Thiriel didn't sleep.
The idea had ignited in his mind like a spark impossible to extinguish. He remained seated on the floor of his room, back straight and eyes closed, listening to the faint murmur of the tower as the night wore on.
This time, he didn't try to force anything.
In his previous world, the warrior aura technique was born from vital energy, from blood, from the will pushing the body beyond its natural limits. Here, insisting on that was like trying to light a torch underwater.
The mistake had been conceptual.
'It isn't the technique that is failing,' he thought. 'It is the source.'
He breathed slowly and turned his attention to the magic core. It spun stably, releasing small currents of energy that ran through the body's meridians.
Then he changed his approach.
Instead of using magic as raw fuel, he began to mold it. He didn't push it outward; instead, he extended it like an internal layer, thin, fitted to muscles, tendons, and bones.
The reaction was immediate.
A shudder ran through his body.
Thiriel's eyes snapped open when he felt the familiar pressure—distorted, but unmistakable.
"It activated," he whispered.
It wasn't the warrior aura he remembered. It didn't roar. It didn't tear at the muscles. But it was there.
His breathing became deeper. His pulse, firmer. Upon standing up, he noticed how the floor seemed a little closer, as if his center of gravity had stabilized better.
He tried taking a step.
Then another.
He jumped.
He landed lightly, without the usual clumsy impact of his still-developing body. It wasn't spectacular, but the difference was clear.
"Finally," he muttered.
He closed his eyes again and analyzed what was happening inside him.
Magic was flowing through the main meridians, the same ones used to refine energy. That was the problem.
The original aura technique utilized secondary routes, channels designed for physical force and extreme tension, not for a stable and continuous flow of magical energy.
"I am using the wrong pathways."
That explained why the effect was weak.
Even so, the result left him satisfied. Although the reinforcement was inferior to the aura of his prime, the physical boost was there: more strength, more stability, better muscular response.
And most importantly…
He felt no rejection.
He spent the rest of the night testing.
He would activate the technique, walk, run in place, perform basic unarmed combat movements. Then he would deactivate it and compare sensations.
Every attempt revealed small differences, slight blockages, points where the magic dissipated uselessly.
When dawn began to tinge the window gray, Thiriel already had a clear map in his head.
'I need to redirect the flow,' he thought. 'Not through the main magic meridians… but create a hybrid circuit.'
He sat down once more and began to adjust.
Using micro-pathways that were normally ignored in standard magic training. It was risky, but not lethal if done with care.
The magic activated again.
This time, the sensation was different.
Denser.
More integrated.
The body responded with clarity. When tensing his muscles, the strength didn't scatter. When moving, his reflexes seemed to be a fraction of a second ahead of his intention.
"This is better."
He opened his eyes and threw a punch at the air.
His fist cut through the space with a soft whistle.
'Power doubled,' he calculated mentally. 'Speed and reflexes too.'
It wasn't comparable to his old peak, but for a young body, it was quite good.
A smile appeared on his face.
'It is no longer the warrior aura,' he thought. 'It is something else.'
He took a few seconds and spoke the name in a low voice.
"Magic Warrior Aura."
. . .
During the following days, Thiriel trained with extreme discretion.
He never used the technique outside his room. Never for more than a few minutes at a time.
He refined magic in the morning, helped with simple tasks during the day, and at night, he adjusted the aura's circuit.
Each session brought small improvements.
Lower magic consumption.
Greater stability.
Less muscle fatigue.
It wasn't a perfect technique, but it was no longer a failed experiment. It was a foundation.
Meanwhile, the others were also progressing.
Kael finally managed to stabilize his core on the sixth day. Exhausted, but happy. Two other apprentices followed shortly after.
And on the ninth day…
Drowen achieved it.
Thiriel knew before it was announced.
The pressure in the air changed. The flow of magic around Drowen became more ordered, less chaotic. The core had taken shape.
That afternoon, Drowen walked with a smile he didn't try to hide. His movements were confident, his voice louder.
"Rank D," Thiriel heard him say. "It wasn't that hard in the end."
Thiriel watched him from a distance, expressionless.
'What will happen now,' he thought.
It didn't take long for the message to arrive.
A servant appeared in the hallways, repeating the order with a hollow voice:
"The master summons all apprentices. In front of the lake. Immediately."
Thiriel closed the manual he was reading and stood up. He adjusted his breathing, calming the magical flow inside him until it was almost imperceptible.
'So the time has come,' he thought.
In front of the lake, the stone platform rose as always. The water reflected the sky, motionless, too perfect.
The apprentices gathered one by one. Some nervous. Others excited. Drowen stood at the front, visibly proud.
Caethiriel watched from the side, near the gardens.
Finally, Vexar appeared.
His crimson robe waved gently. His staff struck the stone once, and the murmuring ceased.
"I see progress," he said, scanning the group with his gaze. "Faster than expected."
His eyes lingered for an instant on Drowen, then… on Thiriel.
That instant was enough.
Thiriel felt the pressure. More intense than before. More interested.
"Several of you have officially entered Rank D," Vexar continued. "Magic apprentices. You have taken the first step."
A thin smile curved his lips.
"From now on, the training will intensify."
Drowen clenched his fists with enthusiasm.
Thiriel, however, remained motionless.
While the wind stirred the surface of the lake, Thiriel kept his expression neutral, but inside he was determined.
He was no longer the same person who had arrived at the tower.
He had a core.
He had a new technique.
And he had an advantage that no one else understood.