Kaida stood across from Temu, still catching his breath from their chaotic exchange moments earlier. The laughter from the training field had faded, leaving only the steady rustle of wind and the soft clatter of distant weapons as the rest of the team resumed drills.
Temu crossed her arms, golden eyes narrowed as she studied Kaida. “Alright. Playtime’s over.”
Kaida straightened up, wiping sweat from his brow. “Yeah, yeah. Ready.”
“No, you’re not,” she said flatly. “Not yet. But we’ll fix that.”
She stepped back and planted her feet firmly in the dirt. “Before we go any deeper into mana training, I need to know what I’m working with. Can’t build a weapon if you don’t know the quality of the material, right?”
Kaida tilted his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m gonna scan your mana—see your output, limits, and elemental leanings. Once I know your baseline, I can actually teach you how not to collapse like a sack of rocks every time you activate a skill.”
She reached into the leather pouch on her hip and pulled out a flat, circular disc inscribed with glowing runes. It hovered above her palm like it was weightless, softly pulsing with light.
“This is a Tempra Sigil,” she explained. “Magical tool designed to read mana flow and elemental affinity. Once activated, it’ll create a resonance field around you. The more you focus your mana, the clearer the reading will be.”
Kaida frowned. “Sounds simple enough…”
Temu gave him a look. “It’s not. Try to brute-force your energy and the sigil’ll flare red. That means you’re reckless and unrefined. If it turns white? You’ve got no mana control. Blue means underflow—you’re too cautious. Green… green is what we’re aiming for.”
“And what if it explodes?” Kaida asked half-jokingly.
“Then we laugh, and I make you do laps while on fire,” Temu grinned.
“…Right.”
She set the sigil down on the ground between them and backed away. “Alright, runt. Sit cross-legged, hands resting on your knees. Close your eyes, breathe steady, and try to summon that same energy you felt during your ‘Mana Burst.’ Don’t force it. Just… remember it. Let it come.”
Kaida nodded, settling down slowly. He inhaled. Exhaled.
The world around him faded to quiet.
In his mind’s eye, he reached back—toward that wild, pulsing moment where the energy inside him had flared to life. The brief stillness before the explosion. The clarity. The surge.
He reached.
And felt it.
Faint, like a flickering ember deep in his chest.
Warmth spread through him, and as he focused, the warmth began to flow—through his arms, his spine, down his legs and into the floor.
The sigil reacted.
A soft hum filled the air as the rune circle spun to life, floating upward and surrounding Kaida in a thin shell of light.
Temu’s sharp gaze locked onto the colors as they shifted.
Blue… then a faint red flicker… then—
Green.
The light pulsed steadily, softly vibrating around Kaida.
Temu raised a brow.
“…Huh. Controlled burst, high inner flow, decent discipline for a newbie…” she muttered. “Kid’s got a natural channel. That’s rare.”
The sigil rose higher and began generating thin trails of color above Kaida’s head—twisting threads of elemental markers.
Temu narrowed her eyes.
A soft green shimmer. Then a crackle of blue-white static. Then—nothing.
She frowned.
“…Wind and lightning both showing trace resonance,” she muttered. “But neither’s fully awakened.”
Kaida opened his eyes slowly. “Did it work?”
Temu nodded. “Yeah. You’ve got high potential for volatile elements—wind and lightning—but they’re dormant. Right now, your mana’s like a sealed well. Deep, but hard to draw from without a trigger.”
“Can I train both?”
SMACK!
Kaida winced as Temu’s palm clipped the back of his head—not hard, but loud enough to send the message.
“Ow! What was that for?!”
Temu shot him a glare sharp enough to cut stone. “What did I tell you before about lightning? No.”
Kaida rubbed the back of his head, muttering, “Okay, okay—jeez…”
“Lightning magic is aggressive, high-frequency, and puts a dangerous strain on the body. If you tried using it now, you’d fry your nervous system before casting your second spell. That element’s forbidden—until I say otherwise.”
Kaida blinked. “So… wind it is.”
“Exactly. Wind’s still volatile, but it’s adaptable. Easier to control once you learn to feel its rhythm.”
She kicked dirt over the sigil to shut it off, then began pacing.
“Every element has its own training method,” she began. “Fire users have to build up heat resistance. They train in saunas, lava forges, even volcanic fields depending on the region. Earth users? It’s all about endurance. Carrying boulders, sparring while grounded, and learning to feel the vibrations of the ground beneath their feet.”
Kaida listened carefully, trying to visualize each method. “What about water?”
“They train by sensing shifts in liquid. Ripples, currents, droplets in motion. It’s all about understanding flow. Most water-users can feel changes through touch. The best don’t even need to be submerged.”
“And wind?”
Temu stopped and turned to face him. “Wind is closest to water in nature. Both rely on sensitivity. But where water is about fluid momentum, wind is about pressure. You’ll be training to sense changes in the air—no matter how subtle.”
“Like… feeling wind direction?”
“Not even close,” she said. “I’m talking about the tiniest pressure drop from someone raising a sword behind you. Being able to sense a change in the current from across a battlefield. The best air-users can respond to danger before it happens. But that takes years. You’re starting with the basics.”
Kaida nodded slowly, the information settling in piece by piece. “So I’m training my awareness.”
“And your body,” Temu said again. “Your mana core’s strong—but raw. You’ve got a full tank of gas but no idea how to drive the damn car.”
She pointed toward the track. “Start running. Full gear. This time, breathe with your mana. Inhale—channel. Exhale—release. Feel it pulse with you.”
Kaida sighed. “Everything with you ends in running.”
“Everything in life ends in pain. Now move.”
He jogged toward the track, grumbling under his breath, but with a focused expression on his face.
With each step, he did as she instructed. Inhale, pulse. Exhale, release.
At first it felt strange—disconnected.
But by the second lap, something shifted.
A breeze brushed past his face—unnatural, internal.
From within.
Just a flicker… but it was there.
Temu watched from the sidelines, arms crossed. Her tail flicked once.
“He’s starting to feel it,” she murmured.
Kaida picked up his pace, sweat pouring down his brow, legs aching—but his movement looked different now.
Not faster.
But freer.
Above him, for just a moment, the air shimmered.
And Kaida smiled.
