Lukas slowly opened his eyes, the sudden brightness of the sun making him blink several times. It was already nearly noon, the sun shining brilliantly at the highest point in the sky. His body felt stiff, his legs numb, his eyes tired and dry.
But none of that bothered him as much as one single thing, a reality that weighed upon him like a crushing burden.
He had failed.
He slowly lowered his head, his eyes fixed on the grass beneath his knees.
"I..." His voice came out low, almost a whisper, filled with disappointment.
"I didn’t feel anything."
Clavor showed no surprise, nor any disappointment. His face remained calm, his expression serene. He simply nodded calmly, as though he had expected exactly that.
"I know."
He extended his hand, a simple and direct gesture.
"Get up."
Lukas obeyed, his movements slow and stiff. His legs nearly gave out after sitting for so many hours, the numbness turning into pins and needles as circulation returned.
His father waited for Lukas to regain his balance, patiently watching him.
"Let’s get your body moving."
...
For the rest of the afternoon, they only did light training. A few runs around the clearing, the fresh air revitalizing their lungs. Basic physical exercises, awakening the muscles that had remained motionless for hours. Repetitions of the sword fundamentals, their movements automatic and familiar.
Lukas performed everything correctly. His technique was flawless, and his body responded with the discipline forged through weeks of training. But his mind remained elsewhere, lost in thoughts and doubts.
Every strike felt heavier. Every movement felt automatic, stripped of meaning. Disappointment still occupied his thoughts, a dark cloud that overshadowed everything.
When they finally began the journey back to the mansion, the sun had already started its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Golden light filtered through the leaves, creating dancing patterns across the ground.
Lukas walked a few steps behind his father, his head lowered and his shoulders slumped. The joy that had overflowed from him that morning had completely vanished, replaced by a sense of failure weighing heavily upon his chest.
Clavor noticed immediately, his eyes catching his son’s defeated posture. As soon as they crossed the mansion gardens, he stopped and turned to face the boy.
"Lukas."
The boy raised his eyes, meeting his father’s steady gaze.
"Lift your head."
He obeyed, straightening his posture.
Clavor smiled faintly, a smile that carried years of experience, failures, and triumphs.
"I didn’t sense mana on the first day either."
Lukas blinked in surprise.
"...What?"
"Not on the second day either." The man paused briefly.
"Nor on the third."
The violet eyes widened, surprise replacing disappointment.
"I only succeeded nearly a week later."
The boy was completely astonished, his mind struggling to process that unexpected revelation.
"Really?" His voice came out a little louder than he intended.
Clavor let out a quiet laugh, a rare and genuine sound.
"Very really."
He placed one hand on his son’s shoulder, his touch firm and reassuring.
"Sensing mana on the first day is extremely rare. Most people take days, weeks, sometimes even months."
He paused, his eyes meeting his son’s with an intensity that conveyed wisdom.
"Today, you were far too anxious. Mana doesn’t respond to haste. It responds to calm, patience, and stillness. The more you try to force it, the harder it becomes to perceive."
Lukas remained silent, his father’s words entering his mind like light piercing through darkness. Then he realized, with sudden clarity, that they were true.
Throughout the entire day, he had been trying to reach a result, forcing his mind to find something that simply could not be forced. He hadn’t been quietly sensing nature with an open and receptive heart. He had been desperately searching for something, clinging to hope like a castaway clinging to a piece of driftwood.
Perhaps... that had been his greatest mistake.
Clavor gently squeezed his shoulder, the gesture filled with reassurance.
"Starting tomorrow, the routine changes. We’ll train your body in the morning. And every afternoon, you’ll try to sense mana."
He held his son’s gaze, his words firm and unwavering.
"No expectations. No pressure. No haste. One day, it will simply appear."
Lukas took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill his lungs. The frustration was still there, a constant presence within his chest. But it no longer felt so heavy, so overwhelming. His father’s words had planted a seed of hope within his heart.
He nodded slowly, meeting his father’s eyes.
"I understand." His voice was steadier now, filled with renewed determination.
"I was trying to run before learning how to walk."
Clavor smiled, a smile of approval.
"Exactly."
...
That night, during dinner, Lukas remained quieter than usual. His eyes stayed fixed on his plate while his mind continued to process the day’s events.
Aurora noticed immediately, her mother’s intuition sensing the melancholy in her son. But she asked nothing. She knew that when he was ready, he would tell her. Her trust in him was unwavering.
Judite tried to distract him with stories about her own training under Master Thorne, enthusiastically talking about the magic circles she was learning to create.
Her cheerful words managed to draw even a small smile from her brother, a brief glimpse of the joy that still lived within him.
Later that night, back in his room, Lukas slowly lay down on his bed, his body finally surrendering to the day’s exhaustion. His wooden sword rested beside him, a familiar and comforting presence.
Rourke slept peacefully in his little nest, his tiny body rising and falling with each steady breath.
Prata remained motionless near the window, its bright eyes reflecting the moonlight.
Tilbo rested quietly in his usual corner, his massive body perfectly still. Astra silently watched the moonlit sky, a vigilant sentinel.
Lukas turned his eyes toward the ceiling, his mind replaying the events of the day. Today he had failed to sense absolutely anything. Not a spark, not a thread, not even the faintest trace of the world’s mana. His body was strong, his technique refined, but his perception remained blind.
But that did not mean he would never succeed. If Clavor had taken nearly a week, then he could wait as well. If others needed months, then he could be patient.
Tomorrow he would try again. Then the next day. And the day after that. For as long as it took, until he finally felt that invisible energy flowing all around him.
With that thought, he slowly closed his eyes, allowing sleep to embrace him.
Thus began a new stage of his training. A stage where strength and sweat alone would no longer be enough. From this point onward, it would be patience that determined his future.