Chapter 4: Getting Better
The morning came softly to the village of Aldia. The sun had just risen, painting the sky in gentle shades of orange and pink. It was spring, and the world outside was waking up.
Green leaves rustled on the trees, and colorful flowers nodded their heads in the light breeze. The air smelled clean and fresh, like wet grass and blooming things.
Aiden woke up in his small bed. He opened his eyes and blinked at the wooden ceiling above him. For a moment, he just lay there, feeling the quiet of the morning. Then he remembered.
Last night.
The memory came back to him—the strange breathing, the tingling feeling on his skin, the warmth that had grown in his chest. It hadn't been a dream. He had really done it. He had started to pull mana into his body.
A feeling of excitement bubbled up inside him. He sat up quickly, throwing off his thin blanket. He felt… good. Really good. He expected to be tired or sore after all that work, but he wasn't. Instead, he felt refreshed and full of energy, like he had slept for a whole day instead of just one night.
He got out of bed and walked to the window. He pushed the wooden shutters open and leaned out, taking a deep breath of the cool morning air. Outside, the village was just starting to stir.
He could see the green fields stretching out behind the houses, and the forest standing dark and tall in the distance. Birds were singing their morning songs from the trees.
He stood there for a while, just listening and watching. Then he turned away from the window. He had to get ready for school.
As he moved around his room, getting dressed, he noticed something strange. His body felt light. Very light. When he stretched his arms above his head, it felt easy. When he did a few squats, his legs didn't ache. He even tried a few jumps, landing softly on the wooden floor.
"My body feels light," he whispered to himself. "Stronger, too."
There was no pain. No exhaustion. Just this steady, calm energy humming through him. It was as if his blood was flowing better, or as if he had drunk a special kind of morning tea that made everything work perfectly.
A slow grin spread across his face. If this was what happened after just one night of practicing the breathing technique, then maybe… maybe he really could do it. Maybe he could form a Mana Heart at seven years old, even though his father said it was impossible.
His stomach growled loudly, interrupting his thoughts. The smell of breakfast was drifting into his room from the kitchen downstairs. It smelled like honey bread and roasted meat, and it made his mouth water.
With a small laugh, Aiden finished combing his messy black hair with his fingers and left his room. He walked down the narrow wooden stairs to the main part of the house.
The kitchen was bright with morning sunlight. Golden beams streamed through the window, lighting up the shelves of jars filled with spices, the stack of clean plates, and the figure of his mother moving gracefully between the table and the fireplace.
Sara Scytes was setting the table for breakfast. Her long silver-white hair was tied back loosely, and it shimmered like moonlit water in the sun. She was humming a soft, tuneless song, the sound warm and comforting in the quiet room.
"Good morning, Mom," Aiden said, walking into the kitchen.
Sara turned, and her face lit up with a smile when she saw him. "Good morning, my dear. How did you sleep?"
"I slept really well," Aiden replied, sitting down at the wooden table. "How are you this morning?"
"I'm wonderful now that you're awake," she said, her smile softening everything around her. "Come, sit. Breakfast is ready."
Just then, they heard slow, heavy footsteps coming from the hallway. A moment later, Aiden's father appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Jonathan Scytes looked half-asleep. He was tall and broad-shouldered, but his dark hair was sticking up in all directions, and his eyes were still squinting against the light. He wore plain white sleeping clothes, and a faint purple bruise was visible on his wrist from an encounter with something during yesterday's hunt.
Sara sighed, but it was a loving, patient sound. "Dear, please go wash your face and hands before you sit down."
Jonathan yawned widely, rubbing his eyes. "Ah, it's too much trouble," he mumbled. "I'm clean enough."
Sara put her hands on her hips and gave him a look. It was a look Aiden knew well—the 'I'm-not-angry-just-disappointed' look. "Fine," she said, her lips forming a little pout. "Do what you want. But don't you dare teach Aiden such lazy habits. I will not have my son turning out like you."
Aiden couldn't help it. He chuckled, resting his chin in his hand. "Don't worry, Mom," he said with a grin. "I could never be as bad as Dad even if I tried."
For a second, Sara's serious face twitched. Then she burst into laughter, a clear, happy sound that filled the kitchen. "You're right!" she said between giggles. "No one could ever beat your father in that area."
Jonathan blinked, looking back and forth between them. Then he laughed too, a low, rumbling sound. He scratched his cheek, pretending to be offended. "Hey! I'm not that bad!" He pointed a finger at Aiden, but his eyes were smiling. "You sneaky little brat. What did you just say? That you won't be like your old man?"
Aiden's grin grew wider. "No, Dad. I said I won't be like you when I'm *eating*."
Jonathan thought about this for a moment, then nodded solemnly. "Fair enough."
The morning passed in warmth and simple joy. They ate breakfast together—soft, warm bread drizzled with golden honey, fluffy scrambled eggs sprinkled with green herbs from Sara's garden, and a small slice of sharp white cheese.
It wasn't fancy food, but to Aiden, sitting there with both his parents smiling and laughing, it felt like a feast.
When he had finished, Aiden stood up and picked up his small school bag from where it hung by the door. "Mom, Dad—I'm off to school."
Sara waved, her smile bright. "Have a safe trip, dear. Learn lots."
Jonathan gave him a lazy smirk. "Don't bully your teachers too much."
Aiden laughed. "I'll try not to." He stepped out of the house and into the gentle spring morning.
The village of Aldia was peaceful at this hour. The cobblestone paths were still damp with dew. Flowers of pink, yellow, and blue grew in little gardens beside the houses.
Farmers were already heading to the fields, carrying baskets or tools over their shoulders. The air carried the good smells of fresh soil, baking bread from the bakery, and wood smoke from morning fires.
