The sound of blood hitting the floor was the only thing breaking the silence in the empty training room.
Each drop splattered against the white reinforced tiles. Spreading in small crimson circles that mixed with the pools of sweat beneath Kyle’s shaking body.
His nose wouldn’t stop bleeding. The warm metallic flow kept trickling over his lips, down his chin, dripping steadily like a broken valve.
He could taste the iron on his tongue, sharp and metallic. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novelꞁire.net
Kyle’s breathing came in ragged gasps. His chest rising and falling like he’d he’d just run a marathon.
Every muscle in his body burned with exhaustion. His arms trembling just from trying to keep himself upright on the cold floor. His fingers twitched involuntarily, nails scraping against the smooth surface as he tried to steady himself.
Zalrielle lay beside him in her sword form. The black tachi’s polished surface reflecting the harsh training room lights.
Even without looking at her. He could feel her disapproval.
’I told you to take it slow,’ her voice echoed in his mind.
Kyle couldn’t even form a response.
His thoughts were scrambled. His brain still trying to recover from the searing pain that had exploded through his body moments ago.
It felt like someone had taken a red-hot poker and shoved it through every single one of his mana channels.
With a shaky hand. He wiped at his mouth, smearing blood across the back of his wrist.
His vision swam for a second. The edges going dark before snapping back into focus.
"Damn it," he croaked, his voice barely recognizable.
Gritting his teeth hard. He forced himself to sit up.
His abs screamed in protest. His ribs ached with every breath, and his head pounded like someone had taken a hammer to it.
His fingers reached for dimension ring on his hand. The simple act of channeling a trickle of mana into it almost too much.
After three failed attempts. The ring finally glowed faintly and a small glass vial appeared in his palm.
A high-grade recovery potion.
The cork came out with a soft pop that sounded absurdly loud in the quiet room.
Kyle didn’t hesitate. He tipped his head back and chugged the thick, syrupy liquid in one go. Barely suppressing a gag at the bitter herbal taste.
For several long seconds. Nothing happened.
Then warmth spread through his chest. The bleeding slowed to a sluggish trickle. The worst of the pain dulled to a manageable ache.
He let his head thunk back against the cool wall.
Zalrielle’s sigh filled his mind. Relief and heavy with disapproval.
Kyle let out a slow breath through his nose, too exhausted to argue. His whole body ached like he had been run over by some vehicle.
Yeah. He’d been reckless.
But what choice did he have?
He couldn’t just sit back and pretend he was strong enough.
Ever since Zalrielle woke up from whatever dormant state she’d been in.
He’d become aware of something... new inside him. Right next to his normal mana core..
That bright, swirling mass of energy he’d spent months strengthening. There was now a second core.
This one was different.
While his original core glowed white. Pure and bright like sunlight,
The new one was... black.
He could feel it near his solar plexus.
Not just dark. Not just shadowed.
It was like staring into a void. An endless nothingness that somehow still pulsed with power.
And the energy inside it? It wasn’t regular mana.
Zalrielle called it...
She hadn’t explained much beyond that. Just a warning...
’You can’t just use spirit mana like normal mana,’
Her voice echoing in his head like always.
’First, you’ve got to guide it through your core. Then you channel it through your mana pathways. But you have to be careful. It’s heavier. More volatile.’
At the time. He’d nodded like he understood.
Because no warning could have prepared him for what it actually felt like to try and move that energy.
For the past eight hours, he’d been at it.
Eight. Damn. Hours. Sitting cross-legged in this stupid training room, sweat dripping down his back, trying to get even the tiniest bit of that black energy to budge.
It was like trying to push a mountain with his bare hands.
Worse. At least a mountain wouldn’t fight back.
Then, finally, after what felt like forever. He’d managed something.
Just the smallest nudge.
A fraction of that dark energy shifting where he wanted it to go.
And the backlash had nearly killed him.
His mana channels had burned like they’d been set on fire from the inside.
His core had shuddered violently. Like it was about to crack apart.
One second he was sitting there. The next he was flat on his back, coughing up blood like some tragic hero in a bad play.
Now, lying on the cold training room floor with the taste of copper in his mouth. He could only mutter:
"It’s much tougher than I thought it would be."
His voice came out rough, like he’d been screaming for hours. Maybe he had. He couldn’t really remember.
Zalrielle didn’t respond right away. When she did, Her mental voice was quieter. Almost... concerned.
’You’re trying to force it,’ she said. ’Spirit mana doesn’t work like that.’
Kyle dragged a hand down his face, smearing blood and sweat across his cheek. "Then how the hell does it work?"
’Like water,’ she replied simply. ’You don’t command it. You guide it. You let it flow.’
He let out a frustrated breath. That wasn’t helpful. That wasn’t—
A sharp pain lanced through his chest, cutting off his thoughts. He winced, pressing a hand to his sternum.
Even with the high-grade potion working through his system. The damage wasn’t completely gone.
All he had to show for it was a splitting headache, a mouth full of blood, and the vague sense that he’d barely scratched the surface of whatever this power was.
He’d have to do it all over again tomorrow.
Kyle glanced at the mana band on his wrist.
’Great, I still have an hour to take a little nap.’