ThatHumanMage
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139. Limitation is Strength
🕑 Added 2025-06-24 12:00:46 +0000 UTC[A/N:
A choice came to me yesterday: Release a long chapter late, or release a short chapter on time and break this scene into two. That would've been lame though, and I've already done it enough this arc, so here's a long chapter
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The Kaelburn estate in Liresil rested beneath the shade of one of the tree’s enormous arching roots, not on the outskirts of the city, but neither in the center near the trunk. A stone wall capped in iron ringed the property, though the tall manor was still visible from outside, peering over the top.
Though Corrin had done most of the talking on their way down the tree, once they’d reached the lower city, it was Kei, surprisingly, who had most engaged the spirit knight. Since he proved to be amicable to her, she seemed more than happy to converse with him. Corrin wasn’t sure if that was out of simple relief that he seemed friendly, or if she was trying to establish a connection with her family. From what he’d gathered, Eryndor seemed to be some sort of minor nobility in Taravast.
“I can’t believe you have a manor in Liresil!” she said, eyes bright as she stared at the ornate roof over the garden wall. “It's such a journey from Taravast, I’d hesitate to say it even functions as a vacation home.”
“The Kaelburn family actually traces its roots to this city,” Eryndor explained with a hint of humor. “Though we established ourselves in Taravast some hundred years ago, we still have connections to this place. My mother loves to visit, though it can be difficult with our responsibilities in the capital. And as for you Miss Hayashi? You’ve come quite far from Taravast yourself.”
Kei smiled wryly. “I traveled west on family business, but it’s a secret, I’m sorry.”
“It is more than okay, I can understand the need for secrecy. After all, I’m here on a secret mission myself!” He laughed boisterously at that, and Corrin couldn’t tell if he was actually being serious or not.
Eryndor walked to the front gate, resting his hand atop a small gemstone at the top of a pedestal. It lit a faint glowing red and the iron gate slid open, creaking just a bit, but otherwise operating smoothly.
He didn’t wait for it to fully open though, striding through as soon as he could comfortably fit, once more expecting them to simply follow. There was a certain ego in the way he walked, at least as Corrin thought of it. The knight didn’t wait to make sure they were keeping pace, but his stride was neither fast nor slow, like he knew they could keep up and didn’t have to check.
There was something to it that drew Corrin in, as much if not more than Tor had. Though he had no idea as to Eryndor’s powers, he found himself wanting to follow closely behind. He was the first through the gate after the spirit knight, chasing his waving cape as they stepped onto the grounds of the estate.
The manor only took up some quarter of the space towards the back wall, with a majority of the grounds being dedicated to a large lawn out front, with plenty of room to train and play. Of course, that was how Corrin thought of most open spaces, but it wasn’t just for that reason the idea stood out to him. A substantial portion had actually seemingly been set aside for training, with dummies, a huge pit of sand, and channeling rings prepared on the right half of the property. The left half instead had been turned into a small grove, with a pond and cluster of trees dominating the space.
Without missing a beat, Eryndor marched to the right, straight into the middle of the sandpit, and stopped.
Throughout the walk, he’d listened intently, only asking a few guiding questions towards their level of skill, and their training thus far. He’d talked more to Kei than to either of them, and in the end, his response to their story had been shockingly vague.
‘I see.’
As Corrin awkwardly shifted his weight between his feet, Eryndor spun to face them, and then plopped down onto the ground. Sitting cross-legged, he slapped his palm against the sand next to him, gesturing for the rest of them to sit.
After a moment’s hesitation, they obliged, and Corrin matched his posture, crossing his legs while he waited for Eryndor to speak.
The spirit knight’s shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes as if in great pain. He took a deep breath, and then—
“It’s lamentable!” he cried, his voice booming across the space. “Such a waste of talent, and for such a petty reason! Ah, but to have come so far anyways, to have ventured so distantly from home… It’s commendable! I ought to praise each of you! Deficient or not, your progress is astounding!”
“Thank you sir,” Corrin beamed. “We’ve—wait, deficient?”
