Chapter 40: What Is Mana
Mana existed as a fundamental force, an ambient energy that permeated the world like an unseen gas. It was neutral, inert, until it found a vessel. When it entered a living being or even an inanimate object, it stimulated the very atoms within, seeking to bond. This integration was the source of all power.
For some, the bond manifested as an affinity for an element, shaping the mana into fire or ice. For others, it was more esoteric, altering physical laws or granting insight. These countless variations were the special powers each person awakened, a unique expression of how their very essence reacted to the touch of mana.
This raw, untamed energy was what now raged inside Nox.
"You wanted a fight, mercenary?" he said, his voice a low growl that didn’t quite sound like his own. "Looks like you’re about to get one."
Lola’s own smirk tightened at the edges. She shifted her weight from her right foot to her left, her daggers held loosely. ’This kid’s not normal.’
"Stay out of this, princess," he repeated, his voice low. He didn’t wait for a reply. He lunged again, the Blade cutting a horizontal line through the air.
She ducked under it without effort, her red hair fanning out for a second. Her elbow came up, connecting with his ribs with a solid thud. The blow sent him stumbling sideways, but he didn’t fall. He caught his balance, his feet scraping on the broken ground, and spun back towards her, his blade arcing downwards.
Lola parried the clumsy strike with her left dagger. She used his momentum against him, shoving his blade aside and driving the pommel of her right dagger into his jaw. His head snapped back, and the world went a little gray at the edges, but he stayed on his feet.
’He took that hit,’ she thought, genuine surprise crossing her face. ’He should be on the ground.’
He tasted blood again. The mana was a fire in his veins now, hot and wild. He didn’t feel like he was controlling it; it was controlling him, moving his limbs with an instinct he didn’t know he possessed. He was faster. Each step felt more certain, each swing of the Blade a little more precise. He was still sloppy, still reckless, but he was learning with every exchange.
He came at her again, a relentless, desperate assault. He swung high, she blocked. He swung low, she dodged. He feinted, and for a second, he thought he had an opening, but she was already moving, her dagger slicing a shallow cut across his arm. He barely registered the sting. He just kept coming.