Suguru couldn't stand on his own the next morning.
His legs trembled when he tried, muscles refusing commands that had once been automatic. His ribs ached with every breath. His arm burned where the blade had kissed it. Even his jaw felt sore, like he'd been clenching it through the night.
Garron didn't let him rest.
"You live," he said. "So you train."
The sky was still gray when they reached the yard. The city had not yet woken; no merchants shouted, no carts rolled. The world felt paused in that narrow space between night and day.
No swords waited.
No other trainees.
Just dirt. Cold air. And space.
"Stand," Garron said.
Suguru did. Barely.
His weight leaned wrong without him noticing. Garron stepped forward and kicked lightly at his ankle. Suguru wobbled, almost fell.
"Again."
Suguru adjusted.
"Again."
They repeated it until his legs shook harder than they had during the fight.
Only then did Garron speak of it.
"Yesterday," he said, "you touched mana."
Suguru flinched at the word. It felt heavier than the alley had.
"I didn't mean to."
"No one ever does the first time."
Garron stepped closer, studying the way Suguru held himself—the tight shoulders, shallow breath, the instinct to guard his ribs.
"There are two forces in this world," Garron said. "If you confuse them, you die."
Suguru focused through the ache.
"One is Aura," Garron said. "Yours. Born from breath, muscle, balance. Sword fighters build it. Soldiers live by it."
He tapped Suguru's sternum—not gently.
"You train your body. You endure. Aura grows. It strengthens what already exists. Your step gets steadier. Your strike heavier. Your stance harder to move."
Suguru nodded slowly.
He had felt that already—the difference between falling on his first day and barely staying upright now.
"And mana?" he asked.
Garron's gaze hardened, distant.
"Mana is not yours," he said. "It belongs to the world."
Silence settled between them, broken only by Suguru's uneven breathing.
"When fear, pain, or desperation crack you open," Garron continued, "mana pushes in. Most people never feel it. Their bodies aren't damaged enough. Or empty enough."
Suguru's fingers curled.
"Yesterday," Garron said, "your body broke just enough for mana to answer. You didn't use it. You survived it."
Suguru swallowed. "Why did it hurt so much?"
Garron didn't answer right away. He walked behind Suguru and shoved him between the shoulders without warning.
Suguru staggered—but didn't fall.
"Because your body rejected it," Garron said. "Like swallowing poison."
He held up three fingers.
"Remember this.
First: Aura strengthens the body. Mana ignores it.
Second: Aura obeys training. Mana answers damage.
Third: Aura tires you. Mana breaks you."
Suguru felt cold despite the rising sun.
"Then why not avoid mana entirely?"
Garron's expression darkened.
"Because sometimes the world forces it on you."
His voice changed—quieter, heavier.
"I saw a man once try to hold too much. A battlefield caster. Thought he could save his unit alone." Garron's jaw tightened. "He stopped the enemy charge. For three breaths. Then his heart failed where he stood."
Suguru didn't speak.
"He won," Garron said. "And died for it."
The wind moved through the yard, dry and thin.
"You want to survive here?" Garron asked.
Suguru nodded.
"Then you walk the Aura path first. Build a body that doesn't shatter. Balance. Breath. Endurance."
He nudged Suguru's foot with his boot.
"Lower."
Suguru bent his knees.
"Breathe deeper."
Suguru tried.
"Again."
Minutes passed. Then more.
No sword. No techniques. Just standing. Adjusting. Falling. Standing again.
"If mana ever touches you again," Garron said at last, "you might live through it."
"Might…?"
Garron didn't lie. "Might."
Suguru straightened, though his legs shook violently now. Sweat ran down his back despite the cold air.
"I'll train," he said.
Garron nodded once.
"Good. Because swords don't care about talent."
He turned toward the waking city.
"And mana doesn't forgive weakness."
The sun crested the wall, light spilling into the yard.
Suguru Tenshi stood in the dirt—bruised, cut, exhausted.
But standing.
And for the first time, he understood the difference between power…