"

"You’re not aligned to an element," she said. "You’re aligned to structure itself."

Fiore spoke up, glancing between them.

"Has there ever been a witch like that before, Master?"

"...There was," she said. "A witch from the olden times."

She looked back at Lancel.

"Merlin."

At that moment, a sudden chill ran down Lancel’s spine.