The raw shock on Sylvaine's face slowly hardened into grim determination. The mystery of *who* he was would have to wait. The reality of *what* he could do demanded immediate focus.
"Enough," she said, her voice regaining its edge. "Enough of unleashing power. Any brute can break things. True mastery isn't in the attack; it's in the control. And the first, most brutal lesson in control is learning to handle what comes back at you."
She took a fighting stance, her hands coming up, palms open. "I'm going to teach you about *Mana Recoil*."
Joshey just watched, his new, synchronized mind already intrigued by the conceptual framework.
"Most think defense is about blocking or dodging," Sylvaine continued. "Mana Recoil is different. It is the art of taking the energy your enemy hurls at you and *returning it to sender*. It is not a magical shield. It is a technique. A reversal of flow."
She began to pace slowly in front of him. "When a mana-based attack strikes, it doesn't just vanish. It leaves a residue—raw, unstable kinetic mana, lingering for a split second. Anyone can feel it. A trained user can *catch* it."
She stopped and pointed at his chest. "But to catch it, you first need a net. You need a *Mana Field*."
"A what?"
"Close your eyes," she commanded. "Stop thinking about projecting outward. Feel inward. Feel the mana circulating within you. Now… imagine that current *isn't* just inside your skin. Imagine it *breathing*. With every exhale, it expands just beyond the surface of your body. With every inhale, it contracts."
Joshey did as he was told. In the perfect clarity of his dual consciousness, it was startlingly easy. He could feel the thrum of their shared mana core. He visualized it as a pulsing heart, and with each pulse, a wave of energy radiated outwards, forming a faint, shimmering bubble around his body.
"Good," Sylvaine's voice cut through his concentration. "You're creating it. That bubble is your Mana Field. It is the atmosphere of your soul. Right now, it's weak. Unfocused. But it's there."
"I can feel it," Joshey murmured, fascinated.
"Now, for the Recoil," Sylvaine said, her tone turning severe. "The process has three steps, and if you fail at *any one*, the energy will rip right through your field and into your core."
She held up a finger. "First, *Catch*. When an attack hits your field, you don't resist it. You accept it. You let the foreign mana *in*."
A second finger. "Second, *Stabilize*. That foreign mana is chaotic. You must instantly match its wavelength with your own, synchronizing with it."
A third finger. "Third, *Reverse*. You take that now-stabilized energy, and you reverse its vector. You create a *Recoil Loop*—a feedback channel that sends the energy screaming back along the exact path it came."
She dropped her hand. "It is technically demanding and merciless. A mistimed reversal can shatter your own mana channels."
She summoned a small, compact firebolt above her palm. "I am going to throw this at you. Do not dodge. Extend your Mana Field. Feel it strike. Try to catch it."
Before he could protest, she flicked her wrist. The firebolt shot toward his chest.
Joshey's eyes widened. Instinct screamed at him to swat it aside. But he fought the instinct. He focused, pushing his awareness into the faint field around him. He felt the firebolt *plunge* into it.
*Catch.*
He willed his field to envelop it. For a terrifying moment, he felt it slipping. Then, a firm, conceptual *grip*. He had it.
*Stabilize.*
He felt the bolt's chaotic frequency and forced his own energy to resonate in harmony. The pressure changed from a stabbing pain to a contained hum.
*Reverse.*
He visualized the path and, with a sharp, mental *shove*, reversed the flow. The energy shot back out, a perfect echo of Sylvaine's firebolt.
Sylvaine let it splash harmlessly against her own field. She stood in silence.
"Once," she finally said, her voice hushed. "An apprentice might achieve that on their first try by flailing luck." She looked at him. "You *executed* that."
A profound quiet settled over the scorched field. The ease was unnatural. A part of her screamed to stop. But a deeper part was gripped by a reckless curiosity.
*What are your limits?*
She took a steadying breath. "Alright, Elias. You've handled a trickle. Let's see if you can handle the flood. I'm going to teach you 'Maximum'."
He looked at her, his focus entirely foreign. "What do you mean?"
"It's not a special ability. It's a state. The pinnacle of control. It is gathering *every single drop* of mana in your body and releasing it in one, perfect, concentrated action. No leaks. No waste."
She stopped and faced him, deadly serious. "Normally, your mana field is a safety mechanism. 'Maximum' is the decision to *bypass that safety*."
"Why is it so difficult?"
"Because the universe fights back," she said bluntly. "At that level, the recoil is a tsunami. If your field isn't strong enough, it will rupture. You'll burn your channels from the inside out. And the world itself will reject it, shoving the energy back down your throat."
She gave him a long, measuring look. He stood calm, centered. The part of her that was his friend felt fear. The master in her needed to *see*.
