#12 Mana-stone
But Hermann could not back down. He too had to survive—he had to maintain control.
Hermann: …Understood. I accept the conditions. I'll quietly gather the ho
Molech remains silent for a moment, then gives a
Molech: That will suffice.
Thank you… for your faith
Chaaaang…
The bell rings again. Its resonance sinks like the breath of the dead in a tomb
Molech: May
He slowly rises. The violet lining of his cloak briefly spills from beneath his feet.
Outside the window behind him, atop the cathedral spire of the Church of Trooth, the symbol of the crossed sword and axe glints brilliantly in the sunlight.
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// Evening, Southeastern Beltlad. Alberto Mercenary Camp. Training Ground.
Under the torchlight, four people are gathered.
On the glowing sand floor, Mirea stands with her arms crossed, speaking to Erin, Noah, and Peno.
Peno: (scratching his head) Look, the Mana is forming, but the output's all over the place! It's so frustrating.
I can barely shoot fire three times before I'm done. What am I supposed to do?
Mirea: (pressing her forehead) Peno… you haven't been training at all, have you?
Mirea shakes her head.
Mirea: (rubbing her temples) I get that you're impatient, but how am I supposed to help you if you ask why your control sucks when you don't even train? Look—
(points to Noah) Look at our star rookie, Noah. He channels Mana with restraint, and he can cast dozens of times a day.
Erin: (arms folded, giggling) Restraint? Please. He used to blow everything up in a panic just a few days ago.
Noah: (jabs Erin in the side) Hey, you—!
Peno: (bursting out) I could cast more than ten times at first too! But come on, it was my first time facing a beast. If I didn't kill it, I'd be the one dead—how am I supposed to stay calm?
Peno glances sidelong at Noah.
Peno: Newbies who've never fought a beast don't get how terrifying it is. Tch.
Mirea: (laughing) These two fought off four dire wolves with just a dagger and a cooking pan.
(points toward the trees) Leave the Mana-stone here and go over there. Channel Mana just to your palm. Not too much, not too little.
Mirea draws a circle in her palm as she explains.
Mirea: (looking between Noah and Erin) You two remember this too. Even simple magic can't be cast often if you dump all your Mana at once. You have to control how much you use.
Erin: (muttering) So the depth of emotion determines the output...
Mirea: (nodding) Exactly. Emotion and mental focus. That's the root of Mana-energy.
Peno: (waving his arms) But if Mana is just emotion, why does it run out? That makes no sense…
Mirea: (sighing) Emotion might be infinite, but human mental strength has limits.
Smack—
Mirea smacks Peno's back with a flat palm.
Mirea: (shoving him off) Go on. Get to it.
Peno grumbles as he walks off to the side.
Peno: Man… losing face in front of the rookies…
Noah begins practicing. He lets Mana flow into his palm, pauses, then starts adjusting the amount flowing to his wrist—testing the control of his Mana output.
Mirea: Suspiciously… talented. How do you pick it up so quickly?
Noah: Ahaha… I'm surprised too.
He scratches his head shyly.
Erin whips her head toward him and glares.
Noah: (cautiously) Um, I can generate Mana from anger, but with fear, it won't go inward. Will I still be able to use ice magic in the future?
Mirea: (smiling gently) You just have to keep digging into that emotion until it becomes one you can control. It won't be easy…
But I think you might have many emotions deeply rooted inside. That means you have a lot of doors you can open.
Noah: "Deep emotions," huh…
Noah recalls something Freya once said.
—Freya (in memory): …You were born carrying deep emotions in your heart. Even if the world changes, their resonance does not fade… and I, too, felt that tremor.
Noah places a hand over the necklace tucked beneath his clothes—Freya's pendant.
Mirea: Otherwise, there's no explanation for both fear and anxiety—two opposing elements—manifesting together.
Peno starts stumbling back toward them.
Peno: (half-lidded eyes) Mi… Mirea… I'm so dizzy…
Mirea: (pressing her forehead) Oh, Peno… You pushed your Mana to the limit again, didn't you? I told you, don't do that when you're in a rush…
(laying him down) Rest here a bit. You won't fully recover, but it's a start.
