"Now, for your training," Augustus said, tapping his cane lightly against the floor. "We can start with you showing me your runes."
Oliver raised a brow in confusion. "But I'm a mortal. I don't have a mana core. What use is there in looking at my runes?"
"You know nothing of the world, boy," Augustus snorted, shaking his head. "I had a dear friend once, one who was also called a mere mortal. He mastered the sword and transcended those so-called restrictions."
A melancholic expression flickered across his face as he continued, "Unfortunately, there's only so much mastering the sword can do. He certainly became powerful… but his lifespan... was still that of a mortal. Mortals wither away far too quickly."
Oliver lowered his gaze, understanding the weight behind the words. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said quietly with a low bow.
"No need to be," Augustus replied, waving a dismissive hand. "Now, show me your runes."
Runes were a caster's identity; in essence, physically, they are unique markings that display a person's strengths and capabilities in physical form.
Even mortals possessed them, though the sections tied to mana core levels and spell techniques would remain blank.
Normally, an individual could simply call out their runes, and an ethereal interface would appear before them; these were only visible to the individual.
Or they could reveal them physically, as the runes also manifested on one's back in black ink when summoned, in order to show them to other people.
Oliver nodded, pulling off his shirt before lying down on the couch, stomach against the cushions. He took a deep breath and willed his runes into existence.
In the next instant, faint black symbols shimmered to life across his back, forming intricate lines of text written in glowing black ink.
Augustus leaned closer, eyes narrowing as he read:
Name: Oliver
Age: 14
Core Rank: Mortal
Skills: Swordmaster — Advanced Mastery
Augustus raised his brows at the last part, his lips curling slightly in intrigue. "So you've already mastered the sword to such an extent, huh?" he murmured.
He studied the boy in silence for a moment. 'To reach advanced mastery at fourteen… what kind of life has this child lived? Must have been a harsh one.'
To the majority, it was well known that training in weapon mastery was almost twice as hard as trying to saturate your core as a caster.
And, casters were always far stronger than a weapon master of the same rank, hence the one-sided stereotype.
Weapon mastery was divided into five stages
Basic Mastery
Intermediate mastery
Advanced Mastery
Perfect Mastery
Transcendent Mastery
Any higher than that was the saint stage, where weapon masters grasped their weapon's aura. But Augustus himself had no business speaking of such matters, least of all Oliver.
"Alright, you can get up," Augustus said finally.
Oliver rose, pulling his shirt back over his head and turning to face the old man.
"It seems you're quite the sword genius," Augustus remarked, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Save for your lack of a mana core, that is. But what I'm going to teach you doesn't require one. It should be quite easy for you to grasp. Well not easy, but given enough time, it should be possible for you to master."
If he knew what the old man was calling easy, Oliver might have pulverised the old man's non-existent hair follicles.
By the time he finally realises what was being asked of him by old man Augustus, it would be far too late.
Right now though, he was nothing but a naïve young boy with no knowledge of the world.
Oliver nodded once, standing quietly, and waiting for further instruction.
Augustus stood and paced toward the far end of the chamber — his hands clasped behind his back
He turned sharply to face Oliver. "Good. Now that I've seen your runes, it's time we start working on your foundation. You may not have a mana core… but that doesn't mean you are without power."
"Well, yeah, that's why I chose to become a swordsman."
"I am not talking about your skills as a swordsman, boy. I am talking about something far greater than time itself." Augustus' carefree and calm demeanour shifted to something more serious.
Oliver furrowed his brow. "What do you mean by that?"
Augustus gestured for him to come closer. "Sit. And listen carefully. What I am about to tell you is a great, ancient technique known only to a select group of individuals."
Oliver obeyed, crossing his legs on the floor, his gaze steady but curious.
"There are two kinds of energy in this world," Augustus began, his voice slow and measured. "Mana — which flows through the world, the rivers, and the air. It is what casters use to shape reality. Everyone knows this."
Augustus paused dramatically as if to let Oliver stew, "And then, there is Essence, the root of existence itself — the energy that resides in every living being, even mortals. The swordmasters of old who could split mountains? They were not manipulating mana. They were wielding Essence."
Oliver's eyes widened in awe at the prospect of the existence of such a profound energy. "Essence…"
Augustus nodded. "It's purer than mana, though harder to harness. Unlike mana, it cannot be gathered from outside sources. It must be drawn from within, from your body, mind, and soul in perfect harmony."
He knelt beside Oliver, his old joints creaking slightly, and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Now, close your eyes. I want you to breathe. Slowly. Feel the air enter your lungs, the weight of your body on the ground. Don't reach for anything… simply exist."
Oliver almost snorted, but he did as told. The world around him dimmed. For a long moment, all he could hear was the faint hum of his own heartbeat.
"Good," Augustus murmured. "Now… beneath that rhythm, there is something else — a flicker. A subtle vibration that resonates through your very being. That is your Essence. Focus on it."
"Now," he said, his voice like gravel dragged through stone, "Let everything go, and try to feel it."