"Ggmm, Ggmm."
Lia cleared her throat, her fist lightly pressed to her mouth.
"Do you have any ideas about breathing techniques?" she asked, heading toward a door beside the one she'd gone to earlier.
I didn't respond. My mind was still consumed by the images I had seen just moments ago. The fragments lingered—especially the wind spear. The more I thought about it, the more I began to grasp the overwhelming complexity of the wind element captured within it. Each current involved had a purpose, yet all seemed to yearn to break free, to return to the untamable flow of the wind. It was a paradox: perfectly constructed, yet impossible to control.
.
.
"Am I talking to the walls or to you?"
Lia had turned around, catching sight of my distant expression. Her words pulled me back to the present.
"Since we both primarily use the wind element, it would make sense for the breathing technique to focus on transforming atmospheric aether into wind," I said.
"Do you have an idea for the Mana Path in your head?" She asked.
"I thought we agreed not to overcomplicate things—just use the minimal structure needed to convert it into the element, and then focus on maximizing the amount of aether," I added.
"The minimum?" she repeated. "You do realize that'll make it much harder to control, and the aether released into the atmosphere that cant be used will spike dramatically."
"So what?" I replied. "That shouldn't matter right now. At least let's take the first step in transforming atmospheric aether."
Lia stared at me with a mix of doubt and frustration. But after a moment, she exhaled and gave a reluctant nod—she'd go along with my plan. For now.
To create a breathing technique, is needed only the essential three components:
The Body – It must possess the innate ability to perceive and assimilate inspired aether. This includes the capacity to sense, absorb, and regulate it throughout the physical and aetheric systems.
The Path for Mana – This is the internal blueprint, the method by which aether moves within the body. It begins with the breath and travels through the body to the ManaVentis, forming a stable circuit.
The Breathing Pattern – Represents the rhythm or cadence of breath. It divides the technique into different phases, allowing the user to transition through each stage with precision.
For a breathing technique to reach completion, these three components must exist in absolute harmony:
The Path must form the most efficient and controllable circuit, maximizing mana flow and ensuring long-term stability.
The Breathing Pattern must synchronize with both the body and the Path, drawing out their full potential.
In our case, the Body is not a problem. Both Lia and I already possess refined constitutions.
Mine is shaped by Cyclone's Embrace (4★), a martial art engraved in every cell in my body. Lia, meanwhile, has a body optimized for the rapid transformation of atmospheric ether into usable one.
Because of my martial arts, I can no longer use any other breathing technique to its full potential. Tempest Flow (4★) is bound to me, its Path is inscribed into my internal circuit. Attempting to use a technique designed for another constitution then Ventis could cripple me permanently.
Lia, on the other hand, remains unbound. Her foundation is more flexible. The techniques she employs as a ManaDomain user are simplistic in structure, echoing those of the Elves. They prioritize the perception and manipulation of atmospheric aether above all else.
There is a common belief: that ManaDomain users are a degraded reflection of the Elves less precise, less graceful. But voicing that opinion in front of them can be dangerous. You may find yourself exposed to different spells that can threaten your life.
The room Lia led me to resemble a compact study chamber. Three semicircular tables formed the centerpiece, while an interactive whiteboard occupied the front wall. The side walls were plastered with theoretical charts, blueprints, diagrams, and an array of components for experiments.
From a nearby shelf, Lia retrieved a diagram depicting the human body and its primary aetheric vessels. Taking a marker, she drew the most basic route for aether conversion transforming it into the ManaVentis.
"If we're starting with the simplest structure, then this is where we begin."
"We still need the stabilizing and regulating components," I added, picking up another marker and carefully sketching additional lines on the diagram.
"These are too trivial."
Without hesitation, Lia erased some of my additions and replaced them with her own interpretations.
Does that mean you want to behave like this?
I didn't say it aloud, but it echoed in my head.
.
.
.
"I'm telling you, this isn't correct! The latest research shows that directing aether into the smaller vessels actually reduces control!"
"And I'm telling you," she shot back, "that every high-quality breathing technique includes circulation through even the smallest vessels to increase control over the ManaVentis."
Our arguments often followed this pattern, Lia representing the newest scientific findings, while I clung to the tried-and-true teachings handed down through generations.
"That's only because those old models haven't been reevaluated under modern standards," she countered. "I guarantee they wouldn't hold up if tested today."
Hmmm!
She crossed her arms, eyes closed, striking a pose that practically declared undeniable truth.
"You know what? I think we should add a new Path here."
I reached for my marker again.
"Where?" she asked, just as she opened her eyes only to find the tip of the marker pointing directly at her forehead.
"Right here!" I said, confidently marking a dot right in the center of her forehead.
"Now it's ideal."
There was a pause as Lia processed what had just happened.
"Better now?" I asked, grinning.
Rather than respond, she wordlessly drew a bold, horizontal line across my cheek with her own marker.
And so the rest of the day went filled with back-and-forth arguments over the ideal structure for a breathing technique. My suggestions were frequently labeled inaccurate or outdated, then replaced with supposedly correct formulations, never my "ancient traditions from the Atticity" have been left on the paper.
