Akira pressed his back into the narrow alley wall, shutting out the city as much as he could. His heart was still racing from being suddenly dropped into the busy market, but he forced himself to steady his breathing.
The mana inside him felt like a warm thread running behind his ribs — faint, slippery, desperate to escape his control. He focused on pulling it evenly through his arms, trying to maintain the same gentle current he had inside the tower.
Breathe. Flow. Mana is life. Make it natural.
Damian's voice echoed in his head, annoyingly calm.
Akira closed his eyes, shoulders loosening a little. He could feel the warmth circulating — softer now, obedient. Maybe he finally—
"Got any spare change?" a voice croaked right beside him.
Akira flinched so hard his head smacked the brick wall. Pain shot through his skull, and his concentration scattered like birds.
He opened his eyes to find a ragged beggar staring at him expectantly.
"I don't," Akira muttered, rubbing his forehead.
The beggar shrugged and limped away. Akira sighed.
So much for peace…
He inhaled deeply again, coaxing the warmth back into motion. It returned, but shakily.
A sudden crash of barrels came from a cat knocking things over. Akira nearly lost the flow again.
"This city hates me," he whispered under his breath.
He pushed himself out of the alley and back into the bustling streets.
The marketplace was alive in the most obnoxious way possible.
Vendors shouting. Wheels grinding over stones. Kids screaming. Someone arguing three stalls down. Every sound jabbed at his focus. Every bump from a passerby made the mana shudder.
He clenched his jaw and kept walking.
If I can only do this while alone in some silent room… what's the point? A battlefield isn't quiet. Real danger doesn't wait.
He passed by a stall selling bows. The merchant leaned forward, eyes sharp like a hawk spotting prey.
"You look like you could use a good weapon, lad! Light draw, strong string — a hunter's best friend!"
Akira tried to nod politely while focusing inward. His chest felt tight from the effort.
"How much is the cheapest one?" he managed to ask.
"Ten silver!" the merchant boomed.
Akira choked. "How is that cheap?! It's wood and string!"
"Very good wood and string!" the merchant snapped back.
Their argument nearly shattered his concentration, so Akira bowed stiffly and retreated before the mana slipped again.
He moved on. His pulse was loud, his head aching with every new sound. But he kept breathing steady, forcing mana to stay alive inside him.
He found himself near a bakery stall next. The smell hit him like a divine punch to the face. Fresh bread, warm and soft — his empty stomach growled in betrayal.
"Two copper for a loaf!" the baker shouted.
Akira checked his pockets — empty.
Of course. No one gave him any money.
He stepped back, shoulders heavy… but the mana still flowed. Uneven, but present.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Noise or not… I'm doing it.
Just then, someone shoved past him roughly.
"Move it!"
Akira stumbled, but his focus held. The warmth inside him flickered… then steadied again.
He stood straighter.
"That's right… stay with me," he whispered to the mana.
For the first time, he wasn't fighting it. He was adapting to it — letting the chaos exist around him without letting it inside.
The world was noisy. His power didn't have to be.
Hours passed. Akira practiced while walking, while talking to vendors, while dodging carts and people. Every moment demanded control. Every distraction tested him.
By the time the sun began to lower, his shirt clung to him with sweat. His breathing was rough. But his mana was still flowing.
It wasn't perfect — but he could maintain it now.
A breeze brushed his cheek.
I… actually did it.
A soft hum of magic cut through the air behind him.
"Congratulations," a familiar voice said.
Akira didn't need to turn to know who it was. "How long have you been spying on me, Damian?"
"Long enough to see you nearly get trampled by a fruit cart," Damian replied, stepping beside him. He smirked. "Very graceful."
Akira groaned. "You could've helped, you know."
"No," Damian said simply. "Heroes aren't born in silence. They earn control in the middle of the world that refuses to slow down."
Akira looked down at his hands — normal looking, but no less powerful for it.
"…I think I understand."
Damian rested a hand on his shoulder. A teleportation circle lit beneath them — and before Akira could complain about magic without warning, the market vanished in a flash.
They appeared back inside Damian's room. The sudden quiet felt unreal after hours of chaos.
Akira dropped down on the floor, drained. "I kept it going the whole time," he said "my head and feet are hurting from all the noise and walking".
"Good," Damian said. "it shows that you were really trying hard, now rest up let's see you maintaining it during battle."
Akira's head snapped up. "Wait, wha—?"
Damian grinned menacingly. "Rest for now. Tomorrow won't be as easy as today".