Roran and Liam left the towering Grand Academy Library. They found a hidden spot in the shade of an old training annex a quiet place where high-level students didn't bother to go. It was perfect for Roran's secret, desperate training.
Roran opened the book, Basic Mana Theory, Volume 1. He had memorized the history of Aethelgard, but now he had to learn how to change his fate.
The first step was Mana Breathing. The book said mana was everywhere, like soft, invisible energy. To get stronger, you had to pull this energy into your body and guide it to your Mana Core, the small energy stone in your stomach.
"Okay," Roran muttered. "Breathe the air, guide the energy, store it."
He closed his eyes and focused. He tried to imagine the cool, faint energy of the world flowing through his nose and mouth. He pushed his mind to find that small, weak Core inside him.
He waited. Nothing. He felt normal, tired, and still Mana Circle 1.
He tried again, forcing his breath deeper and faster. He pushed the air and the mana he thought was in it—straight into his core.
Immediately, a sharp, terrible pain exploded in his chest. It wasn't the gentle warmth the book promised; it was a tearing, burning pain, like trying to swallow shards of broken glass. His weak body was fighting the mana. It rejected the energy instantly. Roran doubled over, coughing hard. He felt sick and dizzy.
"Roran! Stop!" Liam cried out, grabbing his shoulder. Liam looked truly terrified. "That's enough! Your core is too small! When you force too much mana at once, your weak core can't clean it. It's like trying to pour a river into a tiny cup. You will break it!"
Liam's words hit Roran hard. He wasn't failing because he was lazy; he was failing because his body itself was flawed. This was the curse of Roran Ashborne.
I died once because I was weak. I won't let this body make me weak again, Roran thought, breathing deeply to calm the pain. He ignored Liam, placed his hand on his heart, and felt that steady, new rhythm. MAGICAL POWER: brave heart.
He was about to try again, slower this time, when a mocking voice cut through the air.
"Ashborne? Still failing at breathing?"
Roran and Liam looked up. Standing just a few feet away was Tarian Vesper, the arrogant Mana Circle 2 student Roran had seen in the library. Tarian had clearly followed them. He looked perfectly clean, calm, and strong.
Tarian walked closer, his hands tucked casually behind his back. "You look unwell, Roran. Trying to commit suicide by mana? Save the Academy the trouble." Tarian suddenly lashed out, not with magic, but with a fast, brutal shove to Roran's shoulder.
Roran, with his low Defense 7 and Agility 8, wasn't ready. He stumbled back, hitting the stone wall with a painful thud, the book flying from his hands. Liam shouted, "Hey! That's enough, Tarian!"
Tarian ignored Liam, stepping close to Roran. His eyes were cold and focused. "You think you can stay in this Academy? You're weak. A broken doll. Your failure drags down the Six Pillars." He raised his hand, looking ready to strike Roran's face.
Suddenly, a deep, powerful voice echoed across the yard. "Vesper! That is not training. Step away now."
A tall, stern man Master Kratos, one of the Academy's senior physical trainers was standing nearby. His eyes, sharp as steel, pinned Tarian. Even the arrogant Tarian flinched.
"But Master Kratos, he was just _"
"I saw enough," Kratos cut him off. "Go. Now. And learn some manners, Vesper."
Tarian glared at Roran, his face twisted in cold promise. "You got lucky, Roran. Four months. Don't be here when I come back." He turned and walked away, his silver mana flickering in anger.
Roran slowly stood up, rubbing his bruised shoulder. The physical pain was real, but the shame was worse. The blow had cemented his rage and his resolve. He picked up his book, ignoring Liam's hand.
I have to find a way, Roran thought, the pain focusing his mind. He knew that forcing the mana was a mistake. His weak core was the problem, not his lack of effort. He had to find a different way to train a secret way.
He ran his finger down the pages, searching for any detail, any mention of a technique meant for the truly weak. If I can't go through the wall, I must find a way around it.