"I want you to try it," she said, her voice softening. "Not to destroy anything. Just to achieve the state. I need to see your output."
It was dangerous. Irresponsible. But she had to know.
"Focus on your core. Draw it in. All of it. Your field must *contain* it, compress it."
He closed his eyes. The air around him began to shimmer with pure, dense power. The grass at his feet flattened. The pressure built, the light around him bending. He was doing it. Far too easily.
"Now," she whispered. "Hold it. Synchronize. Become one single purpose."
For a breathtaking second, he did. He stood at the center of a vortex of silent, terrifying power.
And then, she saw it. A flicker. A micro-expression of pain—a ghost of a man remembering the cold weight of a gun.
The synchronization broke.
A sharp, metallic taste filled Joshey's mouth as energy backlashed.
«Reinforce the field! *Now!*» Elias's voice was a whip-crack. «Contain the collapse!»
Joshey obeyed, throwing his will into his mana field. The escaping energy slammed against it. He felt a searing pain lance through his channels, but the field held. He staggered.
«Good,» Elias thought, fierce pride in his tone. «You contained a catastrophic failure.»
"I'm fine," Joshey rasped, waving off Sylvaine's panicked approach. "Just... skipped a few steps."
The look on her face crumpled into pure guilt. "It was a mistake. A grave mistake. I could have burned out your core permanently."
Joshey managed a weak smirk. "Relax, Sylvaine. I'm alive. A little internal singeing never killed anyone." He saw her doubt. "Really. It's fine. You were testing a theory. Now we know the theory needs more work."
Sylvaine let out a shaky breath. "No more 'Maximum'," she vowed. "Not for a long, long time."
***
Later, as they walked from the scorched field, Joshey shifted the subject. "Besides, I've got more pressing things to manage. The business, for one."
Sylvaine seized the change with relief. "Right, your grand venture. Have you sold enough turnips to pay back a single florin yet?"
Joshey chuckled. "We've moved beyond turnips." He began counting off his team: a Sales Rep, an Inventory Manager, a Cashier, and a Marketing runner. He explained the daily check-ins, the weekly reviews, the written records.
Sylvaine listened, her teasing replaced by fascination. "You've... structured it. Like a guild chapter."
"Efficiency is efficiency," Joshey said. "It's the only way to build something that lasts."
"You truly are moving forward, Elias," she said softly, a respectful awe in her voice. "It seems you're building an institution."
Joshey just smiled. "Let's just see if it can make enough to pay you back."
He glanced at the sun. "Speaking of which, I need to go. It's almost time for the morning check-in."
As he headed for the market, his mind was already analyzing the larger systems around him. He probed his Guild Recorder, Finn, about changes to the Guild's system, only to be met with confusion. *A system that doesn't change is designed to never favor the little guy,* he thought.
His analysis turned to the adventurers who were his customers. Talking with his sharp-witted marketing runner, Anya, he learned about the Guild's Points System.
As she explained the ranks from F to S, Joshey's mind laid the entire system bare.
*The Points System = A Cage of Dependence.* The Guild alone controlled the value, creating a permanent underclass.
*Failure is Free Labor.* The Guild lost nothing on failed quests.
*The Closed Economy of Control.* Registration fees, taxes, mandatory purchases. The money always flowed back to the Guild.
It was a masterclass in systemic exploitation.
"Wow," Joshey finally said. "It's quite a system."
"Thinking of becoming one, Proprietor?" Anya grinned.
Joshey looked at his thriving stall, at the flawed goods people had to buy. "I don't think so."
"Good," Anya said. "Stay a merchant. It's safer. Besides, if your roof ever leaks, you can just hire one. You don't have to *be* one."
Her words cemented it. Adventurers were a commodity.
The thought settled in Joshey's mind—a clear, deliberate calculation.
*Every flawed system creates an opportunity for the one who understands its flaws.*
He glanced at Finn, recording another sale.
*Actually, joining them might not be a bad idea after all.*
«To understand a beast, you must step into its jaws,» Elias's voice was wary. «From the inside, you could see the gears turning.»
*Exactly,* Joshey replied. *I can't change this from the outside. To dismantle the trap, you need to know how the trigger works.*
That old feeling returned—cold, sharp, and steady. The same determination that guided him in Lagos.
«It could work,» Elias conceded. «But be careful. You'd be putting us under their microscope.»
Joshey smiled faintly.
*I'm counting on that. A system this rigid hates variables it can't predict. And we are the ultimate variable.*
The path was clear.
By day, he'd build his merchant empire.
By night, he'd become an adventurer. Not for glory. For information.
To them, he'd be another fool chasing rank and coin.
But behind that mask, the strategist and the ghost would be watching.
The game had changed.
It wasn't about survival anymore.
It was about **audit**.
He was going to audit the Guild.