The sun rose slow and golden over the jungle, casting long shadows across the training ring. The air was thick with the scent of dew-soaked earth and blooming nightshade. Tala and Kofi stood barefoot on the cool stone, blades sheathed, their cores quiet and calm. They waited. Mala perched on a low-hanging branch, her fiery feathers muted in the pre-dawn light. Raka and Sefu stretched in the shade, their striped tails flicking back and forth.
Asa arrived without a staff or scrolls, his hands empty. He didn't speak as he paced slowly around the two boys. He simply observed them, his eyes tracing the contours of their lean, hardened bodies. He took in the way they stood, the easy confidence that had replaced the nervous energy of their first days in the camp.
Finally, he stopped in front of them. "You've fought," he said, his voice low and resonant. "You've shaped flame and water. You've summoned gusts and stone. But your bodies are soft. Your cores are shallow."
Tala's frown was immediate. "We've trained, Master Asa. We train every day."
Asa smiled, a quiet, almost sad turn of his lips. "You've survived. Now you build."
He stepped closer, his shadow falling over them both. "Listen to me, boys. A gift is something you are given. But core strength is not a gift. It is earned. Slowly. Painfully. it is hard to gain but once earned ,harder to lose."
He gestured to the jungle surrounding them. "A child born with a talent for fire might be able to summon a flame the size of their fist on their very first day. But what is that flame? It is a fleeting light, a weak glow. It does not speak of true power. True power is the furnace beneath the earth, the flame that has been stoked for a lifetime, the heat that can melt stone without effort. That is what we are building here. A furnace."
For the next several hours, Asa led them through a series of exercises they had never seen before. There was no sparring, no elemental shaping, just raw, physical labor.
"Hold," Asa commanded, his voice a steady rock as he watched Tala and Kofi sink into deep, trembling low stances. "I want to see your legs shake. I want to feel the fire in your muscles. This isn't about winning a fight today. It's about being able to stand when you cannot move a step further."
They held the stance until their thighs burned with a fire hotter than any Tala had ever shaped. Sweat poured from their brows, stinging their eyes.
"Master," Kofi panted, his voice strained. "My legs feel like lead."
"Good," Asa replied, without a hint of sympathy. "Lead is heavy. It does not move easily. You are becoming a mountain."
The drills continued. Asa had them practice breath control, syncing their inhales with movement, a rhythmic, almost hypnotic cadence that forced them to focus on their bodies. They carried heavy stone blocks, too large to hold easily, that Kofi had shaped with earth magic.
"This is foolish," Tala muttered under his breath, stumbling as he adjusted his grip on a block of rough-hewn granite. "My mana could move this with a thought. Why do we toil like this?"
Asa's voice cut through the air. "Because your mana is a tool. And a tool that is not supported by a strong foundation is a tool that will break. Your body is the foundation. It is the vessel. If the vessel is weak, the mana within it will never be truly strong."
Later, Asa had Tala shape a sphere of pure, unrefined heat and hold it in his hand. "Endure it," he said.
Tala's instincts screamed at him to call upon his mana, to weave a subtle enhancement around his skin to protect it from the searing heat. He felt the familiar tingle of nascent magic at his fingertips, a small, selfish voice promising relief.
"No," Asa said, as if reading his mind. "No shortcuts. No physical boosts. No elemental crutches."
Kofi, watching, winced as he saw the skin of Tala's palm begin to redden. "But Master," he said, his voice pleading. "We can shape our strength. We can make ourselves faster and tougher. It's a part of our magic."
"And it is a gift that you will learn to use. But what happens when your mana runs dry?" Asa's gaze was hard. "When your aethreia is depleted? When your opponent resists magic? You can shape a tough skin with a thought, but it takes precious energy. And if a fight drags on, if you are bleeding your mana for every little thing, you will find yourself empty, exhausted, and vulnerable. What will you rely on then?"
Silence.
"You fall," Asa said, the two words hanging in the air like a final verdict. "Unless you've trained the body to stand without it. This isn't about shaming magic, boys. It's about honoring it. Magic is a tool, not a crutch. It should be an extension of your strength, not a substitute for it. You must be all-rounded, ready for anything, so that when a spell fails or a fight drags on, you have a solid foundation to fall back on."
Tala, his hand still tingling from the heat, looked at Kofi. A slow, understanding nod passed between them.
"Balance is the key," Tala said, his voice quiet but firm.
Asa smiled. "Exactly."
After a short rest and some food, Asa began the second lesson. This one was far more esoteric, but no less demanding.
"Core strength is physical," he explained, sitting cross-legged on the stone. "But mana strength is internal. You must learn to circulate it. To expand it. To deepen it." He drew a perfect circle in the dirt with his finger. "This is your path."
He outlined the Fourfold Circulation Method, a discipline far more ancient than any spell they had learned.
Deep Meditation "Your mind is a cluttered room," Asa began. "You must empty it. Sit. Breathe. Empty. Visualize a river inside you, a subtle, flowing current of energy. Each session, your only goal is to widen its banks and deepen its channel. This is not a passive exercise. You are actively building the internal pathways for your mana. The wider the river, the more mana can flow through you at once. The deeper the channel, the more mana you can hold. This isn't a quick fix. You will not feel a massive difference tomorrow, or even next week. But in a year, you will find your capacity has doubled. In a decade, it will be so vast that you will wonder how you ever existed without it."
Mindful Breathing "Your breath is the key to the world's mana," Asa continued. "Inhale mana from the air around you. Hold it, feel it, taste its light, before you exhale it slowly, letting it circulate through every part of your being. This helps your body become accustomed to holding more energy than it normally would. You are literally breathing magic into your own existence. This is how the most ancient mages of old could fight for days on end without rest. It wasn't just a matter of a deep well of mana, but of a constant, flowing river that was always being replenished."
The Inner Core "Your mana capacity is not some abstract thing," he said, holding his hand over his chest. "Imagine your mana as a small, glowing core inside you. Over time, as you meditate and practice, you will visualize this core expanding, growing brighter and larger. This is not a fantasy. This is training your subconscious mind to physically expand your capacity. By believing it can grow, you're giving your body the permission to do so. The most powerful mages are those who have mastered this. They are not merely pulling mana from a vast pool. They are pulling from a star within their own chest, a miniature sun of pure power."
Mana Circles "A mana circle is a common practice, but it is deeply misunderstood," Asa explained. "It can be a physical circle drawn on the ground, or a mental one visualized with crystals or other objects. By standing within this circle and focusing your will, you can draw mana from the nexus points of the land, from the very air, and from the silence of the forest itself. You are not pulling this energy into yourself as you do with breathing. You are channeling it through yourself. It's a way to borrow the strength of the world, to truly connect with the flow of aethreia that fills all things. This is a critical skill for any mage, because it allows you to cast your most powerful spells without draining your own internal reserves. You are a channel, a conduit, and the world is your infinite source."
He looked at them both, his expression a mix of satisfaction and challenge. "This is not a spell. It is a discipline. A way of living."
That night, Tala sat in the circle he had drawn with ash and stone. Mala curled beside him, her flame low. He breathed slowly, visualizing the river. The core. The light. He felt a deep sense of calm he hadn't experienced since he was a child. He was building. He wasn't just a boy with fire magic anymore. He was a vessel for something much larger than himself.
Kofi sat nearby, eyes closed, his breath steady and even. He didn't speak, and neither did Tala. They didn't need to. They were building something together, something more profound than any spell.
Not just strength. But foundation.