The train moves smoothly, almost silently.
Veridian territory stretches outside the window—orderly roads, layered districts, mana towers regulating flow with quiet authority. Everything here looks controlled. Balanced. Measured.
And yet, her words refuse to leave me.
"Ice suppresses most mana expressions.""But black doesn't resist.""It absorbs."
I close my eyes.
Ice suppresses.
Fire overwhelms.Wind disperses.Light purifies.Shadow conceals.
Every known attribute in this world acts outward. Even suppression is an action—pressure applied against pressure.
But absorption…
Absorption doesn't oppose.
It accepts.
That thought settles deep in my chest.
I recall the villain again—the one who wielded Black Nox in Ashen Crown. How his enemies never seemed to lose explosively. Their mana didn't shatter or collapse.
It just… stopped mattering.
Amplified strikes dulled mid-swing.Charged spells fizzled into nothing.Momentum vanished without resistance.
At the time, I'd thought it was bad writing.
Now I know better.
He wasn't overpowering them.
He was taking away meaning.
The train hum deepens slightly as it passes a mana relay node. I feel the pressure ripple through the carriage—regulated, refined, absolute.
Normally, mana reacts to that.
Mine doesn't.
It doesn't flare.It doesn't resist.
It settles.
I focus inward.
Black mana doesn't circulate like normal mana. It doesn't rush through channels. It pools—quiet, dense, patient. When ambient mana brushes against it, there's no clash.
The external mana… thins.
As if something drank it.
My eyes open slowly.
"…So that's it," I murmur.
Black isn't an element.
It's a state.
A conclusion.
Not destruction.Not negation.
End-state mana.
That's why beasts reacted the way they did. Their instincts didn't sense hostility—they sensed finality. A space where growth stopped. Where reaction ceased.
A place where effort became pointless.
My fingers curl slightly.
If that's true, then Black Nox isn't dangerous because it's violent.
It's dangerous because it invalidates.
No wonder the system labeled it "uncommon" instead of forbidden. You can't ban something you don't understand. You just… isolate it.
Just like they isolated me.
The train begins to slow.
Veridian Station approaches, its platforms layered with security glyphs and mana scanners. Amplifier fields hum faintly, designed to read, classify, and regulate mana signatures.
I don't like that.
Lysera's warning echoes again.
"Don't let Amplifiers touch it."
They won't try to hurt me.
They'll try to measure me.
And measurement assumes cooperation.
I inhale slowly and let Calm Mind settle fully.
Black mana doesn't expand when I focus.
It compresses.
Good.
The train stops.
Doors slide open.
The platform is clean. Polished. Watched.
I step out among nobles, attendants, guards—each one carrying mana that shines, pulses, announces itself proudly. Amplifier arrays scan the crowd in sweeping arcs.
When one passes over me, there's a pause.
Just a fraction too long.
Then it moves on.
No alarm.
No alert.
Just… uncertainty.
I keep walking.
Inside, something clicks into place.
This isn't about becoming stronger faster.It's not about overpowering the Veridian system.
It's about becoming incompatible with it.
Amplifier Mana dominates by interacting—enhancing, suppressing, redirecting.
But what do you amplify… when there's nothing responding?
What do you suppress… when resistance doesn't exist?
I almost smile.
By the time I reach the outer grounds of the Veridian mansion, my path is clear.
Training won't focus on output.
It will focus on capacity.
On how much I can absorb before my core saturates.On how to let enemy mana enter without consequence.On how to remain still while the world exhausts itself.
Black Nox wasn't teaching me how to fight.
It was teaching me how to end fights.
I step through the gates.
The mansion looms ahead—grand, controlled, confident in its absolute authority.
For the first time, it feels… fragile.
Because control means nothing—
When the thing you're trying to control doesn't push back.