For the past month, I continued my routine of mana training while my parents busied themselves with their work. I often caught the way their eyes lingered on me when I returned from the grove, their faces lined with both curiosity and worry. They never asked where I went or what I did, perhaps because they sensed my seriousness. Instead, they chose silence, their unease hidden beneath ordinary smiles.
But I knew—they feared I was doing something reckless. In truth, they were right.
Every day, I could feel it. The steady pull of mana becoming sharper, clearer. The tingling sensation in my veins when I absorbed it had grown into something stronger, something alive. Each breath, each cycle of absorption filled me with more energy than the last. I was walking toward something inevitable, and today, I could sense it pressing close—so close that my chest trembled with anticipation.
The grove awaited me, as it always did, draped in afternoon quiet. Settling down beneath the same old tree, I closed my eyes and began my practice.
And then it happened.
My thoughts scattered for the briefest second, as if my mind had slipped from my control. A strange sound followed—soft, flowing, like water streaming through unseen channels. Yet it wasn't outside. It was inside me. Mana surged, racing through every nerve, every blood vessel, every hidden corner of my body.
It was like being struck by lightning and yet not hurt. My senses exploded, sharpened to a painful degree. I could hear everything: the delicate ruffling of leaves overhead, the faint hum of insects beneath the soil, even the rhythm of my own pulse. The world wasn't just around me anymore—it was inside me, resonating with me.
And then, sight shifted. My eyes remained closed, yet I was looking inward. My body lay revealed before me, not as flesh, but as an intricate network of nerves, bones, and blood vessels. Glowing fluid rushed through them, radiant and alive—mana itself. I watched in wonder as it coursed toward my heart, gathering with relentless force.
There, in the very center of me, the convergence began. The mana compressed, folding tighter and tighter, until at last a small, black core flickered into existence.
It pulsed. Once. Twice. And with every beat, it sent a surge through me so powerful I thought my chest would burst.
The process dragged on, timeless. Seconds became minutes, minutes became an eternity. I lost myself in it, as if months were passing while I sat motionless beneath that tree. At last, the compression slowed, then ceased. The core gleamed faintly, steady and whole.
The awakening was complete.
My eyes snapped open, and I sucked in a breath. The grove around me was in chaos. The grass bent low, winds still swirling as if a storm had passed through. Mana hung thick in the air, shimmering faintly, drawn toward me even now.
I staggered to my feet, every muscle trembling. My body felt new—stronger, faster, alive in a way I had never known. Even breathing filled me with energy, as if my lungs drank mana as easily as air.
Unable to resist, I moved. Push-ups, squats, stretches, anything to test this new strength. My body obeyed with ease, almost eager. It wasn't just power—it was control, balance, precision. Each movement felt natural, as though I had been reborn.
By the time I reined in the exhilaration, the sun was already sinking toward evening. My parents would soon return, and I couldn't risk alarming them with what I had just achieved. The urge to check my personal status pulsed at the back of my mind, but I swallowed it down. Not yet.
Suppressing the impulse, I took one last look at the grove. The winds had calmed, the trees whispering as if acknowledging my change. With a steady breath, I turned and ran toward home, my steps lighter, my heart racing with the secret I now carried.
I had awakened.