Now… it was time to train mana.
In this world, mana was everything.
It existed everywhere—flowing through the air, the earth, the oceans… even the stars.
Whether someone was an aura user or a magic user, their power came from the same source—mana.
But their path… was different.
Aura users pulled mana into their bodies and refined it into aura.
It became part of their muscles, bones, and bloodstream—giving them monstrous physical strength and durability.
They were the warriors. The frontline. The immovable wall.
Magic users, on the other hand, gathered mana from the atmosphere around them.
They shaped it, controlled it, and used it according to their elemental affinity—creating spells, enchantments, barriers, summons, and more.
Both had strengths.
Both had weaknesses.
Aura users were fast, hard-hitting, and devastating up close—but struggled with ranged control.
Magic users had flexibility, overwhelming elemental force, and battlefield dominance—but lacked the raw toughness of aura knights.
At the time of awakening, most people naturally fell toward one path.
But that didn't mean they were completely locked in.
An aura user could learn to manipulate mana and cast spells.
A mage could train their body and develop aura.
But doing both?
It was rare. Incredibly rare.
Like finding a single drop of rain in a desert.
Why?
Because training both paths meant dividing your focus—your time, your energy, your spirit.
Progress became painfully slow.
Mastery? A distant dream.
And the process? Brutal. Unforgiving.
Your body would reject what it wasn't built for.
Your mana would rebel if you forced it down a path it didn't recognize.
But those who succeeded…
They became monsters.
Sword-wielding magicians.
Spell-casting knights.
The kind of people who could slice mountains and burn down cities.
Legends.
And that's the path I was choosing.
I want it all.
The sword.
The spells.
The strength.
The freedom.
Who wouldn't want to slice a boulder in half with one swing… then call down lightning with the snap of a finger?
Even just thinking about it made my heart race with excitement.
This road would be hell.
But it would be my hell.
And I was ready to walk it.
It had been two hours.
Two full hours of sitting still, palms open, eyes closed, and trying to force the impossible into reality.
Mana.
It took me a whole hour—an entire hour—just to conjure the smallest thread of it.
And even then, the result was pathetic. A flicker. A spark. Gone within seconds.
No flame.
No warmth.
Nothing lasting.
My mana control was sluggish, imprecise—like trying to sculpt fire with trembling hands.
I could feel it now, clearer than ever:
I was weak.
If I wanted to survive what's coming… if I wanted to protect Liana, to defy the fate written in the original story—I had to get stronger.
And that meant this… this slow grind.
This exhaustion.
This pain.
The second hour passed in strained silence, the only sound in the room was my breath—short and ragged.
By the end of it, I was completely drained.
Physically. Mentally. Spiritually.
My muscles screamed.
My mana core felt hollow, like an ember burned out too soon.
I checked the time.
Half past midnight.
I couldn't push any further.
Dragging myself to my feet, I stumbled to the bed and collapsed onto it.
No strength left in my limbs. No spark left in my chest.
Just aching flesh… and a fire buried deep inside that refused to die.
Tomorrow, I thought.
Tomorrow, I'll be better.
I closed my eyes.
And sleep finally came.
A New Routine
I woke up as the first light of dawn crept across the sky.
The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a faint golden hue across the room.
My muscles still ached—a dull, persistent soreness from yesterday's training—but it was manageable now. A good pain. A reminder that I had started walking down the path I chose.
More importantly, my mana core felt full again.
I stretched lightly, letting the stiffness ease out of my limbs.
Then, I sat on the floor, legs crossed, palms facing up.
Time to begin.
---
Mana Training: Session One
Fire.
The element I had some familiarity with—thanks to the Thorne family's spear style training.
Yesterday, it had taken me nearly an hour just to summon a flicker.
But today…
With a focused breath and steady will, a small flame danced in the air above my palm.
Unstable.
Flickering.
But alive.
I still couldn't hold it for long, but the improvement was clear.
Progress.
