Chapter 28: Pursuits of strength

It wasn’t a regular class day. Stewart had called this an “optional training session,” and judging by the smaller crowd, the only ones here were the students who didn’t shy away from extra work.

I was one of them. So was Marza, standing near the edge with her arms folded, watching two older students trade blows.

Stewart stood in the center of the arena, his presence alone commanding the space. “Today,” he began, voice steady and clear, “we’re not here to trade strikes. We’re here to learn how to see.”

I stepped forward, frowning. “See what exactly?”

“Mana,” Stewart said simply. “Every fighter has it. Every mage uses it. Most never learn how to read it before the fight starts. But if you can gauge your opponent’s strength and their elemental affinity before they move, you already hold the advantage.”

He looked straight at me. “Arthur. You first. Infuse your mana into your eyes, then focus on me. Don’t worry — it won’t hurt you. At worst, your vision will strain if you overdo it.”

I took a breath, drawing mana into my core, then guiding it upward. A faint hum built behind my eyes as the world shifted. Stewart wasn’t just standing there anymore — his form was outlined in a soft, pulsing blue glow, like a living aura. Threads of energy moved through him, slow but impossibly steady, like the deep current of a river.

“No elemental color,” I murmured. “Just… blue. Neutral.”

Stewart gave a faint smile. “Correct. No elemental affinity. Now, try someone else.”

I turned my gaze toward Marza. Her aura flared in deep crimson, the edges sharper and hotter than most of the other students nearby.

“Fire element,” I said. “And strong… sharper than the others.”

She raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing.

“This,” Stewart said, stepping closer, “is how you measure your enemy before the first strike is thrown. If their mana burns brighter and heavier than yours, you change your approach. If it’s weaker, you press the attack. And sometimes, you’ll see an aura with no color — like mine. That’s the mark of a non-elemental fighter, or they are a bender.”

I released the flow of mana to my eyes, and the glow faded from the world. My vision felt slightly tired, like I’d been focusing too long on something far away.

“It’s not a trick you keep active in every fight,” Stewart warned. “But used at the right moment, it will keep you alive.”

He turned to the rest of the students. “Pair up. Test your mana-sight on each other. See if you can read strength and element before a fight begins.”

As the others moved off to practice, Marza brushed past me toward the sparring circle. “Not bad,” she said without looking back. “For your first time.”

I smirked faintly. “We’ll see who’s the beginner when we spar.”

The sand crunched under my boots as I stepped into the sparring circle. Marza was already there, rolling her shoulders and gripping her sword with an ease that came from countless hours of practice.

Her crimson aura flared to life the moment I channeled mana into my eyes again. I could feel the heat of it — not physical heat, but the kind that made you instinctively brace for impact. It was sharp, focused… aggressive.

“Ready?” she asked.

I raised my sword. “Always.”

Stewart’s voice cut across the arena. “Begin!”

She was fast — faster than most students I’d sparred with. Her first strike came low, testing my defense. I caught it on my blade, the impact ringing through my arm. Even through the clash, I kept my focus on her aura. The crimson flared brighter every time she committed to a strike, dimming slightly when she held back.

She stepped in again, blade slicing toward my ribs. I twisted aside, letting the edge graze my tunic.

“You’re holding back,” I said.

A flicker of surprise crossed her face. “And you can tell that how?”

“Your aura.” I blocked her next attack. “It dips when you don’t put everything into it.”

She smirked. “Not bad. So… you weren’t holding back when you fought that man, were you?”

My grip on my sword tightened. “No.”

Her strikes slowed just enough for her voice to carry over the clash of steel. “That attack you used… I’ve never seen anything like it. Was it worth the cost?”

I hesitated, feeling the faint ache still lingering in my veins — a reminder of the month I’d spent unconscious. “If it meant she lived, then yes.”

Marza’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Even if it could’ve killed you?”

“That’s the thing,” I said, stepping in and forcing her back with a heavy swing. “It almost did.”

Her aura flared hot in front of me as she met my strike with her own. “Then I want to learn how to use that kind of power.”

I shook my head, pressing her guard until her boots dug into the sand. “You don’t. Not unless you’re ready to burn yourself down to nothing to protect someone.”

Her blade slid off mine, and she stepped back, studying me with an unreadable expression.