Peno: (hand on his forehead) How do I fully recover then?
Mirea: Just sleep—deeply. Even without doing anything, Mana slowly recharges when you rest.
Beside him, Erin sits, eyes closed in concentration. Suddenly, she stretches and shouts.
Erin: Ugh! If Mana would just come out properly, I'd be great! This is so annoying!
Mirea: (smiling) Try practicing somewhere quiet and alone. The key is not to deny your emotions. Acknowledge them. Accept them as they are.
Erin: (immediately turning to Noah) This is your fault! We started at the same time, but you're so good it just makes me look worse!
Noah: (flustered) Wh—how is it my fault now?!
Erin: Clueless. You've got zero empathy and you're supposed to be a mage? That's rich!
Mirea finally bursts into laughter watching their bickering.
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// Evening, Southern Caldenia. On a mountain densely packed with trees.
In the dark, four people slowly walk in.
Each bears the same symbol on their back—
A red-stitched emblem of a crossed sword and axe over black clothing.
The deep shadows of the Church of Trooth.
The Arcania Inquisition—Four Judges.
Rustle—
Not a word is spoken. Only the sound of fallen leaves and the crackling of torches gives life to this forest.
Thud—
A hulking man with a large cross-shaped scar on his forehead lays something wrapped in thick black cloth on the ground.
As the cloth falls away, it reveals a massive black Mana-stone, large as a human head.
A faint blue energy pulses inside, as if something flows through it.
CLANG—!
The giant, Lionel, drops the Mana-stone and begins to strike it with the heavy hammer known as the "Mallet of Atonement"—a hammer heavy as an anvil.
CRACK— ZING— SHHHK—!
With each deafening blow, fragments scatter and sink into the soft earth.
Once, twice, three times… over ten times, he strikes.
The massive stone is shattered into pieces ranging from fingernail-sized to fist-sized.
A long-haired man in a red coat, burn scars across his face, gives instructions to Lionel.
Jaxen: Good. That should make a nice meal for anyone. Now dig—go wild.
The massive Lionel, with the large cross-scar on his forehead, curses as he places his hands on the ground.
RrrrRRGHHHH—
The soil and stones rise and shift on their own, forming a tunnel before Lionel's outstretched hands.
Inside the tunnel, a chamber over five meters in diameter forms.
Lionel: (sweating) Damn it… at this rate, the whole world will end up wielding the great power of the Divine Trooth. I know this is Heart Priest's will, but isn't this getting a little excessive?
Jaxen gently strokes the Mana-stone embedded in his greatsword, turning his head slightly.
Jaxen: (grinning) Shut it, Lionel.
Letting life serve a purpose—even like this—is divine mercy. A warm testament to our god's will, you see?
Silently, two others keep watch around them.
A beast cries once in the distance, then silence returns.
A silver-haired man, tattooed and spinning a ritual blade on his hand, grins with twisted amusement.
Marcel: (with a crooked smirk) It was getting too quiet. Good timing. Kehehe…
Jaxen: (gazing into the forest) Vera.
Next to him, a woman with platinum hair braided beneath a black veil nods expressionlessly.
Vera pulls a small bell from her robe.
She prepares it in silence, saying nothing.
As the pit is finished, Lionel picks up several large fragments from the shattered Mana-stone. Their surface shimmers with a dark crimson aura.
Clatter… tap tap tap—
He examines them briefly, then drops them deep into the pit. The echo rings in the chamber below.
From afar, five wolves charge through the shadows. Their white eyes gleam in the dark.
Vera lightly shakes the silver bell she holds.
DreeeeeENG———
A cursed resonance pierces the ears.
The wolves' eyes waver. Their movement falters.
As they stumble, the others rush forward, forcing the wolves' jaws open and stuffing the Mana fragments inside.
Some get pieces the size of fingernails. Others, finger-sized shards.
