Lucan stood before two imposing bronzium wrought gates that were currently locked, barring his pathway into the city proper. Of course, if that was all stopping his way then Lucan would have simply unlocked the gates and went on his merry way, but that was far from the case. Fourth-Circle Formation Spell, The Northern Wall had been cast upon the Estate upon the the time of its construction and sustained by specialized artifacts that were placed across the manor grounds, creating a transparent sphere of self-contained Ice Mana that fully ensconced the manor from above ground as well as beneath it.

  Any trespassers seeking to charge into the Manor would find themselves frozen to death in the blink of an eye and the same would be true for Lucan, if it weren’t for the fact that his Mana signature had been registered with the central artifact that lay at the heart of the Formation Spell. Of course, the Estate’s protections didn’t stop there and a testament to that fact was the guard post that stood next to the bronzium-wrought gates,a wooden construction that was elevated by seven foot tall stilts from atop which a green-eyed man watched him with a gaze that was as sharp as a Gryphon’s.

  I really don’t want to deal with him right now, Lucan wearily thought as their gazes met. But I guess I don’t have a choice.

  “Janis,” Lucan acknowledged in a formal tone.

  In response, the man vaulted over the guard post’s railing, landing upon the ground without so much as making a sound upon landing.

  Aura Knights could not match a Mage of similar prowess and rank when it came to sheer destructiveness and versatility, but the heavy mana they used to ignite their cores and forever leave behind the path of a Mage in favor for the path of a Aura Expert not only refined their body to preternatural degrees but also made them blend in with the world perfectly— for it was heavy mana regulated by the world’s core that allowed life to exist on their planet, or so the Astral Tower’s Mages claimed. Heavy Mana lay in the earth beneath him, in the air that surrounded him, in the raging rivers and the mighty seas and in the crackle of every natural fire, but ironically enough, a mage’s Mana Sight lay oblivious to it all.

  For to try and perceive Heavy Mana visually was asking to be blinded and even such perception would do a Mage little good— heavy Mana was too dense to flow through the delicate Mana Circles and even more precise Spell Matrices required in magework and even worse, it was imbued with what scholars called the will of the world core. A Mage’s Mana Core and later on, Mana Heart and Nexus, processed heavy mana by absorbing it in limited quantities, stripping it free from the influence of the world and imbuing the caster’s will onto the mana that remained, a process that the body performed naturally and instinctively— the same way Lucan could not see the air he breathed nor understand what it was made up of through sight alone. This process was called a Mage’s Natural Recovery.

  Aura Knights on the other hand were either born with small cores that were too impractical to have much hopes of becoming a capable mage with, had no way of obtaining anything beyond the most basic of generalist spells and had no intention of aligning themselves with Noble Houses or Magic Towers, among a multitude of other reasons and circumstances and thus chose a different path.

  Instead of letting their Mana Cores do what they were supposed to do naturally, people born with a mana core without having reached the Second-Circle picked up a sword, a staff or any other implement made out of Obsidian, a material known to have near the lowest amount of Mana conductivity that was possible and tried to imbue their Mana into it. To empty and exhaust one’s Mana Core completely put anyone that possessed one into a dangerous state called, Mana Depletion or as it was commonly known in slang, as the “dregs”. It was the only way to force the Mana Core into absorbing Heavy Mana quicker than it was capable of processing and there was a reason why no sane mage would risk such a state unless it was absolutely unavoidable.

  The quicker one depleted their mana, the more strain they put the core under. And if it was immediately followed up after by the core quickly absorbing heavy mana, micro-cracks were inevitable. The heavy mana used to speed recovery would then be directly used by the core in an effort to preserve its integrity, which resulted in a slow but sure alteration of the Mana Core’s very composition itself.

  Those that wished to become a Aura Expert would willingly subject themselves to this process dozens and even hundreds of times if that was what it took, until they began to sense the density of heavy mana in their ambient environment. Upon reaching that stage, they had two options. They could either continue to temper the resilience of their core further by continuing to expose it to heavy mana, or they could take the plunge to the final step needed to become an Aura Expert.

  Using the mana control gained by tempering their Mana Core hundreds of times, the next requirement was an act of what mages considered insanity— to dump all the Mana in one’s Mana Core at once, creating a vacuum in the Mana Core that it reflexively treated as a threat to its survival, causing Heavy Mana to flood into the core without restraint as the Mana Core gave up on its regulation functions. Theoretically, if done right, the friction generated by the Heavy Mana generated by the World Core and the Mana Core that was imbued with the will of the person would cause the core to “ignite”.

  The energy created by the Ignition of Heavy Mana— that was Aura. The strengthening of the Mana Core by filling its cracks with Heavy Mana was done for the final step in the process, so the Core could survive the Aura Ignition and by the end of it, a person would permanently lose both their Mana Core and their Mana Sense, irrevocably leaving behind the path of a mage.

  During this process, which Aura Knights called First Awakening, one could direct a part of the Aura being generated through a breathing techniques that helps direct the flow of Aura and through channelling their intent into the Aura, where their years of Mana Control practice paid off, using its strength to augment their body— transforming their blood vessels into far broader, denser ones that had Aura imbued into them, strengthening their muscle fibers to the point where an ordinary knife could not pierce into them and giving them the strength to bend bronzium rods, augmenting their five senses and granting them superhuman reflexes.

