Chapter 32
Mana
IAM sat alone once again in the stillness of his tent. The air was calm, the silence comforting—almost sacred. Outside, the mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks hidden by a fog that pulsed like something alive, The peace and serenity contrasting heavily to the violence that will soon take place...
Inside him, a storm brewed.
Anticipation coursed through his veins, each heartbeat loud and deliberate. He took in a shaky breath, steadying himself.
8 minutes and 57 seconds.
That was his new record.
He had yet to go beyond nine minutes. That realm felt like a chasm, a leap into something darker and more violent than anything he'd faced so far.
But something in his gut told him…
Today was the day.
As the excitement drained from his face, he becomes expressionless. His deep brown eyes became unfathomable, carrying a magnetic weight. Like gravity had gathered in his gaze.
He began.
The pain arrived immediately.
it danced.
It came in waves.
It stabs and slices.
It drowns.
Waves of agony rose and crashed through his body, each stronger than the last. He clenched his teeth, feeling tears and snot begin to trace lines down his face, but he stayed upright. His muscles trembled, his skin burned, and the sound of his own heartbeat roared in his ears like war drums.
The world faded.
All his senses muted to oblivion...
In this world... Only him and pain existed...
He breathed in pain.
He exhaled pain.
Time twisted. He could no longer tell what was what. All that existed was sensation—white-hot and merciless.
And then, something new: a pressure, forming inside his head. A creeping weight in his brain, subtle at first, but growing.
The pressure deepened… like a hole opening up within his skull, sucking everything in. It pulled on his thoughts, on his senses, like a miniature black hole forming behind his eyes.
If IAM could see himself now, he'd be horrified. His skin....every vein visible like blue highways beneath a paper-thin surface. His body looked like a map—etched and marked by the relentless effort of what he was attempting.
The pain surged again—this time, it converged. All of it, every aching inch of his suffering, was pulled into that singular pressure inside his brain. It hit him like an explosion behind his eyes.
He almost broke.
9:56…
57…
58…
59…
10:00.
Silence.
Nothing happened. His stomach twisted in dread, his stomach starts to get that sinking feeling....
Then—
Release.
The pain collapsed in on itself and burst into bliss.
His eyes widened as a gasp tore from his throat. A surge of euphoria—pure, sweet, indescribable—rushed through his entire being, washing away the agony like a river washing blood off stone.
The feeling was overwhelming, transcendent.
It was mana.
He felt it—alive, raw, divine—flooding into his brain, into his body. The connection was instinctual. Without thinking, he guided the transparent energy as it flowed. He felt it reach into a vein near his left nostril, spreading like ice through that invisible tunnel before diving back into his core.
Then, just as naturally, he felt all the mana he had built up drain out—his effort complete, the initiation done.
The euphoria dimmed slightly, replaced by a new sensation. Through the left nostril, mana now flowed inward, circulating through that fresh, forged pathway, cooling and sharpening his thoughts as it surged into the core at the center of his brain. It felt like mint or that feeling when you take a powerful mint but it was all concentrated through his left nostril.
He gasped. Again.
Every breath he took now brought mana with it, like he had plugged directly into life itself. He felt stronger , faster, better —as if years of fatigue, weakness, and failure were being scraped off his He felt like an obese man that had just shed skin, he felt brand new, he takes a breath feeling almost addicted to the feeling.
He felt reborn.
His core swelled until it reached capacity, then the mana redirected, flowing from the nostril to the brain and outward through his body, reinforcing every limb, every fiber of muscle and bone.
IAM sat there, wide-eyed, stunned....
He couldn't believe it, floored by the weight of his achievement
It had worked.
He had done it.
Like a man who had spent years digging through sand with nothing but a whisper of hope… and had finally struck gold.
Tears spilled from his eyes—as the achievement felt particularly sweet in his mouth washing off the bitter taste of failure that he had begun to think was a staple of his.
He cried without shame, letting the tears fall freely, his shoulders shaking as all the bitterness of past failures was washed away by this moment of triumph. The feeling was too complex to name—but he didn't care.
He had done it.
He had formed his Avien.
And in that small, quiet tent, with fog-drenched mountains looming far beyond, IAM embraced the most important moment of his life—alone, but not lost.
...
Raj stood behind the counter, his calloused hand resting atop a long spear. His grey eyes glinted with focus—calm, yet exhausted.
He exhaled through his nose.
A thin stream of blood began to flow from his palm, creeping along his fingers and dripping onto the weapon's dull blade. The crimson soaked into the surface, and after a moment of stillness, something miraculous began to unfold—something Raj had grown used to.
The corroded edge of the spear shimmered, then slowly began to melt—liquefying in slow motion, as if reality itself bent for a moment. Then, just as gracefully, it re-solidified, sharper than before. The previously worn metal hardened and refined before his eyes, and the faint markings on the handle—once faded by decay—re-emerged cleanly as if etched anew.
Restored.
He sighed, long and heavy, letting the fatigue settle back into his bones. It never ended.
The Deadlines creatures.
Their corruption wasn't just in their monstrous forms—it lingered. Weapons exposed to them rotted and corroded, their very structure unravelling. And only path methods—like the one Raj specialized in—could reverse the decay.
Which meant him and the other three smiths were constantly buried in restoration work. A war of attrition fought not with blades, but with endurance.
He shook his head, wiped the blood from his hand, and snapped his fingers. A small opening in the counter shimmered open, swallowing the newly restored spear into storage.
He turned, ready to reach for the next item—when the door to his workshop slid open with a soft hiss.
IAM walked in, wearing a lopsided grin on his face, his steps light with energy.
"Yo," he called casually. "What's up?"
Raj's eyes narrowed slightly, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself.
"What got you smiling like that?" he asked, setting down the next piece of corroded gear.
IAM didn't say anything right away. He just stepped closer, hands in his pockets, grin widening.
"I did it," he said finally, his voice quieter now—but firm.
Raj blinked.
"…What?"
"I formed my Avien," IAM said.
For a moment, Raj's face scrunched in confusion, processing it.
Then his eyes widened slightly.
"You serious?"
IAM nodded.
Raj exhaled slowly, leaning back against the counter.
"Well, damn," he said with a tired smirk. "Now that's something worth grinning about."