I hardly left my room the next day. Sometimes I would sit, but I spent most of my time pacing from wall to wall. It was now easier to move while holding the mass of mana together, and pieces rarely escaped.
After many hours, some part of me began to doubt Theresa’s words. When would a barrier start to form? Would I have to hold it like this forever? I might have just been impatient, but I needed it completed by the next fight, which was only two days away.
The day was over before I knew it, my internal clock glaringly announcing all the time I had wasted. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me, and I hadn’t felt this tired in such a long time. It seemed I was finally reaching my improved limits.
I laid back on the bed, willing myself not to fall asleep. My mana was always at the forefront of my mind recently, but I focused on it more. I let its movements hypnotize me, allowing myself to drift in the space between sleep and wakefulness while still holding the power together.
It was barely noticeable when the barrier began to form during the night, as it was completely transparent. But tendrils of power that escaped from my hold would hit against the clear walls, unable to go any further. The edges of the container gleamed as it formed even more until it resembled clear polished glass.
The shape that had formed was one of those double-sided pyramids. Marveling at the structure, I heard the sea birds outside signaling the new day, and I let myself tentatively let go of the hold I had kept on my mana.
It burst out like a dark explosion, writhing with jagged projections, but my core entirely contained it. Wavelike, it crested against the walls and continued to swirl and churn.
The feeling of letting go was a relief, and I could feel a faint trembling in my limbs.
Grabbing a change of clothes, I let myself sink into the baths in the basement, submerging my head for minutes at a time. Afterward, I headed to the dining hall Lifdol had directed me to my second day here and ate more unfamiliar food than I needed.
Planning to head to Theresa’s at the same time I was told to before, I wandered the halls of the building. I couldn’t keep still, and I didn’t want to return to my room.
The exact time wasn’t something I could pinpoint, but soon it felt close enough, so I left the building quickly. Tracing my way back was much easier, and in a short amount of time, I was knocking on Theresa’s door again.
There was no answer for a while, so I knocked again. Then, I let my hearing reach farther through the house, and I heard footsteps beyond the door. Theresa—or someone else—was definitely home. So I knocked louder.
A muffled curse accompanied the door as it swung open.
“Damn, it’s just you,” Theresa sighed. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
“You didn’t give me a specific time.”
“True.” She beckoned me inside. “I’m assuming you’re here because your core formed?”
I nodded. “I believe so, yes.”
“He believes so,” she muttered. “Well, take a seat. The chairs’ in the same place as last time.”
I found it and sat as directed. Theresa settled across from me, ushering me to hold out my hands again. She hummed as she sensed whatever she did in me, most likely seeing the same thing I did when I searched for the mana inside me.
“It’s fully formed. Beautiful shape, too,” Theresa said as an afterthought.
“Does it mean anything in particular?” I asked.
She hummed. “Better pathways will form in many directions if the core is more dimensional, allowing for finer control of mana throughout the body. As you unconsciously form a core, your body tries to optimize the shape to increase possibilities of pathways. Everyone agrees that symmetrical shapes are better, but they’re always squabbling over which one is the best. But really, nothing has ever been proved.”
I nodded, thinking it over. “What next?”
“Eager, aren’t you? Not surprising if you’ve gone your whole life without this.” Her hands kept their grip on mine. “Like I said last time, connecting your mana pathways to your core is the next step. They’re all throughout your body—like veins—and it’s just a matter of imagining the greatest paths and attaching them to the core without destabilizing it.”
Perhaps sensing my trepidation, she assured me. “It’s not as difficult as it sounds. A lot of it happens naturally, you just have to get it started. I can make optimal pathways easier to see, but it’s up to you to draw them in.”
She took a breath, and the pins and needles sensation in my hands started up again. It traveled up my arms, then past my chest and stomach, sinking down to my feet. It lit up this highway inside me, reaching everywhere with spreading strands.
I could sense them when I focused like I would on my core, and lit up as they were, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to see them without Theresa. Like she said, they were disturbingly like veins, but it was like the network was in this empty space inside of me, not in my blood or skin. It was hard to explain.
The pathways all ended right before reaching my core, creating this web surrounding it. The knowledge of what I was supposed to do next seemed to be planted into my brain, and I grabbed those ends like I had controlled my mana, pulling them in.
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It was a slow process, like a plant sprouting and growing, but Theresa definitely helped. Her skill—or whatever she used—kept me from missing any pathways. I watched as the strands furled out, reaching closer and closer until they hit the walls of the mana core.
I watched in fascination as the pathways seemed to melt into the core, fusing completely. Then, the channels changed, becoming clear like the core, tunnels hollowing space where there were just solid strands before.
They seemed to pulse, sending waves of force through my body, and they ended at my fingertips.
Theresa let go of my hands, and my pathways dimmed. “The last part is the easiest. Your pathways are fragile right now, and sending mana through them could cause them to rupture. That means you can’t use skills for a full day until they’ve solidified.”
“I understand.” I breathed out, feeling even lighter than ever. Such a marvel of creation had formed, and before, I wouldn’t have been able to even imagine it.
The burning flames inside me were no longer painful and were contained in my core. They simmered as my mana raged, eager to be used.
***
I was back in the pit, an axe from Lifdol’s armory gripped in my hands. It was better than the one I had before, but still used and scratched up.
