Breath of the Core

 "Beneath My Skin, It Stirs"

It burns where I had never known,

In bones I once believed were stone.

No strength I grasped, yet still it came—

A breath, a pain, a wordless flame.

The morning sun filtered through the thin, paper-paneled windows of the manor, casting a soft amber glow on William's room. His eyes fluttered open, heavy with fatigue but steadied by resolve. The pain from yesterday's spar still lingered like bruises carved into his very bones. Yet, beyond that soreness lay something far more stirring—clarity.

His father—calm, composed, and dangerous.

A Viscount from a rural region of Featheria.

"If that was just a Viscount… what in the world do the Dukes or Royals fight like?" William wondered. His breath hitched just imagining it. The political hierarchy of the world wasn't built merely on governance—it was upheld by force, forged through power.

Yet despite the ache, despite the self-doubt that nipped at his awakening joy, William felt it again.

Aura.

That quiet whisper deep in his core. The flicker of inner radiance that had ignited yesterday had not faded in the night. If anything—it had grown warmer.

He sat up, the silk sheets rustling off his lean frame. A slow exhale cleared his chest.

Today was a new day. A day to chase it.

He dressed quickly, wrapping his training garb around him with the practiced rhythm of routine. Tying the final sash around his waist, he stepped out and walked briskly toward the courtyard—toward the presence he could already feel waiting.

Training Grounds – "Whispers of the Windforge"

The training yard shimmered under the early rays, dew still clinging to the flagstone tiles. A gentle breeze caressed the cherry blossom trees at the perimeter, scattering a few pink petals into the air. Amidst that quiet dance stood Lamile—calm, focused, unwavering.

Her posture was a sculpture of elegance and lethality. The wind played with the ends of her tied-back hair as her eyes flicked toward William. "You're on time."

William bowed slightly. "I couldn't stay in bed. Not today."

"Good," Lamile replied, cracking her knuckles with slow grace. "Then let's begin. You've tasted the awakening of aura. Today, you'll feel its form."

She stepped forward, raising her hand as threads of shimmering light traced along her skin.

"William, the Aura Nexus is not just a well—it is a system. Your body is a vessel with seven gates. What you've stirred is only the flame of one."

She tapped the center of her chest. "Today, we will move that flame."

Introduction to Aura Applications

Lamile paced as she spoke, her movements slow and rhythmic.

"There are several primary applications of aura—raw extensions of your intent and nature through the body. We begin with four. The others... I haven't reached them yet. Few humans ever do."

She raised her hand again, and a reddish glow traced lines over her arms.

Tempest Veil – Aura of Aggression

"This form strengthens the body. Enhances speed, raw strike power, even jump height. Aura lines crawl over your skin, pulsing from the Pyron Nexus here—"

She tapped her upper abdomen, just above the stomach.

"Try to feel it. Let your will rise—not with anger, but with intent."

William closed his eyes. He focused, breathing deeper. Warmth stirred at his core. He could feel his chest tighten, but his aura flickered and fizzled.

Lamile stepped behind him, adjusting his posture. "You're too stiff. Aura is not muscle—it is wind. Let it flow."

With her guidance, a faint reddish sheen glimmered along William's arms before sputtering out.

"Not bad for a second attempt."

Stonepulse – Aura of Protection

Lamile demonstrated the second application by planting her feet, aura surging from the Genesis Nexus at her tailbone. Lines of dull gold shimmered across her back and limbs like armor.

"This reinforces defense. Not just taking hits, but rooting your stance."

She beckoned William. "Try it. Lower your weight. Breathe from your spine."

William mimicked her stance. But his aura surged too fast—he lost balance and nearly toppled.

Lamile sighed. "You're trying to force calm. That's not calm. Start over."

They tried again. This time, the aura lit briefly across William's back and legs. Enough for a flicker.

Mirror Gale – Aura of Deflection

Next, Lamile crossed her arms and expanded her aura in spirals from the Lumora Nexus, at the center of her chest. It shimmered like mirrored wind.

