CHAPTER 84: The Gift

Building Momentum

“Finally,” he said, still gasping for air. “A win is a win.”

The snowfield stood silent for a moment after Adrian’s words.

The false Arslov had already returned to his original position, whole once more, massive sword resting on his shoulder as if decapitation had been nothing but a brief inconvenience in a world made from memory. The blood had vanished from the ground. Adrian’s missing leg had returned. The white flame no longer coated his daggers, and even the pain that had torn through his nerves faded into a dull impression stored somewhere in the back of his mind. Yet the result remained.

For the first time in thousands of attempts, he had killed the memory copy.

Not cleanly. Not safely. Not without cost.

But he had won.

The black shadow stood several steps away, its unstable body bending and reforming at the edges. Its grin seemed wider than before, though its face remained incomplete. It looked at Adrian, then at the reconstructed Arslov, then back at him with the air of someone amused by a child who had finally learned how not to fall from a chair.

Adrian let the daggers dissolve.

“What day is it outside?”

The shadow tilted its head. “You finally win once and ask about the calendar?”

“What day?”

The shadow gave a quiet laugh, broken and echoing. “Since you won, you deserve an answer. Three days have passed.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Only three?”

“Only?” the shadow repeated, mocking him. “Your body has been lying in a hospital bed after forcing both heart and mind past their current stability. Most people would call three days a warning. You call it short.”

Adrian did not respond to the insult. Three days meant the body had likely crossed the most dangerous period. It also meant the South had already begun moving without him. Alistair, Garret, Merek, Seraphine, Enel, Norman, Malivan, Darius, the sector leaders—none of them would have waited idly. The fourth module should have been distributed. If Garret followed the conditions, then by now the preparations for one month of war readiness had begun.

The shadow’s grin sharpened. “It is already near midnight.”

Adrian looked toward the simulated sky, though there was no real moon there. “That is enough.”

“For now.”

The shadow stepped backward.

Its body began to thin, dissolving into fragments of black static.

“Do not look too proud,” it said. “You won by losing a leg. Against the real beast, you still die if you try that carelessly.”

“I know.”

“Good. You are less boring when you know pain has meaning.”

Adrian closed his eyes. “You still talk too much for someone who refuses to answer anything important.”

The shadow’s grin remained the last thing visible. “And you still ask too much for someone who dies beautifully.”

Then it vanished into thin air.

Adrian stood alone in the snowfield for a brief moment.

He did not restart the battle.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

When he opened them again, he saw the ceiling of the hospital room.

For several seconds, he did not move.

The ceiling was not the sky of the mind world. It was pale stone, clean and faintly touched by reflected moonlight. The air smelled of medicine, linen, herbs, holy incense, and the quiet metal scent of healing instruments that had been cleaned too thoroughly to carry blood. A lamp near the corner had burned low. Beyond the window, the moon hung bright and high, spilling silver across the floor and the side of his bed.

It really was midnight.

Adrian blinked once.

His body felt heavy.

Not broken in the immediate sense, but deeply used. The wounds that should have kept him unconscious longer had already been treated. Some broken bones in his ribs and shoulder had healed enough not to threaten him with sharp pain at every breath. The cut beneath his eye was covered by a thin bandage. His chest was wrapped. His limbs responded when he tried moving them, though the response came slowly, as if his body resented being recalled to duty after three days of forced rest.

Pain remained.

Not the fresh, bright pain of open injury. This was dull, internal, lingering—the ache of a body that had survived treatment, exhaustion, and immobility. Three days lying in bed had stiffened muscles that wanted movement and rest at the same time.

Adrian inhaled carefully.

His chest protested.

He ignored the first protest, then respected the second. Slowly, he shifted his hand toward the edge of the bed. The movement dragged soreness through his shoulder. He paused, adjusted the angle, and tried again. This time, he used less force and more structure. His body obeyed.

He pushed himself upward.

The room tilted slightly.

He waited until it settled.

Then he sat against the backboard of the hospital bed, one hand resting over his chest, breathing slowly through the pain.

No one entered.

The night staff must have been outside the room, or perhaps the detection ward had not yet marked his wakefulness because he had not disturbed enough mana. Good. He needed a few quiet minutes before the entire Valenhart household turned his waking into movement.

He closed his eyes.

Mana sensing came first.

