Aldric let out a short, humorless breath, his eyes flicking from Draven to the small black creature sitting far too calmly nearby.
"And you all wondered why **that thing** is still alive," he said flatly. "Like master, like pet."
The cat's ears twitched—but it didn't move.
Draven remained on all fours, fingers digging into the dirt as his breath came slow and heavy. The pain hadn't vanished. It had **settled**, coiling deep inside him like something alive—something waiting.
*Now that what I can hold is what's left…*
*I need to seal it.*
*Contain it.*
His blood pulsed hot beneath his skin as he drew inward, instinctively trying to compress the chaos—forcing it back into something solid, something **obedient**.
The maid's voice cut in immediately, sharp despite its calm.
"My lord—no. What you're doing is dangerous. You were doing well, moving along the right track, but you must not try to contain it."
She stepped closer, her eyes steady.
"Let it flow."
Lyriana nodded quickly. "She's right, Your Highness. For vampires, mana is second nature. You can't treat it like something foreign."
Draven's fingers twitched.
His shoulders trembled—not from weakness, but restraint.
"…You damn bastards," he muttered.
Slowly, he lifted his head.
"You keep saying *let it flow*," he growled, blood still dripping from his chin. "Like it's some gentle stream."
His red eyes burned as he turned them on the maid.
"This isn't flowing. This is a **flood**."
He pushed himself up slightly, teeth clenched.
"If I don't contain it—if I don't cage it—then this 'second nature' of yours will tear me apart from the inside."
The ground beneath his hands cracked faintly.
"And I'm not dying here," Draven said quietly. "Not after everything."
The mana around him stirred again—uneasy, unstable.
The choice he was about to make—
would decide whether this power became **his**,
or whether it consumed him whole.
Aldric straightened, the wings of mana around him fading as he stepped forward, his expression unusually serious.
"What are you two even talking about—*let it flow*?" he snapped, eyes cutting between the maid and Lyriana. "That works **for you**. For vampires who were born with mana, who grew with it, who have a place for it to settle."
He turned his gaze to Draven.
"But him? That's not the case."
The clearing fell silent.
"He's never had mana," Aldric continued. "Not even a trace. No childhood adaptation. No instinct. And more importantly—"
His eyes narrowed.
"—he doesn't have a **mana pool**."
The words landed heavily.
"You felt it, didn't you?" Aldric said, looking back at the maid and Lyriana. "There's nowhere for it to *stay*. Where do you think the mana is supposed to go?"
Draven's breathing slowed slightly as Aldric spoke.
"He just let a massive amount leak out," Aldric went on, "but the rest didn't disperse. It didn't settle. It didn't vanish."
He gestured toward Draven.
"He's the one still **holding it**. Not with a pool. Not with a core. With his body. His blood. His will."
The maid's eyes widened—just a fraction.
Lyriana stiffened.
Aldric folded his arms. "So no—this isn't about letting it flow or containing it like some textbook spell. You're telling him to do what works for *you*, without realizing—"
He stopped.
Draven slowly lifted his head, red eyes locking onto Aldric.
Aldric met his gaze head-on.
"What you're dealing with," he said quietly, "isn't mana trying to return to its nature."
"It's mana trying to **find a place to exist**."
Aldric nodded grimly.
"So unless he can create a **mana pool**, this is how it's going to stay. Either he keeps suffering like this—holding it by force, tearing himself apart in the process—or he releases it and loses everything he just gained."
Lyriana glanced at him sideways, a faint hum escaping her lips.
"Hm. To think you noticed that."
Aldric shot her a look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She didn't answer immediately. Her eyes were on Draven now—studying him, not with fear, but with something closer to curiosity… or awe.
"A mana pool," she said slowly, "is something you're born with. It forms naturally as the body grows. I've never heard of anyone *creating* one."
The maid's brows knitted together. "Artificial pools exist," she said carefully. "Rings. Stars. External vessels, and more—"
Lyriana shook her head. "Those are containers. Not pools. They break. They leak. They rely on something else to stabilize them."
Her gaze sharpened.
"But he doesn't need a container."
Silence stretched.
Aldric frowned. "Then what are you saying?"
Lyriana exhaled softly.
"I'm saying… if he truly has no pool, and yet the mana hasn't killed him—if his body is still holding it—then something else is acting as the foundation."
She looked directly at Draven.
"Your blood," she said. "Your blood isn't just carrying mana."
"It's **learning** it."
Aldric's eyes widened. "You mean—"
"Yes," Lyriana cut in. "Not a mana pool formed at birth. Not an artificial core."
"A pool that forms **after awakening**."
The maid stiffened. "That's—"
"Impossible?" Lyriana finished calmly. "So was a royal bloodline with no mana. So was surviving raw magic stones. So was awakening sealed blood through sheer pressure."
She tilted her head slightly.
"You don't need to *make* a mana pool, Your Highness," she said. "You need to give your body time to **define one**."
Aldric clenched his jaw. "Time he doesn't have."
Lyriana nodded.
"Which means—"
Draven's leaking mana twisted in the air, warping the air around him.
"—if he's going to survive," she said quietly, "he'll have to endure the pain until his blood finishes deciding **what he's going to be**."