As the pressure mounted, the familiar sensation swelled behind his eyes.
It did not arrive all at once. It tightened gradually, like a band being drawn closed, until his awareness narrowed and sharpened in response. The skeleton's movements no longer felt continuous. Each shift of its body broke apart into smaller pieces—weight transferring, joints aligning, the damaged leg hesitating for the barest instant before committing. At the lower edge of his iris, a thin white crescent flickered faintly, there and gone again.
Ivor slipped behind another tree, breaking line of sight.
The motion was instinctive, but desperation followed close behind it.
As he moved, he reached inward, grasping for the mana inside his core and pulling it toward his hand, trying to mimic what he had seen skeleton do moments earlier. The response came immediately. Mana stirred and flowed, gathering in his palm with a warmth that bordered on unstable.
Then the skeleton rounded the tree.
Ivor broke into a run toward the next trunk. The instant his attention split, the gathered mana unraveled, slipping back into his core as if it had never been there. He tried again while moving, jaw clenched tight, but the result was the same. The flow refused to hold.
He tried with his Umbra matrix too but the same happened.
It wasn't just difficult.
It was impossible.
Not like this. Not while fighting for his life.
He abandoned the attempt and slid behind another tree, tightening his grip on the dagger as he forced his breathing to slow. Pain throbbed through his shoulder and chest, but he pushed it aside and brought his focus back where it belonged.
The air whistled.
A blade cut past his head.
Ivor threw himself backward, the bone sword missing him by inches. He hit the ground hard, sucked in a sharp breath, and rolled away as the follow-up strike carved into the bark where his head had been.
'Focus,' he screamed inwardly.
The world narrowed again.
The skeleton raised its sword.
Ivor surged forward instead of retreating.
The blade came down in a heavy arc, grazing his shoulder as he slipped inside its range. Pain flared hot and sharp, nearly stealing his balance, but he stayed upright and drove his dagger forward in the same motion.
Metal met bone.
The blade skidded across hardened ribs, sparks flickering as it failed to bite. The skeleton answered immediately, knee snapping upward.
Ivor twisted aside. The kick clipped his hip instead of crushing it, but the impact still sent a jolt through his body. He rolled away as the sword followed, came up on one knee, then forced himself upright again. Blood slicked his sleeve. His breathing had turned ragged.
They separated for a fraction of a second.
The skeleton adjusted its stance.
It was learning.
So was Ivor.
He circled slowly, forcing it to move, his gaze locked onto the skeleton's damaged leg. Every shift of weight, every faint delay, he tracked without blinking. He waited for the opportunity and it came.
The skeleton slashed high.
Ivor stepped in instead of back and ducked. The sword hissed overhead as he snapped his leg forward, kicking hard into the cracked limb.
Pain tore up his own leg at the impact, but the strike landed true. The skeleton's injured leg buckled, its balance faltering for the first time.
Ivor captured the moment and lunged, driving the dagger straight ahead.
The blade punched through the skeleton's eye socket and into the skull.
The creature reeled, staggering back but it did not slow. It did not falter.
A bone fist came swinging in a wide arc.
Ivor saw it a heartbeat too late. He tried to shift aside, but the blow clipped him squarely and sent him crashing sideways into the ground. His vision swam as he hit, sound dropping away into a dull roar. Parts of his body went numb.
He rolled, gasping.
Before the pain could pin him down completely, he forced himself up again, staggering forward on instinct more than strength.
He saw one of the skeleton's eyes no longer glowed red.
That was enough.
Ivor charged, feinting a jump. The skeleton reacted instantly, sweeping its sword in a horizontal arc meant to cut him down mid-air.
Ivor dropped low instead.
The blade passed overhead as he slid forward, knees scraping hard against dirt and roots. He drove the dagger sideways with everything he had left.
The blade struck the damaged knee.
For a moment, the bone resisted.
Then it gave way.
The lower leg shattered below the joint, fragments spraying outward as the skeleton collapsed forward with a heavy clatter. It dropped to one knee, balance finally broken.
Ivor didn't stop.
He rolled past the falling body, came up behind it, and brought both hands onto the dagger. His arms shook violently, strength bleeding away with every breath. The pressure behind his eyes surged one last time, sharp and blinding.
He brought the blade down.
The dagger punched through the top of the skull and burst out beneath the jaw in a single, brutal motion.
The skeleton shuddered. Slowly, the red light in its remaining eye faded.
Ivor wrenched the dagger free and stumbled back as the skeleton collapsed, breaking apart into loose bone and drifting dust at his feet.
He remained standing only because he refused to fall.
His hands shook uncontrollably. His chest throbbed where the kick had landed, each breath scraping through him. His head pounded in slow, crushing waves.
Then his stomach lurched.
Ivor dropped to his knees and vomited, dark red blood splattering across the forest floor. He stayed there, breathing hard, vision pulsing in and out, trusting that it would pass like it always had. It always did. He will endure this too.
Eventually, the ringing in his ears faded. The forest sounds returned, one by one.
When his vision cleared, he noticed a faint glow among the scattered remains.
A small crystal lay there, pulsing softly.
"An impure mana crystal," he muttered.
He picked it up with trembling fingers. Its surface was rough, the warmth uneven. He closed his hand around it anyway. The pain, the fear, the near-miss—it had been worth it.
It took him several breaths before he even tried to stand.
When he did, his legs wavered immediately. The world pitched sideways, vision blurring hard enough that he had to drop a hand to the ground to keep from falling. He stayed there, breathing through the dizziness, until the forest stopped spinning.
Only then did he push himself upright.
He limped couple of steps, moving one careful step at a time. Each shift of weight sent pain flaring through his chest and shoulder, his injured leg dragging slightly despite his effort to keep it steady. Near the scattered bones, the sword lay half-buried in leaves, white and heavy against the forest floor.
He hesitated, then bent and picked it up.
The weight pulled at his shoulder immediately, making his teeth clench, but leaving it behind felt worse than the pain. He adjusted his grip and turned toward the tree.
The walk felt longer than before.
At the base of the trunk, he stopped and looked up.
His bag still rested on the branch above.
The distance made his stomach sink.
He stood there longer than he should have, steadying his breathing, then slid the sword behind his back and secured it with his belt. When he began climbing, the pain hit at once. His arms shook as he pulled himself upward. His leg protested with every movement, blood soaking through the bindings on his thigh and bicep again, warm and slick.
He didn't stop.
He climbed little by little, pausing only when his vision blurred too badly to ignore, until he reached the branch where the bag waited. He dragged himself onto it and stayed there, chest heaving, forehead pressed to the bark.
When he felt his vision was good enough to read, only then did he move again.
He pulled the crystal from his palm and tucked it carefully into the bag. His fingers lingered inside before closing around the spine of a book.
He pulled out the book titled Mana.
Ivor leaned back against the trunk, every muscle aching, and opened it.
He had no intention of moving again until he reached the final page.