From the sideline, Stewart called out, “Stop thinking and finish the fight!”

The clatter of our blades faded, replaced by the distant murmur of the other students still training in the arena. Stewart dismissed us with a wave, but Marza lingered, rolling her sword between her fingers.

“You held back at the start,” she said.

“So did you.” I sheathed my blade. “But when I stopped holding back, you couldn’t keep up.”

She huffed, but there was no real sting in her voice. “Guess the rumors about you weren’t exaggerated.”

I shrugged. “Even so, that attack I used before… it’s not a trick I can pull out whenever I want. It nearly killed me. If you’re smart, you’ll never try something like it.”

She was quiet for a moment, gaze fixed on the sand. “You know, my father’s a general in the Dival army.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard of him.”

“Most people have. And most people think having a famous father means you get handed everything on a silver platter.” Her lips curled into a humorless smile. “They don’t see the pressure. The expectations. The constant comparisons.”

I didn’t interrupt.

“My father’s fought in more battles than I can count. Every time, he comes home covered in blood and smoke — but he always comes home. And every time I ask how he survived, he says the same thing: ‘I was stronger than the thing trying to kill me.’” She shook her head. “But there’s going to be a day when that’s not true anymore.”

Her eyes lifted to meet mine, the crimson in them sharp and unwavering. “That’s why I want to be stronger than him. Stronger than anyone. That attack you used? It wasn’t just strong — it was final. I want that kind of strength so no one I care about ever falls.”

“You think it’s just about strength?” I asked quietly. “That attack burned through every ounce of mana I had. My veins tore apart from the inside. If it didn’t end the fight, I’d be dead.”

Her expression didn’t falter. “Then I guess I’ll just have to find a way to make it work without killing myself.”

I studied her for a moment. There was no arrogance there, no blind ambition — just the same iron will I’d seen in the eyes of people who refused to break, no matter how hard the world tried to shatter them.

“You’re stubborn,” I said.

“You’re one to talk.”

She smirked, turning away toward the exit. “See you next time, Prince.”

I watched her go, feeling the weight of her words linger. For her, power wasn’t just about winning fights — it was about making sure no one she cared for had to be buried.

I knew that feeling all too well.

The training yard had emptied, leaving just me, Stewart, and the sound of our boots crunching against the sand. Stewart leaned against his spear, eyeing me with that familiar mix of approval and calculation.

“Your mana eyes are coming along,” he said, “but right now, you’re just scratching the surface.”

“I can see a person’s aura and their mana flow. Isn’t that the point?”

He shook his head. “That’s half the point. The other half is knowing when and how to use them.”

“You noticed it already,” he said. “When you use mana eyes, the rest of the world goes black. No light, no shadow — just mana. You can’t see the ground unless it’s infused with it.”

I thought of Rias, her ability to walk the academy’s halls without so much as a stumble. “So that’s how my sister…”

Stewart nodded. “She constantly sends out a thin stream of mana into the ground and objects around her. It lets her map her surroundings through mana sight. But during a fight, that’s mana you’re not putting into offense or defense.”

“So I either see the terrain,” I said slowly, “or I keep my mana in reserve.”

“Exactly. You’ve got two options. One—” He held up a finger. “—infuse the ground with mana constantly so you can track both your opponent and the battlefield. Useful, but costly over a long fight.”

“And two?”

“Use mana eyes in bursts, at key moments. When you’re trying to predict the next attack, or read the strength of a spell before it hits you. That way, you get the information without bleeding yourself dry.”

He tapped the ground with his spear. The dirt under my feet rumbled.

“Now watch closely.”

I took a breath and activated mana eyes. The world vanished into blackness. Stewart’s aura blazed bright blue, the veins of mana through his arms and chest pulsing like rivers of light. Below us, the ground glowed faintly — threads of blue weaving through it like roots.

Without warning, Stewart bent his knees. The mana underground surged.

I didn’t think — I moved.

The ground where I’d been standing erupted upward, a pillar of dirt punching into the air.

I let my mana eyes fade, the color and shape of the world rushing back in. “You were going to launch me, weren’t you?”

He smirked. “I was going to launch you. But you moved. Which means you’re starting to get it.”

I shook my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. “Feels like cheating.”

Stewart’s grin widened. “Everything feels like cheating until it’s second nature. Then it just feels like winning.”