"Yelp— whiiiiiine…"
A prayer-like whimper leaks from their throats. Their flesh begins to bulge from within, teeth chattering uncontrollably.
It's as if their bodies were being rewritten from the inside.
Lionel: Grow strong and make this land fertile.
He grabs the tail of the largest wolf and drags it to the pit.
Whoosh—
He tosses the wolf into the hole.
Jaxen: Marcel. You recorded the location, right?
Marcel snaps shut his silver ritual book.
Marcel: (frowning) Of course I did. Who do you think I am…?
Vera: (whispers) Let's go.
Without waiting, she turns and begins to walk.
Behind them, red light glimmers beneath the wolves' jaws.
Their eyes grow crimson, their bodies cloaked in a red aura.
Grrrrrrrr…
SCREEEEEEE!!
With howls of agony, one sprouts spines along its back.
Another's claws stretch long.
A third's skin tears and its size nearly doubles.
Jaxen: (watching the wolves) Good. Another day of divine labor well done. Let's move.
Marcel whispers as he walks.
Marcel: If they grow into proper vessels… we'll meet again. Kehehe…
The four vanish without leaving a sound.
From the depths of the pit, a pillar of flame bursts toward the sky.
Then black smoke begins to ripple outward along the mountain ridgeline.
The four remaining wolves twist and tear.
Reborn in new blood.
Beasts with crimson eyes.
Their howls echo as they spread into the forest.
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// Morning, Southeastern Beltlad. Alberto Mercenary Camp. Central Square.
The sunlight had just begun to peek past the trees, and the morning mist still clung to the tips of the grass.
Under the mess tent at the center of camp, the Alberto Mercenaries' daily breakfast was already prepared—like always.
Today's menu: smoked wild boar from yesterday, potato porridge, and freshly baked coarse barley bread.
Everyone chewed quietly.
Until Erin opened her mouth.
Erin: (pouting) Seriously, it's been days of the same food. Potato porridge and boar again? Isn't there anything else?
Sophia: (jumping up) You little—! If your mouth is so fancy, why don't you go dine in a palace, princess?!
You think I'm the royal chef, waking at dawn in this camp to make porridge?!
Puhahaha—!
Laughter breaks out.
Noah: (rubbing his forehead) Grow up, Erin.
Did you already forget how lucky it is to have hot food?
It's only been a week since we were on that hill living off jerky.
Peno: (half a bite of meat in his mouth) Yeah! You haven't even gone on a single beast hunt yet, but you're the one whining the most!
Drek: (looking between Noah and Erin) Seems like you've gotten real comfortable in the past week here.
Erin: (snapping) What?! I help Sophia more than anyone, okay?!
I fetch the water, light the fire, help roast the meat! And you, Peno, just sit in the corner all day pretending to train Mana while staring at dirt!
Peno: (half-turning his head) …You do help a lot, but I go on dangerous patrols and subjugation missions, you know?!
Drek: (to Peno) Watch your words.
(to Erin) You too, Erin.
Tarilo, clearly upset, pauses mid-spoon. Her light brown hair flicks indignantly.
Tarilo: (stopping her spoon) What's your deal, Drek? Do you have to be a noble's son now to even speak in this mercenary company? You think you're so high and mighty, barking ord—
THUNK—!
The sound of a wooden spoon hitting the table.
Alfredo: (chewing on a piece of barley bread) …Eat. Quietly.
Silence falls.
Someone coughs.
Tarilo: (muttering) Tch… who does he think he is…
Alfredo shoots her a sharp glare. Arms crossed, he turns his head toward Roga.
Alfredo: (slowly) So—today's expedition. Are the recon teams ready?
Roga: (nodding) Yes. One-day operation—rations, supplies, and arrows all checked.
This time…
(looking between Noah and Erin) I'll take Noah and Erin too. They seem trained enough to serve as auxiliary crossbowmen.
Clink—
Noah drops his bowl.
Noah: Ah…?
Roga: (expressionless, looking at Noah) You up for it?
Noah's eyes tremble.