After entering the room, they sat opposite each other, the small wooden table between them. A single lamp glowed softly, casting warm light across the plain walls. For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't awkward—it was heavy, filled with things neither quite knew how to say.
Divya was the first to break it.
"…Even though you told me not to call you my son during times like this," she said quietly, fingers tightening around the edge of the table, "it was hard. Really hard."
Arjun lowered his gaze. "I know, Mom. But we have to do it," he replied after a moment. "Out there, hesitation can get us killed. For you… and for me."
Divya let out a slow breath. "I understand that with my head," she said. "My heart just hasn't caught up yet."
Another pause followed.
Then Divya looked at him directly. "So," she asked, her voice gentler now, "why did you come here?"
For a brief instant, Arjun's thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Zara.
Was she safe? Was she adapting? Was she scared, alone, pretending to be brave like always?
The questions rose unbidden—but he pushed them down. This wasn't the moment.
He met Divya's eyes. "I want your mana manual."
Divya blinked, surprised. "My mana manual?" she repeated. "Why do you need that?"
"You said it yourself," Arjun replied. "That what the system calls skills are actually techniques. And my technique—Slash—relies on mana. If I don't understand mana properly, I'll always be using it blindly."
He clenched his fist slightly. "I don't want that. I want to understand the basics. How mana flows. How it's shaped. How it's controlled."
Divya studied him in silence. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"That's a good reason," she said.
She reached into her storage bag, and a thick, well-worn book appeared in her hands. The cover was plain, but the edges were frayed, clearly used many times over.
"This is the manual I learned from," she said, placing it on the table. "It starts from the fundamentals—mana sensing, circulation, control. It won't make you powerful overnight, but it will give you a solid foundation."
Arjun leaned forward and reached for the book.
Just as his fingers were about to touch it, Divya pulled it back.
"Wait," she said.
Arjun looked up, confused. "What?"
Divya's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "If you're borrowing my book, then it's only fair you lend me yours."
She held out her hand. "Your swordsman manual."
Arjun stared at her for a second—then let out a quiet laugh. "So that's how it is."
He reached into his own storage space and took out his swordsman manual, its cover marked with combat diagrams and weapon forms. He placed it in her hand without hesitation.
"Deal," he said.
Divya accepted the book, her fingers lingering on the cover. "Then we're even."
For a moment, they simply looked at each other—teacher and student, mother and son—both preparing to walk paths that were no longer separate.
And without another word, the exchange was complete.
After the exchange, Arjun returned to his room without delay. The hallway was quiet, most adventurers either resting or already asleep. He sat on the edge of his bed, placed Divya's mana manual on the small desk, and opened it carefully.
The book was denser than he expected.
It didn't speak of "skills" or flashy techniques. Instead, it began with sensation—how to feel mana, how to recognize its movement inside the body, how intention shaped flow. Arjun read slowly, occasionally closing his eyes to follow the descriptions. When the book spoke about circulating mana through the core and limbs, he tried it. When it described compression and release, he compared it to the feeling he had when using Slash.
Time slipped by unnoticed.
By the time he looked up, his eyes burned slightly and his head felt heavy.
"Three hours already…" he muttered.
He closed the book, stretched, and lay back on the bed. His thoughts were still drifting through lines of mana and flow patterns when sleep finally claimed him.
When Arjun woke, his stomach growled loudly.
He washed his face quickly and headed downstairs to eat. The dining area was already lively. Divya and Rita were seated together, bowls in front of them, quietly talking.
"You're late," Rita teased when she saw him.
"Studying too hard," Divya added, a small smile on her face.
Arjun sat beside them and started eating. Not long after, the others arrived one by one—Koushik, Tim, and the rest—filling the table with chatter and clinking dishes. For a brief moment, things almost felt normal.
Then Tim froze mid-bite.
"…What the fu*k."
The word slipped out sharp and loud.
The table went silent.
Everyone turned to him.
"What?" Koushik asked. "What happened?"
Tim swallowed hard and pointed. "Look at your wood core seals. All of you."
Confused, Arjun glanced at the leaf-shaped symbol on his hand.
His heart sank.
"Seven percent…" he whispered.
Around the table, faces shifted as everyone checked their own seals.
"Mine dropped too."
"Same here."
"Seven percent exactly."
Rita clenched her spoon. "Why? We didn't even fight!"
Arjun's brows furrowed. He closed his eyes briefly, analyzing the pattern. "We rested," he said slowly. "About seven hours. The timing matches."
"So you're saying…" Koushik started.
"…the seal decays over time," Arjun finished grimly. "A percentage per hour."
Rita slammed her hand lightly on the table. "Then reaching forty-five percent will take forever! What kind of system punishes rest?"
Arjun didn't answer immediately. He stared at the glowing leaf symbol, his mind racing.
Decay for inactivity… reward for movement…
"There has to be a condition," he murmured. "A way to prevent it. The Tower wouldn't make it impossible."
As if responding to his thought—
The symbol flared.
Green light spread across his hand, and translucent text appeared above it.