I kept going until every ounce of mana in my body was drained.
By the time I was done, sweat clung to my forehead and my breathing was shallow.
Right on time, the door creaked open.
Liana stepped in with a tray of food, scolding me gently like always.
I smiled and ate.
---
Physical Training
Next was the training ground.
The same routine:
Run until I couldn't.
Push-ups. Sit-ups. Core drills.
Crush my body to the point of collapse.
Once I was on the verge of breaking, I picked up my sword.
Basic slashes.
Piercing thrusts.
Footwork, angles, recovery—all of it again and again until my arms felt like stone.
By the time I finished, it was noon.
---
Mana Training: Session Two
With my mana core recharged, I returned to the second round of practice.
Again, the flicker of fire.
Again, trying to control its shape and stability.
One hour.
It drained me, but I could feel my control slowly sharpening—like a blade honed day by day.
---
Liana returned again with lunch.
We ate under the shade of the old tree near the training field, her soft voice and gentle teasing somehow easing the burden I carried.
She smiled more freely now.
And I found myself wanting to protect that smile.
After she left, I trained again—until sunset.
Then came dinner, another shared moment with Liana, followed by the final training session of the day.
---
Mana Training: Session Three
It was almost midnight when I collapsed onto my bed.
Eighteen hours.
From 6 a.m. to midnight.
That was the routine I had carved out for myself.
Sword.
Body.
Mana.
And repeat.
This was my life now.
And it would be—for the coming month.
Two Months Later
I was running laps around the training ground, shirt damp with sweat, breath steady—just slightly labored.
But it was different now.
So much different.
I didn't feel like I was going to collapse anymore.
Didn't feel like my legs were about to snap with every step.
Two months ago, I could barely run five laps before seeing stars.
Now?
Twenty laps.
Without stopping. Without dying.
Progress.
It had been two whole months since I started training in this fortress.
And I hadn't missed a single day.
From 6 a.m. to midnight—every damn day—I trained like a man possessed.
No breaks. No excuses.
The only pauses were for meals with Liana and, well… bathroom breaks.
(Yeah, can't skip those.)
After completing my laps, I dropped down and began my push-ups.
One. Two. Three…
A thousand.
Then it was time for pull-ups.
I jumped to a thick tree branch nearby and began.
One. Two. Three…
Another thousand.
Then sit-ups. Core work. Stability drills.
I pushed through it all until my muscles screamed in protest.
And then—sword training.
In the last two months, my control had sharpened.
My footwork was tighter. My strikes—cleaner.
I started with forward slashes, then piercing thrusts.
Fast, fluid movements—refined through repetition.
Not perfect yet. But far from where I began.
After finishing my sword forms, I sat cross-legged on the ground and held out my hand.
Fire.
Just a thought, and the flame appeared, flickering gently in my palm.
I smiled.
I had full control now.
The flame floated upward, then began circling around my body slowly—spinning as I guided it with nothing but willpower.
With a final motion, I hurled it toward a large boulder nearby—
Boom.
A small explosion. Nothing massive, but enough to crack the surface.
A spark of satisfaction bloomed in my chest.
Right on time, Liana appeared with our food.
She always did.
We ate together—three times a day.
The meals weren't luxurious, but they filled the stomach. That was enough.
She talked about her day, laughed, teased me occasionally.
And just like always, I listened.
Her voice helped ease the fatigue from my body and the burden on my heart.
After lunch, I went back to training.
There really wasn't anything else to do in this quiet fortress.
Day after day—it was the same.
But something had changed.
The knights.
At first, they ignored me—just like they did with the old Kael.
He'd never trained with them, never followed orders. Always alone.
But now, after two months of consistent training, they started to nod.
Greet me.
Offer small words of encouragement.
Not friends. Not yet.
But respect—earned.
And that mattered.
Because once I advance to the next rank, I can start training with them.
And I will.
Because one day soon…
I'll need to stand beside them.