Ray's body screamed for rest, but his was mind filled with satisfaction. Today had been grueling, but it was also a breakthrough.
He had deliberately limited his use of mana during the fight, forcing himself to rely on raw physical strength. This wasn't just a test of endurance-it was an exercise in precision. He focused on feeling the subtle currents of mana flowing through his circuits, a lesson Merle had drilled into him.
Mana circuits weren't just pathways; they were the lifeblood of magic, connecting a caster's intent with their abilities. By understanding their flow, Ray could refine his control, making each spell or enhancement more efficient. Liza, his ever-reliable AI, had already begun analyzing the combat data, feeding him insights about his movements, mana usage, and areas for improvement. The prospect excited him-better mana control could unlock precise body manipulation, advanced weapon techniques, and, perhaps, even the fabled Weapon Arts.
But not tonight. Tonight, all Ray wanted was sleep.
He curled up on the soft mattress in his small quarters, exhaustion pulling him under almost instantly. The weight of his achievements felt good, a rare moment of accomplishment amidst the relentless grind. For once, he allowed himself the hope of a quiet, uninterrupted night.
That hope shattered the moment a cold blade pressed lightly against his neck.
Ray's eyes snapped open to find Trina, her silhouette barely visible in the moonlit room. She smirked, her voice a sharp whisper. "You've forgotten the mana search technique, haven't you?"
Groaning, Ray rubbed his eyes, his weariness battling his instinct to remain alert. He had, of course, practiced the mana search technique countless times-a skill that used the resonance of his mana to create a sensory field, effectively granting him a panoramic awareness of his surroundings. It was a demanding skill, one that required a delicate balance of focus and mana control, but when combined with Liza's enhancements, it gave him a fully rendered 3D map of his environment.
"Of course, I haven't forgotten," Ray mumbled, sitting up reluctantly.
"Then prove it," Trina said, stepping back and disappearing into the shadows.
Ray sighed, his body still aching from the day's ordeal. He pushed his mana outward, letting it ripple through the room like an invisible wave. Objects appeared in his mind's eye-his bed, the desk, the chair in the corner-and then a faint flicker near the ceiling. Trina's presence, shrouded in her Shadow Walk technique, was perched silently above him.
Before he could react, she lunged, daggers gleaming. Ray rolled out of bed just in time, grabbing his twin daggers from the bedside table. The blades felt light and balanced in his hands, far different from the weighty sword he was more accustomed to. Trina's strikes came fast and overbearing, forcing him to rely on speed and precision over brute force.
"Why can't you let me rest for one night?" Ray grunted, parrying a particularly aggressive strike.
"Rest is a luxury you can't afford," Trina countered, her movements fluid. "You're slipping into comfort with your knight training, but you're neglecting the nuances of assassination. A sword is too loud, too clumsy for someone like you. These daggers suit you better."
Ray gritted his teeth, her words cutting deeper than her blades. It was true-his recent focus on knightly techniques had overshadowed his assassin training. But it wasn't by choice; he simply found more structure in the former, while Trina's methods often felt chaotic and punishing.
He shifted his stance, letting mana flow into his legs for bursts of speed. Trina's attacks came from all angles, her shadowy form blending seamlessly with the darkness, but Ray was beginning to predict her patterns. His daggers moved faster, countering her strikes with growing confidence.
"Better," Trina said, her tone approving. But she didn't relent. Instead, her attacks became even more calculated, forcing Ray to push his limits.
By the time she called off the sparring session, Ray was drenched in sweat, his muscles trembling from exertion. Trina gave him a rare nod of acknowledgment. "You've improved. But remember, a true assassin is always alert. Never let your guard down-not even in sleep."
Ray collapsed back onto the bed, his daggers slipping from his hands. "I'll keep that in mind," he muttered, drifting into a much-needed but uneasy sleep.
But even as sleep claimed him, his thoughts lingered on Trina's relentless ambushes. I need to come up with some kind of deterrent for this, he murmured under his breath, half-conscious. Maybe a magic barrier… Do those even exist in this world? The idea clung to him like a fleeting dream as exhaustion finally pulled him under.