"This is the art of redirection. You won't stop force—you'll dance with it."

She lunged toward him with a sweeping strike. William instinctively reacted, bracing with his shoulder. Aura flared, too late.

Smack. He skidded back.

"Wrong Nexus," she called out, helping him up. "You responded with the spine. This one is heart-centered. Harmony, not fortitude."

William grit his teeth. "I'll get it."

"I know you will."

Sightbloom – Aura of Observation

This one was most elusive. Lamile closed her eyes, and a thin silver glow lit across her brow—the Mindra Nexus.

"When activated, it widens your perceptive net. Time feels slower. Details sharper. But it demands clarity."

William tried.

And failed.

Three times.

"Your thoughts are too loud," Lamile said. "Calm them. Don't try to see. Let it be seen."

Finally, on his fourth try—he caught a flicker. A flower petal twirled midair, and for a moment, William could see every ridge on its surface.

The glow vanished instantly. But it had been real.

Frustration and Will

Hours passed.

William dropped to his knees, fists clenching the dirt. His chest heaved as he panted, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat. Every attempt had burned him from the inside—like he was scraping his will against stone.

"I can't even hold a single form properly," he muttered under his breath. "Even just once."

He struck the ground.

"Why is my aura so fragile… why does it slip the moment I reach for it?"

His shoulders trembled—not from pain, but from sheer exasperation.

Lamile walked over, knelt beside him, and placed a firm hand on his back.

"It's not fragile. It's wild. Like a young wind learning to fly. And you're still trying to bind it with chains."

William didn't look up. "Then what am I doing wrong?"

"You're expecting mastery from sparks. You don't demand fire from embers—you breathe, wait, and feed it."

He slowly raised his gaze to meet hers.

"I don't care how long it takes," he said. "I'll crawl if I must. But I will light it. I will burn like the rest."

Lamile smiled faintly. "Then stand. Let's feed that ember again."

And William rose. Bruised, trembling, aching—but not broken.

He took his stance once more, eyes burning—not with skill, but with will.

And that… was enough for the wind to stir again.

The training ended, but William's body didn't.

His knees gave out. The world tilted.

He collapsed, barely conscious, eyes spinning. Only his awareness clung to reality.

Lamile rushed to him.

"What's happening to me…?" he rasped, voice like a dying old man.

"You've exhausted your energy, my lord. It's one of the common occurrences on the first day of aura training. Don't worry… just rest on my shoulder for now."

Her voice was calm. Caring. But her thoughts churned.

"Common occurrence my foot. Which part was common today? A boy who barely awakened his Genesis yesterday grasped three other Nexuses with a single day of basic forms and breathing?"

She carried him gently across the courtyard toward the mansion, every step slow, measured.

"It takes the average two years for each Nexus. He grazed three in hours. Unawakened but grasped. No… this is not normal."

Her master's voice rang in her head—Viscount Robert Aurelian Denver:

'Perhaps a monster has been born in Denvers.'

Bath of the Unseen Flame

The bath was prepared—deep, white-marbled, and filled with chilled water from the northern springs.

William stepped into it slowly. His skin screamed at the cold.

The moment the water reached his spine, he gasped.

Yet inside his body—four points glowed with quiet warmth.

His lower back—the Genesis Nexus.

His abdomen—the Pyron Nexus.

His chest—the Lumora Nexus.

His brow—the Mindra Nexus.

The water was icy, but those four places pulsed like embers within.

He closed his eyes, leaned back, and let the silence deepen.

"They're alive. Inside me. I can feel them. Even now."

He placed a hand over his heart. "Lumora… you're still burning."

A finger touched his forehead. "Mindra… you're still watching."

His breath slowed.

"I didn't just imagine them. I reached them. I felt them."

And with that quiet flame simmering within, William finally let himself sink into the bath… and sleep.

The Quiet Storm

Robert was in his study, the smell of oakwood ink lingering as he signed documents. The moment Lamile burst in, he didn't even look up.

