The training hall was quiet, the only sound being the distant hum of the academy's mana stabilizers. I stood by the scorched training dummy, trying to steady my breathing. My heart was still hammering against my ribs—not from exhaustion, but from the realization of what had just happened. My Fireball hadn't just hit harder; it had changed.
Luna walked over, her boots clicking softly on the stone floor. She stopped a few feet away, squinting at the blackened remains of the target.
"Lukas," she said, her voice tinged with genuine curiosity. "That skill... the Fire Blast. Where did you find a skill book like that? I've been scouring the Market for weeks, and the vendors only ever have basic F-rank scrolls."
I hesitated. In my mind, a flicker of a memory surfaced—a note about skills evolving through repeated use and mental focus. But seeing the confusion on her face, I realized that for everyone else, this wasn't common knowledge.
"Isn't it... obtainable?" I asked, keeping my voice low. "I mean, if you practice enough or meet the requirements, wouldn't the system naturally upgrade it?"
Luna looked at me like I had suddenly started speaking a dead language. "Obtainable through practice? Lukas, what are you talking about? It's impossible to learn or evolve a skill without a specific Skill Book or a rare drop from a Dungeon Boss. You can't just 'will' a spell to get stronger."
I felt a sudden weight in my chest. If what she said was true, then the very laws of this world were shifting into something I didn't fully recognize. Based on the [■■■] I [■■■], this shouldn't be the case. I needed to know the true origin of how this world was functioning now.
"You got me," I said with a forced laugh, rubbing the back of my neck to hide my unease. "I guess I just got lucky with a vendor I found near the edge of the district. Must have been a one-time stock."
Luna sighed, seemingly accepting the answer, though her eyes lingered on me a moment too long. "Some luck. If you see him again, let me know. I'd pay a fortune for a growth-type skill."
Before she could ask anything else, a hand clamped onto my shoulder. Prate appeared beside me, looking as energized as if he hadn't just spent hours training.
"Lukas and I have some extra work to do," Prate announced, giving Luna a friendly but firm nod. "Let me borrow the class lead for a bit. We've got some 'special projects' to discuss."
Luna nodded and headed toward the exit, leaving us alone in the cooling hall. Prate turned to me and gave a quick, mysterious wink. "Don't worry," he whispered. "I've got your back.
As we walked out toward the central plaza, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long, orange shadows across the academy grounds.
"Lukas," Prate started, his tone shifting to something more experimental. "Do you want to create a Club with me?"
"A Club? Out of nowhere?" I looked at him, confused. "What's the point of a club when we're already part of the same class?"
"Is this the first time you're hearing about a Club?" Prate laughed, though there was a strange glint in his eyes. "It's not just a social group. It's a way to pool resources and access areas the regular faculty doesn't keep an eye on. You really never heard about Club Lukas?"
"No," I replied. Henry never mentioned the club when he brought me into this academy, but I guess that was fine.
"I'll send you the coordinates later," Prate said, dismissing the detail for now. He slowed his pace, his expression becoming uncharacteristically grave. "But first... Lukas, do you know the Origin of Mana?"
"No," I said, my pulse quickening. "Is there actually an origin? I thought it was just... there."
"That's what they want us to think," Prate said. "But while I was in the restricted section of the library, I found an old text. It was titled The Origin of Mana. It was fascinating, Lukas, but the strange thing was that it was never finished. It was as if the author had been interrupted mid-thought and simply walked away, leaving the most important parts as a mystery."
I felt a cold shiver. An unfinished book in a library I hadn't fully explored.
"Why would it be left like that?" I asked.
"I don't know," Prate said, stopping in the middle of the path. "But the formulas inside... they were unlike anything the professors teach. I tried imitating one. It consumed an incredible amount of mana, but the result was breathtaking.
"How did you do it?"
Prate raised his palm. "Think of it as a tree growing from a single sprout."
A tiny green spark appeared in the center of his hand. I watched, mesmerized, as he poured mana into it. It didn't just flash and disappear; it expanded, branching out into a complex, glowing structure that looked like a miniature tree made of pure light.
"Prate... what is your mana capacity again?"
"Last I checked? Around 3,000," he said casually.
I stood there, stunned. I was Level 31, and my capacity was barely a tenth of that. "3,000? How is that even possible for a student?"
"It's the formulas," Prate said, the light from the mana tree reflecting in his eyes. "The Origin suggests that mana capacity isn't just about your level. It's about the purity of the source. The higher the quality of the mana you can refine, the larger the 'container' your body creates to hold it. They call it the Mana Heart."
We reached the edge of the dorm district. The lights of the distant villas were beginning to twinkle in the dusk.
"I'll send you the coordinates for the club location," Prate said, his mysterious air returning. "Be there at six tomorrow morning. My villa has the quiet space we need to test these formulas properly. And Lucas? Don't be late. If we're going to handle the Arena, we need to find out just how far this mana goes."
I nodded, watching him disappear into the shadows of the villa district. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy for his resources, but more than that, I felt a deep, nagging question.
That night, as I sat in my dorm room, I pulled out my old notebook. The pages were filled with my drawings and scribbles from before everything changed. I traced the lines of the city, the academy, and the characters I thought I knew.
Prate wasn't in these pages. The Origin of Mana wasn't a plot point I remembered clearly.
I looked at my hands, feeling the mana pulsing weakly in my veins. 302 capacity. It wasn't enough. If the world was changing—if the game was evolving on its own—I couldn't rely on my old memories anymore. I needed to maximize the Mana Heart.
As the clock ticked toward midnight, a faint sound echoed in the room—a soft, digital chime. I looked at the air in front of me as a window flickered into existence. The text was distorted, the letters shifting like sand.
[B■■■■ st■■■ ■■■ ■■■]
I stared at the blurred message for a long time, the mystery of those words feeling heavier than ever. Whatever the system was trying to tell me, it felt like a countdown.
I closed the window and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow, at 6:00 A.M., the training will truly begin.