Chapter 7: A Mutable Mana Core!!
The physical toll of yesterday's sparring session lingered like lead in my marrow. Every step up the spiraling, obsidian staircase of the Academy's Arcane Spire sent a dull ache through my freshly relocated joints. But I couldn't afford to limp. In a school of predators, a limp was an invitation to be eaten.
"I don't belong here, Grik," Rolf muttered, his amber eyes darting nervously at the glowing runes etched into the stone walls. "Werewolves don't cast spells. We have a native enhancement aura, sure, but actual mana manipulation? That's for Elves and Demons."
"We chose Mana Manipulation as an elective for a reason, Rolf," I replied, my breathing steady despite the burning in my calves. "If you don't understand how your enemy generates power, you can't dismantle it. We aren't here to become wizards. We're here to learn how to break them."
The air in the Spire grew heavier with every floor we ascended. It wasn't physical pressure; it was ambient mana. It felt like walking through invisible, electrified honey. For unawakened commoners like Rolf and me, it was suffocating.
We entered the lecture hall—a massive, circular amphitheater constructed entirely of polished white marble and glowing purple amethyst. Unlike the brutal, dusty combat pits, this place was pristine, sterile, and humming with raw, volatile energy.
The center of the room was dominated by a large, circular platform etched with a complex geometric array.
The noble students were already seated in the plush, velvet-lined tiers. High Demon Korgar was casually resting his chin on his fist, tiny sparks of fire dancing across his knuckles. Across the room, Serafina, the Fallen Angel, sat with her eyes closed, the ambient mana naturally bending around her tattered wings.
They looked perfectly comfortable. They were born with oceans of power already flowing through their veins.
"Take your seats, initiates," a voice echoed, seemingly detached from any physical origin. It scraped against the inside of my skull like dry parchment.
A figure materialized on the central platform. He didn't walk; he simply coalesced from a cloud of dark purple mist. It was Professor Malacor. He was an Arch-Lich. His skeletal face was entirely exposed, but his bones weren't white—they were an obsidian black, etched with intricate gold runes that pulsed in time with his words. He wore heavy, opulent velvet robes that hovered an inch above the marble floor.
"Welcome to Mana Manipulation," Malacor hissed, his hollow eye sockets glowing with twin pinpricks of soul-fire. "For some of you, this class will be a mere refinement of your noble birthright. For the rest of you... it will be a painful, desperate clawing in the dirt."
I took a seat in the second row, Rolf dropping heavily beside me. My [Sharp Eye] passive immediately activated, tracking the ambient mana flows in the room. They all spiraled toward Malacor like water circling a drain.
"Magic is not a right. It is a biological mechanism," Malacor lectured, pacing the circular array. "At the center of your chest lies the Mana Heart. Think of it as a secondary, ethereal organ. The noble bloodlines in this room have inherited Hearts that awakened in the womb. Their gates are open. Their mana flows."
The Lich stopped and pointed a skeletal finger toward the back rows. "But a commoner? A stray beastman, or a... goblin?" His glowing eyes lingered on me with a mix of academic curiosity and total disdain. "Your Hearts are dormant. Calcified. You are trying to draw water from a sealed tomb."
"Which is why brute-forcing an awakening usually results in internal combustion, Professor."
The voice came from the tier directly above me. It was melodic, dripping with absolute confidence, and possessed a razor-sharp edge of arrogance.
I turned. Sitting gracefully with her legs crossed was a stunning anomaly. She was a High Hobgoblin—a higher evolutionary tier of my own species. Her skin was a flawless, vibrant olive green, her ears were long and elegantly swept back, and her raven-black hair was cut into a sleek, asymmetrical bob. She wore silver-rimmed scholarly glasses that magnified her piercing, glowing emerald eyes.
Unlike the other commoners, she wasn't sweating. The ambient mana in the room wasn't crushing her; she was breathing it in.
As I looked at her, the System interface burned into my retinas.
[Target Identified: Nyssa the Arcane]
Academy Rank: 12
Species: High Hobgoblin (Arcane-Prodigy Caste)
Favorability: -5 (Slight Disdain)
Submission: 0%
[System Note]: Target is a once-in-a-century magical genius. She views physical combat as barbaric and low-mana entities as mere insects. She values absolute intellectual and arcane perfection.
"Correct, Nyssa," Malacor rasped, a disturbing grin stretching his skeletal jaw. "To shatter the calcification without blowing out your own ribcage requires precise, localized external pressure. Which is exactly what we shall do today."
Nyssa adjusted her silver-rimmed glasses, her emerald eyes flicking down to lock onto mine. Her lips curled into a condescending smirk. "Try not to explode, Rank 10," she whispered, her voice carrying purely on a localized thread of mana straight into my ear. "It would be a terrible mess to clean up."
I didn't react. I just turned my eyes back to the Lich.
"Those of you with awakened Hearts, observe and meditate on your own flow," Malacor ordered. "The unawakened... step down to the array. It is time to crack your tombs."
About thirty students, mostly low-tier monsters and beastmen, shuffled down to the marble floor. Rolf went first. He stepped into the center of the geometric array. Malacor raised a skeletal hand, and the amethyst crystals around the room flared blindly.
