Chapter 141: The guidance - 1

Lor sat cross-legged on the floor of Lia’s bedroom, the soft glow of the lavender lamp casting a warm light across the woven rug.

His expression was serious, steady, his hazel eyes sharp with focus, no trace of the earlier mischief or lust.

He motioned for Sophia and Lia to join him, his voice calm but firm. "Sit. And listen."

The girls obeyed, forming a small triangle on the rug, their knees nearly touching.

Sophia’s blonde twin tails were tucked neatly behind her, her blue eyes wide with anticipation, her petite frame attentive.

Lia’s red curls framed her freckled face, her green eyes curious but cautious, her curvy figure relaxed but alert.

They faced Lor, the weight of his words settling over them like a teacher’s command.

He held out his hands, palms up, his lean frame steady, his voice measured.

"Magic isn’t a tool. Not at first. It’s not a weapon, a chant, or a trick. It’s your body. Your breath. Your intention. It’s the core of who you are."

Lia tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing, but she stayed silent, listening intently.

"Everything begins with mana," Lor continued. "Raw energy that flows through us—some more than others. You’ve felt it before, in moments of intensity. That rush when you’re angry, that pulse when you’re scared, that heat when you’re... emotional. That’s unrefined mana reacting to your state. Emotion fuels it, but it’s your will that shapes it."

Sophia leaned forward, her blue eyes narrowing slightly. "So... mana is just feeling?"

"Feeling," Lor nodded, his hazel eyes meeting hers, "but contained. Controlled. Without control, it’s just chaos—wild, unstable, dangerous."

He lifted one hand, his fingers curling slowly, deliberately, as if tracing an invisible line.

"To cast even the most basic spell, your mana must form a shape—a circuit. Emotions ignite it, but your will defines it. Most people try to force it. They push too hard, too fast, and the mana fights back, burns them out. But if you guide it—shape it without choking it—it listens."

He traced a small glowing circle in the air with his finger—pure light, hovering, steady and gold, its soft hum filling the quiet.

"This is a basic ward circuit. It’s a foundation, a structure for your mana to flow through. It’s not the shape that matters—it’s what you pour into it."

Lia’s green eyes widened slightly, her voice cautious. "What about incantations? Symbols? Don’t we need to draw sigils for spells to work?"

"Those are crutches," Lor said, his tone even, his hazel eyes steady. "They’re useful when you’re learning, like training wheels. They stabilize your will, give your mana a repeatable form. But the spell itself—the effect—comes from the mana, not the words or symbols."

Sophia’s brow furrowed, her blue eyes bright with curiosity. "So the words don’t matter at all?"

"They matter," Lor clarified, his voice calm, "but not because they’re inherently magical. They give your mind something to anchor your thoughts, to focus your intention. The words are a bridge, not the power."

He gestured again, this time tracing a flickering triangle in the air, its edges glowing faintly.

"This is a basic spark rune. It represents direction, ignition, and speed. Combine it with your mana, and it creates heat. With focus, fire. It’s simple, but it’s the foundation of every fire spell."

He looked at Lia, his voice firm but encouraging.

"Draw that triangle in the air. Don’t speak. Just think about what you want—heat, light, energy. Feel the mana in your core, in your gut, and let it flow."

Lia hesitated, her green eyes flickering with doubt, her fingers twitching slightly.

Then she raised her hand, moving it slowly in the shape he showed—clumsy, uneven, but close.

The air shimmered faintly, a spark flickering at her fingertip, brief but real.

Lor smiled, his hazel eyes softening.

"Good. Again. Slower. Breathe deeply—let the mana move with your breath, not against it."

Sophia watched, her blue eyes wide, her fingers fidgeting in her lap.

Lia tried again, her movements smoother this time, her breath steadying.

A flicker of light sparked at her fingertip—a brief flare, barely visible, but undeniable. "I felt it!" she whispered, her green eyes bright with excitement.

"You’ll feel it more when you trust it," Lor said, his voice encouraging. "Stop forcing it. Let it flow."

He turned to Sophia, his gaze steady.

"Your turn. Don’t focus on the shape itself. Focus on what you want it to do—heat, energy, a spark. The triangle is just a bridge for your intention."

Sophia’s fingers trembled, but she raised her hand, her petite frame tensing with focus.

Her first attempt was weak, the air barely shimmering, but a faint twitch of heat sparked, carrying a scent of singed dust. She gasped, her blue eyes widening.

"Good," Lor said, calm and even, his hazel eyes steady. "It’s like flexing a new muscle. Right now, it’s small, weak. But with practice—"

He raised his hand again, and a slow-burning flame hovered above his palm, steady and gold, casting a warm glow across their faces. "—you’ll control it like breath."

They stared at it in silent awe, Sophia’s blue eyes reflecting the flame, Lia’s green ones sparkling with newfound determination.

"This," Lor said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of truth, "is only the first step. Mana. Shape. Intention. Control. Master these, and you’ll cast without words, without symbols, with just a thought. That’s the edge you need for the tournament. Understand it and then write it down in the test."

He let the flame vanish, the room settling back into the soft glow of the lavender lamp, the air charged with a new kind of energy—knowledge, potential, the first spark of mastery.

The golden light had faded from Lor’s fingertips, but the room still hummed with the quiet energy of their shared focus.

Lia sat cross-legged across from him, arms resting on her knees, her red curls framing her freckled face, her green eyes unusually thoughtful.

Sophia leaned slightly forward, resting her chin on the heel of her hand, her blonde twin tails tucked neatly behind her, her blue eyes sharp with concentration, her fingers still twitching faintly from where the spark had flickered into life moments before.