Mana.
It was the foundation of the world of Phelios. Through mana, humans pushed beyond the limits of ordinary flesh, shaping themselves into something more. With enough control and refinement, a person could wield strength capable of shattering stone, redirect water across dead land, or strip life from a forest entirely. All of it traced back to the same source.
Mana.
Ivor kept his eyes on the open book, forcing himself to remain awake as the words blurred and steadied again. His body was paying the price now. Pain pulsed dully through his shoulder and leg, and the blood he had already lost left him light-headed and slow. He adjusted his grip on the page, breathing carefully, refusing to let his focus slip while he was still conscious.
He wanted to understand why he hadn't been able to coat his fist in mana the way the skeleton had.
The answer came when he turned the page and reached the section titled Mana Circulation and Control.
Mana did not respond to strength alone. It responded to control. And control came from sustained and deliberate focus built through repetition and restraint. The book made that clear almost immediately.
Every human was born with a complete mana circuit. 108 nodes spread throughout the body. At awakening, all of them were dormant. They allowed mana to circulate, reinforcing flesh and bone, but they did not respond to intent. To make mana do anything beyond flow, a person had to guide it consciously, holding it in place long enough for it to take shape.
Ivor paused and tested it.
He focused inward and willed mana out of his core. Slowly, carefully, it moved through his arm. The sensation was familiar now, a warm pressure sliding beneath his skin. When it reached his palm, he tightened his focus and held it there.
Mana seeped out, coating his hand in a thin, uneven film.
He frowned.
Now that he looked at it properly, the difference was obvious. The layer was patchy, unstable, thinning at the edges even as he tried to maintain it. Compared to the skeleton's strike, this felt crude.
If he struck with this, he doubted it would do more than sting.
He tried pushing more mana into it.
The coating thickened, but only slightly, and the effort made his temples throb. His breathing grew shallow as his focus narrowed completely onto his hand. The rest of the forest faded. Even the pain in his injuries dulled, replaced by strain.
It was difficult. Unnaturally so.
And the moment his attention wavered, the mana slipped.
The coating unraveled and dispersed into the air, leaving his palm bare again.
Ivor exhaled slowly and leaned back against the trunk.
Now he understood.
The skeleton hadn't been stronger than him in that moment. It had been steadier. Its control had held even while moving, while attacking. That wasn't something mana gave freely. It was something earned through repetition, through conditioning the mind to remain focused even when the body was under threat.
He closed his fingers, feeling the faint tremor still running through them.
Closing his eyes for a brief moment to steady himself, Ivor continued reading and turned to the next section.
Attunement.
'Attunement leads to Ascension. It devours mana without mercy. Every war, every ruin, every field of bones begins here.'
The quote stood alone at the start of the chapter.
By the time Ivor finished reading, he understood why.
He read the section twice, forcing himself to slow down despite the haze creeping into his thoughts. When he finally paused, he leaned back against the trunk and recalled what he had learned.
The human body contained one hundred and eight mana nodes, spread throughout the mana circuit. At awakening, all of them remained dormant. They allowed mana to pass through but did not respond to intent. They were empty conduits, nothing more.
But they were not useless.
Each node was a miniature core.
And that was where attunement began.
To attune a node, mana had to be pushed directly from the core into that node and held there until the node fully accepted it. The amount required differed from person to person, depending on core grade and stability.
For someone with a high-grade core, the book stated the cost plainly.
Between seventy and eighty percent of the total mana stored in the core.
The mana used for attunement was consumed permanently. It could not be recovered, recycled, or drawn back once the process completed. In exchange, the node changed state, shifting from dormant to attuned.
An attuned node granted three things.
First, it could be used to form and sustain skills. Without attuned nodes, skills were impossible.
Second, attuned nodes were a requirement for advancement. Without meeting the minimum number of attuned nodes, progression to the next stage could not occur.
Third, after every ten attuned nodes the strength of a person increases by almost twenty five percent.
The book was clear on one point.
Mana could circulate through dormant nodes, but intent could not.
Only attuned nodes could understand and hold purpose.
That was why skills required them.
Attunement had only one cost.
Mana.
A vast amount of it.
From the very first node onward, every attunement demanded sacrifice. The mana was not lost to the body, but consumed by the node itself, locking the circuit into a new, permanent configuration.
And once a node was attuned, it could never return to dormancy.
The final section clarified what advancement actually required.
The first stage of ascension was called Initiate.
Reaching it was not a matter of time or effort alone. It required meeting three conditions at the same moment.
First, the mana inside the core had to be compressed to roughly three times its original density. The mana itself had to be forced tighter, heavier, until it behaved differently under circulation. Without this compression, the body could not sustain the strain of advancement.
Second, twenty-four nodes had to be fully attuned.
Fully attuned, with mana permanently consumed to stabilize each one. Partial attunement meant nothing. Twenty-three nodes achieved nothing more than failure.
And third, one existing skill had to be upgraded.
That upgrade required binding an additional attuned node to the skill's internal circuit, permanently locking it into place. Once chosen, the path of that skill could no longer be altered until the next stage.
None of the requirements triggered progression on their own.
Only when all three conditions were fulfilled together did advancement occur.
Ivor finally closed his eyes slowly.
Three times mana density. Twenty-four attuned nodes. One irreversible decision.
And this was only the beginning.