Chapter 56 – Training in Mana Control (Part 2)

  Group Mana Exercise

  A week later, the training grounds buzzed with tension. The carved circles on the floor pulsed faintly as recruits stood shoulder to shoulder, each gripping a shard of crystal or etching sigils onto the ground.

  “Today,” Ripper barked, his gravelly voice carrying over the field, “you learn how to combine your strength. Alone, you’ll be picked off. Together, you’ll survive. Channel into the barrier until the sigils stabilize. Break formation, and you’ll fry yourselves.”

  The recruits exchanged uneasy looks. Fluffy bounced in place, her usual grin plastered across her face. Beside her, Hopper and Brinley already looked calm, their mana streams steady and practiced. When the signal was given, their crystals lit like lanterns—bright, stable, unwavering.

  Seven clenched his shard, forcing mana forward. His crystal flared once, then sputtered, heat burning his palm. Sparks spit off violently, his glowing number faintly pulsing on his neck.

  “Too rough,” Raven called out coldly from the sidelines. “You’re flooding it. Try again.”

  Arne’s Entrance

  From the far end of the field, heavy boots approached with casual confidence. A tall rabbit with wild hair, a crooked grin, and a long rifle strapped across his back sauntered forward.

  “Ripper told me you pups were trying not to set yourselves on fire,” Arne drawled, twirling a coin between his fingers. His Veteran Crest badge glinted on his chest. “Guess I showed up just in time.”

  He unslung his rifle—sleek, rune-etched, with a mana chamber glowing faintly. With a single breath, Arne channeled energy into it. The air hummed, runes flared, and then crack!—a perfect shot of compressed mana shredded a dummy target without so much as a flicker of wasted power.

  “Now that is control,” he said smugly, blowing imaginary smoke from the barrel. His eyes flicked to Seven. “Lesson one: without balance, you’re nothing but a leaky pipe. Overuse and you’ll burn out. Underuse and you’re useless.”

  Seven muttered, “Not cut out for this crap. Only thing I know is Enchanted Combat… and my rifle.”

  Arne smirked. “Then learn, or you’ll be a corpse.”

  Brinley’s Warning

  Before Arne could continue, Briney snapped, adjusting her goggles. “And before you get any bright ideas—none of my babies are going in your hands, Seven. I’ve seen what your unstable channels do. You’d probably make my rifles explode.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Seven blinked. “That bad, huh?”

  Brinley crossed her arms, cheeks puffing. “The only reason your ‘Nameless Wing Rifle’ hasn’t blown you to bits is because it’s… well, different. It practically drinks that raw mana of yours like it was built for you. Anything else, and I’d be sweeping up your ashes.”

  Seven frowned, but deep down he knew she wasn’t wrong.

  Seven’s Attempt

  The recruits steadied their sigils again, Fluffy’s crystal glowing brilliantly. Even Hopper’s circle shimmered with clean lines. But when Seven focused, his aura radiated jagged and rough, like sparks off torn wire. His glowing number pulsed brighter, uncontrolled.

  He remembered Yuri once sitting in meditation, her mana a calm ocean. He tried to mimic it—breathing, focusing—but the surge was like trying to cup a waterfall. Too much, and the crystal screamed with heat. Too little, and nothing.

  The sigil under his hand glitched, flickering erratically. Jagged runes formed, then dissolved into static, refusing to hold shape.

  “Again,” Raven called. “Focus.”

  Seven growled under his breath. Images flashed unbidden—the snowy wasteland, Saya’s claws tearing his arm free, his desperate Enchanted Combat flare to save Yuri. His chest tightened. He tried to tap into that same power, that same raw instinct—

  The crystal exploded in a flare of violent light. Mana erupted around him, nearly throwing him backward. His reserves drained like water spilling from a cracked jar, his body trembling from the effort.

  Ripper’s Intervention

  “Enough!” Ripper’s voice sliced through the chaos, an anchor in the turmoil. He strode forward, snatching the burnt crystal from Seven’s trembling hand before the jagged edges could sear deeper into him.

  “You’re not in a life-or-death fight now, kid. Stop reaching for that desperation,” he admonished, his expression a blend of concern and frustration. “You’ll kill yourself if you keep this up. Your reserves aren’t infinite. Every flare like that chews through stamina you don’t have. You think you can keep burning like this? You’ll burn out before you even reach the trials!”

  Seven’s breath came in heavy gasps, sweat trickling down his forehead. He nodded, though a storm of frustration churned in his chest. “I know, but… it’s hard! The mana just doesn't flow for me the way it should. I feel it buzzing, just out of reach.”

  Ripper stepped closer, his tone shifting from harsh to encouraging. “That’s because you’re trying to force it. Magic isn't about brute strength; it’s about finesse. Relax your mind—let the mana settle around you. You can’t cup water if your hands are in a fist.”

  Seven clenched his fists again, glaring at the ground. “I’ve tried that. It’s like every time I want to tap into it, the flow just stops. I can’t make it move!”

  Ripper sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Then let’s work on that. Sit down. Close your eyes.” He watched as Seven hesitated before dropping into a cross-legged position. “Focus on your breathing. In… and out. Picture the mana as a river. Can you see it?”

  “I can see it,” Seven replied, eyes still shut, “but it’s all muddied. Like there are rocks blocking it.”

  “Good. Visualize those rocks,” Ripper instructed. “Now, imagine pulling them out—one by one. Just because you can’t access it now doesn’t mean it’s not there. You have to clear the way.”

  Seven felt a flicker of doubt—the fear of failure nagging at him—but he pushed it aside. “What if I can’t? What if I’m just not cut out for this?”

  “Everyone has their struggles, but even the strongest mages can’t do it alone. You need to trust yourself and the magic,” Ripper encouraged, his voice steady. “When I was learning, I faced worse than you. I wanted to give up countless times. But with persistence, I found my rhythm.”

  Seven opened his eyes, meeting Ripper’s gaze. “So, what’s the secret then? How do you find that rhythm?”

  “The secret is patience and practice,” Ripper replied, smiling slightly. “You’ll mess up. You’ll stumble. But every time you do, you learn more about your own limits and how to stretch them. Just like a muscle. So, let’s start small—focus on a thin stream of mana. Don’t overwhelm yourself with the whole river yet.”

  “Okay,” Seven said, feeling a glimmer of hope. “I’ll try.”

  “Good. Remember, it’s about connection. Allow the mana to flow instead of forcing it. Stay in tune with yourself. You’re not just a wielder; you’re a conduit. Let the magic guide you. Now—breathe.”

  As Seven closed his eyes again, he felt the energy around him, his heart syncing with the rhythm Ripper set. Maybe this time, he could find that hidden flow.

  Quiet Observations

  As the group dispersed to catch their breath, Fluffy settled beside him, handing over a water flask. “Hey… don’t let it get to you. You might be a bit rough around the edges, but you’ve got fire. That’s something most recruits don’t have,” she said with a playful wink, gently nudging his shoulder.

  Seven managed a faint smirk. “Fire that almost set me ablaze.”

  “Details, details,” Fluffy chuckled, brushing off the concern.

  Across the field, Raven observed in silence, her expression steely. Unlike Fluffy’s cheerful encouragement, her mind was consumed by darker thoughts. That wasn’t just mana loss; it was something deeper, more unsettling. His energy flowed raw and unstable—almost… unnatural.

  Her eyes narrowed as a troubling realization sank in. If he’s different… if he’s not like the other humans in Novastra… then what exactly is he?