Over the next few days, Ludger paid close attention to the pulse of his new [Spiritual Core]. It didn’t behave like other skills. Unlike [Mana Bolt] or [Mana Wall], it didn’t require focus or activation. As long as his mana wasn’t full, the core quietly worked in the background, drawing energy back into him.

But he quickly noticed something else.

Whenever he sat down and focused—really focused—on the rhythm of his core, the regeneration sharpened. Stronger, quicker, steadier. It was as if he were polishing a stone with every breath. And the results came twice as fast. Just as the information of the skill said.

So that’s the trick, Ludger thought, settling into meditation again beneath the old tree in the courtyard. Even if it levels up naturally, doubling the speed by focusing means I’ll get there faster than anyone else. It’s like grinding a hidden stat.

The thought sparked another idea. If I can meditate and train the core… what if I do it while I’m doing other things? Sparring, running drills, even cooking? I’d double my growth without wasting time.

He was just about to test it during a set of forearm-guard exercises when Cor’s voice drifted over from his usual seat, book in hand.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Ludger blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Cor closed his book with a snap, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. “You’re already wondering if you can split your focus—train your body and meditate at the same time.”

Ludger tilted his head, feigning innocence. “And?”

Cor’s gaze hardened. “It isn’t impossible. I’ve read of mages who managed it, monks who lived half their lives in meditation, even warriors who trained their breathing until it became as natural as walking. But let me be clear: it’s not something I can even do. It requires decades of discipline. The mind will betray you before the body does.”

Ludger frowned, his thoughts racing. So not impossible… but not easy either.

Cor leaned forward slightly, his tone sharp. “Ambition is useful, boy. Recklessness is not. You will sit, you will breathe, and you will build your core the proper way. Try to force both paths at once, and you will end up with neither.”

Ludger exhaled slowly, smirking faintly despite himself. Not impossible, huh? Then it’s just a matter of time. I’ll get there.

Ludger waited until the courtyard was empty, Cor lost in his books, Elaine busy with her chores. The temptation gnawed at him all day, and now he finally had the chance to test it.

He strapped on his shin guards, breathing evenly, and began running simple footwork drills—sidesteps, pivots, quick bursts of movement. At the same time, he tried to focus inward, feeling the faint thrum of his [Spiritual Core].

At first, it worked. His breathing steadied, his mana trickled back with a familiar rhythm, and he thought, See? Not so hard. Maybe Cor just doesn’t know how to—

The thought cut off as the rhythm faltered.

His core pulsed wildly, the flow breaking apart. Mana surged through his body without direction, spilling into his limbs like fire. His legs buckled mid-step, and he hit the ground hard, gasping. For a terrifying second, his chest burned, the heat spreading like his blood itself had caught fire.

Ludger clutched at his ribs, teeth gritted. Damn… it’s—burning—

The sensation vanished as quickly as it came, the core snapping back into rhythm, but the memory of it lingered. His body trembled, sweat dripping down his forehead as he lay sprawled in the dirt.

Slowly, he sat up, forcing his breath to steady.

“Too much,” he muttered to himself. “Cor was right. Split focus… and the energy just runs wild.”

He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. The afterimage of fire still clung to his nerves, a warning branded into his mind.

I’ll get there. But not like this. Not yet.

He would meditate properly, focus fully, until his control sharpened enough. Only then would he try again.

Weeks passed, each day a steady routine of drills, sparring, and long sessions of meditation. Ludger had stopped pushing recklessly, keeping his focus sharp and his breathing even. Slowly, the [Spiritual Core] grew stronger, pulsing steadier in his chest.

One evening, seated beneath the old tree in the courtyard, he closed his eyes as usual. At first, there was only the familiar darkness—his inner world, quiet and blank. But then, faint ripples began to spread across that darkness.

Not sight, not sound—something else entirely.

Blue mist drifted in all directions, thin waves moving like the tide of a hidden ocean. It wasn’t still. It ebbed and flowed, breathing with the world itself. Ludger’s chest rose and fell with it, his pulse syncing unconsciously.

He focused, drawing his awareness tighter, and the mist thickened. Strands of it curled inward, coiling toward him. They brushed against his skin, his arms, his chest—then slipped inside, merging with the pulse of his Spiritual Core.

Ludger inhaled sharply. His body felt lighter, sharper, the fatigue of the day melting away in seconds. His mana filled not in trickles but in waves, washing into him from every direction.

So this is it… the mana of the world itself.

The mist swirled faster as his focus deepened, strands funneling into him like a river into a reservoir. His core pulsed brighter, steadier, each beat pulling more of the surrounding flow.

When he opened his eyes again, the courtyard looked the same—but he no longer felt the same.

He flexed his fingers, mana already brimming at his call. A faint grin tugged at his lips. Now I’m not just using my own strength. The world itself is feeding me.

“So,” Cor said, his calm voice breaking the silence, “you’ve managed it.”

Ludger turned his head, surprised, though not embarrassed. “You noticed?”

