The plains were dead quiet—too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant someone was watching.
Rowan knelt behind an old fencepost, gripping his revolver tight. His right hand trembled, blue veins faintly glowing under his skin.
"Alright," Cass said beside him, spinning one of his pistols. "Lesson time, rookie. Since you're about as stable as a drunk horse, I'll teach you how to actually use that shiny death arm of yours."
"Not now, Cass."
"Now's perfect! Nothing like live targets to help you learn." Cass peeked over the fence, ducked back down as a bullet whizzed past. "See? Real motivation."
Rowan sighed, adjusting his grip. "Fine. Make it quick."
Cass smirked. "Okay, first rule of mana: it's a river, not a bomb. You don't force it—you guide it. Your body's the channel. The second you start forcing, it turns unstable. That's why your shots keep—"
Rowan fired.
The bullet glowed blue, cracked midair, and exploded into a small crater twenty feet away.
Cass blinked. "…—exploding."
"I guided it," Rowan muttered.
"Yeah? You guided it straight into a funeral!"
Gunfire roared again as a group of black-coated riders burst from the ridge, the Phoenix Family's enforcers. Their armor gleamed red, runes pulsing across the plates.
"Guess the class just got practical," Cass said, flipping his revolvers. "Alright—lesson two!"
He fired back, his bullets glowing a bright silver. "Bound Mana! Refined energy sealed in cartridges. Clean, stable, sexy—like me."
Rowan ducked another shot. "And mine?"
Cass grinned. "Yours is Raw Mana. Think of it as… pure lightning that doesn't like being told what to do. You've got power, but no leash."
He motioned with his gun. "Try syncing it. Don't just shove mana into the weapon. Feel the rhythm. Let it flow up your arm, settle in your palm, then breathe it into the chamber."
Rowan hesitated. "Sounds poetic."
"Yeah, yeah, just do it before they turn us into rugs!"
Rowan closed his eyes, breathing slow.
He felt the mana inside him—wild, crackling, alive. It pulsed with the beat of his heart, whispering like thunder under his skin. He aimed, exhaled—
—and fired.
The bullet glowed deep blue, slicing through the duststorm and nailing a rider clean through the chest. The man fell off his horse, armor shattering like glass.
Cass whistled. "Not bad! See? Controlled chaos. Sexy chaos."
Rowan opened his eyes, the glow fading from his arm. "It still burns."
"It'll always burn," Cass said, ducking to reload. "But that's the trade-off for using Raw Mana. Power like that wasn't meant for mortals."
Lynx burst past them, her fox form trailing silver flames. She lunged at a rider, claws tearing through his weapon like paper.
Rowan steadied himself, focusing again. He fired twice more—each shot steadier than the last.
Cass grinned mid-battle. "Lesson three: your mana's alive. If you respect it, it listens. If you don't…"
The sky cracked with a blue flash as Rowan's next bullet detonated a boulder.
Cass ducked. "…it kills you."
The last of the riders fell, smoke curling up from the sand. The battlefield went quiet again.
Rowan collapsed onto the ground, panting, his right arm still glowing faintly.
Cass holstered his guns and clapped him on the shoulder. "You're getting there, kid. Soon you'll be half as cool as me."
Lynx shifted into her humanoid form, crossing her arms. "He'll surpass you before dawn."
Cass smirked. "You wound me, foxy lady."
"Not yet," she said flatly.
Rowan chuckled weakly. "Lesson four, Cass?"
Cass winked. "Lesson four: never flirt with the one who can turn you to ash."
---
⚙️ Power System (Explained through Cass's Teachings)
Raw Mana: Untamed life energy from ancient gods or corrupted relics. Strong but burns the user.
Bound Mana: Refined form sealed in cartridges, crystals, or charms; stable and safe.
Syncing: The art of harmonizing your pulse with mana's flow. It reduces instability and increases precision.
Overdraw: Forcing mana beyond your limit—causes scars, blindness, or death.