“Indeed! You’re only half-warriors you see? Large muscled babies with no swords to swing! So much power and yet so little skill in applying it.”
“Hey!” Corrin protested.
But Eryndor just shook his head. “You say you only have one technique? And not even a hint of another? For a channeler of your power, I would expect more.”
“How can you tell how powerful I am?”
“To begin, I can sense your auras. In sheer volume, neither of you fall behind for your ages and aspects.”
Corrin blinked. He could sense that? Even Tor had needed to touch them to see their non-mantled aura!
Eryndor continued. “Furthermore, you mentioned you were able to fully mantle. That is a noteworthy feat in and of itself. Thus, I have made my decision!”
Wyn’s brows furrowed. “About… introducing us to the Sepal?”
“No no, I was already going to! Far be it from me to determine whether your need is worthy. If you’ve traveled so far, you must believe it so. I’m referring to my decision to stoke these kindling flames of yours! You have much to learn if you wish to attend the academy, and we do not have much time, but I will set you on the path to become raging blazes of your own!”
“You’re going to teach us?” Wyn asked incredulously. “Just like that?”
Eryndor slowly pressed his hands against his knees, smiling at the two of them. “I had already intended to spend time instructing Young Genevisc here. Two more students does not add to the load much, and I have nothing to do until the Sepals contact me.”
Corrin glanced at the boy next to him—whose name he’d learned was Luscien. He was looking absolutely unenthused as he pet the fox that had curled up in his lap, though to be fair Corrin hadn’t seen him make any other faces since they’d met, so perhaps that didn’t mean much.
Without so much as waiting for them to reply, Eryndor clapped his hands together, bringing Corrin’s attention right back.
“We begin at the beginning! I intend to teach you the essence of techniques.”
***
First, Eryndor had them change into new clothes that he brought from within the manor. They were made of a strange material Corrin hadn’t seen before, the black fibers glimmering faintly in the light of the sun. Despite the color, they were still quite cool, fitted snugly around the torso and chest, but leaving his arms completely free. The trousers, similarly, were lightweight, and cinched at the waist and ankles.
“These clothes are enchanted,” Eryndor explained. “The fibers help to disperse mana and prevent any serious injuries. Don’t leave defense to them though, you’ll still get plenty hurt if you’re not careful.”
Corrin stretched in the sand, loosening up as the three of them—Kei was sitting out for obvious reasons—stood around waiting for Eryndor to start the “lesson”.
“So!” The knight began. “Allow me to ask you a simple question. What makes a technique?”
Luscien raised his hand, but the knight waved him down.
“This is just review for you, Young Genevisc. Let them think for themselves.”
Corrin rubbed his chin. He supposed if he had to put it in the most basic terms… “Using your aura in a way beyond basic strengthening.”
“A good enough answer,” Eryndor nodded. “Too many believe that it is projecting mana outside the body, but techniques far more flexible than that. I can tell both of you have at least a basic channeling technique, and I assure you that name was not given for no reason. Now Corrin, you claim to have a different technique besides that? Show it to me now.”
“It’s… well it’s not very impressive.”
“I wouldn’t have expected it to be. That is fine, just show me.”
Corrin gripped his waster tighter, adjusting his hold as he let mana slide up the surface, collecting densely on the edge. Lacking a target, he simply swung it lazily in front of him, leaving visible ripples in the air.
“Commendable!” Eryndor exclaimed. “You’re already close to partial manifestation in that technique! Notice those ripples? They’re the mark of dense mana such as you gather on the edge. When they color, you’ll have achieved partial manifestation, and when you reach full manifestation, that’s when you’ll start to get some very interesting results.”
Corrin licked his lips. That was what he wanted to hear.
“Tell me Corrin, how did you first come to learn that technique?”
Corrin remembered grueling mantling practice. Hours and hours spent on the deck of the ship in Estin. At the time, the training had been all-consuming. He’d spent more than one night working until he passed out on the wood and eventually rose to the sun—and once to rain. Was that what was in store for him again? He hoped not, but if that was what it took, he’d do it.
“I was trying to cut a—” Corrin paused as he saw the look on Eryndor’s face. The knight was expectant. Would the answer really be so simple?”