“I’d have to be blind not to.” Cor adjusted his glasses, studying him closely. “You’re drawing from the world now, not just yourself. That’s the mark of a true Sage. But don’t get complacent.”

Ludger raised an eyebrow. “Complacent?”

Cor tapped his staff once against the ground. “Yes. Absorbing mana is only the first step. Now you must sharpen your senses—learn to feel every ripple in the flow around you. Your spells will only be as strong as your ability to direct that current.”

He gestured toward Ludger’s arms. “And don’t think your physical training is wasted. Quite the opposite. The body and the core are connected. The awareness you’ve built sparring with Selene and blocking Harold’s strikes will serve you just as well here. A fighter learns to read an enemy’s weight, their stance, their intent. As a mage, you must learn to do the same with mana.”

Ludger crossed his arms, thinking it over. So my fists and my spells aren’t separate paths—they’re two sides of the same coin.

Cor’s gaze sharpened. “If you can predict a strike before it lands, you can also sense a spell before it’s cast. You’ll know what your enemies might do… and stop them before they do it.”

Ludger smirked faintly, the thought settling into his mind like a seed ready to grow. Sense the enemy before they act… now that could be useful.

Ludger listened to Cor’s words, nodding where appropriate, but his mind was already racing ahead. Sensing mana, predicting spells, mixing his body and magic into one flow—it all sounded powerful, even exciting.

But as he sat under the shade that evening, his chest still thrumming with the rhythm of his Spiritual Core, doubt slipped in.

All of this is well and good… but maybe I’m spreading myself too thin.

He had pugilist drills from Selene, fighting skills from Harold, analyzing lessons from Aleia, sword basics from Arslan, and now the depths of Sagecraft from Cor. Add to that his experiments with mana burning, his meditation, his cook’s job skills, and the constant effort to conceal how far he was really advancing.

It was a lot. Too much, maybe.

Everything has value, he admitted to himself, but I can’t tell what will be the best for my future. If I try to master it all at once, I’ll end up average at everything, great at nothing.

His hand drifted to his chest, feeling the steady, quiet beat of the Spiritual Core. That, at least, was simple. Straightforward.

No matter what direction I take—whether I become a fighter, a mage, or both—I’ll need this foundation. Mana regeneration. The fundamentals of endurance. If I run dry in a fight, it’s over. So this has to come first. Always.

The thought steadied him, burning away the cloud of doubt. The path forward wasn’t clear, but the cornerstone was. As long as his core grew, as long as the world’s mana flowed into him faster and stronger, the rest would fall into place.

Ludger smirked faintly, closing his eyes. One step at a time. I’ll make my foundation unshakable… and then I’ll decide what kind of future I want to build on it.

Late at night, when the house was quiet and even Elaine had gone to bed, Ludger slipped into the courtyard again. His mana pool was already drained from the day’s sparring and training, but that was exactly what he wanted.

He raised his hand, focusing on the faint trickle still swirling in his core. A thin spark flickered at his fingertips, sputtering before forming into a [Mana Bolt] no larger than a pebble. It shot forward weakly, vanishing into the grass with a faint pop.

“Good enough,” Ludger muttered under his breath. He drew again, forcing the bolt into shape. Small, fragile, but functional.

Again and again, he repeated the process, crafting the tiniest bolts he could. Each one barely visible, but each one teaching his body how to mold mana under strain, how to stay steady when power was at its thinnest. It was mentally tiring, but it was good to get used to it as well.

When his reserves thinned further, he shifted to [Mana Wall]. Instead of spreading the barrier wide, he forced it into a single narrow panel, just large enough to shield his chest. The shimmer was faint, quivering like glass about to break, but it held for a moment before fading.

“Better than nothing,” he said, planting his feet and repeating the exercise. Wall, collapse, wall again—smaller, tighter, each attempt building the reflex.

It was exhausting, draining him even when there was almost nothing left to drain. But every failed bolt, every flickering shield still carried the faint pulse of growth in his skills. The System’s invisible tally moved forward, no matter how small the effort seemed.

Ludger smirked faintly through his fatigue. It’s not useless. Even scraps add up. And when the real fight comes, I’ll be ready to make every drop of mana count.

He closed his eyes, letting the Spiritual Core begin its quiet work, pulling the world’s energy back into him. The faint blue mist brushed against his skin once more, promising that tomorrow, he could do it all again.

It took months of grueling effort, endless nights of meditation, and dozens of sparring sessions that left him bruised and aching. But progress never came in a straight line—it came all at once, in a single flash.

Selene’s fists hammered against his guard in the courtyard, each strike sharp and punishing. Ludger blocked with his forearm guards, but his arms were trembling, his body slick with sweat. His stamina bar—if he could see it—would have been scraping the bottom.

His breath came ragged, vision blurring, and for a moment it seemed like Selene’s next blow would put him flat on the ground.

And then it happened.

In a rush of instinct—no plan, no calculation—Ludger forced his mana outward, not through a spell, not into a shield, but into himself.

