The voice lingered within my mind like a whisper from another world, soft yet impossible to dismiss."If you are listening to this, it means you're attempting to restore your mana through human methods. But I am about to share with you a technique held only by dragons. Should a human learn to wield it, even a mere child without a core could forcefully create one."
I remained perfectly still, my breath caught somewhere between disbelief and anticipation, as though my very soul had paused to better absorb the impossible words unraveling inside me. My heart pounded steadily in my chest, echoing each syllable with a solemn weight. This was no mere fantasy conjured from desire. This was real. This was knowledge meant for me.
"Do not be startled, child. This is no illusion of your imagination. This is a recording—a memory I've planted within your unconscious. You will hear more when the time demands it. This is merely the beginning."
A warmth began to bloom within my chest as though something dormant had finally begun to stir. It wasn't painful. Rather, it was familiar, as if recognizing a long-forgotten friend returning home.
"Focus now. Feel the mana that surrounds you. Reach for it. Imagine it brushing against your skin, fracturing into minute particles. Draw them inward. Let them bleed into your blood itself. Guide this energy, slowly but with certainty, toward your heart. From there, lead it deeper, to where your core will one day awaken. Know this, child—creatures like dragons are born with cores, with open channels. For them, this is restoration. For you, it is creation."
The words unraveled something in me, a hunger for power, yes, but also understanding. I had spent a lifetime mastering ki. I knew the delicate pathways of energy, the subtle breath of life beneath the skin. But this… this was something far grander, something ancient. The voice pressed on, soft as a whisper but sharp as steel.
And then, the silence returned—absolute, suffocating, and profound. Not the gentle hush of an empty room but a stillness so deep it seemed to swallow sound itself. I sat there, unmoving, letting the final words settle within me like embers sinking into flesh. The message had ended. For now.
'Time to begin.'
Slowly, I exhaled, steadying my thoughts. I closed my eyes, retreating inward, reaching beyond my fragile body toward the unseen world that waited just beyond perception's veil. I sought the mana as instructed, stretching my senses thin in the hope of touching something real. Yet, nothing greeted me. No warmth against my skin. No spark against my soul. Only the quiet hum of my own breath filling the storeroom's stale air.
Frustration clawed at the edges of my calm, but I forced it down. This would not be easy. Nothing worth having ever was.
'Again.'Step one: feel the mana.Step two: bring it inside.Step three: bind it to my blood.Step four: guide it to my heart.Step five: forge the core.
The steps played through my mind like a litany, a sacred chant to keep my purpose aligned. I tried again, and again, and again. But reality remained cruel. No energy answered my call. No threads of power wrapped themselves around me. It felt as though there were an invisible barrier fencing me off from the very world I was meant to shape.
Still, I would not yield. I had not been reborn to falter now.
[ YUNA KRATER ]
There was a rhythm to my days now—morning chores, afternoon errands, and each evening a quiet pull toward the storeroom. I never fully understood why my steps carried me there without fail. Perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps something deeper, a mother's intuition whispering of things unseen.
And each time I arrived, I found Ray nestled among the dust and old books, his small fingers trailing across the faded pages with a concentration no child his age should possess. I often wondered if he truly read those texts or if he simply studied the ink and picture for comfort. After all, I had only taught him the basics—how to shape letters, how to form words. Yet, the speed at which he learned… It frightened me sometimes.
Everything about him seemed to move too fast. Walking, speaking, reading—he conquered each milestone with alarming ease. His gaze lacked the wide-eyed wonder of children; instead, it held something sharper, something weightier than innocence could carry. I saw it most clearly in the way he watched Robert. Where others might flinch at falling trees and cleaving blades, Cape stared with a calm curiosity, analyzing rather than fearing. Even when Robert pressed a training stick into his hands, Cape had smiled—not with the joy of play, but with the satisfaction of purpose.
He is not ordinary. That truth settled within me like a stone in deep water. Yet, beneath the pride stirred a quiet fear. There was something hidden in him, something secret he would not share. I saw it in the spaces between his words, in the moments when his gaze wandered beyond this world and into some memory he would not name. I trusted that, in time, he would tell me. But the world is not kind to prodigies. Not to those who burn too brightly, too soon.
[ ONE YEAR LATER ]
[ RAYON KRATER ]
The storeroom had become my sanctuary. My temple. My battlefield.
I sat cross-legged upon the cold wooden floor, breath measured, mind sharpened to a blade's edge as I guided myself into the fourth stage of the dragon's breathing technique. A year. A full year spent carving progress from the stone of frustration. Inch by inch, step by painful step, I had advanced. Yesterday had marked my first true victory—I had succeeded in channeling mana through my veins, felt it pulse beneath my skin like a second heart.
Today, I would push further.
Slow breath in. Slow breath out. Again.
Mana responded, sluggish but compliant, threading itself into my bloodstream like molten threads weaving through silk. I coaxed it with patience, guiding it toward my chest, feeling it gather at my heart like a tide seeking harbor. The process was agony. My veins burned beneath the strain, nerves alight with fire, but I endured. Pain was a teacher I had long since learned to respect.
Closer. more closer.
When at last the mana touched the dormant space within me, something shifted. A door cracked open. Light—not blinding, but soft—bloomed within the darkness of my body. Power surged, raw and unfamiliar, racing through my flesh until I felt as though I stood on the precipice of something vast and unknowable.
In that moment, I became both augmenter and conjurer. My breath escaped in a sharp exhale as I rose, trembling, to my feet. The world beyond the storeroom door seemed brighter, clearer, vibrating with threads of energy I had never noticed before. Trees breathed. Stones whispered. Even the air seemed to watch with silent expectation. I remembered the voice's promise: "You will face the supreme creatures. This power will serve you when that time comes."
Not yet. I wasn't ready. Not truly. But this… this was a beginning.
With steady hands, I pulled free the ancient books buried beneath cloth and time. Books of control. Of manipulation. Of elemental mastery. Control must precede strength. Mastery must precede battle. Beneath the weight of ancient knowledge and the promise of power yet to come.