The essence of techniques.
Corrin drew mana up the blade, the entire thing. “I couldn’t control enough mana firmly enough to sheathe the whole sword like this. I could only get about halfway up. So instead of coating the whole blade, I tried controlling… less mana and instead forced it up a single side.”
His eyes widened.
Eryndor laughed. “Ah and there it is! I see that understanding in your eyes. Now let me ask you again, young Corrin… what makes a technique?”
Trying to force more and more mana out of his mantle hadn’t worked—of course it hadn’t. Techniques weren’t about power…
“Limitations. A technique is made from limitations.”
“Now that’s a good answer. If you wish to achieve range, you can’t begin by using more mana, you have to use less! And similarly, if you use the same amount of mana in a ranged attack, it will be weaker than one made up close! Conversely, you can increase the power of your technique by limiting its range or area of effect. Tell me, does that technique of yours have a name?”
“I just call it my technique...” Corrin answered sheepishly. “Does it matter?”
“Ah but of course it matters! Do not mistake your aura for an impersonal energy source. It is the energy of your soul given form! Beyond a need to more easily communicate your abilities to allies, when it comes to aura control, your intention matters. Naming your techniques gives them significance and intention, while also reinforcing their existence in your mind. This is a mental shortcut that allows you to focus your will, aura, and attention more effectively.”
“I have a question,” Wyn spoke up. “Is there any benefit to saying the name of your technique in battle? I’ve heard some people do it, and I’ve wondered why.”
“A good question! As I said, naming your technique can be a mental shortcut, and in a time of chaos, speaking its name can be a way to help you form the technique. You’ll find that aids such as gestures, speech, and focuses can all help to give you a boost! In that way, each of them serves as another example of limitations providing power. For most though, it’s just a crutch, and the disadvantage far outweighs the advantages—namely, that you reveal your hand to your opponent.”
“And yet you proclaim the name of your techniques every single time,” Lusien protested.
Eryndor laughed. “Of course! Because I am a spirit knight!”
Before Corrin could ask what he meant by that, the knight was already moving on.
“Most importantly, you cannot develop a technique flailing in the dark. Your efforts must be concentrated and focused, honed in repetition, as you teach your body to create the effect you want.”
“If that’s true, then how did we learn any of this?” asked Wyn.
Luscien pushed up his glasses to answer. “Obviously such ancient history makes a real answer impossible, but I would say it was likely accomplished by studying the natural world. Most creatures have some form of innate techniques that were likely duplicated in the past. Though, it is possible it could have truly been discovered by some crazy individual who singularly believed in his ability. Never underestimate the power of imbecility—it can produce shocking results.”
Eryndor nodded. “Thankfully, you need not discover this alone, and thus we can push you far higher! To begin, Corrin, I’ll have you work on mana cohesion—I’ll show you an easy exercise to begin. Wyn, spar with Luscien, no mantling or techniques, until I finish with Corrin. Then I’ll move onto you.”
Luscien frowned. “No mantling?”
“Just a light warmup!” Eryndor grinned. “You’ll be facing me afterwards!”
“Ah…”
Eryndor clapped his hands together. “Alright! Waste no more time! Let’s begin!”
***
With the sounds of Wyn and Luscien’s wasters cracking against each other in the background, Eryndor had Corrin sit down on a bench near the edge of the large sand pit.
“They say the gods have no need to learn techniques or spells, for they can simply will their mana into any shape they wish.”
“I haven’t heard that before,” Corrin replied. He’d heard of the gods of course—immortal beings that roamed Aeora, neither spirit nor man, blessed with unbelievable powers which surpassed all but the greatest of spirits. “Though I guess it makes sense. Have you… met one?”
“I have not,” Eryndor said simply. “At least, not that I’m aware of. I’ve my suspicions of course—I met a smith in a small village once who seemed something beyond human, though I may never know the truth. In any case, that’s off topic.”
“The topic being…?”
