The wind whispered across Kael's face as he walked beyond the edges of the city past the marble towers and humming rail lines toward the horizon where metal met wilderness.
His sword swayed gently at his side. The book was tucked safely inside his coat.
Ahead of him, shrouded in mist, lay the Elowen Forest.
To most, it was just a high-mana region marked off for preservation and hunting rights. But Kael knew better. The mana density here warped the land itself. Fruits that healed wounds, herbs that strengthened the body, and beasts mutated by nature's purest energy.
It was the perfect place to train and possibly the only place where his mana might unlock itself.
As he walked, a thought tugged at the back of his mind.
"Wait… I can't just run off and train in the wilderness. What if I get injured? What if I get lost?"
He stopped on the edge of a hill and sat down.
Planning first.
After sifting through his memories, he remembered that Elowen's outer ring was known for being relatively safe filled mostly with mana-rich flora and few creatures. It had no official restrictions either.
More importantly it was quiet. Untouched by the chaos of the city. A perfect cradle for growth.
Decision made, Kael stood up and continued walking.
When he reached the edge of the forest, the air changed.
It was thicker. Sharper. Charged with invisible currents that danced along his skin. The trees swayed slower here, almost as if breathing in sync with the mana around them.
He didn't go too deep just far enough for the sounds of civilization to fade.
He found a small clearing with moss-covered stones and a natural mana spring trickling nearby.
"This'll do."
From the small storage ring on his finger one of several items his sister had "forgotten" to lock he pulled out a foldable mana tent, sleek and lightweight. With a single tap of the core crystal, it unfolded and stabilized itself.
Once set, he stepped inside briefly, setting down supplies.
Then came the real focus.
He sat on a flat rock under a large oak tree, opened the ancient manual, and began to read.
The first page was strange handwritten symbols and a warning etched in thick ink:
> "This art is not for the impatient. The sword must become your breath. Your heartbeat. Your soul."
Kael exhaled.
Then stood up.
He drew his blade, the steel humming softly in the mana-rich air.
He gripped it with both hands and began the first motion.
It was stiff. Awkward.
But he repeated it.
Again. And again.
Surrounded by the rustling leaves, the singing spring, and the pulsing mana in the air…
Kael trained until the sun began to fall behind the trees.
And he didn't stop.
Not until the sword became part of his breath.