Beyond the Threshold
Rather than joining the others in their Mana absorption, I felt a tug of curiosity that I couldn't resist. I pulled out my phone and quickly connected to a reliable VPN, eager to bypass the oppressive ban on Mana-related discussions in my country. With this precaution in place, I began searching online about the ability to create water out of thin air. The prospect of unlocking this skill captivated me, as I recognized the potential survival advantages it could offer when navigating the unpredictable environments beyond the gates.
Navigating to an underground forum, my heart pounded with the thrill of the forbidden. This was a haven for those who, like me, sought to understand the enigmatic power of Mana. It was here that I hoped to find information on creating water from thin air, a skill that could prove invaluable when venturing into the unpredictable environments beyond the gates.
As I scrolled through the countless threads and posts, a particular guide caught my eye. It was titled "Water Creation: A Step-by-Step Guide for the Awakened," and it was accompanied by a series of crude sketches that attempted to illustrate the process. There were multiple methods available, but this one seemed the simplest and had a lot of comments on it. The post had garnered a significant number of comments, with many users claiming success after following the instructions.
Clicking on the guide, I immersed myself in the detailed instructions for water creation. The technique demanded a careful balance of mental imagery and precise Mana control, even for the smallest droplet. The author suggested that several hours of dedicated practice would be necessary to achieve this feat. The thought of such a time investment was daunting, yet the potential utility of this skill in the environments beyond the gates spurred my determination.
The word "hours" reverberated in my thoughts, conjuring memories of the grueling process that led to the formation of my Mana Core. It had been a painstakingly slow ordeal, yet my progress seemed rapid compared to others' experiences I'd read about online. I wondered if Eldric, my roommate, had undergone a similarly swift awakening.
Even though Eldric had never disclosed whether he possessed a Mana Core or Meridians—and I had forgotten to ask—I guessed he likely had a Mana Core, since we shared a room. It seemed plausible that the military might reserve superior accommodations for those with Meridians, or at least not require them to share. This made sense, given the higher fatality rate associated with forming Meridians and the superior strength they were known to bestow. The Global Alliance's reports and the lively debates on online forums had cemented the idea that Meridians offered a significant advantage in terms of raw power compared to those with a Mana Core.
The guide on the forum delivered a stern warning: if you pushed your Mana Core or Meridians too hard while trying to create water, it could kill you. The thought of dying just from attempting to make a small droplet of water was terrifying. It was a stark reminder that our new abilities had serious risks. The life-sustaining energy of Mana could just as easily lead to our demise if we weren't careful. The idea of meeting such a senseless end sent a shiver down my spine, driving home the fact that even with our powers, we had to tread carefully—one wrong move could be fatal.
I took a deep breath and focused on the instructions. The guide suggested visualizing a small sphere of water in the palm of my hand, drawing upon the sensation of savoring a cool drink on a scorching day. It was a simple yet powerful image, one that resonated with the core of my being.
As I prepared to attempt the water creation technique, the guide urged me to channel my intent with unwavering determination, to will the Mana into forming the droplet. I could almost feel the Mana swirling in response to my mental commands, coalescing into the desired shape.
The post described the sensation of the water's coolness as it began to materialize, a tangible manifestation of my will and Mana. I could picture the glistening sphere hovering just above my skin, the light playing across its surface. The guide instructed me to gently close my fingers around the newly formed water, to savor the weight and texture of this elemental creation.
Before I could even lift my hand to begin the process, a sudden hush fell over the room, the murmurs of conversation abruptly ceasing. I quickly pocketed my phone and looked up to see the towering figure of a drill sergeant striding into the facility, his boots echoing loudly against the concrete floor. Behind him, a group of individuals clad in white robes followed in a solemn procession. Their presence added an air of gravity to the moment. The recruits around me, who had been quietly absorbing Mana or engrossed in their phones, swiftly fell into line, standing at attention. I joined them, snapping to my feet and straightening my posture, as the drill sergeant's commanding presence and the mysterious entourage demanded our undivided attention.
The drill sergeant's voice thundered through the vast expanse of the training facility, bouncing off the stark, concrete walls. "Listen up, maggots!" he barked, his steely gaze pinning each recruit in place. "This training ain't about rushing you into condensing your Mana Cores or Meridians. It's about getting you ready."
A murmur of understanding rippled through the crowd. The sergeant's eyes narrowed, and he continued, "You've all endured the agony of forming your Mana Cores or Meridians. It's not just about gritting your teeth and bearing it; it's about maintaining that iron focus, even when every nerve in your body is screaming for you to quit. You know the drill—lose your concentration for even a split second, and it could be lights out. Permanently."
Internally, I agreed. My gut feeling during the time I was forming my Mana Core had been eerily accurate. It was a relief to know I wasn't the only one who'd felt the looming threat of death while trying to harness an energy that could just as easily destroy me.
"The military values its Awakened soldiers," the drill sergeant growled, "and we sure as hell don't want to waste our investments by having our Awakened troops bite the dust during Mana Core or Meridians compression. We're not in the business of flushing good soldiers down the drain because of a training accident."
A few heads nodded in agreement. We were valuable assets now, and the military had no interest in losing us to preventable mistakes.
