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B6—Chapter 18: Magical Cardio and Mental Strength Training
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 11:21:26 +0000 UTC“We are not removing this core,” Al said, shooting a pointed look at Mahya.
“Of course not,” Mahya replied without missing a beat, tossing her hair back with a confident flick. “If this is the reward for the first run, the next ones should be good, too.”
“You want to run it again?” I asked.
They both turned to me in perfect sync, eyes wide with disbelief, like I’d just suggested we swim in lava.
“Hey! Don’t look at me like that.” I held my hands up, taking a half-step back. “I think we should run it again, too. I’m just asking.”
Mahya laughed and wrapped one arm around my waist in a quick, warm squeeze. Al gave a firm nod. Rue, meanwhile, glanced from face to face and bared a few teeth. The wave of disgust rolling off him hit like a stink bomb.
“You go dungeon,” he grumbled. “Rue stay home. Puzzle dungeon stupid.”
“You have to be smart to run a puzzle dungeon,” Mahya teased, grinning as she ruffled the fur on Rue’s head.
Rue pulled back and gave her a side-eyed glare. “Rue is smart. Rue smart to know puzzle dungeon stupid.”
I snorted. “You did say you hate puzzle dungeons before we started,” I reminded her, nudging her with my elbow.
“Yeah, but with this reward?” she said, pointing dramatically at the scroll. “They’re my new favorite.”
After a long, hot shower, a big dinner, and ten hours of sleep, Mahya and I spread the blueprint on her work table and got to work learning the new runes. I was quietly pleased when she had to stop after eight, while I only hit my limit at fourteen. I wasn’t being malicious or trying to one-up her. It just felt good. A clear sign of my progress.
While I continued studying the remaining six, she left the room, returned with a parchment notebook, and began copying the runes, adding short notes beside each to describe their functions.
“Good idea,” I said.
She nodded, humming softly in agreement.
We didn’t collect any mana crystals during the run—there were no monsters, after all. At first, I was disappointed. But two days later, that disappointment evaporated like morning dew under the sun: the dungeon was open to be run again.
The second run was easier, of course, since we already knew the “secrets” of each room, but not that much easier. It felt like the dungeon knew it was our second run and adjusted to compensate for the familiarity in its own way. On second thought, it probably did know to some degree. Those boosted rewards from each first run proved that.
The progression in the first three rooms now involved obscure branches of magic, which required much more attention and concentration to figure out the sequence. The first one focused on Echo magic—a resonance-based magic that built layers of vibration, starting from silence, moving through faint hums, harmonics, overlapping pulses, and finally to a whole cascade of magical sound. Matching the frequency of each pulse, in order, was the key; it was like tuning an invisible instrument. At least the dungeon recycled some things. Without the mana frequency room from the previous run, none of us would’ve stood a chance at cracking this one. Even with the experience we gained, it still took us almost three hours to get the sequence right.
The second sequence we tackled was Aethercraft, which dealt with the weight and density of mana itself. It started with barely-there wisps, almost intangible, then increased to a light fog, then a slow-flowing stream, eventually culminating in a thick, syrupy pressure that clung to my skin like oil. Each crystal represented a different consistency, and it was maddeningly easy to confuse “dense mist” with “thin sludge.” Again, thank the Spirits for the weight puzzle.
The third sequence was Spectromancy, a light-based magic that wasn’t about color, but about intensity and refraction. We had to line up the phases: from barely perceptible shimmer, to glint, soft glow, flare, and finally, blinding glare. This one was terrible to crack. It was similar enough to the other puzzles that we thought we got it right, only to be thwarted again and again. On this run, we discovered something we didn’t encounter on the first: if you channel mana into crystals and make an error in the sequence, the whole door resets, including the completed sequences.
After the door reset on us the third time—and Mahya finished cursing, kicking it, and then hopping on one foot from the pain—I pulled out a couch, and the three of us slumped on it to regenerate before tackling the door again. Al and I just sat there, breathing in mana and letting it refill us. Mahya, on the other hand, braved the Archive and actually managed to dig up the obscure names of the magic branches the door was now trying to train us in.
She and Al already knew about Echo magic, and she was familiar with Soporomancy—magic tied to dreams and sleep—but the rest had been a mystery. That was how we learned the names Aethercraft, Spectromancy, and Thigmaturgy—contact-triggered magic that responds to touch or proximity.
Useful? I had no idea.
Interesting? Well… more like curious.
Without Mahya and Al, I would’ve never cracked the sequence. Those types of magic were too far outside anything I understood.
The other rooms were similar to the first, but each had its quirks that made them much more complicated.
One puzzle involved rotating mana tones. Same concept as the harmonic frequency room, but now the pitches shifted every few seconds like a sliding scale. Timing became everything. The tone would swell, dip, then modulate halfway through a cycle, and if the wrong crystal got activated mid-shift, the whole room rang like a gong with an amplifier that made our ears bleed, then reset. Al tracked the intervals, Mahya handled the channeling, and I listened for the exact moment the transitions aligned. We got it eventually, but not before we all wanted to throw something at the walls. This time, Mahya refrained from kicking them.