The room was rich with mana, far more than ordinary hospital space would have been. Adrian sensed the reason quickly. Stabilized mana stones sat in reinforced holders at several corners. Healing arrays had been drawn beneath the bed and along portions of the walls. Holy mana residue still clung lightly to the air. Doctor Malivan had likely used both medical procedures and magical support under strict supervision. Enel’s touch was also present in the room’s barrier design, faint but identifiable through refined structure.

Adrian allowed his perception to widen.

Imagery.

Color.

Emotion.

Volume.

Calculation.

Familiarity.

Form.

The familiar steps responded.

Mana filled the room like particles suspended in moonlight. He imagined them first as tiny clusters, finer than dust, surrounding him in patient motion. Then he gave them color—not a single element, not yet. Pale white near the holy residue, gold near the support array, faint blue along the cooling barrier, warm orange near the lamp, and neutral gray in the quiet places untouched by active enchantment.

He did not absorb immediately.

That was the old limitation.

Usually, mana sensing recognizes mana, then attracts particles into the body through imagination. It worked. It had worked well enough to become the foundation of the South’s new method. But the shadow had mocked him repeatedly in the mind world. Not because the method was useless, but because it was inefficient. Recognition and attraction were only the beginning. They gathered mana as if pulling loose grains by hand.

Crude.

Useful for beginners.

Not enough for what came next.

The shadow had given no proper explanation. It never did. It insulted mistakes, pointed out inefficiencies with cruelty, and laughed whenever Adrian died from a flaw he should have seen sooner. It was not a kind teacher. It did not sugarcoat anything. It did not give rewards for effort.

Adrian preferred it that way.

A gentle teacher might preserve confidence.

A strict one preserves lives.

He recalled one of the shadow’s insults from the first day of the mind world.

“You attract mana like a child collecting rain with open fingers.”

At the time, Adrian had ignored the mockery and focused on survival. Later, after too many deaths against Arslov’s copy, the insult returned with meaning. Open fingers collected little. A vessel collected more. A filter collected better.

Then another memory had surfaced.

A manhua he had read as a normal teenager in his past life. A martial arts world. Cultivators sitting cross-legged, breathing spiritual energy, circulating it through meridians, expelling impurities, refining their foundation. Most of it had been fantasy, exaggerated and stylized. But concepts did not need to be copied whole to be useful. A concept could be adapted.

He did not need spiritual roots, meridians, or heavenly manuals.

He needed the principal.

Breathe as intake.

Circulation as refinement.

Exhale as rejection.

Absorb only what was useful.

Adrian adjusted his posture.

The lotus position would have been ideal, but his body was not yet prepared for that strain. Sitting against the bedboard would be enough. He placed one hand lightly over his chest and the other near his forehead, not touching, simply aligning awareness with the heart core and the mind core.

He inhaled.

Not air alone.

He imagined mana entering with the breath, carried through the nose, down the throat, into the chest, then spreading into two paths.

One path rose toward the mind.

One path descended toward the heart.

The mind path was thinner, cleaner, guided by calculation. Mana moved through it like a stream passing through layered cloth, leaving behind unstable fragments before entering the cognitive core. The heart path was warmer, heavier, guided by rhythm. Mana entered there through pulse and breath, filtered by conviction instead of formula.

Then he exhaled.

He imagined the impure mana leaving.

Not as dirt in the moral sense, but as excess, noise, incompatible residue, unstable emotional trace, and environmental clutter. Like filtering water. Not every part of water drawn from a river should be drunk immediately. It must be strained, boiled, and purified. Nutrients remained. Poison left. Sediment settled.

His first cycle was slow.

The second was clearer.

The third began to create rhythm.

Inhale. Separate. Circulate. Filter. Exhale.

Mind.

Heart.

Return.

He kept the flow small at first. A beginner’s volume, despite not being a beginner. His body had just survived severe strain. Greed would be stupidity. The goal was not a breakthrough. The goal was to test the method without harming the healing foundation.

After ten cycles, the difference became undeniable.

Mana gathering improved.

Not slightly.

Three times more effective, at least, compared to basic attraction. The mana did not simply enter and sit. It refined as it moved. The mind core received clearer mana for thought, perception, and formula. The heart core received steadier mana for aura, rhythm, and will. The exhale prevented pressure from building too quickly. It reduced internal noise and made the gathering feel cleaner.

Adrian continued.

The moon moved slowly outside.

He did not notice.

