Nexus: New World

Chapter 4: Spellcraft of the Infant Archon – A Cradle Stirred by Sorcery

Chapter 4: Spellcraft of the Infant Archon – A Cradle Stirred by Sorcery

Months had trickled by like golden sand through an hourglass etched in runes, and Elias—newborn heir of the boundless Holloway dominion—had dutifully fulfilled the sacred obligations of infancy: namely, doing absolutely fucking nothing but sleep, drool, and endure the indignity of frequent cheek-pinching.

Yet, through it all, Elias retained his sanity by threading his consciousness with mana. It became his ritual, his secret. Each day, beneath the silken canopy of his cradle, he summoned the elemental tides from the surrounding atmosphere, feeding the arcane stones embedded in the very marrow of his reborn form.

As the days bloomed into weeks, he began to feel it more clearly—an intimate familiarity blooming between him and the mana that saturated the air. He could taste the density of magic upon his tongue, differentiate between the drifting flavors of Earth, Fire, Water, and Air. He could see it, like colored snow falling unseen to common eyes.

But this wasn't merely spiritual masturbation. Something profound was shifting in his tiny form. Mana was not just energy—it was nutrition for the soul. As Elias consumed it, his fragile limbs grew firmer, his muscles subtly coiled beneath his baby fat. He could almost stand.

Almost.

Of course, these trials of movement could only occur when no one was fucking watching. Which, unfortunately, was rare.

If he wasn’t being smothered in kisses by the sun-eyed priestess he called mother, he was being passed around like an enchanted teddy bear among the mansion’s maidens, all of whom treated him like some cuddly demigod summoned for their personal amusement. They showed him every enchanted artifact, every glowing corridor and tapestry-laced hallway, all while poking and prodding at his cheeks like it was a national sport.

The cunt Celestial Being gave me the face of a saint and the charm of a succubus, he grumbled internally.

Yes—he was a victim of his own glorious aesthetics. The price of beauty was paid in pinches and praise.

It took him nearly two months of subtle espionage—listening in on idle maid gossip, half-muttered spats, and pillow talk muttered at his sleeping form—to finally unearth the names of his parental units.

His mother, the goddess of warmth and smothering affection, was named Lylia. His father, a ghost clad in business attire and silence, was Bart. A man so elusive, he might’ve been a legend woven from paper contracts and tax filings.

The rare quarrels between his mother and the absent lord usually revolved around vague business ventures in the “ashed Lands”—a name that sounded like a place where kingdoms went to die. She didn’t like his absence, and made that very clear during her nightly complaints to Elias.

And he? He was Elias Holloway—a name that resounded like a war horn in the mouth of power. According to the Celestial Being, the Holloway weren’t merely wealthy—they were wealth itself, distilled into a bloodline.

Not that it fucking helped with the heat. Despite the infinite wealth, there wasn’t a single cooling enchantment or air-circulation rune installed in the estate.

He comforted himself with dreams of inheritance, picturing himself one day sitting atop mountains of gold and hiring mages to carry fans for him made of phoenix feathers.

But that was a future yet to come. For now, he remained an archmage imprisoned in a crib.

When Elias turned one, the sky itself nearly cracked from the celebrations.

His mother, goddess of indulgence, deemed the event worthy of a private venue. And by ‘private venue,’ she apparently meant a structure large enough to host dragon duels and skyship landings. The damned thing stretched as far as the eye could see, a colossal arena of white stone, enchanted banners, and floating lanterns. It took them an hour-long carriage ride just to reach the other side.

And yet, she frowned.

“I’m sorry, my precious. Next year, Mommy promises to build you something grander. This is so… pathetically small.”

Small, she said. Elias had seen fucking stadiums smaller than this in his old life.

The sheer manpower alone baffled him. No bulldozers. No machines. Only raw muscle, enchanted tools, and the relentless casting of spells by battalions of mages.

He watched, from his padded cradle-throne, as sorcerers summoned cyclones to tear down trees, conjured rock slides to crush boulders, and wove heatless flames to mold steel.

It was the most beautiful spectacle he had ever seen.

[Magic Theory Acquired.]

[Magic Theory Acquired.]

[Magic Theory Acquired.]

[Magic Theory Acquired.]

[Magic Theory Acquired.]

The digital voice of Nexus-1, his mysterious spectral steward, echoed each notification with dispassionate poise. With each spell witnessed, Elias devoured not only the sight—but the understanding. Nexus-1 parsed the magic, broke it down into diagrams and formulas, and uploaded them straight into Elias’s cortex.

He watched how wind mages gathered elemental particles from the air, pulled them through the abdomenal mana core, then funneled it through their arms and into a visible release. Like symphonic choreography, mana obeyed will, became art.

And when the celebration was over and he was back within the silken silence of his cradle, Elias made his move.

Let’s see if this tiny body can spit some magic.

He called up one of the simplest spells Nexus-1 had cataloged:

[Spell: Tornado]

— ★★★

— Element: Air

— Description: Conjures a whirling column of wind that pulls and devours all in its path.

He reached inward, focusing his will.

Nothing.

Not enough mana. His baby body simply couldn’t contain the torrent required.

Fine. Scale it back.

Nexus-1 brought up the lesser incantations—the single-star spells. Training wheels for fledgling sorcerers. And those? Those were within his reach.

[Water Ball]

— ★

— Element: Water

— A basic spell that forms a floating sphere of water.

[Ember]

— ★

— Element: Fire

— Summons a small flame from the fingertip.

[Rock Throw]

— ★

— Element: Earth

— Lifts and launches a small stone.

[Wind Blow]

— ★

— Element: Air

— Releases a controlled gust of wind.

His eyes closed. The air grew still.

From the depths of his belly, mana stirred.

A shimmering glob of water materialized on his left hand, trembling but stable. A hiss of flame danced on his fingertip. A pebble rose with a twitch of will. A breeze spiraled into existence like a whispered promise.

All four elements hovered before him, tiny miracles born from a baby’s breath.

And with a flick of his wrist, Elias hurled them toward the wall—

TUK!

The water splashed. The stone clattered. The flame sizzled. The wind howled.

He lay back, grinning like a madman.

“I’m a fucking infant. And I just cast four elemental spells.”

[Correction:] Nexus-1 chimed.

[You are not merely an infant. You are the nascent core of a magical superstorm.]

Elias chuckled internally.

Damn right I am.