Another puzzle used mirror crystals again, but this time, the mana beam split mid-path into two separate streams, each requiring a different aspect. If they weren’t split just right, the beam veered off-course, ricocheted, and hit a random room corner. We had to reset five times before Al figured out how to polarize the mirror alignment with precise angles. I handled the beam’s aspect shaping and guided it in slow, controlled pulses. The trick wasn’t just finding the right mirrors but knowing when to change the flavor halfway through the path. That was new… and nasty.
Then there was the mana reflection room. Not mirrors this time, but echo crystals that bounced mana back with slight distortion. Each one shifted the aspect by a tiny margin, so I had to launch a mana thread, catch the echo, and calculate what the original crystal would “taste” like after one, two, and three bounces. The room wanted a specific final flavor. It took everything I had not to scream by the end of that one.
Another test required us to sync crystal activations across multiple stations around the room. We had maybe three seconds of wiggle room between each activation, and every set involved a different mix of aspects and mana intensity. It wasn’t just timing—it was coordination, pacing, and aspect matching all crammed into one. Mahya and Al handled the spacing. I kept my focus locked on the pulsing flavors, counting heartbeats and calling aspect names.
One room had hidden runes that only responded to opposing aspects, meaning we had to match each rune to the mana that canceled it out. It wasn’t brute force but balance. Push too much or match the wrong flavor, and the rune flared and vanished like it was never there. That one took finesse. Lots of trials and too many errors.
By the end, the rooms blurred together into one long chain of layered spells, flavor tracking, and mana gymnastics. Mahya kept notes on anything that repeated. Al worked out trigger spacing and field effects. I just kept tasting mana until I felt like I’d licked the bottom of a potion bottle.
The rest followed that same pattern—familiar ideas twisted just enough to make them ten times harder. Without Mahya’s focus and Al’s precision, I would've failed most of them. Sure, these puzzles were still based on mana, but the deeper mechanics and obscure logic were outside anything I’d trained for. I could sense the pieces. They saw the shapes that fit into them.
Despite all the exasperation, annoyance, and frustration, there was a major silver lining. The biggest silver lining in this crazy “Mana in Wonderland” adventure was the training my mana sense got. Even after the first run, I’d felt it improve—like it had graduated from kindergarten to at least middle grade. Now, it had enrolled in college, aced every exam, and walked off the stage with honors and a smug little mana-sensing diploma in hand. I still had no idea what use it would have in the real world. I’d stopped creating spells with aspects, and I couldn’t exactly sense food flavor with it. But deep down, I was sure it would come in handy eventually. No one gets a magical nose upgrade for nothing.
The second silver lining was Al. He’d started to parse aspects. Not sense them clearly, not like I did, but enough to point and say, “That one feels heavier,” or, “That one buzzes strangely.” And once or twice, he even managed to name one correctly. That little progress made Mahya huff in annoyance and go tight-lipped for the next room.
Not at us. At herself.
She crossed her arms and glared at the crystals. Every time Al got close to recognizing an aspect, she muttered something under her breath and channeled mana into the next one a bit too hard.
She stepped back from the puzzle at one point, exhaled sharply through her nose, and rubbed her temples with both hands. “Of course it clicks for you,” she said, not looking at Al. “Pure mage class should have its affinity perks.”
Al glanced her way, eyebrows lifting. “It is only a partial insight,” he said carefully, like he wasn’t sure if this was a trap.
Mahya just shook her head and looked back at the crystals. “My classes are based on engineering and rune work. All this subtle flavor-sensing crap?” She waved at the puzzle. “Not part of the package.”
She lowered her voice after that, almost too quiet to hear. “I can’t learn from this place,” she said, more to herself than to us. “It’s teaching skills I wasn’t built for.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. I just stood beside her and waited while she glared at a crystal that refused to light.
Al, of course, stayed calm about the whole thing. “You are learning. Just not in the same direction,” he said, carefully adjusting a mirror. “Besides, I am merely brushing the surface.”
Still, I caught the slight lift of his chin when he got another aspect right. The man had no poker face when he was proud of himself.
Mahya eventually shook it off. By the next room, she was muttering calculations and sketching pathways in the air with her fingers like nothing had happened.
The last room was, once again, a combination of everything that came before. I hesitated at the threshold. This run was far more complicated, and I worried we wouldn’t be able to crack it with the added complexity. Fortunately, my worries proved unfounded. Yes, it was harder—no doubt about that—but Al’s progress bridged the gap. It still took us almost seven hours, just like the previous run, but not longer.
The reward was still worth it. Again, all of us had to touch the core together, and again we got a scroll, a smaller one this time.