Rolf let out a guttural howl, dropping to his knees. I could see the veins in his neck bulging as the array forced raw, atmospheric mana into his chest cavity. There was a loud, ethereal crack, and a sudden wave of pale yellow energy burst from the werewolf's chest, wrapping around his skin like a second armor. He collapsed, panting heavily.
"A minor Beast-Core," Malacor noted dismissively. "It generates physical Aura, not arcane spells. Adequate for a brawler. Next."
One by one, the commoners stepped up. Some managed a spark of fire, others a ripple of water. Two students passed out from the pain and had to be dragged away by the Academy's stone golems.
"Grik," Malacor finally called. "Let us see if the Council's Rank 10 anomaly extends to the arcane."
I stepped into the center of the array. The marble was cold beneath my boots. Up in the stands, I could feel the heavy gazes of Kaelith's calculating stare, Gorgug the Orc's seething hatred, and Nyssa's arrogant, expectant smirk.
"Brace yourself, Goblin," Malacor hissed.
He clenched his skeletal fist.
The pain hit like a physical battering ram. It didn't feel like pressure; it felt like a white-hot iron spike was being driven directly through my sternum, hunting for an organ that had been dead since birth.
I fell to one knee, my teeth grinding together so hard my jaw popped.
I didn't panic. I didn't mentally scream for the System to save me. Pain was just data. I forced my [Sharp Eye] to turn inward, visualizing the violent, chaotic amethyst mana flooding my chest cavity. It was swirling around a tiny, hardened, calcified knot near my actual heart. The array was acting like a vice, squeezing that dead knot until the pressure became agonizing.
Break, I ordered my own body, gripping my knees to keep from collapsing entirely. Just break.
With a sickening, internal crunch that vibrated against my ribs, the calcified shell shattered.
Instantly, the blinding pain receded into a dull, rhythmic throb. I sucked in a massive lungful of air, my forehead drenched in cold sweat. In the center of my chest, a new, entirely foreign pulse began to beat in tandem with my physical heart.
A pale blue notification quietly materialized in my vision.
[Biological Mana Heart Awakened]
Grade: F- (Severe Impurities Detected)
Base Capacity: 0.5% (Extremely Low)
[System Analysis Complete]
Host's core is severely bottlenecked by current biological architecture (Species: Common Goblin). Mana pathways are narrow and highly restrictive.
[Hidden Trait Discovered: Evolutionary Seed]
Unlike standard monster cores, which are rigid and crystallized, the Host's core is highly malleable. The Mana Heart will physically expand, restructure, and increase its Grade alongside the Host's species evolution. Further evolution requirements will be revealed upon reaching Physical Level 10.
I opened my eyes, letting out a long, slow breath.
To the rest of the room, the display was pathetic. A tiny, muddy, sputtering green spark floated an inch from my chest. It flickered weakly, like a dying firefly trapped in mud, struggling just to stay lit against the ambient pressure of the room.
The silence in the hall held for a second before Gorgug and the Orc nobles erupted into roaring laughter.
"A gutter spark!" Gorgug bellowed, slamming his fist on the velvet barrier, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "The Rank 10 genius has the mana capacity of a damp twig! I've seen slimes with stronger auras!"
Even Malacor shook his skull in profound disappointment, waving a dismissive, skeletal hand. "A fractured, impure pebble. You will never cast a spell higher than a parlor trick with that capacity, Goblin. Return to your seat."
I dusted off the knees of my black trousers and stood up. I dismissed the muddy spark, letting it recede back into my chest. I kept my expression perfectly blank.
Let them laugh. They saw a defective, garbage-tier core. But they didn't have the System to tell them the truth. Their massive, powerful cores were fully formed, crystallized, and locked in place. Mine was a seed. It wasn't meant to be powerful yet; it was meant to grow.
I walked back up the steps, ignoring the jeers and the laughter raining down from the noble tiers.
But as I passed the second row, my [Sharp Eye] caught a subtle movement. Nyssa wasn't laughing.
The High Hobgoblin was leaning over the railing, her emerald eyes wide behind her silver-rimmed glasses. As a prodigy with innate Mage Sight, she saw the world in structural mana flows. She had seen what the brutish Orcs and even the Lich had missed.
She had seen that when the array's crushing pressure hit my muddy spark, the spark hadn't resisted it. It had pulsed. It had momentarily altered its own frequency to survive the pressure—a sign of a completely un-crystallized, living core. A mutable core was biologically impossible in the Monster Continent.
As I walked past her, she reached out, her delicate green fingers grabbing the sleeve of my black coat. Her grip was startlingly tight.
"That spark..." Nyssa breathed, the arrogance completely stripped from her voice, leaving only raw, desperate academic hunger. "It wasn't crystallized. Its structure... it shifted. How is your core shifting?"
I paused, looking down at her trembling hand on my arm, and then up into her glowing emerald eyes. A slow, calm smile spread across my face.
"If you want to understand the impossible, Nyssa," I whispered, gently but firmly prying her fingers off my coat. "You'll have to ask nicely."
I walked back to my seat, leaving the magical genius staring after me, completely and utterly unmoored.
[Target Status Updated]
Nyssa the Arcane
Favorability: +10 (Obsessive Curiosity)
Submission: 5%
[System Note]: Target has observed an anomaly that contradicts her foundational understanding of arcane mechanics. Extreme cognitive dissonance detected. There is a 98% probability the Target will initiate future contact to resolve this data gap.