PRINCIPLES AND LAST WORDS, PART 1.

"Mana—what do you know exactly about mana and its principles?"

Zero Dawn questioned, his voice calm yet deliberate, shifting the momentum now that Lucius's questions were used up. It was his turn to reveal something. Something important. Possibly even the reason he was here, standing, now sitting like this, in front of Lucius.

Lucius didn't overthink it. He knew mana well enough. Or so he believed.

"Mana is the essence of our lives. Without mana circulating through our bodies, we can't survive for more than a minute..." he began, then quickly corrected himself with a slight shrug, "...well, most of us anyway."

Amongst a billion or so citizens of Verdun, there was one man who didn't need mana to live. At all.

"Spoken like a true underdog," Zero Dawn commented with a hint of amusement, clearly referencing Lucius — and clearly aware of the fact that Lucius could survive without mana, thanks to his technique: Absolute Zero.

"Though that's not what I meant," Zero Dawn added, lifting a single hand.

A pulse of energy shimmered into existence above his palm — raw, unrefined mana in its purest form. The orb that hovered there was white and formless, radiant yet oddly unstable, flickering with a chaotic hum. It had no elemental hue. No identity. Just power.

"This is mana," Zero Dawn said. "Pure and raw. Strong, yet unstable. Accessible to everyone, yet truly belonging to no one... Except maybe a single individual, one who has confidently proclaimed himself as the 'Mana's favourite Child'."

The orb shifted, stabilising into something more distinct — a core, glowing faintly in his hand. Its centre shone like a star, but it was wrapped in faintly dark, tainted layers.

"This is a mana core — the one every being possesses inside their chest, as you already know."

He paused, letting Lucius observe.

"The core, before refinement, is buried beneath seven layers of impure, restrictive mana. Each layer binds the core's true potential — a prison of our own essence."

The orb in Zero Dawn's hand expanded slightly, the outer layers becoming semi-transparent. Lucius could now clearly see it — the actual mana core: small, almost unimpressive in size, yet pulsing with silent, absolute strength.

"And that..." Zero Dawn said, his eyes narrowing slightly, "...is where our real story begins."

"For all of our history, we've been taught a single truth: once we break through the seven layers of mana around our core, we unlock the peak of our potential — maximum power, refined efficiency, and the greatest possible storage capacity. All of which are essential for achieving the goal nearly every individual in Verdun chases... the Saint Stage."

Zero Dawn spoke slowly, each word deliberate. As he continued, he began to demonstrate the process. With a wave of his hand, the orb floating before him shifted — one impure layer cracked, then the next, and the next, each breaking apart in a perfect, almost ceremonial sequence. Until only the pure, white orb remained — small and sun-like, glowing with unfiltered power.

"Of course," he added, "factors like our mana connection, innate talent, and individual potential decide how many of those layers we're capable of breaking through. That much, you already know… and have seen for yourself, haven't you?"

Lucius nodded silently, memories of Sia surfacing — still stuck at A-Rank. Three layers remained for her, and they were immovable. Pushing further would cost her dearly — maybe even sever her bond with mana itself. And so, she had no choice but to stop. To settle with what fate had given her.

The core in Zero Dawn's hand suddenly shifted. It turned a vivid blue, and violent sparks of lightning exploded outward — pure elemental energy dancing around the orb like a storm contained in glass.

"Elemental mages like myself can't just break through the final layer and reach the Saint Stage," Zero Dawn continued. "Not without first undergoing a crucial transformation — one that changes the very nature of our mana core."

The once white orb was now a brilliant storm of blue. A lightning pulse. A thrum of power.

"This is my Elemental Core — or as I call it, my Lightning Core."

His eyes gleamed, proud yet distant. "Before I shattered the final layer, I had to reforge my mana core — change it from a vessel of pure mana into one aligned completely with my element. That shift is unavoidable. It's what separates elemental ascension from the path of non-elementals."

He paused, letting the idea sink in.