“Techniques Corrin! Techniques! You see, in theory, your aura can be used to accomplish any number of things. A being of transcendent skill could likely perform any feat of mana at will: Pulling two objects together, imitating the slash of a blade, turning a solid object to liquid, changing parts of their body, or even creating mimicries of life. However, we are not gods, and our control over our own mana is limited. ”
Corrin crossed his arms. “So I need to learn to do more with my aura. Sure, I get that. But how do I actually go about it?”
“Same as anything,” Eryndor smiled. “Practice! To begin, let me show you a trick. Form a small ball of aura for me.”
“A small ball? Yeah I can do that.” Corrin’s control had gotten better over months of practice, so he did actually end up with something resembling a ball, though it was a shaky, lopsided thing he held in his palm, leaking mana back into the rest of his mantle.
“As you can see, your cohesion is quite low. This isn’t inherently difficult to do though, don’t worry. In fact, this exercise will help with just that. Instead of just trying to form it normally, roll the aura between your hands, like a snowball.”
Corrin furrowed his brow and brought his hands together. To his surprise, the motion actually helped the formation, and the ball grew steadier in his grasp. It was a tiny thing, composed of less mana than he’d been able to gather in his mantle even the first time he tried, but it was working.
“As I said earlier, connecting your technique to motions, words, and familiar ideas can help your mind form it more firmly. Think of how you coat your sword with mana rather than forming a blade directly. That’s another form of this exact phenomenon. With that in mind, throw it.”
“Throw it?”
“Just like a ball, or something else familiar to you.”
Something else familiar? The aura-ball had virtually no weight in his palm. Light, and crackling with energy, however small. But just a ball wasn’t good enough, he wanted something powerful. His mind envisioned a tiny red stone, glowing with stored fire. Carrying them on his person had been one of Irym’s first lessons to him—they were always useful when the sword failed.
Corrin tossed the ‘firestone’ into the sand, and watched as the tiny black ball of energy flew through the air, holding together before landing against the ground. It popped like a bubble, sending a tiny shower of sand spraying a few inches in all directions.
Eryndor laughed. “An explosion of force! Now if you only scale it up a few hundred times, perhaps you’ll be able to do some real damage! Though, I wouldn’t recommend such a clumsy technique for you, so think hard on something better while you practice!”
Corrin rolled another ball of aura between his hands, trying to make it larger this time. When he tossed it, it dissipated before it hit the sand.
“Intention.” Eryndor clapped him on the shoulder. “Command the aura to stick together. Imagine it, and over time, remove unnecessary guides. You'll get the hang of it quickly I'm sure.”
Eryndor left Corrin with that, and walked over to where Wyn and Luscien were sparring, breaking them apart and saying a few words.
A moment later, Luscien walked over towards the bench, adjusting his glasses and smoothing out his robe.
“Hey,” Corrin said as he sat down. “How do you wear those things while you’re fighting?”
Luscien blinked, and it seemed to take him a second to process the question. Then he let out a tiny, single laugh, his eyes closing as he touched his lips. Corrin was surprised how much the boy’s face softened when he laughed, even if only for a moment.
“They’re enchanted,” Lusien explained, taking the glasses off to show him. “Though I’m not totally blind without them either. It’s easier than trying to learn a visual technique, and I’ve had them since I was young.”
“Huh, that’s cool.”
“Is it really?”
Corrin rolled the aura between his hands slowly. “Where we grew up, the only enchanted thing either of us owned was Wyn’s lightstone lamp, and it cost a small fortune.”
Luscien gave a small nod, brushing a bit of sand from his pant leg. “I’ve heard that technology is less advanced in the west.”
“Why do you think I’m so excited to make it east?” Corrin laughed. “So what’s it like at the academy? Are there constant duels? Ooh what about hidden passages? No, don't tell me! Wait, do tell me!”
He rubbed his head, frustratedly, dropping the ball by accident. It held together for only a moment, unraveling long before it hit the ground.
“It’s not some sort of novel,” Luscien said dryly. “We go to class, take tests, and… well I guess there is always some sort of duel going on. And there is that shortcut through the grove… though it’s not really hidden.” He frowned.
