Tom sat behind the oaken table. His hands folded in front of him, offering an almost sinister appearance. Months of work hinged on this moment. Would they be enough? Or were static core enhancements a luxury that the world refused to allow?
"Let's begin, Terem." For the first time, Tom called Terem by his name. Not boy, not kid, just Terem. The gravity in the room seemed to multiply tenfold. Terem's life would hang in the balance. Core upgrades were supposedly no easy feat. There was a reason that most wizards remained content with their current cores and strong mages weren't present in every town.
Terem gulped back a dry glob of air. His mouth was a desert. The nervous breakdown robbed him of much-needed comfort, adding to Terem's ever-growing mountain of worries. It felt like nothing was going right, but he had to continue forward.
"Let us begin, and may the Old Ones bless you. God knows you'll need it." With a deep breath, Tom began to describe what Terem would have to do.
Once the explanation ended, Terem began. As he saw it, there was no use in delaying the inevitable. It would always come, so why wait?
Slowly, ever so slowly, Terem tapped into his mana flow. Normal mages would struggle to align their mentality with the elements, so this step was often difficult by itself. However, Terem's natural attunement to mana made this a walk in the park.
Without much effort, Terem entered a meditative state, focusing only on the mana flowing within the bounds of his body. He had also learned to detect the general location of his mana core; a blackish area within his soul that endlessly consumed; a black hole that only devoured.
His mana perception focused on this object. He knew its size, shape, texture; everything about it was conveyed to Terem's mind through subtle nuances in emotion. The sensation was hard to describe. Almost ever-changing, but always immovable and endless.
Terem focused on the black orb even further. His perception rose to its maximum capacity. And then the core reacted. Ever so slightly, it deformed, forming a small tendril of reddish warmth that gently extended towards Terem's consciousness. Gently, Terem accepted the warmth, holding that smaller ball of fuzziness within his hands. Almost as if he was a father caressing his newborn child; afraid to injure such a delicate loving lifeform.
Soon, more energy surfaced from the black sphere only to comfortably merge with the constantly growing ball already in Terem's mental hand. The sphere gradually expanded from a bead to a marble to the size of a baseball, and it grew further still.
Now, it was the size of a basketball, and Terem's physical body broke out in a cold sweat as a corollary effect of his mental stress and the globular furnace he held within his mind.
So far, the process had gone extremely smoothly. Every step was within a reasonable measure to not cause Terem any panic. Only two steps remained ahead. He was halfway done. Bracing his mind for the next rung, he slowly began to compress the orb with his will.
Obviously, sheer strength wouldn't be enough to succeed in this task. He needed to create a droplet of condensed mana, a perfect sphere of heat with no creases, lumps, or edges. It had to be perfect.
Tom silently observed Terem's internal struggle with his mana sense, dreading the outcome that may unfold before his very eyes. He watched as the condensed mana was drained from Terem's black core and congealed into an intricate ball of white.
All the while, he could only guess what Terem was experiencing. If inserting mana into Terem's core hurt, Tom couldn't possibly imagine how much pain accompanied ripping out every iota of mana from his already stagnant core and compressing the unimaginable amount of mana into a new core.
Frankly, Tom had never tried this method before. He was gifted by the Gods with an already strong core; not strong enough to rival the greatest of mages, but enough to earn himself an honorary spot within his humble town. If he tried to upgrade his core, he would require an astronomical amount of raw mana, not to mention he would need to handle all of it and compress it. A feat that was impossible for him.
Just as Tom was thinking this, he noticed a slight fluctuation within Terem's mana flow. His attention was drawn to it. He observed intently. And then it happened again.
Terem's mana flow jittered, almost as if it was being hindered for a fraction of a second. The question was, what was hindering it and why?
Within Terem's mind, bullets of sweat rained down from the sky as the heat grew with each inch he compressed the mana. He felt that he was experiencing the Vietnam war within the constraints of his brain; napalm burned his forest of thoughts to a crisp while gunfire belted around him.
Still, he focused on polishing the sphere with each compression, molding it within his metaphysical grasp. Like a master artisan, he obsessed over every little detail. After all, each missed mark could potentially end, if not cripple, his life in the flash of an eye. If the energy bomb burst, his body would be fried or burnt to a crisp along with the dispersing power.
Gingerly, he compressed the orb back into a marble. A few more pushes and the process would most definitely be over. However, the unexpected happened. Terem's mana flow stopped completely. His mental grasp froze in place, restrained by invisible yet powerful cords. He couldn't move the red orb anymore, and the unfinished core began to push back with unprecedented force.
'What's going on? What just happened?' Terem bore down upon the minuscule core with his will and determination, refusing to even offer an inch. The core and mana hands both refused to budge, fighting each other into a stalemate. Soon, Terem's clothes weighed down with sweat. His body visibly emaciated as his skin stretched across rapidly disappearing muscles.
But, the standstill suddenly found a victor. Terem's withering body froze in time; however, his suspended mana flow haltingly moved towards the burning core. Over time, the fractured particles that once constituted Terem's mana stream sped up, throwing themselves at the bead-like mana core.
Terem, witnessing this, panicked. The particles of raw mana would strengthen the core or cause ripples to form on its glossy surface, effectively rendering Terem's life forfeit. He fought desperately against the thousands of shards, beating them away from the nearly completed core. But, they were relentless, and eventually, one particle darted through the core's surface. Terem's hollow eyes clenched tight, prepared for the inevitable explosion of pure heat.
Seconds passed, and nothing happened. Like a timid mouse, Terem reevaluated what his mana sense was conveying. What he discovered shocked him. Each shard of energy permeated through the surface, shrinking the core with each impact.
Eventually, all the mana in Terem's mana circuit spent itself, disappearing along with Terem's concentration. But, he had to remain vigilant. Although the core was properly forged, the process hadn't ended just yet.
Terem took a minute to refocus his charred mind, recollecting his thoughts into a deadly point of focus. With this, he stabbed the general vicinity of the black core. He felt something shatter inside of his chest, next to his heart, fracturing like ornate glass. But he could only grit his teeth against the wave of pain, not having the energy to scream.
The black core had shattered, and the new core claimed the now vacant spot. The procedure was a resounding success, although it did have its hurdles.
Finally relieved from mental stress, Terem's tortured and withered body fell unconscious on the floor.
"The kid actually managed to do it." Tom sighed in relief before pulling out a metal syringe filled with an unknown fluid. He walked around his desk and flipped Terem onto his back. Gently, he inserted the needle into Terem's arm. Pressing down on the plunger, Tom inserted the substance directly into Terem's bloodstream. Shortly after, Terem's corpse gained some semblance of a rosy hue, albeit extremely diluted with white.
Tom observed the boy for a minute, occasionally checking Terem's vitals for any abnormalities before leaving the room.
The heavy door clicked shut, muting the sounds from the busy guildhall below. Night had fallen across Merilin, and the guild master had to work.
But Terem dreamt on.