Suguru didn't notice the progress.
Garron did.
They were walking through the lower ward at dusk, same cracked stone streets, same press of bodies, same noise layered over itself like the city was grinding its own teeth.
But Suguru's steps no longer wandered.
His feet chose places.
Each step landed, settled, and transferred weight without noise. His shoulders stayed loose. His breathing didn't hitch when people brushed past.
He wasn't faster.
He was stable.
Garron watched without saying a word.
The chaos arrived the way it always did.
Suddenly.
A fruit cart overturned ahead. Wood cracked. Oranges rolled across the street. A woman shouted. Someone ran.
A man burst through the crowd — coat clutched tight, eyes wide.
Behind him, a city guard forced his way through, armor clanking, spear low.
"OUT OF THE WAY!"
The crowd scattered wrong.
They never moved with thought — only fear.
A man slammed into Suguru's shoulder.
Before—
he would've stumbled.
Now—
his foot slid half a step back.
Knee softened.
Spine lowered.
The impact traveled through him, down into the ground.
He didn't move.
The thief veered directly toward him.
Their eyes locked.
Desperation.
The man shoved Suguru with both hands.
Suguru turned with it.
Didn't resist.
Didn't tense.
The force passed.
The thief ran on.
Suguru remained.
Garron saw it.
Didn't praise it.
Then the guard came.
Heavy. Fast.
His shoulder struck Suguru square in the chest.
Air burst from Suguru's lungs—
but his heels stayed rooted.
His structure didn't collapse.
The guard was already past him.
Suguru blinked.
He had just absorbed the weight of a grown armored man.
And stayed standing.
That was when it went wrong.
A hand caught his sleeve.
The thief had tripped in the chaos and grabbed Suguru to stop himself from falling.
"Help me up!" the man hissed.
Suguru froze.
His stance lifted.
His center rose too high.
Balance left his feet.
And he felt it—
That cold, distant sensation behind his ribs.
Not pain.
Not strength.
Awareness of something vast and indifferent.
Mana.
It didn't surge.
It didn't answer.
It simply existed too close.
Like standing at the edge of a cliff and realizing how easy it would be to fall.
Suguru's breathing shortened.
His thoughts scattered.
The city sounds dulled.
The ground beneath him felt farther away than it should.
The thief pulled harder.
Suguru's footing slipped.
His control thinned.
A hand struck his upper back.
Not hard.
Exact.
Suguru's knees bent instantly.
Weight dropped.
Feet reconnected with stone.
The sensation vanished.
Not pushed away—
stabilized out of reach.
Garron stood behind him, hand still resting between his shoulders.
"Don't rise," he said quietly.
Suguru's heart pounded. "I felt it."
"I know."
They watched the guard drag the thief away. The crowd reformed like nothing had happened.
Suguru's hands trembled.
"It wasn't like before," he whispered.
"No," Garron said. "Before, your body was failing. This time, your balance left first."
Suguru swallowed. "It felt… close."
Garron nodded. "Mana is always there. But it only becomes a problem when you lose yourself."
They began walking again.
"Aura held twice today without you thinking," Garron said. "Your body stayed where it belonged."
"Then why did that happen?"
"Because fear lifts the body," Garron said. "And when your weight leaves the ground, you have nothing anchoring you. That's when mana becomes dangerous."
Suguru looked at his hands.
"So the answer isn't power."
"No," Garron said. "The answer is staying here."
He tapped Suguru's sternum.
"Inside your limits."
That night, Suguru lay awake longer than usual.
Not afraid.
Not excited.
Aware.
Aura was something he built.
Mana was something he survived by not reaching for.
And for the first time, he understood—
Strength wasn't about touching everything.
It was knowing what not to touch.