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  By the end of it, if successful, the Mana Core would have transformed into an Aura Core and their strengthened body would be strong enough to handle the internal circulation of Aura without combusting. Possessing twice the weight of a regular concentration of Mana, Aura was a hybrid or a fusion of Mana and Heavy Mana. At a hundred times lighter than Heavy Mana while also possessing a modified version of its limitations, Aura only possessed a shelf life of a few minutes at a time at the Gathering Rank.

  In exchange, the created Aura Core was capable of drawing and storing Heavy Mana long term at full capacity, though its weight was something the Aura Expert needed to grow used to. Trying to utilize Heavy Mana in combat would destroy their internal organs before it accomplished anything, but in exchange for the Expert’s stamina, they could convert Heavy Mana into Aura as and when needed, like a Mana Core converted Heavy Mana into the Mage’s personal mana except the latter lacked the ability to store Heavy Mana long term.

  Out of every known attempt to store Heavy Mana for longer than a few minutes, whether that be for experiments or only to gain more knowledge on the subject matter, had failed. Only a Aura Core could do so and otherwise, it would simply dissipate and escape any and all restrictions and Aura could not be utilized to cast spells— it was too thick, too heavy and its decay eliminated the final shard of hope, even if the first two aspects could be worked around.

  The energy known as Aura did not possess even one hundredth of the versatility Base Mana did, let alone attuned Mana. It made up for its shortcomings with raw firepower alone.

  And in front of Lucan stood a Reinforcement Stage Aura Expert, two stages above the Gathering Stage which only one out of a hundred succeeded in while the rest walked away from it as either quitters or nulls— having had their Mana Core shattered and the additional lifespan granted by merely having one, usually ten to twenty years, taken away along with it.

  He stood in front of a bonafide lunatic among lunatics and all Lucan could think about the fact that Silvas Anderle was the king of all these lunatics and he now possessed his Aura Art.

  If the techniques he possessed ever got out at the wrong moment, he was definitely dead.

  “Young Lord,” Janis Caravine, heir apparent to House Caravine, greeted him with a quick bow. “Are you heading somewhere?” He asked, in a crisp tone that was well suited to his appearance. His black hair shone with a luster that was characteristic of Aura Augmentation, his square jaw and sharp jawline cutting a particularly handsome visage.

  Deep green eyes that glimmered like gemstones took in his form with an unsettling amount of focus as his superhuman senses analyzed him in more detail than he cared to know of, his black salamander leather armor only making his impressive musculature stand out more. Two longblades were sheathed on his back in a crossed fashion, both sheathed in matching black sheathes that revealed nothing of the make of the blade.

  “I need to visit the city,” Lucan answered. “Shopping for the academy.”

  Janis studied him with those deep-green eyes, his appearance still placing him firmly in the mid-twenties even though Lucan knew him to be in his late thirties.

  “I understand,” Janis replied with a nod. “I shall accompany you.”

  “I don’t assume you would let me go on my own if I asked?”

  “Forgive me, Young Lord. You know of my responsibilities,” Janis bowed once again to him, a light bow but a bow nonetheless.

  Lucan did. His brothers had been idiots, but they had also been the responsibility of the House Caravine, the highest ranked amongst House Velmoria’s vassals by far. Janis’ father served as the chief commander of the Knights, his authority only second to the Duke when it came to issuing orders to all knights across House Velmoria’s territory in situations where their territory was under threat. A great deal of trust had been placed on House Caravine, more than most Nobles would place in a vassal and House Caravine had failed it twice.

  In all fairness, after the incident with his oldest brother, House Caravine was almost comically unlucky in the way Edrin had died. They couldn’t protect him from himself, but that didn’t change the fact that they had failed and that gave justification to the Duke to curtain the extent of their powers while appearing fair before the other vassal houses.

  He hadn’t so far, but that could change at any time.

  Janis wouldn’t let him die as long as he drew breath, which was amusing in its own way. He was a sword, but he was not Lucan’s sword and neither was he the Duchess’s—- as long as the Duke wanted Lucan to keep drawing breath, no blade nor spell would pierce his throat.

  But the moment the Duke withdrew his graces, Lucan could beg him, he could offer him wealth, he could even spill the secrets of the sword warden— nothing would stay his blade. Maybe the last would include torture to the list, but Lucan was certain of the rest.

  “Can I go outside Lingdon?”

  “That would go against my orders, Young Lord.”

  “I understand. Can you get the carriage ready?”

  “At once, young lord. May I know where you are intending on going first?”

  “That depends,” Lucan replied, a note of amusement creeping into his voice after a very long time. “Where did you get those blades of yours?”

  “Pardon?” Janis asked, caught off guard for the first time since he’d been assigned to guard him.

  “Those longblades,” Lucan clarified.

  “One of them is a family heirloom, young lord. The second was custom forged for me by the family smith after using a dungeon artifact as a base.”

  Of course. Damn rich kid, Lucan thought in annoyance. “Where can I get a good longblade then? Nothing custom, just a collection of pre-made blades I can choose from.”

  Not willing to be caught off-guard a second time, Janis replied, “Ashfall & Sons, young lord. Four- generation old family owned business, from father to son in each generation. Each successor has to reach the Gathering Stage of Aura before they can succeed the forge so that they can work with materials that are rarer than bronzium and they even have their own breathing technique to aid in their forging. They’re not the best, but outside a Noble House’s Blacksmith, they’re the best you’ll find.”

  “Very well, that’ll do. Let us depart with haste.”