The seventh month in the Draconian lands marked a significant transformation for Amukelo. It was as if overnight, the barriers that had held him back were obliterated. His fingers danced with ease, molding and channeling mana like he had been doing it his entire life. The dense, tangible energy of the land flowed smoothly through him, filling every fiber of his being.
By the eighth month, the team began practicing combat, integrating their newfound abilities. They sparred with each other, launching powerful attacks, each blow echoing with the force of the mana behind it. But in this intense dance of battle, one member stood out: Amukelo.
His movements were fluid, seamless, and precise. With every strike and dodge, he showcased the harmony between his innate skills and his newfound control over mana. His journey from struggling with the basics to this mastery was awe-inspiring.
One evening after a particularly intense sparring session, Eliss approached him, her eyes reflecting a blend of admiration and relief.
"Amukelo," she began, catching her breath, "It's like you've completely bridged the gap. I remember watching you those first few months, feeling so worried, and helpless, because mana basics is something we learn our entire childhood."
Amukelo chuckled lightly, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Thanks, Eliss. It feels like a switch flipped inside me. All the frustration, the repeated failures... I guess they were building up to this moment."
Eliss smiled, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I always believed you'd get here. It's just... it's wonderful to see you not just catching up, but soaring ahead. I'm genuinely happy for you."
Amukelo nodded, his eyes reflecting gratitude. "Thank you, Eliss. I promise to give it my all, just like you."
As the twelfth month of their training approached its conclusion, the members of the team exhibited varying levels of mastery. Eliss harnessed the mana to amplify her advanced spells, transforming them into cataclysmic forces, though her movement still lacked that ethereal fluidity. Both Kael and Lyon had honed their combat abilities, making their basic attacks swift and deadly, moving through the battlefield with a grace that mirrored the dracons in their native dance. However, their advanced techniques were still untamed. Ksara, on the other hand, was an impenetrable fortress. She had built an unmatched defensive prowess, parrying and dodging with ease while also moving effortlessly, but her offensive spells were still a challenge.
Then there was Amukelo.
The Draconian master, an age-old figure whose wisdom surpassed even the eldest of his kin, watched Amukelo with intense fascination. "You, young one," he began, his voice deep and resonant, "have tapped into something ancient. A form of art so old that even our oldest tales barely whisper its name."
Amukelo, while practicing, molded the mana around him into intricate shapes, dancing and whirling. He soared through the sky as though he was one with the birds, darting forward faster than the eye could see. His movements were mesmerizing, weaving patterns of power and grace. The ground shook when he willed it, the winds obeyed his command, and the very essence of the world seemed to resonate with his energy.
The master continued, "It's the Ancient Art, the true essence of mana manipulation. You've surpassed skills and techniques. You mold mana as a sculptor molds clay, creating and reshaping as you desire."
With just a thought, Amukelo levitated a heap of rocks, melding and shaping them into a formidable golem, its glowing eyes a testament to the mana coursing through its form.
"His potential is boundless," the master whispered, more to himself than to anyone listening. "In all my years, I've never seen someone naturally grasp this art with such finesse."
Amukelo landed gracefully, his eyes reflecting the weight of his new realization. He had not only bridged the gap from his previous struggles but had now ventured into uncharted territory, achieving what none before him had.