Pain in the ribs eased gradually, not because the breathing method healed the bone directly, but because the mana circulation relaxed the surrounding strain and improved the recovery rhythm. The stiffness in his shoulder loosened. His head cleared. The remnants of forced third-circle release, unstable since the battlefield, began settling into place. The third circle around his heart no longer felt like a burning ring forced open by desperation. It felt raw, incomplete, but present. The third essence circle in his mind also stopped pulsing erratically. It remained sensitive, but the mana gathering method fed it slowly enough to stabilize rather than inflame.

The breathing continued.

Inhale.

Separate.

Circulate.

Exhale.

At some point, the night thinned.

Gray touched the window.

Then pale gold.

When sunlight entered the room and shone across Adrian’s face, the door opened.

Maria stepped inside, carrying a tray and a folded cloth over one arm.

She froze.

Her eyes widened.

Adrian sat upright on the hospital bed, eyes closed, hands placed calmly, breath slow and controlled. The light around him was faint, barely visible, but to someone trained in the basics of mana sensing, the room did not feel ordinary. Mana was gathering around him in quiet rhythm, entering and leaving as if the air itself had begun breathing with him.

Maria’s lips parted.

“Young master…”

He did not respond.

She immediately stopped herself.

Doctor Malivan had warned all attendants not to interfere if the young master woke in meditation unless there were signs of danger. There were none. His breathing was stable. The healing array remained calm. No dark residue reacted. The mana stones in the corners maintained steady output. If anything, the room felt cleaner than before.

Maria carefully placed the tray on the side table.

She did not call loudly.

She did not rush to touch him.

Instead, she bowed once despite knowing he could not see it, then stepped backward and exited with the same care she had entered. Once outside, her composure broke just enough for her hands to tremble.

She turned to the nearest nurse. “Inform Doctor Malivan. Quietly. The young master is awake, but he is meditating. No disturbance.”

The nurse’s eyes widened.

Maria continued immediately. “Send word to the main family. Not through noisy staff. Use the prepared line. Inform the kitchen to prepare a light meal suitable for recovery. Warm broth, soft bread, fruit cut small, and no heavy seasoning.”

“Yes, Head Maid.”

“Move.”

The corridor awakened without noise.

That was the discipline of the upper floor.

No shouting. No running unless needed. No uncontrolled joy spilling into the patient rooms. The news traveled through trained hands and quiet mouths: the young master had awakened.

Inside the room, Adrian did not notice the passing time.

The final cycle ended when the sunlight had fully crossed his hands.

He opened his eyes slowly and looked at his palms.

The pain had eased.

Not vanished. He was not foolish enough to think a breathing technique had erased battlefield damage in one dawn. But the sharp internal heaviness from earlier had softened. More importantly, the remnant instability of his third circle in both cores had calmed. The battlefield breakthrough was no longer only a scar of desperation. It had become a foundation that could be trained.

That proved the method.

A faint screen appeared before him.

Transparent.

Silent.

Familiar.

Achievement Recognized.
Mana Gathering Method Discovered.
Reward: 250 AC.

Adrian stared at the notification.

The system did not reward every thought. It did not praise ordinary effort or obvious improvement. Most attempts, even useful ones, received nothing. For it to grant 250 AC meant the method had value beyond a minor variation of mana sensing. It was recognized as something worthy enough to mark.

He exhaled.

“Only 250,” he murmured, but there was no real complaint in his voice.

The screen faded.

The door opened again.

This time, the room was filled.

Not all at once in disorder, but quickly enough that the air changed before anyone spoke. Elise entered first, her eyes already shining with relief she had not yet allowed herself to release fully. Alistair followed beside her, face controlled but gaze fixed immediately on Adrian’s posture. Marian came after them with Isaac close behind, both stopping when they saw him sitting upright. Merek entered with a scowl too severe to hide concern. Seraphine followed, adjusting her glasses though they did not need adjusting. Enel came quietly, sensing the room before looking at Adrian directly. Garret stood near the door after guiding them in, silent as ever, though the faint softening around his eyes betrayed more than his words would have.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Adrian looked at them.

He had expected concern.

He had not expected the warmth of it to strike so deeply.

Elise reached the bed first and took his hand. “You are awake.”

Adrian gave a faint smile. “It appears so.”

Isaac exhaled so sharply it almost became a laugh. “You look terrible.”

Marian turned toward him. “Isaac.”

“What? He does.”

Adrian’s smile grew slightly. “He is not wrong.”

