"Damn it," Amukelo muttered under his breath, opening his eyes again. "Again the same thing."
Pao slowly let her arm fall to her lap. She exhaled through parted lip. She looked tired now — not just from the physical effort, but from the concentration it demanded from her for so long.
"You did good…" she said, her voice catching slightly between breaths. "But I think we should call it for the day. I'm getting tired, and you're getting distracted easier." She wiped a bit of sweat from her brow, then looked at him. "Let's try again tomorrow. We've got two days in a row. Tomorrow is Idin's shift, and then my sister's. So we'll have plenty more time."
Amukelo rubbed the side of his face and nodded slowly. "I guess you're right."
But his voice didn't carry the same energy as before. He wasn't annoyed at her, or angry — just... drained. Not from the training itself, but from the fact that after all that effort, after trying again and again, he still felt absolutely nothing. Not even a flicker.
He wasn't one to expect things to come easy. Not after everything. But still… not even a spark?
They left the library together, stepping out into the late afternoon.
Pao stretched her arms above her head with a quiet groan. "But now I want to eat something," she said, letting her arms fall lazily back to her sides. "I am starving."
Amukelo gave a tired nod. "Yeah… that's a good idea."
They stepped inside a pub and found a table near the wall, away from the others.
Pao leaned back slightly in her seat, already more relaxed, but Amukelo just sat quietly. He was somewhere else in his head, and Pao noticed.
She looked at him for a moment, then leaned forward on the table. "Amu," she said gently. "What's going on? Something's bothering you?"
Amukelo sighed, still not meeting her eyes. "I don't know. It just… doesn't feel like something for me." He rested his chin on one hand. "I get easily distracted because I learned to be constantly alert. And when I do, it irritates me. And then I get distracted even easier."
Pao frowned slightly. "What's going on? You're not talking like the Amukelo I know." She spoke softly, without judgement. "The Amukelo I know has a big dream. And even though he's content with what's going on, he works harder than people starving for their goals."
He didn't respond.
She added, "Remember how hard you trained with Padrin? What about that?"
Amukelo leaned back slightly in his chair and looked out the window beside them.
"I don't know," he said again. "Every day with Padrin… I saw progress. Even mid-training, I could predict him better. Move faster. Counter him better. It was tangible. But this…" He shook his head. "I just feel like I didn't move an inch. I think I'm just better at swinging a sword."
Pao let that hang for a moment, then slowly reached her hand across the table and placed it on top of his. "Amu. It's normal."
He glanced down at her hand, then at her face.
"It took me far more than one day to be able to feel mana," she said. "And I also couldn't focus. In fact, a session like we did today? I could only do after weeks, if months of training."
Amukelo gave a quiet laugh. "You?" he said. "You couldn't focus?"
"Of course not," she said, puffing her cheeks slightly. "Sometimes I think you believe I was born meditating in the mountains."
Amukelo smirked. "Now it makes me think that you are sometimes focusing too much on mana. That's why you're so clumsy."
She narrowed her eyes. "That's rude."
"I'm sorry, sorry…" he said, chuckling now.
Pao smiled, but she kept her hand on his.
"No, but really," she said. "It took me far more time than you can expect. So just be patient. That's all it takes."
He looked at her, then exhaled slowly.
"Alright," he said, voice calmer now. "I'll try."
As they ate, Amukelo leaned forward on his elbows, pushing the last bite of food around his plate, eyes drifting toward Pao who was busy dipping a piece of bread into her soup.
He watched her for a second, then said, "You know, I still can't get over it."
Pao glanced up with a piece of bread halfway to her mouth. "What?"
"You. Having trouble focusing on magic." He smiled. "That just doesn't fit in my head. You're always so composed with it. Like it's second nature."
She smiled and tilted her head. "Well, I wasn't always like this."
He leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes playfully. "So what even sparked it? That obsession of yours? I mean, what did the beginning look like?"
Pao's eyes lit up immediately, and she leaned forward slightly. "Well… magic is awesome," she said matter-of-factly.
Amukelo laughed. "That much I know. But what exactly made you want to learn it? I don't mean the general wonder — I mean you. Why did you care so much?"
Pao set her bread down and folded her hands together. "I think… it all started when I was young," she said slowly. "There was this banquet. I don't even remember what it was for. Some kind of political celebration, probably something my father didn't even want to attend, but had to." She smiled faintly. "But at the end of the night, there was a show. A magic performance. And it was… beautiful."
Her voice softened. "I remember it so clearly. The mages there summoned the entire ocean—living creatures, such as fish, turtles, whales, and many more. The whole hall looked like it was underwater for a few minutes. Like someone had scooped the ocean out and poured it into the middle of the room."
Amukelo listened quietly with a smile.
"I was just this tiny thing, standing behind my sister, practically leaning on her dress. And I remember tugging at her sleeve and asking if it was real. She said it was magic. And that was it." Pao leaned back a little and gave a small laugh. "I was obsessed after that. I wanted to do that. To make things beautiful like that. So I begged my parents to let me learn magic. But well... they didn't like it?"
"They didn't like the idea of you learning magic?" Amukelo asked.
Pao nodded. "Yeah. They thought it was just another spoiled child thing. You know — a phase. Like the time I wanted to learn painting, or that week I claimed I'd be the next top-tier tactician. But I was persistent. I asked every day. I snuck into the family library to look at any books I could find about this."
She laughed again. "It took only a few days to wear them down. I think they figured if they let me try and I failed, I'd get bored and move on. But then…"
Her smile turned more sheepish. "I started learning. And it was terrible."
Amukelo raised his eyebrows. "Terrible?"
"With full drama," she said, lifting her hand dramatically. "I couldn't focus. At all. Every time I tried, I'd end up imagining what I wanted to do, instead of actually doing anything. I'd sit there, daydreaming about summoning water or bending light or flying. And then I'd snap out of it and realize I'd wasted half the lesson."
Amukelo chuckled. "That sounds… familiar."
"Oh, it gets worse." She grinned. "As a spoiled noble child, I thought it was the teacher's fault. Naturally. So I started swapping them out. Constantly. My parents gave up after the fourth. I think they thought I was just playing a game."
"And how many did you go through?"
Pao's grin widened. "Fifteen."
He laughed, shaking his head. "You're parents must've loved it."
She chuckled. "Yeah, they did."
"But eventually, one stuck. And after a consistent few months I started to feel it. And then I could move it. And then, finally… open the doors."
"How long did it take you?" he asked.
She paused, thinking. "A bit over two years," she said. "But honestly, it could've been faster. If I didn't waste so much time switching teachers and skipping basics… it might've taken a few months."
She looked at him and leaned forward, her voice softer now. "So don't get discouraged after just one day. It really is a difficult process."
Then she gave him a small, proud grin. "But it pays off."
Amukelo smiled faintly and nodded. "Yeah. I can see that."