The morning light filtered softly into the room as Damon sat at his desk, eating breakfast while Sahira sat on the bed nearby, her posture relaxed and her expression unusually bright, a quiet smile lingering on her face as she watched him with a sense of contentment that hadn't faded since the night before.
Damon, however, avoided her gaze entirely.
His focus remained on the plate in front of him, his movements steady but slightly more deliberate than usual as a thought ran through his mind.
Tch… why did I do that yesterday…
He exhaled faintly.
Whatever… what's done is done.
The moment passed.
And with it, the rhythm of days resumed.
The rest of the week moved forward almost seamlessly, each day blending into the next as the academy settled into its initial pace, with assistant professors handling most of the lectures while the primary instructors remained absent, the focus kept largely on theory so as not to overwhelm the new students during their first week.
Damon attended the sessions without issue, listening just enough to retain what was necessary while his real focus lay elsewhere, his time outside the classroom increasingly consumed by training, as he spent hours inside the training chambers, pushing his body and techniques to their limits, attempting again and again to break the rigid patterns ingrained into his movements.
But progress was slow.
His strikes remained clean.
His sequences efficient but too predictable.
No matter how much he tried to force variation, his body instinctively returned to what it had mastered over years, refusing to bend easily into something unfamiliar.
Outside of training, his routine shifted in quieter ways as well.
After tasting Sahira's cooking, he stopped eating at the cafeteria entirely, choosing instead to rely on the meals she prepared, though his caution never truly left him, as he continued to observe her closely each time she cooked, his gaze attentive to every ingredient, every movement, every step of the process, and only after she tasted the food herself did he begin eating.
Sahira, for her part, said little about it.
She simply continued.
Cooking.
Cleaning.
Smiling more often than before.
And like that, the weekdays passed.
The night settled into a quiet stillness within Damon's dorm. Mana lamps cast a soft golden glow, barely lighting the room. He sat upright at his desk, eyes fixed on the open book, the faint rustle of pages the only sound. Behind him, Sahira rested in silence, her presence calm and unobtrusive.
Damon adjusted his glasses, scanning the text—not just reading, but connecting it with what he had already been told, letting understanding take shape.
So I should be in the manifestation stage… according to what that pink fluffy said.
His gaze lingered as the words sank deeper, unfolding into meaning.
The book described the human body not as mere flesh and bone, but as layered—beneath it, a subtle body known as the Pranamayakosha. Within it flowed mana, the life force, through a vast network of energy pathways.
These pathways, called nadis, numbered seventy-two thousand—far too many to master individually. Yet the text made it clear: only a few truly mattered.
Damon's fingers rested lightly on the page.
Seventy-two thousand… no one controls all of that. There has to be a hierarchy…
And there was.
Among them, three stood above all others.
Ida—the left channel, lunar in nature, cool and calm, governing stability and introspection.
Pingala—the right channel, solar, tied to heat and action, governing strength and outward expression.
And between them—
Sushumna, the central channel aligned with the spine, the path of ascent—the one that had to open to move beyond the lower stages.
Damon leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing.
So it's not just circulation… it's balance.
If Ida and Pingala aren't in harmony… Sushumna won't open.
His breathing slowed.
And without Sushumna… there's no ascent. No progress beyond manifestation.
He returned to the text. It spoke of fourteen additional primary channels—names like Gandhari, Hastijihva, and Yashasvini—important, but secondary to the central triad.
Refinements… supporting structures.
So to advance, I need to open these fourteen… and the three main ones—with Sushumna last.
Another realization followed.
These channels had no physical form. They weren't veins or nerves—nothing that could be seen or touched. They existed purely in the astral layer.
Damon tapped his fingers lightly against the desk.
So sight won't help… nor physical sensation.
I have to perceive something beyond the body.
The text continued. All nadis originated from two centers—the heart, and the kanda, an egg-shaped core near the pelvis—from which the entire network spread like an unseen web.
His eyes sharpened.
A source… and a distribution system.
Mana isn't random—it flows.
Then came the intersections.
Points where nadis converged.
Chakras.
His gaze paused briefly.
That's for the projection stage…
There were one hundred and fourteen of them, each acting as a node where energy could be amplified, regulated, or obstructed.
Damon exhaled slowly as the structure settled clearly in his mind.
So the manifestation stage… isn't about force.
It's about opening channels… establishing flow… balancing Ida and Pingala so Sushumna can awaken.
His grip tightened slightly on the desk.
Only then… can I even approach the next stage.
For a moment, he remained still, the silence wrapping around him as the weight of the knowledge settled.
When his gaze returned to the book, it was sharper.
Before I can control power…
I have to feel what cannot be seen.
The page turned softly, and in the depth of the night, Damon continued reading.
Damon remained seated at his desk, his eyes still moving across the text as he absorbed the intricate details of mana channels and the structure of the subtle body, his mind gradually aligning theory with application, when suddenly—-
DING!DINGDING!DING!DING!
The soft chime of his Manacron broke the stillness of the room
A moment later, a holographic figure formed before him.
A tall and composed man radiating an undeniable authority even through projection alone, his presence heavy as though it carried the weight of an entire territory behind it, and as his gaze lowered, two pairs of golden eyes met across the space—identical in color, yet entirely different in depth.
Neither of them looked away.
Neither of them yielded.
Damon's expression remained calm, but within his mind, the identity had already settled.
Duke Valecrest.
The silence stretched for a brief moment before the Duke spoke first, his voice measured, carrying both control and an underlying sharpness.
"I heard you took first place in the academy placement examination."
Damon gave a slight nod, unsurprised.
Of course he would know.
The Duke's gaze remained fixed on him, and though his expression did not change much, a faint trace of dissatisfaction surfaced in his tone.
"I had advised you against using your resonance… yet you still chose to make use of it."
Damon's brows furrowed slightly as he replied, his voice steady.
"I didn't have a choice."
The Duke studied him for a moment longer, his gaze sharper now as if trying to read beyond the words, before he spoke again, shifting the conversation without lingering.
"I have arranged a meeting for you tomorrow. You will meet that girl."
Damon said nothing.
The Duke continued, his tone carrying a subtle impatience.
"Behave like a normal person for once. This is a political move beneficial for the duchy. I do not expect you to understand its significance… just ensure you do not ruin it like the last one."
Damon listened without interruption, though his thoughts moved quickly beneath the surface.
A blind date for political gain…
A convenient tool… nothing more.
His gaze remained steady as he responded.
"I have voluntary work for the next two days as part of my punishment. I don't have the time."
The Duke observed him again, silent for a brief second, as if weighing his response, and before Duke could add anything further, Damon spoke.
"It will last for the next six weekends."
The Duke's lips curved slightly, not quite a smile.
"How amusing… that girl also seems to enjoy volunteering work."
"You will meet her tomorrow."
Damon clicked his tongue inwardly.
Of course he already accounted for that…
The Duke's expression hardened slightly as he delivered his final words.
"Do not mess this up."
And just like that, the projection vanished.
The room fell silent again.
Damon stared at the empty space where the hologram had been, his gaze lingering there for a moment before a quiet mutter escaped him.
"Not even informing me of her name…"
A faint irritation settled in his eyes.
"…just how much does he look down on me?"
***
"It's you, huh?"