The morning greeted him not with relief, but with agony. Ray woke to a pounding headache, the world tilting nauseatingly with every movement. His body felt heavy, sluggish, as if an invisible weight had anchored him to the bed.
"Liza," he groaned, pressing his palms to his temples, "run a diagnostic. What's wrong with me?"
The AI's voice, typically sharp and efficient, seemed slower, almost strained. Processing… Stand by…
Her delay sent a chill through him. Something wasn't right-not just with his body, but with her systems too. Ray struggled to sit up, his thoughts racing. He had heard of mana exhaustion from the adventurers he'd spoken to, a debilitating state caused by overusing mana. The symptoms matched what he was experiencing: disorientation, fatigue, and a splitting headache.
He pushed himself to his feet, determined to confirm his suspicions. If anyone could help, it was Merle. Her lab wasn't far, and her expertise in magical physiology might provide answers.
But before he could make it out the door, Liza finally spoke. Analysis complete… Ray, your human body is deteriorating. The immense mana reserves you possess, combined with the unique integration of Gene's consciousness and my systems, are causing an accelerated breakdown of your physical form.
The words hit him like a sledgehammer. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, clutching his chest as panic set in. The room spun wildly around him, and his breaths came in shallow gasps. He tried to rise again, to reach Merle, but his strength gave out. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision.
The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Luna's worried face as she entered the room.
Luna didn't hesitate. She scooped the boy into her arms, alarmed by the fever radiating off his small frame. His skin was clammy, his breaths shallow, and the normally lively spark in his eyes was absent. Without a second thought, she carried him to his quarters and laid him gently on the bed.
News of Ray's collapse traveled quickly. Crystal and Harold were informed while locked in a heated argument in Harold's office.
"This is insanity, Baron!" Crystal's voice trembled with anger, her hands clenched into fists. "You're pushing him too hard. He's a child, not one of your soldiers!"
"He's no ordinary child," Harold countered, his tone firm but defensive. "Ray has potential-more than you or I can imagine. He needs to be prepared for the world he's been thrust into."
Before Crystal could respond, a servant burst into the room, pale-faced. "My Lord, My Lady-Ray has collapsed!"
Crystal didn't wait for details. She bolted from the office, her heart pounding with fear.
When she entered Ray's room, the heat hit her like a wave. The air was stifling, heavy with an unnatural warmth. Her son lay motionless on the bed, his skin flushed and slick with sweat. His small chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, and his face was etched with pain.
"Ray…" Crystal whispered, her voice breaking. She rushed to his side, her trembling hands hovering over him. Her instincts as a mother and a healer took over. Channeling her water divine arts, she summoned a soothing glow around her hands and pressed them gently to his forehead.
The spell fizzled out.
Crystal's heart sank. The divine water arts that had healed so many others seemed powerless against whatever afflicted her son. Tears blurred her vision as panic overtook her. Her breaths came in short, rapid bursts, and her chest tightened painfully.
"No… no, no…" she stammered, collapsing to her knees beside the bed. Her head spun, and the world faded into darkness as she succumbed to a panic attack.
Harold arrived moments later to a scene that sent a rare pang of fear through his steely demeanor. Crystal lay unconscious on the floor, and Ray was no better, his fever now dangerously high.
"Call a healer!" Harold barked at the servants gathered at the doorway. "Now!"
The urgency in his voice galvanized the staff into action. As they scrambled to fetch help, Harold knelt beside Crystal, checking her pulse with a trembling hand. His gaze shifted to Ray, whose condition only seemed to worsen with each passing moment.
For the first time, Harold felt the weight of doubt pressing on him. Had he pushed the boy too far? Had his desire to prepare Ray for the harsh realities of their world blinded him to the limits of his fragile body?
The healer arrived moments later, her presence bringing a glimmer of hope to the suffocating tension in the room. Harold stepped aside, his jaw clenched, as she began her work. For now, all he could do was wait and hope that both Crystal and Ray would survive the night.