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The Training Hall – Mana Control Session
The training hall was quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of mana flowing through the air. Students sat in structured rows, cross-legged on the stone floor, focusing on their breathing as they channeled energy through their bodies.
Kyle sat near the middle, his palms resting lightly on his knees, fingers slightly curled. He inhaled deeply, feeling the faint pulse of his mana—nothing overwhelming, nothing unnatural. Just his own energy, raw and steady.
The instructor, Master Veylen, strode between the rows of students, his sharp gaze scanning for errors.
"Control is the foundation of everything you will ever do," Veylen's voice carried across the hall, calm yet firm. "Without control, raw power is wasted. A fighter without control is no different from a beast lashing out in the dark."
Kyle focused on the flow of mana within him. Unlike combat, where reflexes took over, mana control required deliberate precision. It wasn't about unleashing strength but about holding it steady, shaping it, making it obey.
"Extend your mana outward," Veylen instructed. "No techniques. No force. Just presence. Let it linger, let it breathe."
Kyle exhaled slowly and pushed his mana forward, spreading it just beyond his skin. The air around him felt slightly heavier, but nothing dramatic. Across the room, he could feel other students doing the same, their auras forming faint ripples in the mana-rich atmosphere.
For a moment, it felt… natural.
Not effortless, but right.
Kyle had trained in mana control before, but never like this—never with this level of awareness. His energy wasn't slipping away, wasn't dispersing wildly. It was steady, contained.
Veylen passed by, his gaze briefly flickering to Kyle. The instructor didn't stop, didn't comment, but there was a slight pause in his stride. Then he kept walking.
That was… something.
Kyle didn't let it distract him.
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Vivian's Perspective – Watching Kyle Without Overthinking It
As if she knew, "What's up with this boy? Does he want to be the best at everything?" Vivian thought, looking at him.
Across the room, Vivian Marchand kept her mana spread thin, careful not to waste energy. She wasn't the strongest in the class, but her control was among the most refined—she had to be, given her healing abilities.
Her Silverwing Moth rested on her shoulder, its wings folded neatly as it mirrored her steady flow of mana.
But her thoughts weren't on herself.
They were on Kyle.
She had watched his battle earlier. Almost beating Darius? That was unheard of for someone at his level. But now, as she observed him in this class, there was nothing… strange about him.
No wild energy. No unnatural aura.
Just discipline.
If anything, his control was impressively solid for someone who had never stood out in this area before. She had expected at least a few mistakes—mana slipping or fluctuating too much. But his flow was stable, controlled.
He's just getting better.
That was the logical conclusion. Maybe he had trained in secret. Maybe something about fighting Darius had pushed him to improve faster. It wasn't unheard of—some people just rose to challenges better than others.
Still, she made a mental note to keep an eye on him. Not out of suspicion—just curiosity.
Because if he really was improving this fast, then Kyle Corvayn was about to become someone worth watching.
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Mana Threading – The Real Test Begins
"Good," Veylen finally spoke, his voice breaking the quiet concentration. "Now, let's move to the next exercise. Mana threading."
A low groan rippled through some of the students. This was where things got tricky.
Mana threading required weaving one's energy into thin, precise strands, shaping them like threads to pass through tiny hoops floating in the air. It was a common training exercise to refine delicate control—a nightmare for those who relied too much on brute force.
With a wave of his hand, Veylen summoned a series of floating silver rings in front of each student. The hoops shifted slightly, never staying perfectly still.
"Guide your mana through the rings," he instructed. "No force. No brute strength. If your thread is too thick, it will collapse. If you move too fast, you'll lose control. Patience is key."
Kyle narrowed his eyes slightly, extending his energy forward.
The first few moments were clumsy. His mana pushed too forcefully at first, causing the strand to wobble. But he adjusted, reeling back, making it thinner, more flexible.
Slowly, it slipped through the first ring.
Then the second.
By the third, he found a rhythm.
It wasn't flashy, wasn't anything special, but it was working.
Around him, other students struggled—some pushing too hard, their threads breaking apart, others too hesitant, their mana dispersing before reaching the goal.
Kyle wasn't the best in the room, but he was consistent.
And that alone was progress.
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Darius Notices – But Doesn't Overthink It
Darius Holt had been focusing on his own exercise, but he wasn't blind. He noticed Kyle's movements, the steadiness of his threading.
It was impressive, sure, but it wasn't unnatural.
Darius had trained harder than anyone here, had earned his skill. And Kyle? He was just catching up.
Nothing wrong with that.
Still, Darius made a note of it.
Kyle wasn't just going through the motions. He was adapting, improving.
Which meant the next time they fought…
It wouldn't be so easy to win.
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Instructor's Final Words
Veylen finally called the exercise to a halt, his sharp eyes scanning the room.
"Some of you lack control," he said, blunt as ever. "Some of you rely too much on brute force." His gaze flickered over a few students before settling, briefly, on Kyle.
"You," he said.
Kyle straightened slightly. "Sir?"
"Your threading is clean. But your approach is too reactionary. You adjust well, but you need to learn to predict the flow before it happens. Anticipation is key."
Kyle nodded. "Understood."
Veylen studied him for a moment longer, then moved on.
That was it. No praise, no suspicion. Just a critique—as it should be.
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Aftermath – Kyle Reflects on the Training
As class wrapped up, Kyle rolled his shoulders, feeling the slight strain in his mana reserves. He wasn't exhausted, but he had worked.
And he was satisfied with that.
No strange power-ups. No eerie moments. Just training paying off.
And tomorrow, he'd do even better.
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