In the morning, after a short walk, they reached a secluded training field surrounded by tall trees. At the centre stood several humanoid dolls—lifelike constructs made of wood and metal, lined with glowing veins of an unfamiliar material.
"Today's training will be different," Ms. Rose said, her voice calm yet commanding. "These dolls are made with a special element that reacts to mana. Your first task is simple—circulate your mana into the doll and maintain a steady flow. Don't overdo it. Don't starve it. Just control it. That's the first step." She paused, letting her eyes sweep across the group.
"Once you can maintain the flow, we'll move to the second step—circulating mana within the doll's body. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Ma'am!" the students responded in unison, their voices echoing slightly across the clearing.
For most, the task was challenging but manageable. Within the first hour, many of the students were able to establish a stable connection with the dolls, their mana flowing like calm streams into the constructs. Even the more energetic ones eventually settled into a rhythm. Except for two.
Orin stood with a tense jaw, his right hand raised in front of the doll, veins bulging slightly as he pushed out a stream of mana—only for the doll to flicker and reject it moments later. Too much.
Ronan was no better. His expression twisted in frustration every time he attempted to channel mana. His flame-colored aura flickered unevenly, like a fire struggling against the wind. Sometimes, his mana surged too strongly, causing sparks to snap through the air. Other times, it fizzled out completely.
Again and again, their attempts failed. The sun dipped lower in the sky as Ms. Rose called out, "That's enough for today." Most of the students let out relieved sighs, wiping sweat from their brows. She turned toward the two stragglers, her eyes sharp.
"Ronan. Orin. You're improving—but barely. At least you're no longer blasting the dolls with mana bursts. That's something. You two will stay behind and continue training for two more hours."
The others cast sympathetic glances but said nothing. Training with Ms. Rose was no joke, and staying late was not a privilege anyone envied.
As the clearing emptied, Orin and Ronan silently created shadow clones of themselves. Three bodies now moved in near-perfect sync, resuming their frustrating practice. Two hours passed in bitter silence. No breakthrough. No improvement.
Ronan finally collapsed onto the grassy ground with a groan, hands covering his face. "Aaaaagh! This is so damn frustrating." His clone vanished in a puff of smoke.
"I can't even keep the flow steady. Every time I try to channel mana, it either floods or trickles out. There's no middle ground!"
Orin dispelled his clone, too and offered Ronan a hand. "Same here. It's like... I know what I'm supposed to do, but the moment I start, my instincts just take over. My mana jumps all over the place."
Ronan accepted the hand and pulled himself up, sighing. "Let's head back. Maybe we're missing something." The following days blurred together. The sun rose. They trained. They failed.
Other students steadily advanced, progressing to circulating mana through the doll's upper body. Ronan and Orin remained stuck on step one—control.
Their frustration deepened with each passing hour. Even their clones, meant to accelerate training, couldn't overcome the invisible wall.
On the seventh night, long after the others had gone to bed, Ronan and Orin sat quietly under the open sky. The stars shimmered above them like scattered diamonds, offering a quiet kind of comfort. A few meters away, the sound of clashing blades broke the silence.
Two clones fought in a blur of motion, matching each other blow for blow. One was Ronan's—a fiery silhouette wielding a short sword wreathed in red light. The other was Orin's, crackling with arcs of thunder and wind magic. They moved as if trying to kill each other. No hesitation. No holding back.
Orin and Ronan sat still, eyes locked on the fight. There was something raw and honest in watching their own instincts unfold without restraint.
Suddenly, Ronan's clone feinted and struck low, exploiting a flaw in Orin's clone's stance. Without hesitation, he gathered mana into a single devastating move—Blazing Strike. Mana flooded his body, quadruple what the skill required. The blade ignited with intense flame.
Orin's clone, cornered, retaliated by releasing Storm Shroud—an explosion of lightning that lit the night like a brief sunrise. Electricity arced out in every direction, surrounding him in a ten-meter radius.
The two attacks collided. A blinding burst. A roar of sound. Then silence. Both clones dissolved into clouds of white smoke, their pain and battle experience returning to the originals.
Ronan stared ahead, wide-eyed. Slowly, he turned to Orin, realisation dawning. "You feel it too?" he asked. Orin nodded. "Yeah… I think I finally get it."
Ronan looked up at the sky, voice low and thoughtful. "We're low on mana, so in a real fight, we conserve it. Use weaker skills, wait for an opening, then pour everything into one decisive strike."
"And now," Orin added, "we're trying to train ourselves to maintain steady mana flow—but our instincts are fighting back. It's not just a bad habit. It's survival. It's the way we fight."
"We found the cause," Ronan said, forcing a laugh, "but fixing it... That's another story." Orin chuckled, tired but not defeated. "We'll figure it out." They called it a night and headed back, the stars still quietly watching.
The next morning arrived too quickly. Their struggle continued. No matter how hard they tried to suppress their instincts, their control kept breaking.
During the afternoon session, Ronan sat in silence, eyes narrowed, lost in thought. "This isn't working…" "Do you have any ideas?" he asked quietly. Orin, arms crossed, shook his head. "None that don't suck."
Before they could continue, Ms. Rose's voice cut through the air. "Stop talking. Focus. Or you'll stay another two hours again."
Ronan gritted his teeth. He turned his attention back to the doll, thinking hard. "If constant mana flow is the problem... what if I don't channel it at all?" His eyes widened.
"No... I've been forcing mana through the doll's body like it's my own. But that's wrong. I have my core. The doll doesn't. What if... I give it one."
He took a step forward, placed his hand on the doll's chest, and dumped a chunk of mana directly into its centre—its artificial core. He waited for a second, then began manipulating the mana from within the doll.
Unlike before, there was no need to channel mana constantly into the body. Instead, he simply controlled what was already inside. And it worked.
The flow was smoother, easier to direct. He could circulate it through the torso and limbs, though the amount of mana he'd inserted wasn't enough to reach every part.
Excited, he tried to add more. Too much. The flow shattered. He had to start again. Still—progress.
"Orin," he called, panting, "I think I've got something." Orin jogged over. Ronan explained his method.
Orin raised an eyebrow. "Huh. Store the mana inside, then manipulate it? Like giving it a core of its own…" He placed his hand on his doll, focused, and tried.
The results weren't perfect—but like Ronan, he felt more in control than ever before. A smile tugged at his lips. "This… this is way better."