"Alright, eyes front and ears open," he commanded, his voice brooking no interruptions as he raised his hand for silence. "When we talk about condensing your Mana Core, we're not looking to just make it smaller. What we're aiming for is refinement without loss—like honing a blade to a finer edge while keeping its original length. You'll focus on absorbing Mana right at the core's location, layering it on thick, and then you'll compress it. The goal is to pack the same power into a tighter, more potent package, ensuring it retains its original shape and strength."
I listened intently, the sergeant's words echoing the lessons I'd learned during my own Mana Core formation. The emphasis on control and precision struck a chord with my past experiences. It had taken immense focus and careful modulation of my Mana absorption to form my core, not merely sheer willpower. The process the sergeant outlined for compression mirrored that delicate balance I had become familiar with.
"Now, don't get cocky," the sergeant's voice was a low growl, cutting through the room like a knife. "The size and shape of your Mana Core can be as finicky as a spoiled brat. You've got to pin that core dead center when you're layering on the Mana, or you might as well be polishing a turd. Off-center and you're just spinning your wheels, wasting time and energy for peanuts in return."
I absorbed this information, recognizing the importance of maintaining perfect alignment during the compression process.
"The good thing about this is," he added, a hint of dark humor lacing his words, "if you mess up in the beginning or middle stages, you won't end up six feet under. Sure, you'll feel like you've been hit by a truck, and there's a chance you might take a little nap—a comatose one, that is. But hey, at least you'll wake up... eventually."
A collective shudder passed through the recruits. The threat of pain was one thing, but the prospect of becoming a vegetable was a terrifying possibility that none of us had considered.
"Under military supervision, this doesn't matter," the drill sergeant's voice was cold and unyielding, "but we sure as hell don't want to waste our time and resources on soldiers who can't cut it. If you end up in a coma because you couldn't handle the pressure, that's on you. We're not running a charity here. You'll be expected to pull your weight, and if you can't, there's a line of recruits ready to take your place. So, don't think for a second that a little setback will get you out of your duties. You'll be deployed when we say you're ready, not a moment sooner, and certainly not a moment later."
I felt a chill run down my spine. The military's stance was clear: failure was not an option. Even if they took care of you after a training mishap left you in a comatose state, the clock wouldn't stop ticking. The deployment date was set in stone, and the gates wouldn't wait for anyone to recover. The message was loud and clear: succeed on the military's timeline, or be left behind.
"The secret to being able to successfully compress your Mana Core or Meridians, like I said earlier," he reiterated, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper, "is pain tolerance, and we have the right equipment to train that here."
With that, he pulled off the black cover off one of the ominous machines that had been lurking in the shadows of the facility. My curiosity was piqued as I took in the sight of the large contraption with a seat in the middle, surrounded by a complex array of wires and mechanical parts. It was daunting to think about voluntarily subjecting myself to this apparatus.
"This is a state-of-the-art machine to train pain tolerance," the drill sergeant announced with an air of pride. "It's designed to push your limits by first, detecting your brain waves, your heartbeat, pretty much everything to gauge your pain threshold. Then, it delivers a jolt of electricity calibrated to challenge but not break you. It's about teaching your body to endure the kind of pain that'll make you a stronger, more resilient soldier."
My heart skipped a beat. The mere mention of electrocution sent me back to the horrors of the facility in Korzuv, where I'd been subjected to similar tortures. This was a variation on a theme I knew all too well. "A glorified torture machine," I thought, the realization sinking in that the path to becoming a stronger, more resilient soldier was paved with trials that skirted the edge of endurance and torment.
The recruits around me gasped audibly, but none dared to question the drill sergeant's methods. The discipline instilled in us was strong, even in the face of such alarming training tools.
"Use of this machine ain't mandatory," he growled, the menace in his tone as palpable as the chill in the room. "But let me tell you, recruits, you're gonna need all the help you can get to compress that Mana Core or weave those Meridians tight. Without it, you might as well be trying to squeeze water from a stone. So, step on up and embrace the 'assistance' this machine offers, or start praying for a miracle. Your choice, maggots." His eyes, hard and unyielding, raked over us, as if daring anyone to question his words or the machine's necessity.
He paused, his words echoing off the cold concrete walls, allowing the gravity of the situation to settle over the room like a heavy shroud. "Let me make this crystal clear, maggots," he barked, his voice a whipcrack that sliced through the silence. "This machine ain't no joyride. It'll push you to the brink, make you wish you'd never heard the word 'Mana.' But here's the silver lining—it won't break you for good. You've got that shiny new Mana Core or those fancy Meridians to patch you up, haven't you? So, when you're done getting your ass handed to you by this contraption, you'll spend about an hour licking your wounds, soaking up that sweet, sweet Mana. And guess what? You'll be good as new, ready to step up to the plate and take some more. Now, who's first?" His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, swept over the recruits, daring any one of us to step forward and face the trial by fire that awaited.
I exchanged anxious glances with the other recruits. The prospect of enduring excruciating pain was daunting, but the idea of enhancing our abilities and surviving the gates was a powerful motivator.
The drill sergeant scanned the room, his eyes gleaming with an almost sadistic anticipation. "We can proceed," he declared, as the people in white robes began calling out names.
As the first recruit stepped forward to face the machine, I felt a knot of dread tighten in my stomach. I hoped that the pain wouldn't be as unbearable as the agony I'd experienced back in Korzuv, and that somehow, I'd be able to withstand it and emerge stronger on the other side.