As Aiden walked down the main street toward the small schoolhouse, he saw two familiar figures waiting under the big oak tree near the school gates.
The first was a boy about his own age, but much rounder. He had messy brown hair and bright, mischievous brown eyes. This was Stefan, Aiden's closest friend and a well-known troublemaker in the village.
Next to him stood a much smaller girl. She had hair the color of ripe wheat, tied into two careful little tails on either side of her head. This was Cybil. She was only five, two years younger than them, and she followed Aiden around whenever she could, looking up to him like he was her own big brother.
"Oi! Aiden!" Stefan shouted, waving an arm. "You're late! Don't tell me you were out last night with some cute girl, huh?"
Aiden's eyes narrowed playfully as he walked up to them. "Shut up, Stefan. Or I'll beat you to a pulp." He said it lightly, without any real anger. Then he looked at Cybil and said, "And don't say that kind of nonsense in front of Cybil. She's still a kid."
He reached out and patted Cybil's head gently. Her hair was soft. "Don't listen to his nonsense, okay? And don't hang out with him too much. He's a bad influence."
The little girl blinked her big blue eyes up at him, then smiled a sunny, gap-toothed smile. "Yes, Brother Aiden. I'll remember."
Stefan groaned dramatically, clutching his chest as if wounded. "You always take his side!"
Aiden smirked. "That's because I'm right."
The rest of the school day passed like most others. They had reading lessons, struggling through simple sentences in their worn books. They did counting exercises with smooth wooden beads.
Their teacher, an old woman named Mistress Greta, told them stories about the history of the kingdoms—great battles fought long ago, and wise kings who had ruled with justice.
Aiden, with his sharp mind and the quiet maturity from his past life, found all of it very easy. He often finished his work first and would help Stefan sound out difficult words.
Mistress Greta praised him often, and sometimes Aiden heard the other villagers whispering when he walked by. They called him a "little genius" and said he was destined to do great things when he grew up.
When the school bell rang at the end of the day, the sky was turning a soft gold. Aiden walked home, his bag slung over his shoulder.
He spent the afternoon helping his mother in her herb garden, carefully picking leaves and tying them into bundles to dry. Later, he sat on the back steps and watched his father clean and sharpen his hunting knives, the metal glinting in the late sunlight.
They had dinner together as a family again—a hearty stew with potatoes and the meat from Jonathan's hunt. The conversation was easy and full of laughter.
But as night fell and Aiden went up to his room, a different kind of anticipation filled him. It was a quiet, thrumming feeling of excitement.
His room was cozy and dim, lit only by a single small oil lamp on his bedside table. Through his window, he could see a few stars starting to appear in the dark blue sky. An owl hooted somewhere far away in the forest.
Aiden sat on the edge of his bed. He could feel it—a faint, humming energy in the air around him. It was the mana, just waiting.
"Let's try again," he whispered to the quiet room.
He crossed his legs on the bed, getting comfortable. He closed his eyes, letting the sounds of the night fade away. He took a deep, slow breath to calm himself.
Then he began.
*Five short breaths. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out.*
*Three long breaths. Breathe in… hold… breathe out slowly. Again. In… hold… out. One more. In… hold… out.*
*Five normal breaths. Steady. Calm.*
Just like the night before, he felt the first tingle on his skin. It was like the light touch of a feather, or a tiny electric spark. Then it grew stronger. It felt like invisible insects were walking on his arms, his legs, his face. Then it felt like those same insects were trying to dig their way *into* his skin, through his pores.
He gritted his teeth but didn't stop breathing. He held still.
The feeling moved deeper. Now it was under his skin. He felt the mana, like tiny threads of cool, flowing water, moving through his veins. At first, the movement was slow and clumsy, like the mana wasn't sure where to go.
But as he kept breathing steadily, it began to move more smoothly. It was as if the pathways inside him, used only once before, were remembering. They were opening up a little more, making it easier for the mana to travel.
Minutes ticked by. Aiden lost track of time. He just focused on his breathing and the strange, incredible feeling of the energy moving inside him.
Then, the tiredness came. It started as a deep ache in his bones, then spread to his muscles. His arms and legs felt heavy, like they were made of stone. A wave of exhaustion washed over him, making his head feel fuzzy.
He knew this was his limit. He stopped the special breathing pattern and just breathed normally, deeply.
He opened his eyes. His chest was rising and falling quickly. His whole body was covered in a fine layer of sweat, making his nightshirt stick to his skin. But in his dark eyes, there was a bright, unmistakable spark of triumph.
He had done it again. And it had been easier this time. Faster.
Aiden leaned back against the wooden wall of his room, a wide, tired smile spreading across his face. He could feel a new, faint pulse deep in his chest. It was soft, but it was there. A tiny seed of power, growing.
"I can feel it," he whispered, his voice trembling with happy excitement. "It's slow… but it's really there."
He knew he couldn't do any more tonight. His body needed to rest. But he also knew something else for sure now: he was fine. The process wasn't hurting him. It was just hard work.
His eyelids began to droop. The exhaustion from the mana practice was pulling him toward sleep.
"There's no problem," he murmured, his words slurring a little. "I can do it. I'll be the first. The first in all of history to form a Mana Heart at seven years old. Then… I'll surprise Mom and Dad…"
As he drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep, a very faint, soft shimmer of light pulsed once in the center of his chest, then faded into the darkness.
---
**Author's Note:** As Aiden began to absorb mana, he made steady progress as his path to becoming a Mana Cultivator became even more mysterious. Stay tuned for more chapters.
**Disclaimer:** This story is an original work created and written entirely by me. Tools were only used for minor editing, proofreading, and grammar corrections — not for generating story content. All characters, worldbuilding, and plotlines are my own creation.