A few weeks had passed, and Milo could feel something growing inside him—an energy that pulsed and swelled with each passing day. At first, it had been subtle, like a low hum beneath his skin, but now it was constant, throbbing in every corner of his body. His strength had barely returned, his muscles felt stiff, and his movements were sluggish, as if he were walking through thick fog. The energy didn't invigorate him; instead, it weighed him down, making him feel like he was trapped inside a body that wasn't fully his.
It was like he was both overcharged and depleted at the same time. *What is this?* he wondered, every day a battle against this invisible force that seemed to grow stronger, pushing him to his limits.
The sensations weren't just physical—his magic felt unstable too. What had once flowed effortlessly now felt blocked or diverted, and each attempt to use even the smallest amount left him drained. His skin tingled with restless energy, and no amount of sleep seemed to help. Every night he awoke feeling just as exhausted as before.
Finally, when the symptoms became unbearable, Milo decided to visit the academy nurse, hoping she might have answers. Sitting in the sterile white room, he explained the strange sensations—his weakness, the overwhelming energy, and the blocked magic. But instead of the serious diagnosis he expected, the nurse merely smiled as though it were no big deal.
"Well," she said casually, "it sounds like you're just…pent up. Happens when your energy builds up and doesn't release properly. Common for those with body or emotion-based skills. Maybe you just need some sleep—or you could talk to one of your instructors."
Milo blinked. *Pent up? Release?* The nurse's vague advice left him more confused than ever. "Pent up with what?" he asked, but her cryptic smile only deepened.
"You'll figure it out," she said dismissively, as if it were nothing important. "It's not harmful, just overwhelming if you don't manage it."
Milo left the office in frustration, her words echoing in his mind. *Pent up? Release? How is this supposed to help?* Talking to his instructors didn't seem like an appealing option. Especially not "Her".
Veria, his first instructor, was the most likely person to understand, but Milo hadn't been able to see her the same since that strange encounter weeks ago. She'd gone from cold professionalism to something terrifying and then strangely kind. He didn't know if he could trust her with something so personal, especially after the fear she'd instilled in him.
His second instructor, the meditation and cultivation expert, might offer insight, but Milo doubted that man would fully understand. He was older, wise, and always spoke of calm balance, but something about him felt detached, as if he was too disconnected from the specifics of their modern struggles.
Finally, his combat instructor seemed the most straightforward, though his methods were... unique, to say the least. Milo reluctantly decided to approach him, hoping for clear advice.
But the conversation quickly went downhill.
"You're just pent up, kid," the combat instructor laughed loudly, pounding his fist on his desk. "Happens all the time when your mana's out of sync with your body. How often do you get hard?"
Milo froze, his face flushing red. "What?" he managed, completely blindsided by the crude question.
"You know—erections!" The instructor grinned, apparently finding the whole thing hilarious. "If you've got all that energy and nowhere to put it, well... things get backed up. It's all tied together. Trust me."
Milo stared, speechless and mortified. The conversation devolved into even more bizarre metaphors about "release," "pent-up tension," and "natural energy flow." But none of it made any real sense to Milo, leaving him even more confused and embarrassed than before.
He needed real help, not riddles and jokes.
Later that evening, he sat with Lira, frustrated and overwhelmed. "I don't know what's happening," he admitted, rubbing his temples. "Everyone keeps saying I'm 'pent up,' but no one actually explains what that means. My robed combat instructor asked... weird questions, and now I'm just lost."
Lira's eyes widened as she remembered something. "Wait, Veria said something once." She thought back to their passing conversation in the hallway. "She said if you didn't… release soon, I should send you to her office. Maybe this is what she meant?"
Milo felt a cold knot form in his stomach. "Veria?" The last person he wanted to go to for help. After what had happened between them, the idea of opening up to her again felt impossible. "I don't know if I can trust her."
"I know it's strange," Lira replied gently. "But she seemed serious. Whatever you're going through, it's getting worse, right? Maybe she really can help you."
Milo sighed, conflicted. Veria was intense, intimidating even. But avoiding her wouldn't fix whatever was happening. And Lira was right—his condition was worsening by the day. He needed answers.
"I guess I'll have to talk to her," he muttered reluctantly, though the very thought of it made him uneasy. *Maybe Veria will have the key to this.* I'll have to see her tommorow after class.