After three years had passed, I celebrated my 13th birthday, marking a significant milestone in my journey of understanding mana. My days were consumed within the vast corridors of the grand library, where the air was thick with the scent of ancient books and the quiet hum of knowledge-seekers absorbed in their studies. In the secluded sections, away from the prying eyes of casual visitors, I delved deep into the intricacies of magical theory and practice.
Each day brought new revelations. I studied under flickering candlelight, pouring over weathered manuscripts that spoke of the elements and their interplay with mana. The library became my sanctuary, a place where time seemed to pause as I absorbed the wisdom contained within its ancient tomes.
One particular afternoon, as sunlight filtered through stained glass windows casting colorful patterns on the dusty shelves, I stumbled upon a treatise detailing the creation of mana balls. With intense focus and a whispered incantation learned from the library, I gathered mana from the very essence of my being.
I couldn't help but smirk with satisfaction, knowing that I had successfully mastered this fundamental technique. It was a testament to my dedication and the guidance of the ancient texts that now lined the library's shelves.
As I prepared to leave the library, a sense of reverence washed over me. I bowed respectfully to this place that had become my second home, grateful for the knowledge it had bestowed upon me. Perhaps it was my way of bidding farewell or simply acknowledging the role it had played in shaping my understanding of the world.
Stepping out into the bustling city streets, I was greeted by the familiar cacophony of modern life - the distant hum of traffic, the chatter of passersby, and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. It was a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of the library and a huge difference of my old world, a reminder that there was new behind the walls.