“I knew it! Duels and secret passages here I come! Man I bet you’re learning all sorts of stuff there. Got any tips for your precious underclassman?”
“Underclassman? Make it through the exam and we’ll talk.”
“I’ll hold you to that, cause my passing is a sure thing.” Corrin smirked.
“At least you’re confident.” Luscien closed his eyes, forming some sort of hand sign and holding it in his lap.
“So what are your techniques like? Did you learn them at the academy? I bet they’re pretty cool. And what’s up with that fox of yours? I’ve never seen one with two tails before! Ooh and what aspect are you? You never actually mentioned it.”
One eye opened back up to peer at Corrin. “Other than some basic ones, I only have one main technique—it was inherited from my family.”
“Is it some sort of secret?” Corrin asked.
“Not at all. Most noble family techniques are well-known. The Genevisc technique is fox-transformation.”
“You turn into a fox?” Corrin leaned in, eyes wide.
Luscien leaned away, adjusting his glasses. “No, nothing like how you’re thinking. It’s just a name.”
Corrin grinned. “I bet it’s really cool though.”
There was no answer to that.
“So how about the fox?”
“Kita is my bond. His species grows multiple tails, and I draw on his proprioception to use my technique.”
“Proprio—what?”
Luscien closed his eyes again, letting out a deep breath through his nose. “Do you know how you can tell where your hand is even when you can’t see it?”
Corrin looked to the left and shook his right arm around outside his vision. “Oh yeah… huh.”
“That’s proprioception.”
“How do you use it in your technique?”
Luscien folded his hands in his lap, and looked down at the sand for a long moment. Then, without looking up, he spoke.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
Corrin blinked. “Ah, sorry?”
“No, it’s not a bad thing.” Luscien said slowly. “People like you just tire me out.”
There wasn’t any annoyance in his voice, just calm, tired honesty. Corrin could appreciate that at least.
Corrin stared at him for a beat. Then, he laughed. “Alright, I guess that’s fair.”
Luscien gave a faint shrug. “Thank you for understanding.”
They sat in silence after that, and Corrin rolled another ball of aura between his fingers.
Across the sand pit, Wyn flopped down onto the ground. Corrin raised an eyebrow at it, but Eryndor didn’t seem worried, so he shrugged and kept practicing.
Luscien returned to his meditative state, and Corrin peered over his shoulder to inspect the hand sign he was making. It was two fox signs, touched together in the middle.
Fox-transformation… Corrin felt a smile come on. So freaking cool!
The aura ball unraveled as he lost his focus, and he had to start all over again.
“Dang it.”
***
While Eryndor had helped Corrin, Wyn had also faced down the second year student of The Swordcraft Academy.
“This is just a warm-up alright?” Luscien reminded Wyn as he held up his blade. “No need to push ourselves, just get loose.”
Wyn nodded, wondering what the swordsmanship of an academy student would be like.
Without a word, the duel began. Luscien stepped in, testing Wyn’s defenses with a series of strikes, easily parried. Wyn pushed back as Luscient retreated, letting himself be tested in turn. With only a few blows, Wyn realized something.
Luscien fought like him.
His style was akin to fencing, and impeccably refined. There wasn’t anything inspired in his swordplay, it was just technical and disciplined, focused on defense rather than creating openings or launching daring attacks. When Wyn let his guard slip for an instant, Luscien struck, pushing him back and taking the tempo again.
Neither truly pushed the other, content to fall into a more technical display than a true duel, and as they broke apart for a moment, Luscien actually spoke, his voice dry.
“You fight quite well, I’m impressed.”
“As do you. I can tell you’ve worked hard.”
“It’s expected of me,” Luscien stepped back in, thrusting.
Wyn parried and counterattacked. “Why is that?”
“My family have been spirit knights for generations,” he replied calmly, shuffling through the sand with ease. “I’ve been trained to do the same since I was a child.”
Wyn followed, though Luscien almost managed to slip under his guard. “I see. Are you nobility then?”
“In the smallest of senses. We hold no land besides our family home, only the title.”
Wyn ducked a strike, stepping back. “And you’ve been set to be a spirit knight since childhood? Do you resent that being forced upon you?”
