Lucas completely lost his breath. Not from normal exhaustion—but from a strange, hot tightness in his chest, like choking on carbonated soda in cold weather.
He pressed a hand against his chest.
"…Why… does it feel so suffocating…?"
His heartbeat pounded hard, fast, and uneven.
Silvara lowered her sword and stepped toward him without hesitation.
"Don't force yourself to stand," she said curtly.
"I'm not—hah—I'm just—"
His vision suddenly tilted. Silvara caught him before he could hit the ground.
"Stop talking."
Her voice was flat, but her grip was steady and firm.
"You're experiencing backlash from unstable mana. I expected this."
Lucas growled weakly, still gasping. "A little warning… would've been nice…" He dismissed The Great Hoe.
"My apologies. I just wanted to see how far you could push it," Silvara replied.