By the end of it, we had managed to outline about 60% of the Path. Not without sacrifice, of course. Both Lia's and my face had become canvases of marker sketches: spirals, little houses, even abstract patterns that made us look like walking diagrams ourselves.
"Let's stop here," I finally sighed, rubbing a star-shaped doodle off my chin.
"We've got morning lessons tomorrow."
"Okay, can you come tomorrow to continue?"
"After I finish Dop classes, I don't think it'll be a problem."
"Great!" Lia replied with a bright smile.
I smirked and pointed at my face. "Now, where can I find a tap to wash off your masterpiece?"
"Oh yes, of course! As you exit, it's the door on the right wall!"
I turned to leave, following her directions, but just before I stepped through the doorway, her voice stopped me.
"Wait, hand me your dorm card for a moment."
Her unexpected request caught me off guard. Still, without asking questions, I tossed the card to her and shut the door behind me.
.
.
I was nearly ready to leave when I heard the sound of the elevator rising. Someone entered Lia's room. The sudden interruption made me erase my presence and quietly observe the scene through a barely visible opening.
What is this parrot doing here?
The same guy who had already thrown my emotions into chaos had entered Lia's personal space uninvited and clearly, he wasn't welcome.
Lia quickly tried to wipe her face with a towel, though some faded streaks still clung to her skin. Her expression, which had been light and cheerful moments ago, was now hardened cold and disgusted.
"What do you want, Samuel?"
Her voice dripped with loathing.
He ignored her tone completely. Hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored trousers, he approached with the kind of casual grace that only came from years of rehearsed arrogance. Each step echoed across the room, his polished shoes tapping out a rhythm of entitlement. His long red hair shimmered under the fading sunlight, casting fleeting glints that only made his presence more insufferably theatrical.
"I just had a small desire..." he said, raising his hand toward her cheek, "to see my future wife."
Can I kill him?
A voice whispered sweetly in my mind. A temptation, nectar-like.
He won't even get the chance to react.
Lia's hand slapped his away before it got any closer and the voice in my head vanished.
"Who do you think you are? You come into my room without permission and say that garbage?"
"Lia, my dear, why are you acting like this?" he interrupted smoothly. "You yourself admitted my father wants you to join our family. And as you know, my father always gets what he wants."
That silenced her not because she agreed, but because there was truth in it. Her glare made it clear how she felt, even if she couldn't openly refute it.
From twenty meters away, I was barely holding myself back. Every word he uttered pulled me closer to the edge and voices were becoming more and more loud. If this continued, Samuel might just find his head in an incorrect position.
Then, as suddenly as he'd arrived, Samuel turned his back and walked toward the elevator. Just before the doors closed, he glanced over his shoulder, and his voice echoed one last time:
"And do send a message to that friend of yours, the one you waste your free time with. If he doesn't want to be folded into a shape compact enough to fit in a mailbox, tell him to stay away. I'd hate to get my clothes dirty with street trash."
The elevator doors shut.
Silence returned.
"Kail, don't pay attention to what that guy said, he's just an idiot!"
"It's fine, I don't care."
That was the lie I wore, stitched into the calm smile I had as I stepped out. Nothing on the surface betrayed the storm inside my head.
"Should I come here tomorrow too?"
I asked Lia as I walked toward her.
She looked at me, catching the quiet restraint in my expression, the gentleness I forced myself to project.
"Yes, that would be wonderful."
Her answer came with a breath of relief, her posture softening.
"I'll walk you to the emergency exit. I don't want you getting into trouble because of me."
"Yeah. Okay."
We walked side by side, our pace slow, our words silent. I kept the same easy expression relaxed, composed. Every muscle in my face is obedient to the mask I tried to maintain.
"From here on, I'll go alone," I said when we reached the stairwell.
"Okay… then see you tomorrow," she replied, her voice carrying a note of reluctant warmth, a smile tugging at her lips tinged with sadness.
Without thinking, I stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.
She tensed for a brief second, caught off guard but then her arms wrapped around me, her hands settling against my back. Her head leaned into my chest. Neither of us spoke.
After a few long seconds, I relaxed my grip and stepped back.
"See you tomorrow."
"Yeah!"
Her face brightened—genuinely. But I didn't let myself dwell on it.
I turned away and began to descend the stairs.
The moment my back was to her, the smile vanished. Every trace of warmth drained from my eyes.
I didn't want Lia to see me like this.
Because now… I was no longer calm.
The emotions I had buried for years, now ware in rampage and in a scary one
Kill him!
That was the first thought that surfaced.
Just cut his legs—cripple him.
No, better… traumatize him. Rip out his tongue, hands, eyeballs
But a part of me still remained rational and understood that there was power behind him.
Then cut Him into such small pieces that they can be carried by the wind.
But if I struck, it wouldn't just be me who paid. Lia would be dragged into it. And I couldn't let that happen.
The thoughts didn't feel like mine. And yet, they did.
Sweet. So sweet. Seductive, in a way that made logic feel pale and tasteless. I tried to reason, tried to calm down, but the rage had already found cracks in my defenses.
And worse still—they didn't sound like madness.
They sounded right.