Absorbtion

This float of glyphs gleamed softly in the luminescence, mirrored in Larin's tired eyes as he regarded them. His breathing was deep and steady as he let the weight of those numbers settle into him like some quiet storm. Some of it he had anticipated, but this quantification felt odd, though he didn't know how to feel about it.

Larin

Age: 18

Art: Sinlung Art

Breathing: Sinlung Resonance

Body: Human

Parts: Left and Right arm empowered with foreign blood

Rank: True Magi

Mana: 800/1000

Strength: 40

Agility: 42

Intelligence: 48

Rank: Magi of Sinlung

Natural Spring: Level 1

Credit: 5000

His fingers flexed minutely as he felt the numbers sinking into him, his mind running through every possible meaning behind them. His mana pool had grown exponentially, his physical attributes along with it, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

Oakenna stood by his side, watching him intently; her face said nothing. "You have taken one great step," she said at last, and even her tender words were filled with quiet approval. "You may be of the strongest of your comrades."

He blew out through his nose, and his jaw tensed. "But not strong enough," he said. His grip on the edge of the table tightened. "I don't think I could hold a candle to Cindris, let alone Lopita."

Oakenna's expression softened, though she didn't argue. "You have time," she said softly. "Take your time. The only thing you need to do is survive. If you live, you will grow."

Larin nodded dully, his mind elsewhere. He turned without another word and headed toward the Practice Room.

Just before he could shut the door behind him, Oakenna spoke again.

"You can trade your credits for Spring Cores," she said. "They would assist you considerably. With 5000 credits, you will be able to pay for one."

Larin took only a moment to hesitate before opening the interface with [Sinlung] by his will.

A stone appeared in his palm. It was small, the size of a river stone, yet its weight was deceptive—much heavier than he would have predicted. It was smooth and impossibly clear, like water caught in solid form; it seemed to be radiating a faint, pulsating glow inside, casting a soft light on his fingers. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

He clutched the core to himself and went into the Practice Room.

It was enormous--so much greater than the tree had any business to hold. The runes around the walls hummed softly; steady vibrations shook through the emptiness. Large as a square in Tlangthar could be, easy to accommodate a hundred within its boundary. The mana-laden air flowed with great indifference, the reaction of swathing waves slowly spreading and yielding before his mere existence as though to his unspoken word of will.

Larin walked out to the center of the room, sitting cross-legged. He placed the Spring Core before him, its glow casting rippling reflections onto the polished floor.

He began with [Sinlung Resonance], falling into the familiar rhythm of his breathing.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The world narrowed, and his senses reached outward.

It had been days since he'd broken into the rank of a True Magi, yet this was the first moment he'd have to actually feel the difference.

And everything felt sharper.

Mana no longer felt like something he had to reach for. It was simply there, as natural as breath, as real as his own pulse. When he moved his hand, he could feel the currents shifting around him, bending ever so slightly to his intent. It was not control—not yet—but it was understanding.

He extended his focus to the Spring Core before him.

He raised it up slowly into the air, letting it hover just above his palm. It spun lazily, weightless under his will. The energy inside was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was alive in a way that mana should not have been. Not sentient, not like the Dryads or the Guardian Beasts, but… aware. Responsive.

Fifty breaths passed.

Then sixty.

Larin furrowed his brow. Something was amiss in how the core seemed to be acting.

Not merely floating there, it reacted as if living, pulsating as he breathed to match with each flow of his mana, waiting for some reaction. Nervously, he willed it closer to touch the cool glassy surface and the connection hardened.

Shock coursed through his arm.

The room trembled.

A deafening pull erupted in all directions, and in an instant, the chamber that had been once full of mana was swept clean. The runes on the walls flashed furiously, sputtering in and out with darkness.

The very fabric of the tree groaned under its force. Cracks split through the floor like jagged veins of nothingness, swallowing in the last wisps of energy in the air.

Lach burst, his body nearly folding under sheer onslaught of soaking up.

He sucked in everything.

All the mana drop in that room.

His breath hiked in jagged effort, his fingers shivering, because he couldn't quite work his head around what the hell had just happened. He felt full in a way he never had before, his body thrumming with barely-contained energy.

A second later, the room began to repair itself.

The runes brightened, then stabilized. Cracks that had emerged in the walls reclosed, as though they never were. The floor was perfect again, smooth, untainted. It seemed that nothing had happened all in one breath.

Larin glanced down at his hands, flexed his fingers, breathed unsteadily.

He did it.

He drank in the chamber's mana reserve whole.

A slow, crazed grin spread across his face.

For the first time in his life, he felt unstoppable.