“Not at all. It only makes sense, and I have no qualms with becoming a spirit knight myself.”
Their duel continued, shifting back and forth in the sand.
“But do you want to do it?”
Wyn expected some sort of reaction there, but Luscien’s blade moved true, batting Wyn’s away.
“It has more purpose than most works, I’ll admit. But in the end, a job is a job. For someone like me who has few passions, it is a good one to aim for.”
Wyn thought it was a bit strange that he would describe himself as someone with few passions, but he nodded anyway. “I suppose so. You’re a student, yes? Have you ever met a professor named Sezim?”
“I have!” Luscien’s face actually brightened, surprising Wyn. “How do you—ah, the knight in your story. What a coincidence. Yes, I have actually taken one of his classes. He may be my second favorite professor at the academy.”
“Is that so?” Wyn grew a bit excited. He’d finally get to hear more about the man who’d saved his life that day. “What does he teach?”
“Geography.”
Wyn’s sword faltered, and Luscien knocked it aside, ending the duel off of a single blunder.
“Geography?” Wyn repeated, uncaring for the result. “Is that all?”
The thought was absurd. The man he’d looked up to all his life, ‘The Stillblade’, a renowned war-veteran and emissary to Iillia the great spirit… was a geography teacher?
“Luscien nodded. “I think he teaches a more advanced class as well. But yes, I have him for geography. He’s very knowledgeable on the subject, and I suspect he’s quite well-traveled. Actually, your story supports that as well—though I must wonder… How did he reach the northern plateau so quickly? I find it hard to believe someone of his standing simply vanished for an entire year.”
Wyn thought about that for a moment. “I have no idea actually. I’d always just assumed spirit knights had access to faster methods of transportation.”
“They do,” Luscien nodded. “But I don’t know of any that would let one cross the continent without missing a significant amount of classes. And as far as I’ve been here, he hasn’t missed one. Shocking. Perhaps I’ll ask him when I return.”
“Speaking of, how did the two of you travel?” Wyn asked.
“By karuda.”
“Karu-whatnow?”
Luscien told Wyn about the large flightless birds that had borne them across the continent, faster and more versatile than any horse. They made some small talk about the journey itself too, but Wyn got the impression Luscien wasn’t the biggest talker, so he didn’t drag things out too much.
He did, however, ask about taking karuda back to Taravast, wondering if the method was possible for his group as well, but Luscien shot down the idea.
“They’re surprisingly difficult birds to learn to ride and care for, at least to do so properly. The time spent learning to ride them would almost ruin the time you’d save. Still it might be worth it, except that they can only be effectively ridden by channelers, which your friend is not.”
He glanced towards the grove across the estate, where he could faintly see Kei lounging in the shade at the edge of the pond, her feet dangling in the water.
“Well, I think we’re stuck with her at this point. So that’s out of the cards then.” Wyn grinned, holding his sword up. “Oh well. Round two?”
Luscien nodded. “Gladly. It’s been so long since I truly fought with a blade, it’s good to remove the rust from time to time.”
“Oh? So I’m not as good as I thought then?” Wyn laughed.
“On the contrary, you’re good enough to get the rust off,” Luscien’s lips curled upwards in a ghost of a smile.
“What do you usually fight with?”
Luscien’s smile grew a little larger, and perhaps there was even a bit of pride in it. He held up his blade. “You’ll see when I spar with my master.”
With that non-answer, the duels began anew.
Some number of spars later, of which Wyn had lost all—though by narrow margins each time—Eryndor left Corrin and wandered over to where they were practicing.
“Your left-side parries are a bit low,” Luscien advised mid-attack, and Wyn adjusted accordingly. It seemed that though their skills were almost equal, Luscien did have more raw knowledge than Wyn, able to spot flaws in his swordplay that a better swordsman would be able to exploit. Wyn thought some might chafe with such dry and direct delivery, but he could appreciate that Luscien didn’t mince words—much like his master actually.
“Such fast friends!” Eryndor laughed as he clapped his hands together, ending the spar. “But I’m afraid I must now break you apart. Luscien, work on your build-up while I speak with Wyn here. I won’t be much longer, I promise.”