It took Mahya less than a minute to figure it out. She unrolled the scroll, eyes scanning the runes. Leaning in slightly, her brow furrowed, then she let out a quiet, satisfied “hah.”
“Portable power center,” she said, tapping the central node on the diagram with her fingertip. “It’s designed to regulate mana output for single-use tools or crafting benches.”
I stepped in closer, peering over her shoulder. “So… magical power outlet?”
“Something like that,” she said, shrugging one shoulder, “but more limited.” She rolled the scroll back up and stored it. “Not flashy, but useful. I could build one of these in a couple of days, maybe less.”
“I didn’t see a core in the design,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s based on crystals. I might be able to scale it to use a core and boost the output, but I’m not sure yet. Either way, it’ll be valuable in places where ambient mana is thin or unstable.”
“I would like one for my lab,” Al said.
Mahya gave him a sideways grin. “Sure. I’ll make you the first one. We even have all the materials.”
Two days later, another run. Harder and simpler at the same time. Familiarity had its perks, but this dungeon was devious and threw curveballs at every opportunity. Still, despite its best efforts, we cleared it in less time. The previous runs had taken around fifteen hours—this one, only about twelve. We were learning. Al’s sensing ability continued to improve, though I wasn’t sure mine had. We also picked up the names of four more obscure magic branches: Cryolux, which dealt with light-based freezing effects; Graviturgy, the manipulation of gravity fields; Fluxmancy, the shaping of unstable or transitional mana states; and Glyphonomics, the art of optimizing runes for efficiency and minimal cost. This one was a winner in mine and Mahya's books.
Mahya was a strong and determined woman. She braved the Archive again to learn the new names while Al and I waited, watching her with quiet admiration.
The reward was, again, worth it.
This time, the scroll contained a blueprint for a Magitech Stabilization Base—a workbench anchor that passively absorbed vibrations and smoothed out ambient mana drift. It was meant for delicate work, like crystal or gem etching, and Mahya looked like she had received her birthday present and a new toolbox.
The run after that was a walk in the park—and it worried us all. Minor differences aside, the rooms had returned to their original configuration. The progression door had the same elements in the same order, but the crystals were in a different place. The weight room used the same puzzle, just with different shapes. Everything felt familiar, like the dungeon was coasting on autopilot.
We cleared it in less than six hours.
The whole time, I kept my fingers crossed that the reward would at least be different. It was. Unfortunately, it was also a disappointment.
Mahya unrolled the scroll, glanced at it, and sighed. “Mana lamp.”
“As in… a lamp?” I asked.
“As in, you already have them scattered around your house.” She handed me the scroll without looking, already walking off toward the exit.
The entrance was sticky when we entered the dungeon for the next run. The last run. Once again, the dungeon recycled the second set of puzzles, this time with slight variations—just enough to make us work for it, but nothing new.
The reward was another letdown.
Mahya unrolled the scroll, glanced over it, and let out a dry sigh. “Mana warmer plate.”
I squinted at her. “Wait—like... for tea?”
She nodded. “Tea, soup, anything small. Keeps it warm. That’s all it does.”
I pointed at the scroll. “So just… warm?”
“Yep.”
I stared at it. “That’s the whole thing?”
Al leaned over, inspecting the blueprint. “It does seem to maintain a consistent low temperature. Might be useful for alchemical brews.”
Mahya handed him the scroll. “You can have it.”
I blinked at them both. “Seriously though... just warm?”
Mahya shrugged.
Al studied the scroll with a thoughtful expression, then turned to me. “Could you assist me in building one?”
“Sure,” I said, still trying to process the underwhelming nature of the reward.
Mahya rolled her eyes and flicked a hand toward the blueprint. “If you feel like building one for fun, go ahead. If not, I can slap one together in a few minutes.”
Al offered her the scroll. “I would appreciate that.”
Mahya waved him off without even glancing up. “I don’t need it. It’s just five runes, a mana crystal, and a metal plate. I could build it in my sleep.”
She turned to me. “If you aspect the crystal to fire, it'll only need three runes and take half the time.”
I nodded. “Yeah, no problem.”
Al stored the scroll and straightened. “I must admit, this training was effective and interesting.”
I nodded slowly. My mana sense felt sharper and clearer, like someone had wiped smudges off a lens I didn’t know was dirty. It was subtle but real. I’d changed in here.
Mahya let out a breath, more exasperated than anything. “Great. You both got magic upgrades. I got eye strain and a growing hatred for glowing rocks.”
She stalked off toward the exit, muttering something under her breath that sounded a lot like, “dungeon design is a war crime.”
I followed, a little smug and a whole lot ready for dinner.
The brain gym had closed its doors.
Comments
TravelingDreamer
😂
tonright
I accidentally read this right when it came out then forgot, then like two hours later was like "Yes, let's go read that chapter now!" only to realise I had already done it 🙃
Angela Roberts
Brain gym, I like that.
