Morning came slowly underground.
There were no windows, no sunlight, only the faint orange glow of lanterns that burned on their own—a trick of alchemy Elric never bothered to explain.
Kale woke to the hum of machinery. His whole body ached, every muscle sore from tension and exhaustion. The events of the night before came back in fragments—the fire, his mother's voice, the collapsing house—and for a moment he couldn't breathe.
Then the scent of something warm and bitter drifted through the air.
"Finally awake?" Elric's voice came from the far end of the tunnel. He was crouched beside a small stove, pouring something dark into a tin cup. "Drink. It'll keep your head from spinning when you start."
Kale sat up slowly. "Start what?"
"Your training."
He blinked. "Already?"
Elric turned, his sharp gray eyes meeting Kale's. "The witches won't wait for you to grieve. Every hour you spend standing still, they get closer. The world won't stop for your pain, boy."
Kale took the cup, the liquid inside smelling faintly of herbs and metal. "You sound like my father."
"I'm not half as patient as he was," Elric said dryly. He stood, brushing dust off his cloak, and gestured toward the open space in the tunnel. "Up. Let's see what kind of control you actually have."
Kale obeyed, though his limbs still trembled slightly.
Elric raised a brow. "Do you know what mana feels like?"
Kale hesitated. "It's… energy. Like a pressure inside my chest. It moves when I get angry or scared."
"Good. Now learn to make it move when you're calm." Elric traced a simple rune in the air, the lines glowing faint blue. "Close your eyes. Breathe deep. Find the current inside you. Don't force it—invite it."
Kale did as told, closing his eyes. At first there was only silence. Then he felt it—a faint warmth curling beneath his ribs, spreading slowly through his arms and legs. It was like water under his skin, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"That's it," Elric said softly. "Now let it rise. Just enough to see it."
Kale focused, drawing the mana upward. His wristband vibrated faintly. A spark of blue light flickered at his fingertips—unstable, trembling like a living thing.
Elric's eyes narrowed. "Hold it. Don't let emotion take the reins."
But the moment he said it, emotion did. Kale's thoughts flashed—his mother's scream, his father's last smile—and the mana flared out of control.
A shockwave burst from his hands. The lanterns flickered violently, the ground cracked beneath him, and the stabilizer orb rolled from his pack, glowing bright enough to sting the eyes.
"Stop!" Elric barked.
Kale gasped and dropped to his knees. The energy vanished, leaving him trembling and breathless.
Elric approached, crouching beside him. "You felt that, didn't you? That surge. That's what they fear."
Kale looked up, sweat dripping from his temples. "It's too much. I can't control it."
"You can," Elric said firmly. "But not with rage. You'll never master mana if it controls your heart."
Kale's voice cracked. "How am I supposed to calm down when everything I loved is gone?"
Elric's expression softened just slightly. "By remembering that they died for you to live, not to destroy yourself."
He stood again, pacing. "We'll start over tomorrow. For now, eat something. Rest."
Kale wanted to argue, but his hands were still shaking. He watched as Elric turned back to his desk, scribbling notes on runic patterns and stabilizer readings.
The older man paused once, glancing at Kale's wristband. "I'll have to repair that soon. It's leaking mana through the cracks. If it fails completely, every witch in two worlds will feel you."
Kale looked down at the faint blue lines creeping up his arm like veins of light. "Then we fix it fast."
Elric gave a grim smile. "We'll do more than fix it, boy. We'll make it something better."