Hearing this, the class was silent
Lukas was wiping blood from his nose.
Elena was staring at Mozart with unblinking intensity.
The other students were furiously taking notes, terrified that if they stopped writing, the "piano pressure" would return.
Mozart stood at the chalkboard. He drew a circle.
"Mana," Mozart said, tapping the chalk against the board.
"The Empire teaches you that Mana is fuel. You burn it to create fire, wind, or light. The more fuel you have, the bigger the fire."
He looked at Lukas.
"That is why you explode, Mr. Lukas. You treat your body like a keg of gunpowder and light a match."
Lukas scowled, but he didn't argue.
He was still feeling the phantom weight of the Siren's Chord in his chest.
"I was taught differently," Mozart lied smoothly. He wasn't about to admit he was just copying words from the original novel.
"Mana is not fuel. It is water."
He raised his hand.
A small sphere of water materialised above his palm.
