The morning in Orleaf was calm, its streets bathed in the mellow glow of sunlight. Yoshiya and Omina spent the hours quietly, avoiding quests and strenuous tasks. With Omina's exam in Korvath just two days away, rest was more important than coin. Their budget was still enough to cover food and lodging, and for once, the world outside felt still.
While Omina idly sharpened her blade and Yoshiya reread his notes on White Mage blessings, a familiar voice cut into their moment of peace.
"You two look like you're about to grow moss just sitting here."
Mako stood by the doorway, arms crossed and a teasing smirk on his lips. His usual laid-back demeanor carried an undertone of curiosity today.
Yoshiya chuckled. "We're pacing ourselves. No point in getting worn out before the exam."
"Fair," Mako nodded. Then, after a moment's pause, he added, "But instead of lazing about, how about you see something old? There's a ruin nearby, an outpost tied to Ostoria's past. You might learn more there than in any tavern tale."
Omina tilted her head. "A ruin?"
Mako grinned. "A piece of history. And history always has lessons."
Intrigued, Yoshiya agreed. "Alright. Let's go."
---
The ruins lay hidden within the embrace of the forest, an hour's walk from town. As they approached, fragments of stone walls peeked through layers of moss and ivy. Cracked pillars jutted out of the ground like broken teeth, remnants of a time when the land held greater pride.
Inside the central chamber, the air was cool and still. Murals stretched across the walls, their faded pigments stubbornly clinging after centuries. Scenes of battle and unity unfolded before them—seven nations rallying against a tide of darkness.
Yoshiya's gaze lingered on the centerpiece: seven figures carved in stone, each one a hero chosen by their nation to stand against the Demon Lord. Six stood boldly, their names etched beneath them. But the seventh—Ostoria's hero—was different. The name was gone, the face scratched away by deliberate hands.
Despite the defacement, Yoshiya felt something stir deep within him. His eyes fixed on the lone figure, and a quiet awe filled his chest.
"They fought against the Demon Lord with everything they had," Yoshiya whispered.
Omina came to his side, watching his expression. Mako only smirked faintly, folding his arms. "It's no surprise you're drawn to them. Especially the Ostorian hero."
"The only one who survived…" Yoshiya muttered.
Mako nodded slowly. "Yes. Six fell. Only the woman of Ostoria returned. And yet… history erased her name. Strange, isn't it?"
Yoshiya clenched his fists, his voice low but firm. "If I'm going to protect Omina, protect anyone… I want to stand like they did. Even if the world forgets me."
For a moment, silence filled the ruined chamber. Then Mako's teasing tone vanished, replaced by something harder, sharper.
"Then listen, Yoshiya." His eyes locked on the young man. "If you want to be like them, you need more than ideals. You're a healer now. And a healer is useless without stamina. Without mana. If you collapse, your whole team collapses with you."
Yoshiya straightened, meeting his gaze. "What do I need to do?"
Mako took a step closer, voice grave. "You need to expand your Mana Reservoirs. Build your capacity until your mana pool is so deep you can keep healing long after everyone else has burned out. That's what separates a true healer from a novice waving light around."
Omina listened intently as Yoshiya's eyes widened with determination. "How?" he asked.
"Through pain," Mako answered simply. "Through progressive overload."
---
They sat within the ruins as Mako explained the method.
"Every night, before you sleep, you'll drain yourself dry. Cast until you're shaking. Until your vision blurs and your body screams at you to stop. Then, when you're right at the edge, when the world is about to fade—force out one more spell. That final push… that's what stretches your reservoir. That's what makes you stronger."
He leaned in, voice lowering like the weight of a secret. "Do this daily. It will hurt. It may break you. But if you endure… you'll have the mana pool of a healer who can stand on the battlefield without faltering."
Yoshiya's heart pounded, the image of the faceless Ostorian hero blazing in his mind. "I'll do it."
---
That evening, beneath the broken roof of the ruin, Yoshiya began his first trial. Mako and Omina stood nearby, watching as he worked.
Heal. Protect. Barrier. Over and over.
Light filled the room, then flickered, then grew dimmer with each cast. Sweat poured down his face, his breaths ragged, his knees trembling.
"Again," Mako urged.
Heal. His vision blurred.
Barrier. His arms shook.
Protect. His body screamed.
Finally, his mana ran thin. Darkness nipped at the edges of his sight. But he clenched his teeth, forcing one last Heal from his fading strength. The light flickered weakly… then faded as he collapsed to the stone floor.
Omina rushed forward, catching him by the shoulders. "Yoshiya!"
But Mako only nodded, a rare smile on his face. "Good. That's the first step."
---
Later, as Omina helped him back to his feet, Yoshiya glanced one last time at the mural of the erased Ostorian hero. The faceless figure seemed to watch him, silent and enduring.
"If she could survive… then so can I," he whispered.
The ruins echoed with the weight of history, and the night closed in as the three of them made their way back toward Orleaf—each carrying their own resolve for the trials yet to come.