Elise’s fingers tightened around his. “Do not joke too much. Doctor Malivan said your body needs proper recovery.”

“I will listen to Doctor Malivan.”

Merek snorted. “Liar.”

Seraphine’s mouth curved faintly. “At least wait until the doctor is in the room before lying with confidence.”

Adrian lowered his head slightly. “Then I will say I intend to listen.”

“That is more believable,” Seraphine said.

The tension in the room loosened, not because the danger had ended, but because they could finally breathe around him again.

Alistair approached the side of the bed.

He did not touch Adrian immediately. His eyes studied him first, not only as a father but as a sixth-circle knight whose sensitivity could read more than ordinary sight. The healing looked good. The breathing had improved. The mind was clear. The body was still damaged, but no longer collapsing. Yet beneath all of that, something had changed.

Alistair’s gaze sharpened.

The third circle around the heart.

And another in the mind.

Stabilized.

Not fully matured. Not safe enough for strain. But real.

Alistair looked at Adrian with a mixture of pride, concern, and silent accusation.

“You advanced.”

The room stilled.

Marian’s eyes widened.

Isaac stared. “Again?”

Enel’s expression changed more subtly, but his attention deepened at once. Even Garret looked directly at Adrian now.

Adrian did not deny it. “It happened during the battle.”

Alistair’s voice lowered. “And stabilized this morning?”

Adrian paused.

Then nodded.

Merek’s scowl deepened. “You woke from a coma and trained?”

“I meditated.”

“That is training.”

“It was careful.”

“That is what reckless people say when they want credit for surviving recklessness.”

Elise looked at him. “Adrian.”

That one word carried more authority than Merek’s growl.

Adrian met her gaze and softened his voice. “I did not force output. I used a recovery-oriented gathering method. It eased the instability.”

Enel stepped closer. “A new method?”

“Yes. Related to mana sensing, but more efficient for controlled accumulation.”

Seraphine’s eyes narrowed with immediate interest. “How much more efficient?”

“Approximately three times at beginner cycle.”

The room fell silent again.

Garret closed his eyes briefly, as if accepting that his young master had awakened and immediately created another logistical burden for the South.

Alistair exhaled through his nose. “We will discuss that after Doctor Malivan confirms you are not secretly dying.”

“I am not.”

“You are not qualified to decide that today.”

Adrian accepted the correction without argument.

That alone reassured Elise more than any claim of health.

Alistair finally placed a hand on Adrian’s shoulder, carefully avoiding the injured side. His grip was gentle but firm.

“You gave us three days of silence,” he said.

Adrian lowered his eyes slightly. “I apologize.”

“You survived. That is apology enough for now.”

For a brief moment, father and son looked at one another without command, title, or operation standing between them.

Then Alistair straightened.

“There is much to tell you, but only a little will be said before the doctor arrives. The South is preparing. The royal reinforcement has arrived. General Douglas is here and requests a private conversation when you are able. The soldiers you brought back are recovering. Darius received your module. The fourth module has been distributed under precaution.”

Adrian listened quietly, relief passing through him in small, controlled measures.

“Good.”

Elise frowned. “That is all you say?”

“For now.”

Isaac stepped closer. “You should have seen the hospital entrance. People brought gifts.”

Adrian blinked. “Gifts?”

Marian nodded, her expression softening. “From citizens. Workers. Servants. Children. Sector leaders. Some brought food, some letters, some small carvings, tools, cloth, and charms. They did not disturb the hospital. They lined up properly and left them with the knights.”

Adrian was silent.

That silence was different from calculation.

Garret spoke from near the door. “The gifts have been organized in the next room under Maria’s supervision. Nothing was brought into this room without medical approval.”

Merek added gruffly, “Half the South tried to give you apples.”

Isaac said, “One child made a lion that looked like a sick dog.”

Marian elbowed him lightly. “It was sincere.”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t laugh in front of him.”

Adrian looked toward the door leading to the adjoining room.

He could not see the gifts from where he sat, but suddenly the weight of them seemed more difficult to bear than Arslov’s pressure. A territory offering what little it could. Not to a distant noble. Not to a symbol only. To him.

Alistair noticed the change in his face and allowed the moment to remain.

Then he said, “Gifts are waiting for you in the next room, from citizens, leaders, soldiers, and even the royal family.”

Adrian turned back to him.

“The royal family?”

Alistair nodded. “General Douglas brought something sealed under the King’s instruction. He said it is for you alone once you wake.”