As I left the arena, the weight of exhaustion bore down on me like a lead blanket. The crowd’s cheers still echoed in my ears, a hollow victory ringing out for the solitary defender. My legs felt unsteady, my breathing labored, and a faint ache throbbed in every muscle.

Profile:

Name: Wolfhart Valda-Ashdock

Age: 15

Race: Human (Adult Male)

Class: Void Architect

___________________________________________________________

Level: 1

Health: 45/320

Mana: 20/400

Strength: 50

Dexterity: 90

Endurance: 65

Intelligence: 115

Wisdom: 75

Skills: Shadow Gate, Graviton Trap, Void Barricade, Mana Adaptable Blood (Active), Void Master, Void Oppression, Void That Licks, Souless

Hexa’s voice, distant and mechanical, echoed in my mind. “Mana and health levels critically low. Immediate recovery is recommended.”

“I know,” I muttered weakly, dragging myself across the courtyard. I had taken for hits than I thought my youthful body and adrenaline kept me going more than anything else.

The sun was bright, casting short shadows across the campus. The warm light failed to lift my spirits; my focus was on the mock battle I had just completed. What would my ranking be?

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the group of students blocking the path until I almost walked into them.

There were three of them, scrappy and underfed, their uniforms faded and patched in places. They looked like they belonged to Ava’s year, younger than me but with a kind of feral desperation in their eyes.

“Fishboy,” one of them sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

My stomach dropped.

“What do you want?” I asked, trying to sound steadier than I felt.

The tallest of the group stepped forward, holding a wooden stick he tapped menacingly against his palm. “One-Bill says you don’t just ignore him. Times up, Fishboy.”

Before I could react, the first blow came—a sharp crack to my ribs that sent me staggering backward. The pain was immediate, sharp and unrelenting.

“Health: 38/320.” Hexa’s detached voice chimed in, a grim reminder of how little room for error I had left.

“Where’s the package?” another boy demanded, grabbing me by the collar and shaking me. “Give it to us, and maybe we won’t have to beat it out of you.”

I didn’t answer. My lips stayed sealed, I don't know why but I wasn't giving these little shits the living mana, Id settle things with One-Bill my own way.

The next strike came faster than I could register—a fist to my stomach that knocked the wind out of me.

“Health: 30/320. Bleeding detected.”

I doubled over, clutching my side as another boy swung his stick, hitting the side of my head. Stars exploded in my vision, and the world tilted violently.

“Health: 20/320. Warning: risk of unconsciousness imminent.”

They didn’t stop. Fists, sticks, kicks—each hit chipped away at my health, the numbers flashing in my mind like a cruel taunt. Blood dripped from my nose, soaking into my uniform as the pain blurred into a dull, throbbing haze.

“Stop—please stop—” The words tumbled out of me, weak and broken.

One of the boys spat on the ground next to me. “Not until you hand over the package, Fishboy.”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t fight back.

A piercing scream shattered the haze.

“Get away from him!”

It was Ava. Her voice cut through the chaos like a blade, sharp and unrelenting.

The boys hesitated, their heads snapping toward her. Her silhouette was framed by the light of the sun, her fists clenched at her sides.

“Aw shit She will call a teacher Run!” one of the boys shouted, panic lacing his voice.

They scattered like rats, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as they’d come. The last one turned back briefly, shouting, “We’ll find the package, Fishboy. You can’t hide it forever!”

Their words hung in the air, a chilling promise that sent shivers down my spine.

Ava rushed to my side, her face pale with worry as she knelt beside me.

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“Wolfhart! Are you okay?”

I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat. All I could do was nod weakly as tears blurred my vision.

“You’re bleeding!” she cried, her hands hovering uncertainly over my battered frame. “We need to get you to the infirmary.”

“No...” I croaked, my voice barely audible. “Just... help me back to the dorm.”

She hesitated, her brow furrowing in concern. “You need medical attention—”

“Please,” I interrupted, my voice cracking. “Just... the dorm.”

Reluctantly, she nodded, slipping an arm under my shoulders and helping me to my feet. Every step was agony, but I forced myself to keep moving, the weight of the living mana heavier than ever in my mind.

As we reached the dormitory, Hexa’s voice finally broke the silence in my head.

“You need to address this, Wolfhart. Ignoring One-Bill is no longer an option.”

“I know,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I know.”

Ava looked at me, her eyes full of questions she didn’t ask. I couldn’t meet her gaze.

As she helped me into my bed, the only thought running through my mind was how much worse things were about to get.

The morning light streamed through the dormitory windows, casting pale streaks across the bruises mottling my face. My broken nose ached with every breath, and the faint purple shadow under my eye felt like a mocking reminder of yesterday’s ambush.

I shifted painfully in my chair, adjusting the double-sacked living mana tucked beneath my coat. The glowing warmth of the item was a cruel contrast to my aching body, a constant reminder of its value and the storm it had brought into my life.

Class dragged on, the teachers droning on about topics that I barely registered. My classmates stole glances at me, whispers trailing in their wake. Some of them laughed quietly at my disheveled state, while others cast curious or concerned looks in my direction. None of it mattered.