"You see, elemental mages like me… we don't share the same bond with pure mana that non-elementals like you do. From the moment we start channelling mana, we're forced to split ourselves — one hand for elemental mana, the other for pure. Always divided. Always incomplete."

His voice was firm now, laced with something almost bitter.

"But non-elementals? You hold both hands on the source itself."

"You guys can grip the source itself with both hands," Zero Dawn said, his voice calm, almost sympathetic. "But elemental mages? We're forced to let go, bit by bit. We surrender our grasp over pure mana to bind ourselves to whatever affinity the gods, the world, or raw chance has thrown at us."

It wasn't a complaint. It was simply the truth.

Lucius understood that well — it wasn't a permanent advantage, not for people like him. The early edge non-elementals seemed to have was fleeting, barely more than a spark before the elemental titans left them in the dust.

"What's your point?" Lucius asked, frowning slightly. "All of this… I already know. Not in this kind of detail, sure — your explanation, especially the visuals, it did help a lot. But still. Why go through all this?"

Zero Dawn didn't answer immediately. Instead, the white orb in his hand pulsed slowly, as if echoing the core truths of mana itself.

Lucius already knew the unspoken truth: non-elementals rarely ascend.

They lacked the talent, the bloodlines, the systems, the techniques. Even fewer had the perfect equilibrium needed to reach the Saint stage. And the number who crossed the SSS-rank threshold? Vanishingly small. Almost a myth.

"Why is that?" Zero Dawn asked, his tone loaded now. Heavy. Final.

"Let's take a scenario, one where a non-elemental does manage to reach the Saint rank… why is it that they can never progress further?"

Lucius knew this one. The answer wasn't complicated — it was cruel.

"Because we can't build beyond that point."

He looked directly at the former emperor.

"Unlike you, elemental users can layer their cores with element-infused mana. Each layer, your own creation — stable, mastered, yours. But for us? The pure mana we manipulate… It's not ours. We don't own it. We can wield it, shape it, even survive by it — but we're never in control. Not truly."

He raised a hand and motioned toward the illusory orb of mana.

"If we even try to construct layers of pure mana over our core — like you do with elemental layers — the instability would fold in on itself. Collapse inward. The mana would shatter the core from within, and we'd just… kaboom." His hand opened, fingers splaying outward in an exaggerated explosion gesture. "Boom. Gone. No second chances."

Zero Dawn chuckled softly, but didn't interrupt.

"You, on the other hand," Lucius continued, voice now sharper, more analytical, "You convert your pure mana into elemental mana. That transformation makes it yours, not borrowed, not borrowed from the world's supply or the ley lines. And because it's yours, you can trust it, build with it. Construct layers. Reinforce them. One after the other. Each layer is more refined, more powerful than the last."

Lucius narrowed his eyes slightly, the wheels in his head turning.

"And those layers... they don't just protect your core. They strengthen it. Sharpen your affinity. Elevate you. But the construction process? It's brutal. Precise. Exponentially more difficult with every new layer. The Saint Stage… It's not a ceiling for elemental mages. It's a doorway. But for people like me?"

He shrugged, not bitter — just stating a fact, "It's a cliff."

"Aren't you a knowledgeable little bastard?!" Zero Dawn lightly announced, more than satisfied with Lucius's answer. His soft laugh — loud, unexpected and rumbling — echoed through the realm. The gloom that had long settled over this place was finally overtaken by the booming voice and shifting mood of the Dragon Emperor himself.

"Man... I love smart people!" His noble words were directed towards Lucius.

Lucius couldn't help but lower his guard slightly, along with his head. He was a bit embarrassed, but also happy. That much was obvious. After all, to be praised like this, and so genuinely, by the very man he idolised…

Back when Zero Dawn made him kneel, Lucius had genuinely regretted meeting his hero — the man who had once inspired him. Inspired him to become an adventurer. A swordsman. A protector in the eyes of a few. Someone who willingly put his own life on the line to protect others, just like Zero Dawn once had, earning the eternal gratitude of Verdun's people.

Yet, there had been a moment when Lucius thought maybe the saying he never believed in was, in fact, true:

"You should never meet your idols."