Luscien sniffed and adjusted his glasses, bowing to Wyn and putting away his blade. “It was a pleasure to spar with you. May we do so again soon.”
“Likewise.”
As Luscien walked off, Eryndor crossed his arms and gazed intently at Wyn, cutting right to the heart of the matter.
“So, you can’t take in mana, is that right?”
Wyn hooked his waster back onto his belt. “Unfortunately, sir. My blessing purifies my body, removing toxins and poisons.”
“Including mana,” the spirit knight finished. “An interesting predicament! And of course, your aspect is virtually untainted as well. I would recommend looking into manually altering your aspect when you reach Taravast, if only to understand the options available to you. Though pure mana is not without its own advantages.”
“I was under the impression that altering my aspect was impossible, or at least dangerous to do. Tor described it as something of a dark art of the nobility.”
“That’s a bit outdated,” Eryndor winced. “It’s true that the nobility used to force aura changes upon children to ensure they inherited the correct aspect and techniques, but that’s fallen out of practice as of late. There’s simply not much point—we understand aura development better now than we used to. Still, your aspect can absolutely be changed or developed slowly over time, even without the right ambient mana, and then of course there’s snapping, but that’s not really replicable.”
A part of Wyn wanted to ask about ‘snapping’, but if Eryndor wanted to brush it over, it likely wasn’t that useful, and he was willing to let it go. He had other questions instead. “You said pure aura has its own uses? What might those be?”
“Firstly would be its versatility. You won’t be the best at anything, but neither will you be the worst. That goes for powering artifacts and spells as well. But I would say the biggest advantage would be in your aura reserves, and for someone who can’t bring in mana, pure is perhaps the best aspect you could have.”
Wyn remembered Tor had said something similar about effective capacity in that bar in Estin, what felt like forever ago.
“Pure lends itself to larger reserves, right?”
“Correct! Though you will be unable to replenish your mana as fast as most channelers, with large reserves of pure aura, you’ll actually start a battle with more than most.”
Wyn’s eyes widened. “I see! That’s actually useful!”
“Indeed it is! Now, if it were a simple matter of your channeling being weak, I’d recommend exercises to increase your intake. But you can’t take in mana at all, so instead, we’ll lean into your strengths! Release a quarter of your aura and then close your eyes for me, and look into your channels.”
Wyn obliged, breathing aura out of his body. He had become able to mantle some small amount of it, but this time he just let it dissipate into the air. His mind’s eye fell on the channels he’d worked so hard to carve, slowly beginning to refill themselves naturally.
“Tell me Wyn, where does your aura come from?”
Where did aura come from? Wyn wasn’t sure. There wasn’t anything like a heart or stomach which was a clear culprit. Aura flowed into his channels from all throughout his body. Though perhaps that was the point? He ventured a guess. “It comes from everywhere within me?”
Eryndor clapped his shoulder. “That’s as good an answer as any. Aura is generated where your soul intersects with your body—which is to say, in each and every cell.”
“Cell?”
“Nevermind that. For now, I want you to expand your aura. Across your whole body, imagine it spreading out and pressing against those intersections. I want you to clog them up, try to stop that flow.”
Wyn tried to imagine doing just that, and his aura somewhat responded, expanding outwards. A pressure built within him, like he was holding his breath. It was deeply uncomfortable, and grew harder to hold with each passing moment. His channels seemed to strain from the pressure, his soul groaning with effort.
“Hold it Wyn! Don’t let it slip!”
Eryndor’s voice was distant as Wyn’s focus drew inwards, fighting the mounting pressure from the place he couldn’t see. He had to force himself to breathe, but even that little bit of attention almost caused his aura to slip out from under his control. How long had passed? A few seconds? Minutes? Wyn had no idea.
“Now compress it!” Erydnor finally shouted. “Compact it as densely as possible, hold it in place!”
Gasping for breath, Wyn clamped down on his aura, following the instructions as best he could. His body spasmed as a rush suddenly filled him, and he collapsed into the sand.