“You need medical attention, Wolfhart,” Hexa said, her voice breaking through my haze of exhaustion.

“I’ll live,” I muttered under my breath. “Just keep watch for anything suspicious.”

“Suspicious? You’re sitting in a classroom.”

During the midday break, I found a quiet corner in the library and finally checked my band. A small red icon blinked insistently, indicating multiple unread messages. I hesitated before tapping the first one.

“Hey, Fishboy,” One-Bill’s voice came through with an unsettling mix of humor and irritation. “It’s been a while, huh? Look, I get it. You’re probably shaken up, but you’re smarter than this. We both know you’re holding onto something you shouldn’t. Bring me the package, and we can set this all straight. No harm, no foul.”

The next message followed immediately, his tone now sharp and clipped.

“Don’t make me wait, kid. You don’t wanna find out how impatient I can get.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening.

The third message was different, almost soft. “Listen, Wolfhart. I like you. I really do. You’ve got guts, and you’ve proven you can handle yourself. I don’t want things to go south between us. You deliver that package, and this all goes away. Simple as that.”

But the tone shifted again in the fourth message, the veneer of patience slipping.

“You’re pushing it now, Fishboy. My generosity has limits. You think you can ghost me? This isn’t some schoolyard game. You’re in my world now, and if you don’t step up, someone else will. They won’t be as nice about it, either.”

The final message was the worst. His voice dropped into a low, menacing growl, but there was a false sweetness to it, like a predator trying to soothe its prey.

“Clock’s ticking, kid. I don’t want to do this, but you’re leaving me no choice. Deliver the package, and you’ll be golden. Keep playing this game, and... well, you won’t like the ending. Think about it, Fishboy. I know you’re smart enough to make the right call.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. The progression of his tone—from cajoling to threatening—left me sick to my stomach.

That night, I sat in my room, the double-sacked living mana resting on the desk before me. Its glow seeped through the fabric, casting an otherworldly light across the walls. I stared at it, my thoughts spiraling into a dark abyss.

It wasn’t just an item. It was something more—something powerful, coveted, and dangerous. I didn’t understand it, but I could feel its weight in my life. Git and Sona had died for this, and now One-Bill had made it clear my life wasn’t worth much more unless I delivered it.

“Wolfhart,” Hexa finally spoke, her tone measured. “You’re fixating. Step away from it. Sleep. Reassess in the morning.”

“I just want to know why,” I whispered. “Why is it worth so much? What makes it so special?”

“Living mana is rare and highly potent, but tampering with it could—”

“Could what?” I snapped, cutting her off. “Could make me more of a target? Could make my life harder? It already is!”

The silence in my head was deafening.

I thought of Git and Sona, of their laughter and plans for the future. Now they were gone, their lives snuffed out in an instant. I thought of Ava, her tear-streaked face etched with worry and confusion. And I thought of myself—as Jonathan, the 30-year-old man who never achieved anything, who wasted his life chasing momentary pleasures and fleeting distractions.

“Why is everything so damn hard?” I whispered.

The disparity of power in this world was suffocating. Nobles with wealth and influence, mages with perfect affinities, soldiers trained from birth to fight. And here I was, struggling to scrape by, caught in a web of crime and danger I barely understood.

“You can’t let it consume you,” Hexa said, her voice cutting through my thoughts. “You’ve come too far to fall into this spiral.”

But her words barely registered. My gaze remained fixed on the glowing sack.

“I just want to be stronger,” I muttered, my voice shaking. “Stronger than all of them. Strong enough to survive in this damn world.”

“Wolfhart, don’t—” Hexa’s voice was sharp now, panic creeping into her usually neutral tone.

But it was too late. Driven by desperation, anger, and the overwhelming desire for power, I reached out pulling the sack open to reveal the glowing, crystalline structure inside. The living mana wasn’t just a stone—it was a pulsating, lattice-like network, shifting and shimmering as if it were alive. Faint streaks of light moved within it, like veins carrying energy

“Do not engage it. It’s not stable—” Hexa tries again

But I couldn’t stop myself. My fingers closed around the crystalline structure, and the moment I made full contact, it came alive.

The living mana reacted instantly, its glow intensifying as a hum filled the air. Threads of light began to stream outward, weaving intricate patterns in the air around my hand. It was mesmerizing, like watching data being processed on a grand, physical scale.

“What is it doing?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“Unknown process detected,” Hexa said, her tone edged with panic. “The structure is not behaving like ambient mana or any known magical material. Wolfhart, release it—”

But the mana had other plans. The glowing threads began to wrap around my fingers, moving with a purpose that felt almost sentient. They weren’t just random streams of energy—they were assembling something, constructing pathways that fed into my body.

I gasped as the first thread pierced my skin, not with pain, but with an overwhelming surge of energy. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before—clean, sharp, and electric. My vision blurred as more threads followed, their movements synchronized as if they were part of a grand design.

“Hexa, what’s happening?”

“Registering……..Confirmed. It’s... integrating,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost reverent. “The energy is bypassing your mana pool entirely. It’s embedding itself into your core systems.”