After a short nap, I forced myself to get up.
My body still ached from Kael's "kind-hearted" training session. Every joint complained. Every muscle protested.
No point whining, though. This is what I asked for.
This is what I need.
Staggering, I made my way down to the mana chamber in the manor's basement. It was a quiet, stone-walled room filled with dense ambient mana. Runes pulsed faintly on the walls, carved long ago—possibly even by the founder of our house.
The whole place had that old, heavy energy. Ancient. Purposeful.
In the center lay a single round cushion.
I sat down cross-legged, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes.
Brad had already awakened his mana core years ago.
That meant the mana veins—the internal channels that let mana flow through the body—was already in place.
But that didn't mean I could use it.
After the soul merged, everything had shifted.
Brad's memories were mine, sure, but control? Coordination? Connection?
All of that was out of sync.
What I needed wasn't awakening—it was realignment.
A full recalibration between this body and my foreign soul.
And for that, I had the Dred Mana Technique.
It was faster, more stable than the common method, and most importantly—it formed the backbone of our house's swordsmanship. Without syncing mana flow through the body, the Dred Sword Style was just brute force with extra steps.
Still, my situation was far from ideal.
Brad had a blue-grade core—decent for a noble, nothing extraordinary.
Enough to qualify as a third-grade knight. Internal circulation? Yes.
External projection? Not even close.
But I wasn't here to impress anyone.
I was here to catch up.
I inhaled.
Held it.
Exhaled.
Let the tension fall away.
Focused.
It didn't take long.
The flow was still there—waiting.
Like a river that hadn't been touched in weeks.
Dusty. Stiff. Uncertain.
I nudged it gently.
It twitched, sluggish at first, like a limb waking from a long sleep.
Then came the burn.
Molten heat crept through my chest.
My veins tensed. My back arched. My breath caught.
Even with the veins already carved, it still resisted my command.
It didn't recognize me.
It wasn't my flow—at least not yet.
So I pushed harder.
Circulated it with the Dred technique.
Synchronized its rhythm with my heartbeat.
Matched it to the tension in my muscles, the rotation of my joints, the pull of my breath.
Little by little, the current obeyed.
Bit by bit, it bent to my will.
After what felt like an hour, the pain dulled into a steady hum.
My limbs buzzed. My mind sharpened.
And finally, the veins were mine.
Not inherited. Not borrowed.
Claimed.
I opened my eyes and fell back onto the cold stone floor, chest rising and falling, every breath a little more satisfying than the last.
I couldn't use spells.
I couldn't coat my blade in aura.
But my body and mana were in sync again.
That was enough.
As I lay there staring at the ceiling, the sweat cooling on my skin, a thought surfaced.
But still... shouldn't my control be better?
I mean, my soul merged with Brad's—that's how it usually works, right?
Stronger soul, sharper mind, clearer connection.
Or so the novels say.
Turns out, I can't trust fiction for facts.
Because when I reached for mana… something else reached back.