The next morning, the training hall of the Luminous Palace echoed with the sound of flowing mana rather than clashing steel.
Soft golden sunlight entered through the tall windows, illuminating the massive hall.
Amon sat cross-legged on the smooth stone floor at the center of the sparring platform. His eyes were closed while faint traces of mana moved around his body like invisible streams.
In front of him stood Alistair.
The older man had his arms folded calmly behind his back as he observed Amon carefully.
With a composed expression, Alistair spoke, "Slow down your breathing. Don't force the mana to move."
Amon frowned slightly while concentrating.
"I'm trying," he muttered.
With a calm smile, Alistair replied, "That's exactly the problem. You are trying too hard."
Amon opened one eye slightly.
"Huh?"