"What did he do today?" he asked, already smirking.

Lamile's face was unreadable. "My Lord… he grasped three more nexuses."

Robert's quill stopped mid-word. His fingers twitched.

"Three more… in one day?" he whispered sharply.

"Yes, my Lord!" Lamile bowed.

He stood slowly, pacing behind his desk.

"That's... that's insane," he muttered, eyes wide. But his expression shifted quickly to that of a commander.

"Lamile! DO NOT LET HIM UNDERSTAND HOW MONSTROUS THAT IS. It will lead to overconfidence, and overconfidence leads to negligence. That will lead him to his own demise."

"Don't worry, my Lord. I have already talked with Lord William as if these are common occurrences. So I believe the door of being overconfident is already shut," Lamile responded.

"Good! I have chosen the right master for my son then," Robert said with a sigh of relief.

"But my Lord! One door closes and another opens. I am afraid this may affect Lord Will's social life," Lamile added.

"I trust in my son, Lamile. Power is something that is wielded to help and coexist with those who do not have it. That is a better world. I know he will understand that," Robert smiled.

 Petals in Porcelain

William awoke three hours later, wrapped in the linen warmth of clean clothes. The bath had soothed him, and now the scent of jasmine led him to the tea pavilion.

Emil waited there, her posture elegant as ever, hands wrapped around a warm teacup.

"You look alive again," she smiled.

William chuckled tiredly as he sat down. "Barely."

"Was the training that intense?" she asked, pouring a second cup.

William nodded, "It felt like trying to breathe underwater while lifting mountains. Four nexuses stirred today."

Her eyes glimmered, but she stayed calm.

"That's wonderful," she said softly.

He blinked. "You're not surprised?"

"I'm your mother, Will. I know what lives within you. Strength is not what impresses me—it's how gently you wield it."

William looked down into his tea. "Is it okay to want more of it?"

"To want growth is not greed," Emil said. "So long as your heart doesn't outrun your conscience."

He smiled. "Thanks, Mom."

 Manners and Mischief

William arrived in the small study chamber where Elira waited with her signature fan and narrowed eyes.

"You're late, young master."

"Sorry. Had to survive elemental warfare."

She raised an eyebrow. "If you can flirt with death, you can arrive on time."

William grinned. "Heh. Death's more lenient than you."

"Flattery won't save you today. We're moving into diplomatic etiquette—how to compliment someone without sounding like a sycophant."

"So no more 'Your Grace, your robes blind me with their glory'?"

She sighed. "No. Less blindness, more subtlety."

The lesson continued with jabs and retorts, William intentionally misusing court titles, Elira snapping her fan in mock frustration.

By the end, both were laughing, the air light with genuine warmth.

Later that night, William curled beneath soft blankets, resting his head on Emil's lap. Her fingers stroked gently through his hair as moonlight bathed the room in silver calm.

She began to hum, then sang in a voice soft as drifting feathers:

"Whispers of the Corelights"

Hush now, child, the night is near,

Let the flame in your soul draw the shadows clear.

Genesis roots you, still and deep,

The mountain below shall cradle your sleep.

Pyron flickers where passions rise,

A blaze of purpose behind closed eyes.

Lumora sings in your heart so wide,

With wings of light and truth as guide.

Mindra watches from thought's own crown,

Her silence will never let wisdom drown.

Four shall wake when your breath aligns,

A thread of stars in sacred signs.

Rest now, heir of hidden lore,

Your light is seed, your soul the core.

The world may burn or bloom anew,

But all its fate will pass through you.

Her voice trailed into silence, and for a moment, only the night's hush remained.

William's breathing slowed. A faint warmth glowed from within his core, the nexuses quiet but alive—like fireflies slumbering in the dark.

And then, sleep claimed him.

"In Silence, Strength Blooms"

Not in noise does power speak,

But in the stillness of the weak.

A boy now wakes with fire within—

The breath of truth, where cores begin.