The library's Mana Arts - Restricted Section was shrouded in silence, a solemn stillness that only heightened Liam's sense of isolation. The tomes surrounding him exuded an almost palpable weight of knowledge. Seated alone in the dimly lit sitting area, Liam's focus was split between the open volumes on the desk before him.
Cecily had been far too cheerful earlier, her excitement over her breakthrough echoing in his mind. She didn't accompany Liam in the library. However, Liam couldn't share in her lighthearted mood.
Determined to make progress in mana heart tempering, Liam had brought a large collection of materials to his desk from the both restricted sections. Scrolls, manuscripts, and tomes piled high on the desk in front of him—each one selected carefully for the final session of studying before dinner. If he couldn't solve the puzzles immediately, he would drown himself in knowledge until the answers revealed themselves.
Hours passed as the bell tower chimed.
His eyes flitted back to the Stormcaller's Guide and A Mortal Dream. Both books posed riddles he couldn't yet solve, their contents gnawing at his thoughts.
He read the passage from A Mortal Dream again, the words sinking into his mind like stones in water:
"To train an element, one requires the heart of an apprentice. For only when a strong heart of an ascendant begins its journey toward mastery can the essence of an element take root. The heart, a vessel of mana, must first resonate with the chosen element to spark growth. Any attempt to force this resonance prematurely risks calamity."
Liam frowned. He didn't understand how this could be possible. Wasn't his own experience proof otherwise? He had trained an element yesteday. He shifted his attention to The Stormcaller's Guide, opening to the first chapter where a bold warning was etched in elegant script:
"Training lightning as a first element to temper the heart is a fool's dream. Lightning demands swiftness, control, and a foundation forged from the simpler elements. Earth lays the groundwork for stability. Fire ignites the will. Water sharpens fluidity. Ice refines endurance. Only with on these as a foundation, one can hope to withstand the storms of lightning without shattering the fragile mana heart."
The words mocked him. He had tempered his mana heart with lightning, and he was still standing. More than that, he had thrived. But he wasn't even an apprentice. How was this possible?
The thought crept in unbidden — was his ability to comprehend mana greater than the legendary figures who had penned these very books? He shook his head, dismissing the notion as arrogance, but the question lingered.
To quell his unease, Liam turned to the familiar practice of mana breathing. Sitting cross-legged, he closed his eyes and centered himself, drawing in mana with each steady breath. His mana heart glowed faintly, a small crimson but persistent flame nestled within.
As he focused, the flame grew brighter. The mana surged toward him, filling his body with a warmth that was almost overwhelming. His mana heart pulsed in rhythm with his breaths, the flame within flickering turbulently, teetering on the brink of transformation. The mana flame showed signs of —
"Another breakthrough" he whispered, incredulous. "But I just broke through yesterday. How is this happening?"
The flame surged, spiraling higher, brighter. The room around him seemed to blur, the pull of mana becoming a roaring tide. Liam felt the raw energy coursing through him, threatening to spill over.
"What if everyone learns about this?" he thought, panic creeping into his mind. '"Breaking through in two days... no one would believe it. They'd think I'm used some kind of —"
His thoughts were cut off as the flame wavered, its brilliance growing almost unbearable. His vision darkened, and then —
A figure emerged within the swirling storm of mana. Liam saw a man, cloaked in an aura of power that seemed to distort reality itself. His presence was commanding, his expression both solemn and knowing.
"Graham?" Liam's voice was barely a whisper, yet it echoed in the stillness of his mind.
The vision deepened, the world around Liam dissolving into swirling shadows. Before him stood Graham, his presence commanding and otherworldly. The faint flicker of amusement danced in Graham's eyes as he crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"And you thought he would wait after seeing you in the flesh?" Graham chuckled, his voice carrying both derision and amusement. "Idiot," he remarked, shaking his head.
The voice, emanating from an unseen figure whose perspective Liam somehow shared, replied defensively, its tone edged with frustration.
"What was I supposed to do? I thought he would try to fight me! I'm a major realm below him!"
Graham raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting into one of bemused incredulity. "You could've ambushed him."
"It was an ambush!" the voice shot back, tinged with irritation.
For a moment, Graham looked genuinely awkward. "Oh," he muttered. "Well — you were wrong."
The voice hissed in frustration, but Graham pressed on, gesturing dismissively. "Even if you can cross realms and beat your opponent, it was a bad idea to ambush him. As soon as you revealed your identity, the entire Nvaar knew not to mess with you." He added, "he obviously knew and used an escape art."
The voice growled in anger. "So what do I do? You're the smart one. Tell me?"
Graham let out a deep sigh, almost exasperated.
"They humiliate us behind our backs," the voice snarled, venom lacing its words. "And when we confront them, they run. What do you suggest? I go around telling this tale to others like a coward? To those who have nothing better to do with their lives?"
"Uh... well, that's a start," Graham quipped, a sly grin creeping across his face.
The voice bristled, and Graham quickly raised his hands. "I'm joking! I'm joking." He trailed off, his expression turning contemplative. "Huh — I did devise a method once."
"What method?" the voice demanded, its tone sharp and impatient.