The final day before the fight had found me wandering the city, somehow ending up at the ocean again. I had itched to use my skills, to see how different it felt now that I could use them properly. But, ignoring the pull, I followed Theresa’s instructions, knowing the temporary gratification was worth less than what waiting would do for my pathways.
I couldn’t tell if they had gotten more sturdy, as it was much harder to sense the network without Theresa lighting it up. The different strands blended into their surroundings, not meant to be noticed. I could only trust that what Theresa had said was true.
It had been a day, and now I could use my skills, and just in time for the next fight; Lifdol had put me against Scorne, and we were to fight with weapons this time. I questioned his decision—from what I had heard, Scorne was a veteran and not someone I could stand against.
Perhaps he wanted me to lose, and truthfully, that seemed like a high possibility. However, this fight wasn’t to the death unless Lifdol decided to change it if the fancy struck him. I had no hope he wouldn’t, all for the sake of entertainment.
Trepidation filled me, even more than when I fought in the pit for the first time. What if my mana needed to be controlled differently with a core and mana pathways? My trump cards would be useless, and I could die here.
Lifdol was still announcing the fight, and Scorne kicked up sand and dirt as he circled around me, waiting for the signal. I moved as well, preventing him from taking a stance behind me.
When he had stood beside me in the waiting room, it was easy to tell he was a large man. Yet, he moved so quickly despite that, quiet like a cat.
Scorne had chosen a sword, and he drew it now, the blade scraping against its sheath. It fell discarded to the ground, and Lifdol’s thunderous voice demanded we fight.
My opponent came at me without hesitation, his sword slicing for my chest. I swung sideways in return, the head of the axe deflecting the blade with an ear-ringing clang. The boost from [Chop] was evident, my strike using an axe much more powerful than I could ever get with another weapon.
I had missed the feeling.
Scorne didn’t delay his rapid-fire strikes, most caught with my blade, some slicing into the shaft. This axe was much lighter than the one I’d had before, made for battle. I could keep up with Scorne, but I found it difficult to go on the offensive.
He gradually pushed me backward, sword strikes coming from every direction. I caught a downward slice and swung upwards with my blade, his sword deflected away. Quickly, I followed with a swing at his head—blocked—then one at his chest right after, also blocked. But, I gained some ground back.
Scorne’s sword was much easier to track than Eskal’s warped punches; however, it was much faster, almost unbelievably so. I was on the offensive for a pitiful few seconds, his swings rapidly increasing. There was no other choice but to continue stepping back, bracing myself against the loose sand.
Missing a block, his sharp blade dug into my right thigh, and I groaned at the lancing pain. There was no time to process it as Scorne’s sword followed with a stab aimed at my gut.
I caught the underneath of his blade with the shaft of the axe and flung it up, then turned it into a slice aimed at Scorne’s ribs. Blade moving, I summoned a spectral hand, knowing that if I didn’t, this would be over too fast.
And I would not be the victor.
A hitched breath caught in my throat as mana flooded through me as I used the skill, lighting up every nerve. However, it only distracted me for a millisecond, and I directed the invisible hand to block Scorne’s incoming sword.
It didn’t weigh me down this time, dragging my lungs down to my feet. It was light, and natural, mana gleefully leaping to form a wonder I still didn’t understand.
His sword paused for only a second, [Spectral Hand] not strong enough to deflect it before it dissipated into the ether. But it was enough to get the axe past his defenses, the blade lodging into his arm.
His defenses were strong, and I felt the tip of the axe barely graze bone. Scorne grunted as I yanked it out, swinging again. I couldn’t pause, or I’d be dead.
“Enough playing,” he growled as he blocked, voice dark with violence. As he swung at me, a pulse of something slammed into my chest, and my mouth opened in a silent scream.
My ears were ringing, akin to an IED explosion I’d once been too close to back on Earth, but a hundred times worse. I stumbled back, almost dropping my axe. I couldn’t hear Scorne’s sword swinging through the air any longer, and could only keep my weapon up in front of my body to block attacks. Each hit was jarring, and my arms constantly shook.
Blood dripped out of my nose, wetness sliding to my lips. Hearing slowly came back: the crowd’s roar was first, then Scorne’s laughter.
Shaking my head to clear the confusion, I swung at him, but he blocked it like I was a child. Then, before I could move again, another of those surges came at me, vibrating through my entire body.
It was weaker than the first, but no less damaging. In fact, it was even more so, amplifying the injuries from the first. My heartbeat stopped when it passed through my body before painfully starting again, crashing into my ribs. This time, I fell to the sand, hitting the ground with a thud.
I could hear nothing. Blood clogged my nose, and I choked on particles of sand. A metal point pressed into my stomach through my shirt, and the pained materialized above me, appearing like a distorted angel.
His mournful eyes bled, leaving streaks of red down his thin cheeks. His lips moved, murmuring something I couldn’t hear.
The sword pressed harder, then slid past my skin, leaving a path of fiery agony. The pained wept harder as I felt the blade exit through my back to dig into the dirt, leaving me impaled on Scorne’s sword.
He had won when I’d fallen, but no doubt decided to finish it with the encouragement of the onlookers. It was always a show, after all.
The pained knelt by my head, and I knew nothing except him. My hearing had yet to return this time, and what did a blind man have except that?
Blood pooled around my body, and the pained finally faded into the blackness.