Akira with all his might started crawling through the tall grass as fast as his exhausted body could manage.
His heart hammered.
His skin burned.
His mana kept slipping no matter how tightly he tried to hold it in.
"You can't hide," Damian's voice echoed, calm and cruel. "Your mana spills like a stream. I can hear it."
A sudden spike of pressure — Akira dove instinctively.
A blade of compressed wind sliced past his ear, cutting down a line of grass in a clean, terrifying sweep.
"That was your head," Damian said. "If I had wanted it."
Akira staggered but didn't stop as he started running.
Too much mana — I'm burning myself alive…
Akira didn't slow.
He couldn't.
Each breath seared his lungs. His vision doubled, the world tilting with every step.
Damian's footsteps didn't rush. They remained slow and unhurried — confident. Predator-like.
"You move like a beast," Damian called out mockingly. "Fear-driven. Desperate. It's pitiful."
Akira gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to go faster.
"Let's see you running with your feet restricted," Damian said lazily.
SHNK—!
Roots shot up from the grass, thick as rope, wrapping around Akira's ankles. He tripped hard, slamming onto the ground.
"ARGH!!!"
Pain rippled up his legs. The roots dug deeper, wrapping tighter, like they were hungry.
The cry tore out of him—but it was short-lived.
He knew if he stopped moving… he was dead.
Get up get up get up!
Akira clawed desperately at the bindings, nails scraping bark-like thorns. His limbs trembled. His mana flared wildly again—burning his skin from the inside.
Think Akira! Think!
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his breath steady.
If this training is to maintain mana… then to get out of this… I need to use mana.
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his breath steady.
If this training is to maintain mana… then to get out of this… I need to use mana.
Not raw.Not wild.Not exploding outwards.
Contained.
Controlled.
Damian noticed the shift.
His playful expression chilled—interest sharpening in his gaze.
"Oh?" he murmured. "Finally using that brain."
He didn't stop.
FWOOOOSH—
A wind blade sliced toward Akira.
At the last possible second—Akira moved.
His body twisted, barely clearing the strike, the blade carving a clean line through the ground where he'd been. A single strand of his hair drifted down, cut cleanly.
He gasped in disbelief.
"I dodged—?"
"Once," Damian corrected. "Do it again."
FWISH FWISH FWISH—!!!
Three more blades shot toward him — faster, sharper.
Akira rolled, mana compressing around his arms and back instinctively to protect vital spots. Sparks of energy crackled across his skin where the air grazed him.
"You're learning," Damian commented. "Fear is such an… efficient teacher."
Akira tore through snapping the roots apart.
Then sprinted.
Damian grinned, and the ground beneath Akira surged. Thinking Damian was again trying to restrict him he leapt, only for a second spell to slam into him midair.
BOOM—
Akira skidded across the grass, coughing violently. Blood splattered from his lips.
His mana flickered—almost extinguishing.
"No—!" he punched the ground , as if holding onto his own life force. "Not yet!"
Damian fired again — a volley of wind bullets. Akira felt each one graze or bruise as he darted through them, feet stumbling but moving.
His body was starting to give up it hurt. God, it hurt. But atleast the burning lessened — slightly.
"Still not giving up well I suppose that's what heroes do but your fairy tale ends now" Damian said as he launch another wind blade at him.
Damian paused.
"…Interesting." His attack had missed just now.
Smoke and dust billowed between them, and Damian lost sight of Akira for a heartbeat—
WHAM!
A fist cracked against Damian's jaw.
Not strong.Not damaging.
But direct.
It landed.
Damian blinked, stunned—not by the hit, but by the fact Akira had managed to break through his senses.
Through the fading smoke stood Akira—shaking, burnt, barely upright—yet smirking.
"Gotcha…" he whispered.
He took one victorious breath—
And then—
His body finally gave out.
Akira collapsed forward—straight into Damian's arms.
Damian caught him effortlessly.
His eyes lowered, studying the unconscious boy — arms charred red, mana finally settling into a faint, steady pulse.
"…You idiot," Damian muttered.
There was no mockery.
No amusement.
For the first time…
A flicker of respect.