The effect was immediate. His entire body flared with light, a faint aura of shimmering blue mist wrapping him from head to toe. The air crackled faintly, his sweat steaming as the energy surged through every limb.

Selene froze mid-strike, her sharp eyes widening. Harold, leaning on his axe at the edge of the courtyard, straightened. Aleia stopped whistling. Even Cor, who rarely showed surprise, frowned deeply, adjusting his glasses.

Arslan’s jaw dropped, then he grinned like a fool. “Well, I’ll be damned…”

Ludger didn’t hear them.

What he felt was weightlessness. His body, which had been dragging itself through the mud seconds ago, suddenly felt lighter, faster, sharper. His muscles no longer screamed with exhaustion—the mana burned through them, setting every fiber alight.

So this is it, he thought, eyes narrowing, fists tightening as Selene’s next strike came in slow motion. Mana burning—through the whole body.

The crack of impact rang out, but this time his guard didn’t falter. His arms held steady, his body responding as though fatigue had never existed. His lips curled into a grin.

Finally, after months of struggling, he had broken through.

Selene’s eyes sharpened as the shimmer of mana clung to Ludger’s body. His breathing had steadied, his stance lowered, and for the first time since they’d started sparring, she felt the faint prick of unease.

“Don’t think that glowing will save you,” she snapped, stepping in with another strike.

But Ludger didn’t just block—he moved.

His fist shot forward, then his leg snapped out in a kick, followed by a spinning strike with the other. One after another, punches and kicks flowed like a storm, his body moving with a speed that hadn’t been there a moment before. The aura around him shimmered with each motion, trailing faint blue streaks in the air.

Selene blocked the first two strikes with sharp, efficient movements, but her brow furrowed when the third drove her back half a step. By the fifth, she had to brace her arms, her teeth gritting as his blows began to carry real weight behind them.

“Faster than before…” she muttered, her annoyance creeping in as Ludger’s fists kept coming. He darted in like the wind, light on his feet, striking from different angles with a precision that made it harder and harder to read him.

Selene’s guard trembled under a particularly heavy kick, and she clicked her tongue. “Tch. Don’t get cocky, boy.”

But Ludger only grinned through the sheen of sweat on his face, his strikes coming faster still. Every punch, every kick wasn’t just his body—it was his mana, burning through his muscles, making him sharper, lighter, stronger.

Harold whistled low from the sidelines. “That’s no kid’s spar anymore…”

Arslan clapped his hands together, beaming like a proud fool. “Ha! That’s my boy!”

Cor, however, said nothing, his frown deepening as he studied the way the aura flared brighter with each movement.

Selene shoved back hard, catching Ludger’s fist in her palm, her teeth bared. “Fine. If you want to play serious—let’s see how long that little trick of yours lasts.”

Ludger’s smirk widened. As long as it takes.

For a while, Ludger kept up the storm—punches, kicks, feints, strikes too fast for his short frame to have any right to pull off. The aura of mana made him feel untouchable, as though his body had finally caught up to his will.

But it didn’t last.

The fire in his veins sputtered. His legs suddenly felt like stone, his arms heavy as lead. The mana clinging to his body flickered, then began to vanish, leaving only raw fatigue in its wake.

Selene saw the moment his rhythm broke.

In an instant, she surged forward, hammering her fist straight into his guard. His arms buckled, and the blow drove him to the ground with a thud that echoed through the courtyard. Dust rose as Ludger’s body hit the dirt, a sharp crack following as blood gushed from his nose.

Selene froze, her face going pale. “Crap—!”

She crouched down, eyes wide, panic flickering for the first time since she’d met him. But before she could reach him, Ludger groaned, rolling onto his side. He winced, one hand massaging his crooked nose. Blood stained his upper lip.

Then, calmly, as though it were nothing, he placed a hand over the wound and muttered. A soft green glow spread across his face. Bones shifted back into place with a faint crunch, and the bleeding stopped.

Within seconds, his nose was straight again.

Ludger sniffed once, wiping the last smear of blood on his sleeve. “Tch. That hurt. Do you want to ruin the good looks that my mother gave me?”

“What about my good looks?” Arslan protested

Selene let out a long, shaky sigh, relief washing over her stern features. She stood up, folding her arms as if to hide it. “Idiot. You scared me half to death.”

From the sidelines, Harold barked a laugh. “Sturdier than any kid I’ve ever seen.”

Arslan beamed like an idiot, clapping so hard his palms echoed. “That’s my boy! Already tougher than most rookies at twice his age.”

Cor didn’t clap, didn’t laugh—only adjusted his glasses, his frown thoughtful as he studied the remnants of mana that had clung to Ludger.

Selene shook her head, still pale, though her voice softened. “You may look seven, Ludger… but your body’s far sturdier than any child’s. Don’t make me regret pushing you.”

Ludger smirked faintly despite the ache in his face. If this is what progress feels like, then it’s worth every bruise.