Graham hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Never thought it would be useful in my lifetime"
"Speak. Now," the voice growled.
Graham clicked his tongue, leaning forward slightly. "Yeah, okay. So, once I thought about creating a mana art that would simulate the aura of a higher realm."
The voice's disbelief was almost palpable. "You what?"
"It was a cool idea!" Graham defended himself, his eyes lighting up. "I came up with it as a twist on escape arts. You know, instead of running away, we'd create an illusion of overwhelming strength."
Graham grinned, warming to the topic as he continued. "There's precedence in nature. Weak creatures pretending to be strong, like the venomous plumage of the Thornwing Drake or the mimicry of the Shadow Viper. Predators avoid them because the cost of conflict isn't worth it."
The voice snapped back, unimpressed. "And how is this supposed to help me? I want a fight."
Graham clicked his tongue again, leaning back with a mocking sigh. "This is your problem. First, listen to me — I'm getting there. Take a breath."
He resumed, his tone growing more serious. "But here's the issue: I couldn't create it. The intimidation techniques are already practiced by other clans. Poison arts, camouflage, aura enhancements, those methods are either limited or flawed. And simulating a higher realm is fundamentally well, impossible. To project strength like that takes a toll on the mana heart. It's too dangerous."
The voice trembled with suppressed frustration. "You said you had a solution."
"Relax, I'm getting to it." Graham held up a hand. "The thing is — a lower realm simulating a higher realm in dangerous but a higher realm cultivator feigning weakness. ... that's a different story altogether."
He continiued "a higher realm cultivator can hide their strength, much like a Great Wooly Bear when it goes into hibernation. It makes its body prepare for a calamity. Its heart appears dormant, but it's far from the truth. That's the key. If you want to mimic weakness, you need to simulate — death"
The voice fell silent for a moment, then finally spoke, its tone low and dangerous. "So that means I can play — "
Graham's grin returned, sharper this time. "A wolf in sheep's clothing."
"How? Tell me."
The question hung in the air, but the vision began to fragment, Graham's face fading into the storm of mana, he thre a scroll over towards Liam's vision out of empty space. His voice echoed one last time, filled with equal parts mischief and wisdom.
"That's for you to figure out."
Liam's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding as a dull ache spread through his temples. The remnants of the vision lingered, vivid and sharp, yet disjointed. He felt a strange clarity settle over him, as though Graham's words had imprinted themselves onto his very soul.
His gaze fell to the quill and parchment on the desk before him. Almost without thinking, he reached for them, his hand steady despite the storm of emotions within him.
With deliberate strokes, he wrote two words on the paper:
Heart Frailty.
The phrase sent a shiver through him as he stared at it. He knew what this was.
Liam's breathing steadied, but his mind raced. The mana flame within him flickered faintly, steady and unchanged. No breakthrough? The realization sent a chill down his spine. The overwhelming surge of mana he had felt moments ago—he hadn't advanced?
His gaze turned inward, and the truth began to unfold in fragmented thoughts.
He had fueled something else.
It wasn't his mana flame, nor his mana heart. A thought struck him like a thunderclap. The memories.
Each time he had gained knowledge — unexpected, vivid, and beyond his comprehension — it came at a cost. The memories, the insights, they consumed mana.
He began to piece it together. The first time had been with the pendant, the strange warmth that had coursed through him, leaving his mind buzzing with alien concepts. Then, during the rite of recognition, when the mana surged violently within him, the headache had been near unbearable.
He could use mana techniques with a precision and technique of an individual beyond initiate realm — It was an instinct.
Afterward, the practice sessions in crucible, where the mana in the air had the surge, he burned like molten fire in those sessions, had brought yet another revelation.
And then… the meal Edwin had given him.
His brow furrowed. That time had been different. There was no headache, no pain. Just a strange calmness, almost… soothing. Why? Why had there been no strong reaction? What made it different? Why after the meal I began to have regular breakthroughs?
The thought lingered, gnawing at him. He hadn't connected it before, but now it seemed clear: each memory had distinct characteristics, always paired with some reaction — headaches, nausea, disorientation.
Except for the meal.
His chest tightened. Was the lack of a reaction a sign of something more ominous? Or had the meal been masking the symptoms? Liam clenched his fists, frustrated at his inability to see the full picture.
It wasn't just the memories, either. He realized now that the headaches had plagued him for years, long before the pendant or the rite of recognition. At times, they were accompanied by nausea or dizziness, but they didn't always lead to a memory.
Was this some deeper affliction? Or something tied to a unique connection of him to mana?
"I have to figure it out," Liam muttered under his breath, his voice trembling with urgency. "I have to figure it out fast."
His mind drifted to the vision of Graham, the words lingering like a whisper in his ear: Heart Fraility.
The thought of using the technique which was etched in his newformed memories after the vision, filled him with equal parts fear and determination. Whatever had caused the surge tonight, whatever had fueled the memories, had also left him with no breakthrough.
"I'm saved for today, no breakthrough to attract attention" Liam thought grimly, "but I need to use Heart Frailty as soon as possible."
If the memories consumed mana, then the next time it happened, he had to be ready. Ready to harness the knowledge, and ready to protect his mana heart from whatever price it demanded.