Vaguely, in some corner of his mind, he wondered why all of his training seemed to involve him falling over.
“Apologies! But don’t stop!” Eryndor crouched. “Let that pent up mana rush into your channels! Make room for it! Compress it further! As hard as you can, if you slack, this is for nothing!”
The mana naturally wanted to compress anyways after being expanded, like a spring snapping back after being stretched. But Wyn still grit his teeth at the spirit knight’s words, and pushed it further, making his aura as dense as possible. It was easier than the first part of the exercise, but not by much.
“You’re doing well—I’m shocked you managed the first part of that so quickly! You have a good feeling for your own soul! That exercise creates an external pressure that allows you to overfill your channels. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why people don’t just do this all the time before battle, after all, starting at 120 percent is surely an advantage! So why don’t you try releasing it?”
As his aura stabilized, Wyn was left holding together a dense core of power in his otherwise normal system. He didn’t like the sound of the spirit knight’s voice, but there was nothing else for it.
Wyn released his grip. The denser aura unraveled and—
His body began to flail as he got crushed from the inside out. He felt like he was going to explode, and an agonized groan crawled out of his chest as the aura in his body rampaged.
Eryndor said something that might have been “don’t breathe it out,” but it didn’t matter—Wyn couldn’t breathe at all.
After a few minutes of flopping like a fish in the sand. Wyn’s muscles abruptly relaxed, and he fell still. He couldn’t move, but his breath slowly returned, and he gaped his mouth open and closed, greedily sucking in air.
“The first time is always the hardest,” Eryndor laughed cheerily. “But that will go away! Keep at it, and you’ll be able to slowly expand your reserves! Do it enough and your disadvantage will disappear! After all, you won’t need to worry about refilling your mana quickly if you never run out! But of course, all of that is only if you don’t give up.”
Wyn wanted to complain, and he certainly never wanted to go through that again. But as his fingers regained strength, he clenched at the sand, and swallowed the complaint. Of course, the spirit knight was right, and Wyn would suffer through worse if it meant he could grow stronger.
“I won’t give up. Thank you for the wisdom sir.”
Eryndor hauled him up and brushed off his shoulders. “That's the attitude! Now go have a seat with Corrin over there. Luscien and I are going to need some space.”
As Eryndor called his student over, Wyn staggered over to the bench and plopped down next to Corrin, who was making some sort of weird rolling motion with his hands with a look of concentration. He made a tossing motion, and a few feet away, there was a small burst of sand.
“Woah, what’s that about?” Wyn asked.
“Check it out with mana-sight. How good was Luscien?”
Wyn watched him start to roll his hands again, a ball of aura forming between them. “Really good.”
“Better than you?”
Wyn didn’t answer. After a good ten seconds, Corrin tossed the ball onto the ground where it popped, spraying more sand outwards.
“Dang.”
“Yeah.”
“Hey do you think—”
Flames erupted across the sand-pit, interrupting whatever Corrin was going to say. Wyn looked up as Luscien rushed towards Eryndor, his arms and legs wreathed in fiery claws. The student had sprouted three long flaming tails, which lashed out like whips, striking at the spirit knight. Wyn suddenly realized what Luscien meant when he said their spar was a simple warm up. He was moving completely differently now, and it was almost difficult to keep up just watching.
Eryndor, though, faced the onslaught calmly, not even summoning his mantle as he deflected the tails one after another. He swung his arm out, and a tidal wave of fire crashed over the both of them. When the flames died down, the fight continued as though nothing had happened. Wyn couldn’t have imagined emerging from those flames unscathed… even from afar, he could still feel the heat rippling over him.
They watched in awe for a while, and Wyn thought he heard Corrin whispering something about fox transformations, but eventually they came back to their senses.
Corrin glanced at Wyn, then gestured towards the fight.
“Show-offs."
“Yep.” Wyn nodded sagely.
“Hey man, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why does your training always seem to involve you falling over?”
Wyn let out a long, long sigh. “I really wish I knew.”
Comments
Hayden Pech
Poor Wyn! lol
Liam Ready
Thank you for the chapter!
